Chapter 5
He lay there in the stygian darkness trying to gather his thoughts. He had opened his eyes but for the moment he didn't realize it. In fact, it didn't occur to him he had returned to life. For so many years he had slept the sleep of death it simply didn't occur to him he was no longer dead. Ebony inkiness surrounded him, and for the moment he could comprehend nothing.
Slowly it filtered into him, flooding his mind and body. He ached terribly, a ravenous hunger filling his body. Within his throat lay a huge wad of cotton, now dry after having long ago absorbed all his saliva. He thirsted burningly, but not for water. His throat was hot and chalky, and with the realization he had such feelings, he also understood the time had come.
His hands, which had lain crossed on his chest, reached forward and pushed upward. The lid opened with a raw groan, its sound echoing off the stone ceiling above. The faint light entering through the stained glass windows, slightly brighter now for being reflected by the snow outside, painted the already bleak ceiling charcoal grey.
Slowly he sat up, and swore he could hear his bones creak in protest. As he looked around, the full reality of everything snapped into place.
He was one of the Cursed Ones. His body had been tainted, and though he'd forgotten about it after it had happened, dying without remembering, it now came back to him. Yes, now he remembered; remembered as if it had only just happened to him.
He had been Seymour "Sy" Enders. Standing well over six feet in height, his hair had been prematurely grey, even on his twenty-first birthday. That had been a birthday to remember. Endersville had been a hamlet more than a village at that time, and he, as the oldest male child of extremely wealthy parents, had gotten anything he'd wanted. For his twenty-first birthday he'd received a new shay with a set of matched grey geldings.
He'd spent the day with his parents and the rest of his family, and that night there had been a party in his honor. People had come from many of the other Long Island hamlets and villages just to pay their respects to him, and he had become quickly bored. So while the party was in full swing, he decided to slip away. He thought to go to his room, change, then take his new matched set and shay and go in search of some real fun, namely a wench or two. But he never got any farther than his room.
She was waiting for him in his room. He had no idea who she was, though the family resemblance was unmistakable. She had black pools for eyes, and though his own eyes were grey, he wondered what she had done to change the color of her own eyes. He didn't know how they had changed color, but he did know they hadn't always been black. She had a short, thin nose, thin red lips, and black, upswept hair. Her body was a thin, slender reed under a black sheath of a dress. The dress was so tight, he could see the complete outline of her small, firm tits. The nipples pressed against the restraining cloth, making the boobs seem bigger than they really were.
"Wow!" he said. "Fair maid, pray tell who might you be."
"Neither fair nor a maid," she replied, "I am she come to fulfill an obligation. I am from the past of the Enders family. I am come to draw your body into mine so you, too, may take up the obligation from me."
"I know not what you mean," he told her, "nor do I care. Tell me your name, for I know before you leave this room I shall ravish you, and I would know the name of the woman I ravish."
She smiled and said, "Know then I am Rochelle, and I am yours for whatever you would do to me."
"I would do all," he murmured hoarsely.
Sy remembered feeling the urgency boil up from within him as he approached the woman known as Rochelle. His stiffening cock strained at his breeches, screaming to be released so it could come into more intimate contact with the body before him.
His left hand moved to her breast and cupped its fullness. Her flesh, separated from his touch solely by a thin layer of tight material, felt oddly cold beneath the satin. His eager fingertips kneaded the exquisitely shaped boob, moving purposely to the stiff protuberance at its center.
Now it was Rochelle's turn to shiver in response to the way Sy's thumb and forefinger captured her nipple and fondled it, sliding the smooth, slick satin back and forth over the sensitive bud.
Growling deep in his throat, Sy lowered his head, making a moist line with his tongue as it moved down the flesh of her throat and on to the swell of her breast protruding from the top of the sheath. He heard her gasp and surrounded her with his arms, embracing her. She lay back in his embrace, plainly enjoying what he was doing. The pressure of her tit, pressing against his lips, let him know she wanted him to free it and continue.
Goaded by the touch of her fingernails on the nape of his neck, he covered first one, then the other nipple with his mouth, chewing through the satin cloth. As she writhed and squirmed in his arms he pressed harder into her, letting her box feel the hardness of his rampant cock.
He had to bring her flesh out into the open ... had to see it, touch it, taste it. Roughly Sy slid his fingers down inside the top of her bodice, tearing it and scooping both tits free of their covering.
Tiny, dark marks around her nipples, curiously bloodless, told where his teeth had dug. Sy kissed the bruises lightly, then licked them with his tongue, lapping at the cold flesh until it glistened.
