Dead Gorgeous (Gay Halloween Paranormal Short Story) (2 page)

I lost all awareness of the music and the lighting
that no doubt continued unabated below. Max could have been on his hands and
knees, man buttered to oblivion in the messiest bukkake party this side of the
Thames and I couldn’t have given a toss. I began to thrust faster, forcing
myself deeper into a mouth that seemed ever more willing. When the creature’s
hands joined across my buttocks I released my forgotten grip of the angel’s
robe, sure that I would not be allowed to fall. My arm twinged as I brought it
round in front of me and I flexed the fingers. As soon as the feeling had
returned I bent gently over and put my hands behind the bobbing head, running
my fingers through the short, thick hair that covered an ice-cold scalp.

Normally an accomplished cock sucker could bring me
off in around three minutes, yet despite this being by far the best I had ever
encountered I knew my climax would take yet more time, as if the saliva
contained a desensitiser.

I ran my hands down the icy slope of the neck, towards
the shoulder blades. Muscles as hard as marble knotted under my fingers as my
flesh made contact with the lining of the cloak; though I knew I had to be
mistaken the material trembled at my touch. Somehow it seemed vital, like a
beating heart. I reached further, as far as I could without dislodging my cock,
and found that the cloak was attached to the flesh between the shoulder blades.
The joint felt supple and sticky, like neoprene, and everything seemed to
flutter as I ran my fingers over it.

I felt my cock ooze, that tell-tale sparkle in my
urethra, the tightening of my balls. Now, I could come at any moment. As my sap
rose and my legs weakened, my head reeled and strange visions formed all around
me. The pressure built. My cock twitched and the creature responded by taking
me deeper and faster. All my strength headed towards my groin, a complex weave
of nerves caught on a thread and pulled together. Angels and demons, moons and
stars, bacchanalian delights I had never even imagined swam around me as if I
gazed into a magical zoetrope.

I snatched at the cloak as the first comet of spunk seared
from me, doing my best not to fall. As my fingers dug in, the cloak divided
into two parts and sprang to life, flapping and filling my head with the noise
of a thousand birds scattered by gunshot. My ears hummed from the sudden change
in pressure, my arms jerked wildly right and left as I clung on, I seemed to
fly through the air, and my cock fired a volley of seed.

When the creature had drained me it fell still and I slumped
on its back, stroking the cloak of feathers. Or were they wings?
Fuck!
That lager had been spiked for sure. But I didn’t care. I nuzzled into the soft
down that I found beneath the surface, a scent rising that reminded me of
quarry dust and wood shavings and incense. My eyes grew heavy and I could feel
myself drifting off.

And then I realised. The creature lay too still. I had
killed it. Shit!

I disentangled myself, stumbling on the stool as I
struggled to get up. I jumped down and shook the creature by the shoulders. It
raised its head and smiled at me.

“I take it you do like angels,” it said, winking.

Relief that I hadn’t killed it soon gave way to a
strange kind of curiosity tinged with fear. “Are you…an…angel?”

“I’m surprised you have to ask, after what you’ve just
experienced.”

“Jesus.”

“As I said, not quite.”

“You’re male?”

“Let me prove it.” He got to his feet and pushed me to
my knees. “It’s what you were thinking about when I found you, isn’t it? Like
the Scotsman and his kilt?” He lifted his robe.

My eyes widened so much the eyeballs could have fallen
out.  Before me, erect and very proud, stood the finest cock I had ever seen,
below which hung balls that a mule would have been proud of. The shaft had to
be ten inches long and eight around, the nob adding another three or four
inches to the length and as bulbous and juicy as a prize Sicilian onion. I
cupped the balls in my left hand and felt their weight. With my right hand I
guided the biblical phallus into my mouth. I almost got lockjaw, but no way was
I leaving without blowing him off – whoever he was. He was gorgeous.

I couldn’t deep throat him, but I tried and choked as
tears streamed down my cheeks. I kept up the rhythm, swirling my eager tongue
around his velvet nob each time I pulled back. He made no sounds, but his wings
fluttered with each stroke, and as I sped up so did the thrusting of his hips
and the shaking of his feathers. I steadied. I wanted to make this last.

I looked up and he was staring down at me. I could see
perfectly, as if he radiated his own light. His face was identical to the
carving I’d traced with my fingers, sweet and gentle and androgynous. His
smooth body bore not a single hair but had the muscular build of the athletes
of ancient Greece. I grasped his knees and ran my hands up his thighs – solid
and steady as rock. He smiled as I cupped his balls again and I knew then that
I gazed into the face of an angel from Heaven.

