The Devil Made Me Do It ((LitShark & Curious_Muse))

[LitShark]

The Christian Youth Center was among the most expensive buildings in town, undoubtedly the most modern. The Football Program had its own expensive and state-of-the-art facilities, but the Center was more boastful in its lavishness. Wide, angular awnings in bright, primary colors and a glass-enclosed amphitheater where services and youth groups were held. Aside from the Olympic quality beach volleyball courts, there was also a tennis court, two side-by-side basketball courts, a lap pool and a track that encircled the entire facility. The full cost had been over four million dollars, raised from the congregation over the course of several years.

Pastor Hawthorne was shirtless in the morning heat, limbering up and firing off practice serves for the members of his youth ministry who had come in early. It was an informal, casual sort of occasion—something to get everyone’s minds off of Wes and what had happened to him. It was a tragic situation, no doubt, but he was awake now and the rest was in God’s hands. Dwelling on tragedy was a good way to incite the Devil and Pastor Hawthorne wanted more than anything to avoid that outcome.

Pastor Hawthorne had made plans to council Emma privately, once she’d had a chance to properly grieve and he’d had a chance to concoct a strategy. What could he tell her that would really make a difference? When God closes a door He opens a window? It seemed cliché at best.

For now, he was focused on keeping things light—keeping spirits high among the faithful.

“Good morning, Kylie,” Hawthorne smiled and waved before returning a volley back over the net, “we’re still warming up, but I could use your help on my team. Here—set!”

After a rather athletic dig to save the point, Hawthorne hit the ball high in the air, leaving it on his side of the net with enough loft for Kylie to race over and hit a decent spike over the net. She wasn’t particularly tall, but she was fast and had leaping ability to spare. He knew she could spike the point home—even if they were just warming up.

Kylie was an important member of his flock—though he tried to treat them all as if they were equal, as they were in the eyes of God. But the daughter of the football coach was an important member of this community, there was no denying it. It was important to keep her in the fold and in lockstep with his teachings—even in times like these.

“Did you get some decent sleep after the hospital? You sure look well-rested,” Hawthorne smiled. He knew that some of the girls held carnal impulses toward him, but he didn’t shy from that. As long as he never acted on these feelings, what was the harm? Besides, any way he could deliver these over-stimulated millennials and Gen-Z’s to the grace of God, he considered it the Lord’s work.

“Alright, the teams are even,” Jake Myers, a varsity wide receiver called across the net, shedding his own tank top and casting it aside, “let’s play.”

*-*-*

“Don’t you lie to me,” Damien sneered, coming up from behind Emma and wrapping her in his cold, intractable embrace, “hungry is precisely what you are—or perhaps, as you might term it, thirsty…”

One muscular forearm closed across her chest while his other arm wound its way under her oversized night shirt. His hand spread out slowly across her fit stomach below her naval, his pinky finger just slightly slipping inside the waistband of her shorts. He pulled her close, making her feel the rigid peaks and valleys of his lean torso as well as his flaccid cock against her backside.

“Don’t worry, your boyfriend isn’t going anywhere—I promise,” he chuckled faintly at his own joke, “you’re going to sit down and have breakfast with your mother and I. Furthermore, you’re going to show me what you intend to wear to the hospital before you leave this house. I may not be your father, but you belong to me. Do not dare to disappoint me.”

At this, he released her and gave her a solid smack on her round ass, not violent but full of purpose. It was a smack that said, this is mine.

“Go on, get dressed. I’ll fix you a plate,” Damien instructed her, turning back to the cutting board where he was slicing fresh oranges for juicing, “don’t make me come looking.”

*-*-*

Colin flinched when Rachel smacked the counter in front of him. She probably meant it as an act of aggression, but the way the sudden smack made her tits jiggle under her shirt undermined whatever message she was trying to send with the action. He had been lost in his thoughts, as usual, but it was strange that Rachel was asking about the exact subject he was worrying over.

“Kid?” Colin barely got the puzzled reply past his lips before Rachel went on berating him.

It was hard to think of Damien as a “kid,” which was why he seemed momentarily confused—but Rachel had no patience for that kind of distinction. She wanted a favor and to make a threat, almost in the same breath. She wanted him to carry a message to Damien? He didn’t understand, but it was hard to take her flimsy threats seriously when he was worried about the presence of the actual, literal devil.

Suddenly, Rachel Bowers wasn’t so scary.

“Pleasure as always, Rach,” Colin sighed, perhaps louder than he might have dared to say weeks ago, hoping that Rachel didn’t hear him but that Jessie could.

Colin chuckled at Jessie’s question, remembering their little nickname for her—as usual, she had a knack for brightening his mood. He ought to have been elated at the news that Lady Nocturne was still in touch and willing to provide them with content for their little fledgling publication, but he had even greater worries on his mind than filling pages for their zine.

