With this said, Cassie ran for my bedroom and I swiftly followed. The loose-jointed acrobatic female leapt in the air, did a turn, and landed on her back in the center of my bachelor bed. She was giggling and laughing merrily. I approached, slowly remembering the nightmarish dreams which took place in this same bed.
Oh hell, I couldn’t climb into the cursed bed! I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, but there was a feminine conspiracy afoot to get me fucked in this bed. Cassie moved to the mattress edge, grabbed hold of my bathtowel, and then jerked it off my nude body. Although she had timidly touched my cock last night, she now eagerly seized the swollen erection and pumped it. Prompted by an unseemly wickedness, this young woman drew my throbbing penis into her mouth and began sucking.
The young cocksucker took her time and made me wait. At one point, I felt teeth nipping at my cockhead. I froze in fear. Yet, the teeth didn’t bite very hard and the nipping was soon replaced by sucking and licking. Kissing lips led one of my hands to Cassie’s cunt. Kneeling beside the bed, I reached over the girl, grabbed her ass, and placed her pussy in front of my face in a perfect pussy-eating position.
Clits are my favorite pussy meat and Cassie’s was especially appetizing. Young, moist, tender, pink meat, she had. Mmm, she had a clit I could suckle and eat forever! I found an unbroken hymen between her inner pussylips so I tried my best to break it with my cupped, stiffened tongue, but soon realized that it was going to take a hard cock to burst this barrier.
As I continued sucking and playing with Cassie’s vaginal plaything, she whimpered and cried wildly. Without intending to, her pussy began spraying my face with orgasmic moisture. Feminine cum ran freely for several minutes.
Pissed off because I hadn’t yet fucked her, Cassie attacked my cock and sucked it and jacked it until orgasmic masculine cum ran freely as hers had. My girl might be an amateur cocksucker, but she knew how to accomplish the task at hand.
Now one-one in the oral consummation game, Cassandra and I climbed into my bed. We were determined to regain our sexual prowess so that we could fuck and fornicate properly. For the next hour or two, we cuddled, we rested, we fondled, and we played foreplay games.
At last, we could take no more. We were ready to mate our bodies together with my cock locked so deeply inside her body it might never come out. We fucked and we mated with the ferocity of feral woods beasts. Moisture flowed. My cock released pressurized creams. Cassie’s cunt flooded my bed and my body with multiple releases of feminine juices.
This was no slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am joining of bodies. Cassie and I copulated for an incredible amount of time. Even after our fluids dried, we fornicated a while longer. Boy-o-boy, now this was the way to start a romantic love match!
[5] The Secrets of Love and Nightmares Revealed
With her parent’s uncertain blessings, seventeen-year-old Cassandra moved into her thirty-year-old lover’s house within the week. A bit of a neighborhood scandal ensued, yet nothing serious threatened to derail our obvious love-lived relationship.
From the morning of Cassie’s deflowering and the consummation of our physical love, I had no more nightmares. Not even a small one. My emotional love and adoration for this fantastic young lady grew each day and she was constantly declaring her love and devotion for me.
Cassie continued to insist on no birth control protection. Since we fornicated like oversexed bunnies in heat, it came as no surprise when Cassandra Barnstable’s pregnancy was announced. A short while later, marriage vows between Cassie and I were spoken in a centuries-old cathedral in her parent’s ancestral home region bordering Italy and Switzerland.
While not my first choice for a marriage venue, this cathedral had become a required marital destination for young Barnstable brides. Secret whispers hinted as this being the home place for (open to interpretation) either demonic or angelic protectors for girls from birth to death. Legend says that at each female birth, new demon/angel protectors are awakened from their crypts.
This dark, dank religious structure gave me the creeps. The wedding party wound down steep steps entering a thick fieldstone lower cavern. Recessed into one wall was a space set aside as an art gallery. A grainy brochure proudly announced an acquisition from, of all places, The Detroit Institute of Arts. At 40 inches by 50 inches the painting had the ominous name of, The Nightmare. How befitting of its time and place.
We individual members of the wedding party were given a private audience of a few minutes in the diminutive gallery to view the artistic masterpiece. My wife Cassandra entered before me and exited minutes later with a radiant look enlightening her face.
So, how bad could it be? I entered the gallery and stared directly at an artist’s creation of the NIGHTMARE I had lived! I nearly shit my pants! There I was lying nude and unrecognizable because of the spurting blood, the disfigured, writhing, screaming agony, and the nightmarish tortures being inflicted upon my mind body and soul.
The insidious succubus sat on my chest with her fangs buried into my neck and her talons clawing at my asshole. From behind dark velvet curtains the mare’s head appeared. Her mouth raped my cock and once more bit my cockhead off and separated it from my shaft.
***
Back upstairs at an open air amphitheater, we wedding guess watched as seminary students performed a play based on the infamous painting hidden below. In the production, the values of feminine virtue were expounded. Imaginary nightmare creatures saved girls and women from violation by pretending to torture every man who touched a female.
As Friar Barnabas Barnstable explained, the painting and the play were based upon folklore and their true religious meaning was merely a cautionary tale meant to protect women from abusive men. To this date centuries after the painting, no man has claimed to have had an actual encounter with any such nightmarish beast.
No shit Sherlock! An aside from the actual nightmare is a warning that to speak of the beastly atrocities is to insure their continuance! Peaceful sleep comes only when wives are treated especially well. Well hidey ho neighbor, you bet your sweet ass that Mrs. Cassandra Barnstable Hall will be the most respected, most revered, and best loved wife in living history!
And there would be no more NIGHTMARES for me!
***
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