Jiboia

Excerpt:

May contain sexually explicit scenes. “Hop on.” In the seconds before I swung my legs behind him he examined me from head to foot, his eyes the colour of a wild animal, the irises as keen and sharp as a predator. He seemed to have no eyelids, although I knew that was a trick of the badly lighted street. I waited for him to hand me a helmet, a legal requirement in the state, but when I realised there was none I swiftly took up position behind him. “You’ll want to hang on tight. Really tight,” he called over his shoulder as he gunned the engine.  I didn’t have to be told twice, wrapping my arms around his chest, leaning into him. I was breath close; intimate enough that he must have felt my hard cock poking into him because he shuffled on the seat to wedge it between his butt cheeks. He spun the bike out into the street and soon we were racing at what seemed superhuman speed toward the freeway tunnel. I suppose it was a little late to ask him where he was taking me and if I needed my passport to be sold into sexual slavery. As if he read my mind he leaned back to say: “Any time you want to bail out tell me and I’ll take you back. There’s no need to be afraid.” “It’s the fear that makes my cock hard,” I said.  “It’s no disgrace if you don’t make it to the end.” The end of what? The mystery made me more determined. I didn’t want to disappoint this guy. He gripped the wrist that was hugging his chest, moving my hand down over his smooth six-pack I felt outlined beneath his tight leather vest, toward his crotch, cupping my hand over his cock. I felt it stir like some creature stretching after waking from sleep. It was thick, expanding beneath his leathers so much so that I began to suspect I’d ingested too much alcohol or too many party drugs. It was unfurling slowly up his stomach like some sleepy serpent. I petted it while he ‘mmmed’ his appreciation. I leaned into his neck as he wove through the heavy traffic, my cheek feeling the smooth coolness of his skin which glowed in the light thrown by the street lamps. He turned toward me, his mouth red and cruel, his tongue split and studded. I’d heard about men who had their tongues divided like a serpent. There was movement near his chest where my second arm was still clinging fast. Something slithering. As it brushed my fingers it felt cold and dangerous.   I wanting this guy so badly, nothing was going to frighten me off. I just hoped he didn’t get his rocks off by scaring people then dumping them on the outskirts of the city to thumb a lift back home. I felt movement near my head but, try as I might, I lacked the energy to lift it. A fly on sticky paper. It was too dark to see anything but I could feel something crawling toward my face. “Okay?” he asked. “Fine,” I said, although that was only partly true. “Then really hang on tight this time.” I opened my mouth to say ‘okay’, and then everything slowed down like catastrophe survivors sometimes describe. My mouth filled with an inky leathery blackness that snaked its way down my throat choking and suffocating. My head lifted from his back so I could see him reflected in his mirror, his face twisted with satisfaction, his two front teeth morphing into savage fangs. He flicked the mirror slightly to reflect my own startled face and the black leathery thing worming its way between my lips, fucking my mouth. It was at once repellent yet strangely erotic. I realized I could still breathe even as it slithered its way inside me. I was sliding my tongue along its cold skin attempting to suck it like a giant cock. As it expanded I thought my mouth would split, my gullet explode. It was like the greatest cock in existence was fucking my face. I knew somehow it was part of my dark lover buried deep inside me.

Excerpt:

May contain sexually explicit scenes. I came round slowly, my body racked with the most incredible pain, as if I had molten lava in my veins rather than blood. But that hadn’t stopped my cock from getting hard. Someone had his mouth around it. I had to assume it was male as I felt stubble on his chin rubbing against my balls. My mind was so fuzzy I could scarcely think straight or even remember what led to my being here. Where was here? I had no idea. Confused, I lay back against my pillow. I was in a bed, that much was certain. Whose? For a moment I thought I was blind it was so difficult to open my eyes, the lids were glued together. I dug the crust away with my finger nail, finally managing to open them. The light hurt. I lifted my hand to shield my face from the sun gushing through the window. That’s when I noticed the plastic tubes. I turned my head to the side and saw the machines into which my body was plugged, measuring my life in quiet beeps. Still alive, it seemed. Just, by the feel of it. I recognised the room as Jibóia’s. He must have rescued me. There would be hell to pay when he discovered my attacker was none other than his own son. I shuddered at the memory of Aarix rearing up in his serpent form, sinking his fangs into my chest until I screamed with the agony until I passed out. I thought I was going to die. I also had a memory, faint now, of admiration. Of gazing up at that terrible, beautiful sight of Aarix preparing to strike, thinking how magnificent he looked. I wasn’t afraid, I was almost welcoming. I must have been mistaken. My memory was playing me false. It had to be Jibóia sucking my cock, desperate to bring me pleasure while I suffered, the poison leeching from my veins into the machines beside the bed. “Close your eyes, little one. Relax. I’ll help the pain go away.” His voice was soothing as he kissed my eyelids. It had been too arduous to keep them open. The sunlight had stung like acid. Caressing my face, running his fingers through my hair, his bifurcated tongue squeezed between my lips, exploring my mouth. I had no energy to reciprocate. Struggling to embrace him, I got tangled in the tubes. He pushed me back against the pillows, holding me down as he pulled the wires and monitors from my body. The pain of disconnection was minimal and my head began to clear. “I think they are doing you more harm than good,” he whispered. “Forgive me, little one, I should not be here. But I had to see you. To feel you.” I did not mind one bit. He ran his tongue down my chest, his fangs dragging across my nipples. His fingers found the puncture marks on my chest and he kissed them as if attempting to heal the wound. I rubbed my hand against it, feeling the heat as my body fought the poison and infection. “Someone will pay for this.” His voice was full of scarcely suppressed anger. I wanted to tell him everything was all right now but I could not find my voice to speak. “The worst of it will be over soon,” he said, continuing to lick down to my cock. He pressed his lips to the crown, my knob so sensitive I shuddered, hoping he would continue. He proceeded down the shaft until he reached my aching balls. They felt as if they had not dumped a load in months. He pushed his finger against my hole. Normally, my sphincter would have tensed but I had no spirit left to fight so he entered me easily. He mouth massaged my balls before running his tongue back up the shaft to envelope the head, bathing it in his spit. I wriggled with pleasure sure I was going to come at any moment. He cushioned the underside of my cock with his tongue as he slid up and down, until I hit the back of his throat.