“Jessie… do you believe in God?” it was an odd question, especially coming from him—especially directed at her, “see, I never put much stock in all that religion stuff… but… something happened. I—”

How could he put this?

“I think that the Devil might be real and I might have helped someone summon him to life.”

People underestimated the value of blurting shit out all at once. It cut through a lot of complicated nuance and subterfuge.

“Now I think he might be trying to get me laid to buy my silence. And moreover, we might all be quite literally and figuratively fucked… because the person who summoned him doesn’t really know what the hell she was doing and didn’t bind him at all.

“What—um, what do you think about that?” Colin had a knack for not sticking the landing. He nervously took a sip of the coffee that Jessie had poured for him.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Emma splashed some ice-cold water onto her face and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. That one touch, that one hint of a caress down in the kitchen had almost sent her off the cliff again, and she had no idea how she would be able to get through breakfast without losing her mind. His intoxicating scent lingered on her skin and in her nostrils, and it took all her self-control not to finger herself to an orgasm right there and then.

She was wearing a light summer dress that set off her tanned skin and ended right above her knees in a swinging skirt. It was sweet and sexy, and – she had considered the technicalities of what she was about to try – easy to hike up to straddle Wes on his bed, to seduce him into the quickie she needed to get Damien to leave.

It would have been funny.

Back in the kitchen, she sat with her hands folded in her lap as if she was praying, her eyes glued to her plate. Emma was afraid that if she looked at Damien, she’d lose it. The food smelled amazing, but she had no appetite.

Her mom came down the stairs dressed in a silk dressing gown. Emma would have expected her to feel ashamed, or sheepish. She had expected if not an apology, at least some sort of explanation. But the woman that descended the stairs looked nothing if not triumphant. Satisfied. Sensual. While she had always adored her mom’s beauty, she had never seen her this radiant.

“Good morning,” Carole chirped, as if nothing had happened. “You look lovely today, sweetheart.”

***

With an excited yelp, Kylie leaped up and hit a strong spike over the net, securing another point for their team. She turned around and held up her hand for a high-five. “Great shot, Kylie,” Mary complimented her, her face flush with excitement. “They don’t stand a chance!” she added with a shy, sidelong glance at Jake who was taunting them from the other side.

The game, the sun, and the fresh air had helped to take Kylie’s mind off last night, but the shadows of her dream still lingered. While she normally felt comfortable and at ease around Pastor Hawthorne, today she was self-conscious and afraid that he would somehow know about her disturbing visions. That he would be disappointed, or angry. Like most of the other girls in their youth group, she wanted him to think highly of her. To like her. She barely dared to look at him.

“Come on!” she yelled at their opponents, more to distract herself. “Stop holding back and give us something to work with!”

Her team had won the serve and Mary sent the ball over the net with a precise hit. Alice and Jake both dove, and the ball flew up again, high into the air. Suddenly, Alice appeared behind Jake, snaking her arms around his waist to grab his crotch. Kylie gasped. What the hell? The air was suddenly thick, and her head was spinning.

The ball bounced down next to her to erupting cheers from the other side of the net. Kylie hadn’t even seen it coming.

“Kylie?” Mary’s voice expressed concern and annoyance. “Did you fall asleep there?”

It was obvious that she had only imagined the lewd scene she thought she had witnessed. “Sorry,” she mumbled, still out of sorts. She really needed to get her shit together again. “That was my bad.”

***

Jessie took a bite of her pastry and chewed. Her brows were knitted in concentration as she thought about what Colin had said. He was one of the smartest and most sincere people she knew, and if he was worried about something, she took it seriously.

“Baudelaire said that the cleverest trick of the devil was to convince the world he does not exist,” she said thoughtfully while arranging some of the crumbs on the counter in a spiral pattern. “I bet he would find our fine, upstanding town amusing to fuck with.” Jessie took another bite and fell silent again. “If the person you mention didn’t do anything to reign him in then yeah, I think you are right. We have a problem.”

As a younger teenager, Jessie had been fascinated by the occult. The existence of demons, witches, and necromancers had appealed to her because anything had been better than the very real horrors of the everyday bigotries and the small-mindedness she had to face in school and almost everywhere else in Salem. Later, when the jocks and the popular girls had branded her and her friends as devil worshippers, she had owned it. She still did. Had she ever really believed in any of it? Jessie wasn’t sure, but it sounded like she’d better make up her mind fast.