Her nipple was like sweet, soft candy in his mouth. Wild with arousal, he used the tip of his tongue to lash the dark button while tearing the rest of the sheath from her body with his hands. His hands roamed over her belly and onto the inside of her creamy thigh,' his fingers twisting themselves in her cunt hairs.
Rochelle began to rotate her hips slowly, initiating the rhythm of sex as her eyes closed and her long lashes fanned downwards.
The throbbing Sy had felt in his cock when he'd first seen Rochelle now caused pain, and the pain was becoming unbearable, yet he elected to torture himself a bit more, to lengthen the delay, to continue the foreplay until all self-control was gone.
Yes, he would wait until the madness descended, said madness more delightful than anything he ever knew. Then he would tear her cunt into a million pieces with his prick.
His fingers were already in her crack, playing with the slick, soaking lips, curving themselves to the contour of her body. He speeded up the movement of his fingers, running them over her clit and then in and out of her hole, back to her clit, then back to that soft, soaking twat.
Lowering her to the bed, Sy spread her thin, solid thighs and stared at the lovely, creaming cunt. Even as he stared, he kept moving his long, thick fingers in and out of her, watching as her juices covered him to his wrist.
She lifted her heels and placed her calves on his shoulder, spreading her thighs even farther apart so he could see deeper into the quim his fingers were already exploring. Her love juice was literally pouring out, making him salivate.
Releasing her, he leaped to his feet and began pulling off his clothes. In less than twenty seconds he was as naked as she, his randy cock standing nearly seven inches away from his hot body. God, how he wanted to bury it between those solid thighs.
Falling to his knees, he lunged for the slit with his mouth. Burying his face in her soft muff, he tasted the pungent liquid of her still-cold body, and drank deeply of it. His tongue fluttered into her and he found the stiff clitoris nestled where it belonged. Hungrily he rolled it against his tongue, teasing the little center of pleasure until Rochelle cried out with involuntary delight. No doubt about it, she was enjoying it as much as he.
She thrust her hips upward again and again, ramming her twat against his face, covering it with her slick, sloppy liquid, almost covering his entire face with her open cunt. He felt her cross her knees behind his skull, imprisoning his head between the junket-softness of her thighs, her quivering thighs.
He sensed the tension growing in her body and extended his tongue to its full length and she began bucking like a wild mare. He was unable to breathe as his mouth was crushed to the soft pussy, drinking the fluid it released, now in buckets, or so it seemed.
With superhuman strength, he wrenched his face from the delicious flesh he had been tasting. Sweat and lubrication sopped his face, and he was panting. The madness had taken complete control of him. He couldn't wait any longer. With maddening swiftness he grabbed her by her slender hips and began drawing her toward him. Closer and closer the pointed cock came to its target until the hard, smooth glans of his fuck stick came up against her sopping outer lips. And then lightning seemed to strike as the movement continued. His thick, mighty prick moved into her, making total contact with every nerve.
Further, deeper it went, as if it had no end, touching every part of her demanding vagina. And then he was all the way into her, totally impaling her on his giant cock, feeling the contractions on his prong just as she could feel the pulse beats of his shaft. He had it rammed so far up inside her, he wondered why it wasn't touching her heart.
Pulling her against him, he squashed both tits, one in each hand, and sought her mouth with his. Sensation after sensation shot through him, and he felt it could go on for eternity.
He began poling her twat, moving his cock back and forth, letting it ride in its cushioned enclosure. Said enclosure gripped and squeezed his penis, making slurping sounds as he plunged it in again and out again. He had big, brown balls, and now they tightened up against his body. Even so, they touched her ass, causing the cheeks to part slightly.
Each stroke seemed to be longer than the one before. Each plunge rediscovered new nerve tinglings, new reactions, new waves of pure ecstasy.
He fucked her with the speed of light, his cock making deeper and deeper inroads into her slurping cunt. His ass seemed to rise higher each time, only to force his rod back into her with the power of a diesel locomotive. It was an unrelenting scepter, a magic wand, and right now it was performing the magic for which it had been made.
At first he thought he was going to come before her, but the sensation subsided for a moment. Then he was afraid he wouldn't shoot at all, and he forced himself to fuck even faster, shortening his strokes.
