Invasion (10 page)

Click. Click. Click. Carly’s heels are tapping atop the opulent tiles. Pop. She pours her wine, a daily ritual when she returns home.

My body is covered in an obligatory sweat. Is this real? What the fuck happened? The scratchy covers are cloaked around me, cocooned in a nightmare, feeling nervous, teetering on the precarious edge of a psychotic brink. My throat is dry, begging for something, anything to drink. Blood. A taste of something delicious. Carly. I don’t know how much longer I can sit and wait, not knowing who the fuck I am, blacking out into a sleep of abysmal misery.

Am I human? Were the incubi that absconded my cognizance realisms of the reflection I am still trying to comprehend? My hands twitch, snowballing my unease. I’m a man who sneaks up, slithering like a venomous savage, tasting his own poison as I remain anonymous to the disgusting customs of all god’s creatures.

Still pondering the delirium, I’m perplexed with my need to live inside the woman I have yet to engage. Tonight, I will get more.

Tonight I will sample her blood, allowing it to lap over my tongue, wallowing in glorious bliss, taking me farther down the rabbit hole that I cannot grasp. These outlooks which surround me are inspiring, yet unversed. Still I attempt to gain reason of the man I was. Based on my ways, the manner in which I respond to conflict and sexual urges, ensures I recognize that I am not on heaven’s list.

I huddle beneath the blankets, bidding to swallow past the dryness in my throat, images of Carly’s pierced pussy making my mouth water, instantly salivating my mouth and sending a torrent of lubrication down my esophagus.

The clacks of her pumps echo, sucking the trauma of my nightmare out, turning me back into the man that I was when I first discovered her home. The invader. I sigh, slowly, ebbing my way back from the place I know I visited before I forgot who I was.

Obsession, this is obsession. Pure and intoxicating, the necessity is irresistible, electrical impulses shocking every neuron into overdrive. My skin prickles with mirth. I smile, her scent wafting through the air as I transmute into a beast smelling his prey, the sweetness of her slit soon to hug me.

Lust-filled, my senses continue to forage, progressing further; the water fills the pipes and travels down until it dumps into the sewerage system.

Now
. Now is the time to drug her. Twice the amount I did last time. It isn’t bedtime yet. I have memorized all of her medications, taken at the hour of sleep. It will be safer this way without the danger of overdose.

I crawl over to the corner, noiseless and undetected, and pull a baggie out from beneath a box. I jacked five of her sleeping pills after returning the initial bottle I pocketed; Trazadone to be exact, 150mg each, enough that she wouldn’t notice. She only takes half a tablet at bedtime for insomnia.

She receives a ninety day supply from a mail order pharmacy. Five tablets missing from almost ninety is hard to notice. After all, she has a man living in her basement who jacked off in her beauty cream, shaved his cock and balls her with her razor, and brushed his pubes with her toothbrush prior to grooming himself. Little Pixie won’t notice shit.

The transparent bag holds my prize, white tablets that will send her to dreamland, imagining the things she pines for. She will wake up sore, questioning if she fingered herself in her sleep after reveries of a man fucking her roughly, but I am no dream.

Extracting two sleeping pills I grip them between my forefinger and thumb. With a decent amount of pressure they grind with my strength. I repeat this with the other, securing the powder in my palm tightly. A person can take up to 600mg, she’s getting 300mg when she is used to half of 150mg, which is 75mg.

I smile.

Standing, my wood tenting my jeans painfully, I could hump the goddamn cemented ground of the basement and still get off with thoughts of her perfectly pink pussy.

I slide, slithering like a viper. This causes me to grin as I make the correlation, briefly sticking my tongue out to taste the air, the same atmosphere my sweet princess lives in. I move it, up and down, to and fro, as I crawl like a lookout working toward his mission. I can taste her, her salty morsel corrupting my wiles.

I reach the stairs, stepping on the safe ones that don’t squeak. By the time I reach the top of the stairwell I gingerly put my ear to the door and listen acutely, hearing her pad around as far away as her room.