“Wanna tell me a bit more? Like, when did this happen?” She finished the pastry and washed it down with a large gulp of coffee. “And you’ve seen him then, yeah? And he knows that you…know?” She had a million questions. What did he look like? What had it felt like to be in the presence of the literal devil? Did evil have a smell? But those would have to wait. Going down on her knees she started to rummage around one of the lower drawers under the counter. “Probably better to err on the side of caution and assume it is as you say. First thing: self-protection. Can’t hurt, right?” She pulled out a battered little tin, the patterns on the outside faded and barely recognizable. “Someone gave that to me a few months ago at a Wicca meeting. Insisted it would protect from glamours and spells…” Standing up, she emptied the contents of the tin onto the smooth wooden surface: a tangle of four silver chains, each with an engraved silver amulet at the end.

“They don’t look like much, but better safe than sorry,” Jessie stated with a shrug while trying to untangle the necklaces. “I suppose you don’t want to ask someone like Pastor Hawthorne?” Somehow Jessie doubted that he was going to believe them anyway, and, if he did, things might get small town-ugly for them and the Adult Bookstore. She sighed and handed him one of the amulets. “It might be useful to know what kind of deal the person you mentioned made. If we know what the devil is after, it might be easier to prevent him from getting it, I suppose. There must be a way to send him back to where he came from.” In her head, she had thought about similar scenarios hundreds of times. But it had all been in jest: the imagined rituals, the potions, the binding circles. But if the devil was indeed real, fun and games were over.

Then she smirked. “If Satan thinks that Rachel fucking Bowers is the key to your heart, he is not as smart as he probably thinks he is. That could work in our favor.”

***

Hannah took a moment to look down at her gorgeous, sleeping husband. The sex last night had been amazing, and her pussy was still deliciously sore. It was a pity that she didn’t have any time to wake him up with her lips wrapped around his cock to entice him to another quick round. Kylie was gone, and they had the whole house to themselves, but she had promised Cammy to join her for coffee. The poor woman was climbing up the walls, and who could blame her. But now Hannah almost regretted her charitable impulse.

With one finger, she traced the muscles of his back. Had she been shocked about his fantasy to fuck a cheerleader? The honest answer was not really. Somewhere in the back of some closet, she still had her old uniform. Maybe she could put it to some good use later tonight.

Glen smelled so good, like faint hints of star anise. Hannah leaned down and kissed him between his shoulder blades. “Darling,” she whispered in his ear. “Wake up. You need to be in the gym in an hour.”

 

[LitShark]

Glen stirred reluctantly from a half-remembered dream of carnal debauchery. He couldn’t remember most of the specifics, but his hard cock reminded him of the overall tone. His wife’s gentle kiss and reminder that he still had responsibilities on this Saturday morning.

“Damnit,” Glen groaned, rolling over to wrap his arm around his wife’s shoulders, “I’ve got to rethink my whole offense…”

Wes, the hit, the night before, that cocky kid he’d never seen before with the expensive cologne—everything came flooding back to him in a rush. Kyle Lowes was the backup quarterback, the likeliest candidate to take over as QB 1, but it was no secret that Kyle had a knack for throwing to the wrong team.

Another option was to sub Marcus in at QB and run a wildcat offense—but he had no idea of how or if Marcus could stand up to such a large workload for four quarters. Then there was the dark horse candidate, that cocky kid from the hospital. He had no tact whatsoever, but kids that cocky usually got that way by being damn good.

His story was flimsy at best, but of he could fill in at quarterback, Glen had to consider him.

“Alright, I’m up. Let’s see what’s left of my offense…” Glen continued to grumble as he climbed out of bed and threw on his team branded sweats and polo shirt, “love you, babe.”

He kissed his wife gently before making his way downstairs to start a pot of coffee.

*-*-*

“Yeah, totally,” Colin chuckled in response to Jessie’s barb about Rachel not being the key to his heart.

It was sweet, the way that she saw the best in him and she always knew how to make him smile, even in the most dire situations—but deep down, Colin knew that it wasn’t his heart that the Devil was after. It was his darkest, most carnal instincts that the devil was appealing to—and those dark desires and wicked impulses—Rachel fucking Bowers was exactly who could be the key to them…

But he had no intention of letting Jessie know this.

“It was last night, after the accident and Emma came by begging to borrow a black candle—which is way out of character for her. Some hours later I found her out by the crossroads, the candle was all burned up and there was this new kid—Damien. Like, full blown Omen vibes.”

Colin worked with Jessie to help untangle the necklaces, eagerly clasping one around his neck.

“I mean… maybe it’s nothing. I hope it’s nothing—but the guy just gives me the creeps. And all things considered, I’m something of an authority on creeps.”

It was a weak and feeble smile that Colin gave to Jessie, but she had reassured him. The necklaces she provided gave him a sense of security. Just saying these things that had been haunting him out loud made him feel much relieved. They were in this together now and they were going to do something about it.