“Suck me, harder,” he said. “I want to fuck your face
and drown you with my cum, you slut.”

The shock that such a creature spoke like this stunned
me, but, as I say, what the fuck? I slipped my hands round to his arse and took
a firm grip of his buttocks. And then I went for it.

I felt him nearing, felt him bucking like a wild
beast. He thrust so deep it hurt the back of my throat. I gagged, fought for
breath, snot bubbled in my nose. My palms felt itchy and I scratched them
against his skin, but now his arse had grown hair, coarse and matted like that
of a wild animal. I looked up, unable to uncouple as he drove his massive cock
into my throat and he held me tight by my hair. I wanted to run, but couldn’t.
His smile had become a leer in a Satanic mask, his chest a mat of thick hair
that crawled with life. The gentle glow had turned to a fiery red, his body now
not cold as death but hot as the sun. My ears hummed with the beating of his
wings, and at the limits of my vision they appeared no more white and pure as a
dove’s but black and sinister as a raven’s. He let out a roar and my throat and
mouth burned with scalding seed. I gagged and struggled, but loved the taste
that set my spirit alight.

I closed my eyes against the discomfort and only
opened them again once he’d withdrawn completely. The demon had gone. Once more
the angel towered over me, his beatific smile framed by full, innocent lips.

“It is time for me to go, Rick,” he said, covering his
drooping cock with his robe, his white wings fanning the air behind him.

“Must you?” He didn’t answer, just lowered his eyes as
if shy. “Can I see you again?”

“You know where to find me.”

And with that he was gone, and I knelt there among the
dust and the strobe lights and the cacophony of hideous music.

Max stayed over after the party, pissed off with me for not joining in
and not having fun. Little did he know, and I was certainly not going to tell
him. He claimed not to have shot his load once all night and wanted to have sex
with me (up until that point we had still engaged in the odd casual shag when
desperate) but I refused and pissed him off even more. After breakfast the next
day I sent him home, glad to be rid of him, and went for a walk to the end of
the street. When I reached the church it had been surrounded by a wire fence.
Jesus, someone had been up early. Builder’s trucks came and went with
materials, and I walked across to a guy in a hard hat who was fixing signs to
the fence.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Work starts today,” he said, two galvanized nails
gripped between his teeth.

“Fuck, that was quick.”

“Nah, not really. Been set up for ages. We should have
started last month but got held up.” He fixed the last of his signs, lifted his
hat to scratch his head and smiled. “Should all be finished by Easter. Nice
flats they’re going to be.”

“Right.”

“See ya, mate.” He sat his hat back on his head and
went in pursuit of a van that had just driven by.

I looked at the signs. One gave the estate agent’s
details handling the sales and I realised their office was just around the
corner. Why not? No harm in enquiring.

Five minutes later I sat in a plush office before a
spotty teenager in a cheap suit, the sales manager of the branch. He laid the
plans out on his desk and pointed to each as he described every apartment in inane
estate agent jargon. “’Course, the best one’s the organ loft. Here.” He jabbed
a finger at the appropriate plan. “‘Aint the biggest, but it’s got character.
No what I mean?”

I nodded. “If it’s the best, how come it hasn’t sold
when others have already?”

He leaned back in his ergonomic chair and put his
hands behind his head. “I don’t go for it myself,” he said, “all this
supernatural stuff, but we ‘ave to tell all prospective purchasers that this
particular flat is supposed – I say supposed – to be haunted.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward confidentially. “Some bloke
who worked on the organ got crushed by a statue or something and now he walks
the gallery as an angel. Load of crap if you ask me, and I’m sure it won’t put
an intelligent gent like you off, will it?”

I felt a smile spread across my face and I put my hand
into my pocket to feel the black feather I’d found there that morning. “No,” I
said after a pause. “Not at all. I’ll take it.”

~ FIN ~

If you enjoyed
this short story you might like these others by Daniel deLoite:-

Cocks and Cars

Dick

Brief
Encounters

CUMPILATON

Daniel’s
stories are available from Amazon

If you can’t
wait for Daniel’s next publication, he recommends you try these authors whom he
has enjoyed:

Tristram La
Roche

 
Kiran
Hunter

Erastes

James Lear

Rupert Smith