Unnatural Instinct: Free

7.

I know your game. Though you pretend to resist I know you desire me. Why else would you want me to take you to see the monster again this late at night? It's not the monster you want to see, it's me. Despite your 'protests' you like the way I touch you. You like my body and the big, strong safety of my presence.

And why wouldn't you? There's nobody else like me in the village. I am the biggest, the strongest, the bravest.

You should count yourself lucky. You do count yourself lucky. Frequently, I see it in your eyes when you pretend disgust, when you pretend to push me away. You're such a bad actress. But soon you won't need to act anymore.

It won't be long now. Not even four weeks and I'll have you and you can enjoy me as much as you like. I can't wait. I can't wait to be deep inside you. I can't wait to ravish you every single night. I can't wait to pin you down and thrust into you so hard I make you scream.

I have dreams every night about you. Every morning I wake up saturated in my pants. Every evening before I sleep I think about you as I touch myself. I can't take it anymore. Four weeks is too long. You don't know it but I have a calendar. I cross each day off, my eyes fixed on April the thirteenth—our special day.

I'm so eager for our first time, for both you and for me. I wonder what it'll feel like, to be inside you, to have you encompass me. I imagine it'll be soft and warm and tight. Cosy. I can't help but lick my lips as I walk with you down the path, your footsteps thudding lightly upon the ground, your face lowered. The light from my torch is gleaming against your hair and I have to resist the urge to reach out my hand and thread my fingers through it.

I've been told that it's painful for the woman the first time and I've been advised to try and keep control, to think of you and your comfort. But I don't think I'll be able to. To have you naked beneath me. To see you sprawled out and willing. All mine to do what I want with.

Your breasts. Your hips. Your thighs. Your wonderful soft, smooth womanhood ...

I wince as my erection presses up against the front of my pants. It's so painful that I find it difficult to walk. I need relief now. I can't wait until afterwards. You won't mind. I know you're eager.

We reach the door and I place the burning torch in its bracket on the wall. Shouldering my shotgun, I look down at you, smiling. 'Well ...?'

Your mouth thins as you realise what I want. You almost look upset but I know better. Always the actress.

'We can't see the monster first?' you say.

I shake my head with a wince as I try to adjust myself. 'Now.'

You feign a sigh, then take my hand, leading me around the back of the building. You don't wait, simply dropping to your knees in front of me before I've even had a chance to take off my gun. I lean it against the wall as you fumble with my pants.

'Eager tonight,' I say.

You seem ... different. Your'e not performing your usual act. Where's the resistance? Where's the protest? Where's the modesty? I have to admit that it's a little bit of a turn off.

My pants drop to the ground as you bend my shaft towards your mouth. Then your wet, eager softness is around me. 'Slow down,' I gasp, clawing at your hair.

You do so only a little as you grip onto my hips and move your mouth along my erection. I wish you would use more of your tongue. I wish you would lick down my shaft and lap at my tip as well as suck me. But you won't, no matter how much I ask.

So demure. So innocent. I smile as I curl my fingers through your hair and lean my head back against the wall.

'Slow down,' I gasp again but you won't listen, bobbing your head so quickly that already I'm just about ready to pop. Finally, I pull your head back. 'Slowly!'

I keep hold of your head as you slowly wrap your lips back around my tip. The moonlight gleams against your hair and the shine of your saliva along my shaft as you slowly swallow me.

'Good,' I say, brushing my fingers through your hair.

I lean my head back against the wall as I release your head and gaze up at the moon. Back and forth, you pleasure me. I can hear your grunting breaths. I can hear your sucking. It's so loud in the quiet. Can anyone else hear it? I hope so, though most would be in bed asleep by now.

I close my eyes. I'm close now. I can feel myself swelling inside your mouth. I groan. Leaning forward, I grab your head again, forcing you to go at my pace. I can feel myself climbing. I can feel myself burning. With a gasp, I buck my hips as I erupt. It's so good I have to bite back a shout.

I keep your face shoved into my groin as I continue to empty into your mouth. Finally, when the spasming has finished, I slowly pull away. Your lips are gleaming with my cum. There's a dribble of it in the corner of your mouth. Your eyes are shining. You look so beautiful.

Leaning back against the wall, I stare once again up at the moon, my chest heaving. I quietly laugh as I rub at my soggy dick. 'I can't wait, sweetheart. I just can't wait.'

I look down at you with a start at the sound of you spitting. I raise my eyebrows. You've never done that before. What's going on? You've always liked my taste. I stare at you as you stare back at me. You're still on your knees, gripping my shotgun in your small hands as you point the barrel directly at me.

'What are you doing?' I say in a daze. 'You'll hurt yourself.'

You sneer. You actually sneer. I feel a cold tingle up my spine. You're not acting. Nobody could miss the intense dislike in your face. The fury in your suddenly dark eyes. Your lovely face has scrunched up into something almost ... demonic.

Something is wrong. Something has happened to you. I raise my hands in defence as you rise to your feet. Licking my lips nervously, I say, 'Put it down.'

'Know this, Derrick Summers. I hate you. I really fucking hate you. You're an arrogant disgusting pig and you won't have me. You'll never have me. Even if it means my death.'

My heart skips a beat as you pull back the hammer.

My eyes widen, I don't have time to shout, before you suddenly sweep the gun around, aiming the butt directly for my head. All I can think is: at least you haven't shot me.

The thought gives me little comfort as pain explodes behind my eyes.