*-*-*

“Doesn’t she just?” Damien smiled, wrapping his muscular arm around Carole’s waist and pulling her into his lap, “lovely and beautiful—but not too slutty. She must get that from her father’s side.”

Damien flashed a devious smile before feeding a piece of perfectly crisp bacon to Carole.

“Emma, dear. You’ve barely touched your food. I know you’re upset that your boyfriend broke his little back or whatever, but you still need your strength if you’re going to be by his side. Or whatever else,” there came a knowing gleam in Damien’s eyes, “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave this table until you finish your breakfast—I juiced the oranges myself.”

This last bit, Damien said to Carole, handing her a glass. He then began kissing and nibbling at her long, angular neck while his hand slithered inside of her robe, cupping and caressing her naked breast inside her silk robe.

“I’m afraid I myself must be getting over to the school gym. There’s a vacuum of power there and I intend to insert myself into it,” at this last bit he moved his hips meaningfully, letting Carole feel the length of his semi-hard cock under her thigh, “then I’ll come back and insert myself into you.”

Damien playfully opened his mouth wide and bit Carole’s shoulder playfully.

“Now, finish your breakfast, young lady,” Damien smirked, gently lifting Carole out of his lap and going upstairs to find some sweats that would fit him.

What he descended in were Emma’s father’s olive sweats from basic training—printed with the letters USMC at the hip and chest.

“I’ll see you both soon,” Damien called over his shoulder as he departed the house.

*-*-*

Pastor Hawthorne looked quizzically at Kylie. It was so unlike her to zone out like that, especially in the realm of sports competition. She was like her father in her competitive spirit and drive. Especially after making such a bold proclamation like she had, it seemed strange. Pastor Hawthorne didn’t want to gang up on her, but he did want to be sure she was alright.

“Kylie…” Pastor Hawthorne gently placed his hand on her shoulder, “is everything alright? Do you have something that you need to—”

Confess?

The Pastor’s hand moved down the angular crease of her spine, snugging the oversized t-shirt against her skin. His stubbly chin snugged roughly into the nape of her neck as his tongue crept lewdly out of his mouth to caress the edge of her collarbone as his hand ducked inside her shirt. He caressed her perky, petite breasts roughly, squeezing her erect nipple between strong fingers as his other hand slipped into her basketball shorts, wasting no time before rubbing insistent circles around her clit. One finger, then two—faster and faster, making her jerk her hips back and forth.

“Kylie…” he sighed, sliding two fingers inside of her, “Kylie…”

“Kylie?” back in reality, the Pastor still had his hand respectfully on her shoulder and nothing more, but it was hard not to notice the erectness of her nipples or the less-than-subtle gyration of her hips, “are you—um, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should go take a rest in the shade.”

“I’ll go with her!” Jake chimed in, a little too eager not to earn a sidelong glance from the Pastor, “you know… keep the teams even?”

“Alright. You two, get some water. Alice, your serve.”

Jake jogged over, sweat beading on his muscular body.

“Yo, kid,” most of the football players called her “kid” or “sport” out of respect for her father, “you all good? You seemed to be zoning out pretty hard there.”

Jake didn’t say it, but he suspected that it was related to Wes. It was something of an open secret that Kylie had a bit of a crush on QB1—like most of the girls in Salem. But it was no secret at all that she was off limits to football players, lest they earn the ire of Coach Owens—something none of them wanted to risk.

Though Jake found himself often tempted.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the table where a case had been set out for them, pouring some in a waterfall into his mouth and down his chin before gently dribbling a bit down Kylie’s back to cool her down.

“Maybe the heat is getting to you, huh?”

 

[Curious_Muse]

Emma was shaking. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the steering wheel of her car, staring at the road ahead. As soon as Damien had been gone, she had fled the house. The lusty glint in her mom’s eyes had been the last straw. What was she going to do? It was clear that something had to be done, that Damien had to be stopped. But how? If her only option was to make an emergency baby with Wes…

Her stomach rumbled. The bacon had been perfect, crisp and juicy, the toast wonderful, the eggs just as she liked them. But with Damien and her mom making out right in front of her eyes it had been impossible to get anything down.

Emma steered the car into the hospital parking lot, feeling faint with nerves. When she made her way down the corridor to Wes’ room, she felt like she was going to throw up.

“Hi babe,” she whispered as she stuck her head in the door. “Are you awake yet?”

***

Jessie was sitting in a corner of the shop, large piles of books scattered around her while Colin worked at the counter. What he had told her about Emma and her attempts to summon the devil had set her teeth on edge with nerves. Emma was the kind of girl who was just selfish and naïve enough to conjure Satan and leave the rest of them to deal with the fallout.

But she was ready to go full Giles on this fucker.