One. Two. Three. By fifteen she will reach her robe that is hanging on the back of her door. She removes her work clothes first, her heels and pencil skirt uncomfortable as she indulges in wine while watching romance movies with happy endings that make her cry. She doesn’t believe she will get one.

I will give her one tonight.

Opening the door, cautious to hold the knob until it closes behind me so it doesn’t make noise, I flatten my body hard against the wood, breathing in gradually, inhaling as much as my lungs can contain.

My naked feet whisper across the tiles, my eyes solely on the prize. The red potion, dazzled beneath the recessed illumination of the kitchen, is spotlighted, granting me passage to my destiny. Tonight is the night to make her mine.

Discreetly I reach the cabernet, sitting proudly next to the bottle that would normally be gone on a typical night. This evening, though, after one glass she will glide on a haze of orgasmic ecstasy.

I empty the powder into her glass, stirring it with my finger while still hearing her fidget around in her boudoir, as she tries to keep herself busy while being surrounded with wretched memories of her past.

I descend back to my hell and wait.

Minutes later, as I crouch down, eyes open, ears on high alert, I listen to the bullshit celebrity news that she likes to watch while she drinks her wine. I count, it helps pass the time while listening. Having a stiffy is making me impatient.

The auricles ping glory! Her glass falls to the floor by the time I get to 1,528. That didn’t take long. Shit, she is not even one-hundred pounds. 300mg of trazadone will keep her out for hours! I climb the stairs, still treading lightly in case she is still half-conscious.

Opening the door, I spot the chardonnay with the cork half in, one glass down, the rest remains in the bottle just as I suspected.

Turning, I spot Carly slumped over on the La-Z-Boy recliner like a drunken angel. My mind is hauled into lust, the agony I felt from what I can only suspect is my past, is dismissed.

I want to claw her, mark every part of her. Her collarbones, exposed at the top of her open bathrobe are prominent, her skin pale and flawless leaves me urgently in need of a fix, anything to pacify this alien emotion.

My knees are feeble. My fucking knees are weak. I kill. I rape. I invade. Yet here lies a woman, completely defenseless, gorgeous, and at my mercy, and my knees have lost their strength? I try not to think, only act. To feel this moment, to taste her, touch her, to bury myself as deep inside of her as my body will sanction.

Living inside her brokenness is what I crave, what I have to have right now, yet my bare feet are frozen, planted to the floor like gravestones in earth, as I continue to admire my unconscious quarry. Her skin will soon be against mine, the warmness guiding me down a channel I have never journeyed. She is my grail, buried deep beneath the remembrances of my past, yet I know I shouldn’t tarnish her.

Why do I have a conscience right now? My resolve has never given anything a second thought when lives are in grave peril beneath my hand, yet here sits a woman, wilted over as I consider my options.

I’m high on her, reeling on the brink of what I think may be the way home. Her lips have never spoken to me. Her arms have never wrapped around my chest. Her head has yet to lie over my heart, listening to the life I don’t understand beat away. This is senseless, but I am selfish. Addicted and destitute, I inhale intensely, unable to take my eyes off the delicacy before me.

I strip myself free, the flannel shirt dropping onto the floor as my muscles flex, preparing to ravage her body, gracefully yet sating my need, her need. I will stain her, savoring her blood so she lives on inside me, far beyond this instant.

I pop my fly, my pants sliding down my contoured legs as my hard-on springs free. I want to hurtle inside of her, relishing her sweetness while mapping her with my hands, for as long as time allows.

The carpet soothes my feet, my breathing noxious as her aroma continues to taunt me. I stand before her, towering, stoic, naked, and ready to claim my lover, my mate. I reach down, undoing the tie to her bathrobe, the soft cotton rubbing against my roughly calloused fingers.

She is exposed, totally, her breasts perfect little domes with pink pebbled buds as the brisk air ghosts across her skin. She’s so tiny, I want to scoop her up like Tarzan would Jane. The temptation to pound on my chest is intense, telling the world that she is mine, the invader has claimed his partner, his paramour, but apathetic I stand.

