Night Scented Stock – Part 2

By | August 22, 2006

The old stones that framed the door had witnessed the entrance and exit of every visitor to the house for nearly two hundred years. But they had never seen anything like Clara before.

She tapped on the dark wood, the gentle touch of her delicate fist rattling the leaded windows at the front of the house and sending a wave of infrasound through the timbers of the upper floors. The party guests took it as a particularly bad-ass riff from Ollie Riedel. Rammstein indeed.

The door was opened by the host, washing Clara in a pool of music and light. He smiled, “Wow you look, amazing!”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in Nathan?” she asked.

“Do come in, M’Lady.” Chuckled her host, bowing elaborately.

She stepped across the threshold and into the midst of a party in full swing.

“Drink?” asked Nathan, waving a bottle of Chablis at her.

“Later perhaps.” She smiled as she slipped out of her cloak “I’ll take this upstairs.”

“Third door on the left.” Shouted Nathan.

She made her way past the groups of revellers on the wide staircase.

Even on the upper floor the house was full of music, the sound system downstairs muffled by the intervening timber and plasterwork. In common with the rest of the rooms, the “coat bedroom” was occupied. The pile of discarded garments on the bed rose and fell, driven by the oscillating buttocks of one half of a copulating couple.

Rather than use the bed Clara opened a wardrobe and hung her cloak on a hanger to avoid unnecessary dry cleaning.

She descended the stairs, eyes scanning the faces of the other guests. Her nose twitched almost imperceptibly, seeking the telltale molecules that were leading her to her quarry.

She smiled as several friends and acquaintances greeted her on her way to the main hall. As one might smile at a puppy when it lovingly delivers your chewed, saliva covered newspaper to your lap.

She strode through the double doors into the hall and became submerged in the sea of music, strobes and lasers that was Nathan’s 21st birthday party.

The cacophony from the speaker stacks was the kind that drove logical thought from the mind and left only feelings and instincts. Clara’s pupils were pinpricks now, her eyes able to perceive the smallest handful of photons. All the better to seek her prey in the darkest of places.

He was close now, her mouth watered in anticipation. She was drawn to the corner of the room, to a table next to the furthest window. A bow wave pushed before her, party goers pausing in their terpsichorean courtships to turn and stare at the porcelain skinned vision as she passed.

Black thoughts, shards of obsidian, sliced through her mind. She was becoming accustomed to this new way of thinking already, no remorse, no regrets, only her final objective mattered, and that end justified any means to accomplish it.

Clara stared at the meek looking young man sat alone behind the large oak table, hugging his pint of beer. She took her place next to him on the settle. The rest of the party seemed to have forgotten her passing for the moment.

“Hello Ben” Clara’s quiet voice seemed to enter his mind without passing through the intervening air. Ben blushed, girls like Clara didn’t speak to Ben. “I’m so glad you came to the party, so glad I found you.”

Ben gulped, “Er, Oh.” Was the extent of his attempt at a nonchalant reply. She leant forward and kissed him on the lips. Ben froze. The perfume of night scented stock enveloped him. Her soft pursed petals lingered on his frozen visage, the enchantment only broken when he felt her bite. “Aaargh!”, he pulled away, licking his lips. The ferrous tang unnerving him.

Clara ran her tongue slowly across her exposed teeth, smearing his blood across them and leered at him.

Ben was about to protest when she slid below the table and began to unfasten his belt. He felt his hips tugged down to aid removal and his flies undone. His trousers slid down to his ankles. Ben looked around, panicked by the realisation that he might be literally caught with his pants down. But no one was looking.

He felt unseen hands seek out his turgid member, lips enveloped him. Her tongue began a slow sensuous courtship with his cock, teasing, it to full arousal. He was big, she had sensed that, and beautifully formed. The head, now bursting with blood almost filled her mouth. She followed the contours of his perfect plum, tasting him, drinking in the fluid that had begun to seep from him.

She released the end of his cock from her mouth, just for a few moments, to lick his shaft. She followed the throbbing veins almost tasting the blood that flowed through them. Her incisors grazed him, soliciting a gasp. She reached the base of his cock, nuzzling into the thatch of light brown hair, nose burrowing into his scrotum, nestling for a second between his balls.

Back up her mouth travelled, kissing and nibbling, oh so gently to the tip. He felt himself consumed again, deeper this time, the lively muscular gatekeeper of Clara’s throat coaxing him in, inviting him to slip deeper and deeper.

She gently moved back and forth, allowing the contours of her throat to tickle his glans. She had no need to breath, for her that was an affectation and only really necessary for audible speech. He was close and this simply added to her excitement, the crotch of her panties was sticky with her juices, inner thighs glistening wet.

Ben grasped the edge of the table with both hands. His excitement was reaching its peak. His fingers seemed to become one with the dark golden wood of the table, fingers sinking into the surface. He felt the seasons pass, in quick succession, each so different. He emerged as a green shoot from an acorn buried under the leaf mould. Wet springs, long warm summers, windy autumns bidding farewell untold thousands of yellow leaves, to bitter winters that froze the end of his branches. Then finally the cruel blows of the axe separating him from the earth forever.

She reached up and grasped his balls in her hand, gentle at first, then hard, cruelly hard as she felt the muscular contractions that signalled his orgasm. She felt the waves of cum charge along his cock and spray into her throat. He moaned, hips thrusting until he could cum no more.

She let him slip almost from her mouth, running her tongue around him, tasting the last milky droplets as they oozed from him.

Ben’s euphoria slipped away, replaced by the practicality of pulling up his trousers as inconspicuously as possible. He looked at this hands, flexing his fingers. For a moment he thought he heard them creak like boughs blowing in the wind.

Clara slid back onto the settle beside him, licking her lips. She placed her hand on his upper thigh “Come outside, I’d like to get to know you a little better.”