“There,” she said triumphantly. “I think I might have found something that could work.” She heaved a large tome onto the counter and pointed with her finger to a paragraph. “All we need are two more people who are willing to try and do this with us. Maybe Miguel and Lynn? And a big bag of salt.” When Colin didn’t say anything, she explained: “Well, we need to catch him inside a circle of salt and then channel our collective energy to expel him. We all need to wear a talisman…,” she fingered her necklace and grinned. “There’s a spell, too.”

This felt exciting. “From what you told me, he might be at the gym this morning, right?” She was determined not to let Colin’s worries fester. What was the worst that could happen? That more people thought of them as freaks? “Easy to make a salt circle around that. He won’t know until it’s too late. And if he’s just a regular creep, well, then we’ll know.”

***

“Maybe,” Kylie answered listlessly, taking the bottle from Jake to have some water. Her head was spinning. She watched the others play, unable to take her eyes off Pastor Hawthorne. That sensation of his tongue on her skin, the scratch of his stubble had felt so real. Even now, she thought she could still feel the lingering arousal his fingers had caused between her legs. What the hell was wrong with her? The pastor had always been kind and had never given her, or any of her friends, any reason to doubt his intentions. Where were these visions coming from?

She wondered if this was what happened to bottled-up virgins whose fathers kept them on such a short leash that they never even stood a chance to meet anyone. To experiment. And with a father that was feared by all the hottest guys in school, things looked even more dire. None of the boys on the football team dared to even flirt with her, and none of them had ever invited her on a date. Maybe this was her body telling her that lonely bedroom fantasies were no longer enough.

It did not help that Jake was sitting so close to her now. The heat radiating off his body – he had such a mouthwatering body she suddenly found it difficult not run her fingers down his arms – warmed her skin as if they were touching.

“Jake?” she said softly, tentatively. She wasn’t sure how to ask this, but she needed to ask somebody, and he seemed like someone who might know. “Do you ever have like…” Her voice trailed off, and she blushed furiously. “Do you ever have dreams, but during the day? Like…dirty dreams?” She took a quick gulp of water, obviously very embarrassed, and already regretted having asked Jake this. Someone like him surely didn’t need to fantasize at all – he could have the real thing whenever he wanted.

 

[LitShark]

“Yeah! Miguel and Lynn, that’s a great idea!” Colin grinned, his excitement mounting—this was starting to feel like they might have a chance with this plan—like Fright Night or something, “salt is easy enough… but do you think that the jocks will just let us storm in there? They probably don’t know what he is, and they might have accepted him as one of their own. Right now, our main advantage is surprise—if we blow that… it probably won’t be Ol’ BB that he sends after us next.”

Colin bit his bottom lip, a nervous habit of his.

“Look, I really appreciate you hearing me out, but if I’m right and this goes in any way sideways—I just don’t know what I’d do if I got you involved and something happened to you,” Colin looked up into Jessie’s blue eyes, “it would literally kill me.”

His hands fumbled with the talisman at the end of the chain she’d just given him.

“Or if I’m wrong—and this just becomes another excuse for those assholes to fuck with us… I think this is too dangerous to get other people involved. Maybe we should just get the fuck out of dodge and hope he forgets about me.”

The bell on the door interrupted any further discussion of the devil. It was one of their regulars coming in to whack off in the viewing rooms in the back. He slapped a few greasy twenties on the counter and Colin slid him a key without looking away from Jessie.

“I couldn’t live with it.”

*-*-*

Wes smiled wide when he saw Emma’s face again. He was genuinely glad to see her. He wanted to jump up and grab her in his arms and spin her around like he always did—but the smile was all he was able to do. He’d managed some minor movement lower down his neck, so at least he was able to make minor turns of his head which was an improvement—but below the neck, there was nothing. He was like a head on a stick—which was apparently an actual term for this type of paralysis.

The doctor had said it with a straight face.

The hours of sleepless staring at the ceiling had made Wes rethink his misgivings about Emma. She loved him—he knew it. She would never do something to hurt him. His worry over the ring’s engraving was just some kind of misunderstanding. He’d just made a mistake or something. It must have been a trick of the light.

“Babe! I’m so glad to see you!” Wes turned his head just faintly, a grand gesture by scale, “come here! Kiss me, please!”

He wanted to thrash around, to jump on her and fuck her through the floor—but he just turned his head faintly back to center. More movement than he’d mustered in several hours previous. He was exhausted from just that—like second overtime against Middleton tired.

But when his lips met hers, all of that melted away. His lips, his tongue, the breath in his nose—all of that was in perfect, working order.

“I love you. I’m so glad to see you,” Wes sighed when the kiss broke, he kept his eyes closed.

*-*-*

Jake chuckled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. He was misunderstanding what Kylie was asking him. He thought he was busted.