The savage in my bones wants to maul and maraud, brutalizing softness with the wild rutting of my throbbing boner. It plucks up and down with every heartbeat it’s so engorged, oozing eagerness.

Tentative at first, my hands browse over her breasts, soft as mallows, her nipples hard as bullets - and delicious; I find myself cracking under duress. I’m ready to breakdown as the moment of adoration is soon to be abandoned. Admiration will evaporate as the conviction I held leisurely drifts away, like a lost bird from its flock, chasing shelter.

I halt, placing my hands around her neck, mouth over her nipple I bite until I draw blood, easing up on my grasp. I suck hard, drawing the distinct liquid into my mouth, releasing her neck as my fingers tango over her belly and down to her saucy slit.

My lips leave her, eyes staring I grip her breasts hard, teasing her nipples and pinching as firm as my fingers can. Her brows furrow while she remains in a stupor, gifting me a soporific smile. My skin is perspiring, protected in pleasure and acceptance, this is my happy. This is my heaven.

I bend my knees down, pushing hers so far apart that her hips threaten to pop. Her lips are spread, pierced in glory, her twat wet, soaked with desire and response even while slumbering. I was made for her. To invade her; overpower her. She is mine.

Her parted channel teases me as it glistens with her musky arousal, making my tongue water and my stomach grumble. I lick my fingers, sticking two up her asshole, immediately swiping my tongue across her opening, sucking and fucking her with my mouth as my fingers rape her ass.

My digits push up toward her vagina as my tongue enters her. A gush of cream bathes my tongue and I wrap my mouth around her, slurping like my goddamn like depends on it. Salty, filling and quenching, I drink her up as this moment leaves me possessed by her, needing more. Wanting more.

I stand, clutching my huge cock, and stoop to the floor, prying her lips apart as I impatiently ease my way inside. I want to tear her, cleaving cunt to asshole, but I have to withhold my caveman urge for another day.

The head of my dick is met with syrupy heat, so hot within her that I spasm, drips of her cum rimming me. I slide in further, her breasts heave up and down faster while Carly’s eyes stay shut.

My drunk little Pixie can cum for me even when she sleeps. This insight, yet once more, causes pride to flow through me freely, torrentially like an uncontrolled river. My blood courses faster, the veins in my body expanding as her blood melds with mine. I hilt forward, gentleness forgotten for her petite frame, and fuck with might, raging back and forth as I stare at her still bleeding nipple. Gazing between her blood and closed lids, my hands seize her wrists to restrain her, because even if she did wake I wouldn’t be able to stop. This moment is the ultimate, marked in time forever. Souls dancing, harmonizing while bodies explode, accepting Fate despite the subterfuge.

Harder, deeper, faster I go. I want to exist inside her, the feeling is too much. My hands abandon her wrists and I slant in a bend to her mouth, parted as labored exhalations escape. One hand cups her face, the other rests over her womb. Her panting smells like wine and lust. I cannot deny what I need.

Fucking her hard until I feel a prod against my hand, I smash my lips against her. My brain explodes, the stars have aligned, cherubs have sounded their harps, and here I am, wrapping myself inside, reveling within paradise. Consumed, complete and insane, I kiss her, biting, licking, sucking without regard. This is my moment. Her moment. Etched in time forever.

And then I cum, expelling my climax inside her, pumping until the delicacy of what was pulses through me with such force that I’m convinced I just died and ascended to nirvana. I never believed in heaven before this, now, in this tick in time, I understand that she is my heaven. Fuck, she could be god for all I know.

I stare, her eyes still relaxed and asleep, and pull out gently with an audible suction. Mesmerized I watch my cum and her blood drip from her swollen sex. There is nothing more beautiful than that.

Withholding my urge to cut her there, I move, getting a warm washcloth, and clean her pussy, placing her legs back together in the closed position before tying her robe back the way I found it.

Looking at the clock, two hours have passed since I started. Time stands still with her. Nightmares never stay quiet, and eventually the invader has to hide again.