When she would have screamed, his mouth covering hers took the yell and smothered it, just as his body now completely surrounded hers and his arms were crushing her. And then her legs, already twined around his, put so much pressure on him, he thought he'd surely break as her twat suddenly clutched his cock and began squeezing it so tightly, he thought for sure she'd pull it off. She was coming, and he'd never known a woman to have such a complete climax. She squeezed his prick so hard with her pussy he lost complete control of himself and the final, unreachable pinnacle was suddenly there, swallowing up his body as her cunt had engulfed his prick. He arched his powerful body back and then slammed his ramrod against her again, and miraculously it didn't soften. The way her cuntlips held it prevented it from shrinking, and so he slammed into her distended pussy again.
Time had no meaning for him. Minutes passed, becoming hours, and still he fucked away, unable to stop, unable to shrink, not really wanting to stop. He couldn't get enough of her. He had to go on fucking. He'd fuck until the end of time, if possible.
To the end of time. What a glorious idea. He'd die fucking, and in the next life he'd go on fucking. As long as he had this fabulous woman beneath him he could fuck forever.
Like all good things, this, too, came to an end. But it ended so unexpectedly.
She grabbed his hair, pulled his head back so his lips separated themselves from hers, and said, "In a few seconds the dawn will be here. Then I go to everlasting purgatory."
"What are you talking ... about?" he gasped, still ramming his powerful pudendum into her.
"I am your great-grandmother, Rochelle," she answered. "My life and my youth have been restored to me this one night so that I may carry on the curse of the Enders Family. And when you die, long after you are interred in the family crypt, you too will one day return to life, your youth and vigor restored, so that you may commit incest with a granddaughter, or great granddaughter, thus condemning your own soul, as well. We are all of us cursed for the folly of our ancestor, Sir Lawrence, and yet, if it is permitted, I shall wait for you, for the joining of our bodies was unlike any other joining I've ever known, and if we shall roast forever, then indeed we shall roast together."
"For you and this night we have known together, I would gladly surrender my immortality," he whispered, as, with one final thrust, he achieved his final climax, no longer shooting liquid, but receiving no less pleasure.
And then the tip of the sun poked its head over the rim of the horizon, its amber rays pouring into his bedroom through the window near the bed, and suddenly she was no longer there. She had completely dissolved, as had the clothing he'd torn from her body. And as the sun's rays had caused her to dissolve, so had it put him into a deep sleep. He collapsed on the bed, in a deathlike coma, his huge cock still spasming from having come inside the now-nonexistent cunt of Rochelle.
When he had awakened, he had completely forgotten all that had passed between himself and Rochelle. When questioned as to his whereabouts during the party, he had replied he had felt tired and had gone up to bed where he had slept the night through.
Now, awake in his satin-lined casket, he remembered all. Yes, he remembered it all, and he knew what he had to do, The windows in the huge vault were small squares, set near the ceiling. Miraculously the glass had remained intact in all of them. The snow-reflected light was weak, though he really needed no fight. As a member of the undead his eyes could see as well in the dark as they could in daylight; better in fact, for when daylight arrived, he, like his ancestress, would dissolve to nothingness.
Dust, inches thick, covered everything. The crypt had not been opened for quite a while now, save for when the night watchman made his rounds. And more often than not he would merely check the lock on the crypt door without bothering to come in.
He moved, agonizingly slow at first. Standing up, he stepped from his resting place. Looking down at himself he was pleased his family had seen fit to send him to his coffin in his formal dress suit and opera cape rather than cover him with a nightgown-like shroud.
A tittering squeal drew his attention. Turning his head, he used his supernormal vision to see a large rat disappearing into a hole it had made in the wooden casket of one of his less fortunate ancestors.
The musty odor of ancient decay filled his nostrils. He hadn't recalled smelling decay on Rochelle, though now he understood why her body had always been cold. His own body had the same chill about it.
The all-consuming hunger in his body was growing. He would have to find someone to slake it, perhaps more than one before he sought out the final one, the one with whom he would have the ultimate congress. Would it be as good as the one he'd shared with Rochelle? Not that it mattered. In order for his spirit to join hers in purgatory, he would have to commit the incest his body was urging him to do. If he broke the chain, if he was unable to fornicate with a descendant, the curse would be ended, but he wouldn't be able to mingle his spirit with his beloved Rochelle. And that was the one force driving him on to continue the curse. Far, far better to suffer the agonies of Purgatory with a loved one, than to be in Heaven alone.
The gnawing was growing. He had to find someone to fuck. He knew it was too early to seek out his female descendant, but he had to get out and fuck, or his cock would break out of its skin.