“Okay, I get it. I thought that I was being more subtle than that, but you’re right—I have been having fantasies about you. Truthfully, lots of guys look at you like that, but we know better than to pursue it because your dad would murder us. I think I might be the biggest offender though—and I’m sorry. It’s just hard, you know? You’re so beautiful… sexy even. But I just…”

Jake trailed off as a dark cloud crossed over the face of the sun.

“Just now I was thinking about wrestling you out of that baggy shirt and wrapping it around your neck to choke you while I fucked your ass from the back—“

The cloud moved past the sun again.

“I’ve always kinda had a crush on you. Since we were kids.”

Jake looked up into her eyes.

*-*-*

“C’mon! C’mon! Get there!” Marcus was encouraging Javier to finish pushing up the 400 lb. bar, “lock those arms! C’mon! You got it! You got it!”

When Javier’s arms finally locked out, Marcus assisted him in re-racking the bar, setting it down. When it was secure, Javier sat up and slapped hands aggressively with his spotter.

“Fuck yeah!” Javi grunted, chest bumping with his friend and spotter.

All of the grunting and screaming stopped when Damien entered the weight training room. There came a few metallic clanks as others put up their weights. He was noticeably out of place, the only one not in team branded workout gear. But he strode in confidently like nothing was wrong.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Coach Owens sat up from his desk and crossed the floor of the weight room, wanting to avoid any kind of physical altercation. Owens wasn’t the only one that this new kid had ruffled at the hospital, “this is a closed session.”

“I told you,” Damien smirked, looking down his nose as two offensive linemen blocked his approach, “I’m here to be your new quarterback.”

“The fuck? Coach, who the hell is this?” Kyle, the backup quarterback and rightful heir to Wes’ position was understandably irritated by Damien’s assertion, “can I kick his ass?”

“No, you cannot,” Damien answered the question Kyle asked, rather than the one he meant, “come on. This place is some type of proving ground, right? Try me. What’s the most of these plates someone has ever carried? How far did they go?”

A few players chuckled at what they assumed was a joke.

“Alright tough guy. Orlando. Show this clown what it looks like to squat 550.” Coach Owens was smirking now.

Players laughed and cheered, gathering around the squat rack, some carrying plates over to load the bar with weight. Orlando was the left tackle, easily twice Damien’s size—maybe more. He slung a rolled towel over the back of his neck and positioned himself under the bar. He breathed in and out loudly several times before straightening his legs and taking the bar out of the cradle.

“All you, big man! All you!” Marcus called out, spotting him on one side, “you got this!”

Orlando arched his back and bent his knees, he groaned loudly, pushing back up with all his might. Veins bulged in his thighs and spit came flying past his lips and down his chin. After more grunting and pushing, he finally was able to push through and lock his legs straight again. Everyone cheered—some damn near lost their minds as the spotters re-racked the weight on the cradle.

“Your move there, QB 1,” Coach Owens smirked.

Damien shrugged. He didn’t totally understand this game, but he was ready to play. He positioned himself under the bar, not waiting for a spot. He lifted the heavy weight like nothing and bent at the knees, and then stood back up straight. Instead of cheers, the room stood in stunned silence.

Confused and frankly disappointed, Damien did another squat, banding lower and finishing the push with a little hop, making the weights make an intimidating metallic clap as he landed. Still, no one cheered. They just gawked—frustrating Damien even further. He squatted down again, nearly touching his backside to the ground and then fired off, actually challenging his superhuman strength and jumping nearly to the top of the squat cage—a higher vertical leap than Orlando had unburdened.

You could have heard a pin drop.

Damien sighed and racked the weights, frustrated and angry. Convinced he might have to find another way to prove himself.

“I don’t understand what he did that was so special…” Damien was grumbling before Coach Owens broke the silence.

“Welcome to the team, kid. Tell the equipment manager how to spell your last name and if you have a number you like.”

“I like six.”

 

[Curious_Muse]

“Oh Wes…Wes!” Emma melted into the kiss, pouring everything into it that she had experienced over the past hours: the heartbreak, the fear, the desperation and the unbridled, raw lust. “I have missed you so much. So much.” She hugged him, her head on his chest, her emotions almost too much to handle. “And I love you, too. I do.” It felt as if she was saying this as much to Wes as she did to Damien. There was defiance in her voice, and anger. “I have never wanted to see anyone as much in my whole life.” It was true. After the insanity of last night, the feeling of Wes, of his body, his scent, his wonderful familiarity felt like a lifeline.

She stood back up and softly caressed his cheek with her fingers. He looked so helpless. So weak. “How are you feeling? Did you get some sleep? What did the doctors say? Can you feel anything yet?” Emma tried to hide the rising panic and her impatience, because she did not want him to think that she didn’t want to wait until he was better. If it wasn’t for Damien, she would have waited forever, she was sure of it. But how was she to tell Wes that there was no time?

Her fingers trailed from his cheek to his lips, and down his neck, while her other hand slipped under his hospital gown. Emma loved the feel of his muscles. Of his soft skin. She gave him a seductive smile. “I have missed you so much, babe,” she whispered, trying to make it look and sound seductive. Part of her was terrified that he would be shocked by her come-on. “How often does the nurse come in to check on you?” She winked and was immediately annoyed with herself for this cliché gesture. “Do we have a few moments to ourselves?”

***

“It’s so sweet when you go all patronizing douchebag on me,” Jessie said with a dry smile. “It’s almost romantic.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “But I hadn’t offered my help if I didn’t mean it.” The familiar, muffled groans from the back didn’t distract her. “Don’t worry about me. And it’s not like these jerks need a reason to fuck with us. It’s our senior year. Let’s go out with a bang!”

Colin didn’t look convinced, but that didn’t stop her. “Lynn would love it. And I’m sure Miguel wouldn’t mind some occult fun.” She emptied her cup of the last dregs of cold coffee. “And we don’t need to storm anything either. All we need is a perfect circle of salt around the gym building.” Jessie illustrated this by making a circle with her hands. “And all four of us have to agree to stand our ground if things get a bit crazy. Which they might if that guy really is the devil.” The broad grin indicated that the thought didn’t trouble her. “He probably wouldn’t even see it coming until it’s too late!”

“And if he’s just another regular asshole? Then at least we spent a fun Saturday together.” She nudged his arm. “And you know as well as I do that you wouldn’t just leave Emma to the devil.” This time, her voice was firm. To Jessie, his crush on the head cheerleader was no secret, even if she never really understood what he saw in her. “Even if you managed to get away – which I think is unlikely – she won’t be able to.” She put the cup firmly back down onto the counter. “Should I get the salt or do you want to?”

***

Kylie stared at Jake, open-mouthed. “What did you just say?” Despite the heat, she felt chilled to the bone. Had she imagined it, like everything else? Not impossible, under the circumstances. Surely, Jake Myers had not just told her that he was daydreaming about fucking her in the ass. That he wanted to choke her while doing that.

For a moment she wondered if that was the kind of stuff Jake liked. If he had done that with any of the girls he had fucked. The image made her throat run dry.

“I don’t feel so good,” she stammered. At this point, she didn’t trust herself not to blurt out something even more outrageous. “I’ll go inside for a bit, I think. To cool down.” Inwardly cursing her cowardice (because he definitely did say that he fancied her, which was a revelation that on a normal day would have been fucking amazing), she scrambled to her feet and went towards the church. Part of her wanted him to hold her back, or to follow her. But most of her was terrified of what other shit her mind would throw at her.

The church was cool, and her skin immediately broke out in goosebumps when she entered. It was quiet, and the morning sun threw scattered shards of light across the floor. She squeezed into one of the empty pews. Kylie felt faint when she went down on her knees, and never more in need of divine guidance.

***

Rachel arrived in the gym building when the commotion around Damien had died down somewhat. She was dressed in a sports bra and tight bikers shorts that barely covered the perfect globes of her firm ass. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she had applied only a hint of make-up and lipstick. Enough to whet appetites. A hint, but not an open invitation. Rachel was not out to catch small fry. This time, she needed a real catch.

The thirst that had been building inside her all morning felt urgent now. Physically painful. She walked up to Glen’s desk, her gym bag slung over her shoulder.

“Morning, coach,” she said in a low, sultry voice. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I do some training of my own in the corner? Regionals are coming up and Ems told me that I needed to work on my splits.” Her full lips curled into a sweet smile. “After last night, I decided to put in the work. I figured that your boys could do with some serious cheers.” Batting her eyelashes seductively, she added: “And I imagine, so can you.”

 

[LitShark]

Coach Owens’ eyes narrowed as he saw Rachel enter the workout facility, hardly wearing anything and swishing her hips around, begging for attention. It was hard not to be captivated by the display of young, firm flesh, laid out before him—harder still not to remember last year, in the tense build-up to their National Championship—on the desk in his office…

Hard.

His cock, her abs, the fact that she was the same age as his daughter—all of these things were so very hard. He’d managed not to repeat his mistake with Rachel, which it was, a mistake. But it seemed that learning this lesson—the lesson too would be hard-learned.

“Practice your splits, huh? That’s fine as long as that’s all you’re here to do, Miss Bowers,” Coach Owens tone was implacable in contrast to Rachel’s sultry voice, even his tone was hard, “just don’t go distracting my players. And as for any extra cheering I may or may not need, my wife is more than capable of handling that.”

Still seated, lest he reveal his hardness from under the desk, Glen gestured to the far corner of the expansive, modern, workout facility—toward the yoga mats and balls, away from the iron gym where his players were still amped up from Damien’s display.

No longer the outcast, Damien was fast friends with Marcus, the running back with over a dozen D-1 scholarship offers just a few weeks into his senior season. Marcus and a few others were teaching Damien about the bench press.

“That girl that just walked in,” Damien remarked, laying himself under the heavily laden bar, “is she supposed to be some kind of big deal or something?”

“Bowers?” Marcus chuckled, “you don’t want that smoke, Six. She’s a man eater, that one. Venus fly trap, a black widow spider. That’s the black diamond course—you wanna get a few runs down the Bunny slopes first.”

His metaphor earned a few chuckles from the others, but Damien had no idea what the fuck he was even talking about. Ski slopes being a foreign concept to one who’d lived a lifetime worth of lifetimes in hell.

Damien straightened his arms without hesitation and lowered the bar to his chest, pressing back up as if it weren’t loaded up with over 400 lbs. of weight, down again, then back up. Even more incredible, he resumed the conversation without even a hint of strain in his voice or an alteration of his breathing pattern.

“Whatever. The bitch can’t suck cock worth a damn—and I’m getting the idea that she can’t follow directions either…” Damien continued doing reps with the wight which was intended to be his assumed maximum, “is she just going to stay here?”

Damien racked the bar again, the sudden transfer of weight back into the cradle, tossed like it was nothing made the far legs of the bench tip off the ground for a moment. Leaving the others once more in stunned silence, Damien sat up and walked straight over to Rachel. His hand made an audible slap as he grabbed her bare upper arm and yanked her violently to her feet.

“Hey!” Coach Owens, for as much as he disliked Rachel, wasn’t going to let one of his players rough her up—no matter how richly she might deserve it—or how much Glen might enjoy watching her get the cockiness slapped out of her smug fucking face, “no rough stuff with the ladies. We don’t do that around here.”

At least not where people could see you.

Coach Owens ought to have followed after Damien, who was nearly carrying Rachel back into the Boys’ locker room—but he didn’t want to get up from his desk. It was much too hard.

The whole locker room flooded with the smell of cinnamon, citrus and clove. Damien was radiant with pheromones in his rage—the air practically crackling around him as he shoved her roughly against the wall.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, showing your face around here after you didn’t do what I fucking told you,” Damien’s hands were suddenly used to applying intense pressure from his work with the weights, his grip on her upper arms would leave bruises behind, “where is he now? Where is Colin?”

*-*-*

Colin was in the student parking lot, meeting up with Lynn and Miguel. While Lynn was every bit as enthusiastic as Jessie had predicted, Miguel seemed to think that it was some type of prank or a joke. His incredulity knew no bounds.

“So, you think that the devil—like the devil is in there lifting weights with those meat heads right now? And you want to draw a ring of salt around the workout facilities and perform a spell to bind him? Like, an actual occult spell. On campus. With a room full of roided-up jocks on the wrong side of it? That’s the plan? Like—that’s Plan A?” Miguel looked over to Lynn for confirmation that this was the stupidest plan he’d ever heard, but she seemed to be drinking the Kool Aid.

“So… just so I know the plan. If this succeeds—like, best case scenario. You want to trap an actual demon in there with all the weights and treadmills and workout shit he could wish for, and convince all those meat heads that it’s for their own good so they don’t stomp us to pieces?” Miguel kept looking from one to the other, “and then what? Wait him out? Set ourselves up in opposition to an immortal and hope he blinks first?”

It really wasn’t a good plan, but Colin was caught between a rock and a hard place. Jessie had called him out back at the Bookstore—even if she hadn’t insisted on helping, Colin had to do something to try and help Emma. In some backwards kind of way, he felt responsible for what had happened. It was his black candle. He’d been so excited to have Emma’s attention and interest on him, howsoever briefly, he hadn’t considered the repercussions of giving her what she wanted.

“We’re not workshopping this shit. You’re in or you’re out.” Colin was projecting confidence, even if he wasn’t actually confident.

Miguel stayed silent. On one hand, he wanted to support his friend and his newfound confidence. He and Colin were like poet laurates in the field of taking beatings by now—but what if it was true. The devil was real and in-the-flesh, and they were going to stand up in opposition to him? Miguel wasn’t even sure he believed in that shit. Why wasn’t this the Church’s job?

One last look at Lynn. For her, he would do anything—even defy the Devil.

“Alright… let’s get started,” Miguel sighed at last.

Even before Jessie pitched her plan, Colin had bought several bags of rock salt from the Feed Store on his way to work, just in case. It was an unseasonable time for such a purchase—so much so that the cashier had asked if he was “stocking up for winter.”

He heaved one of the forty-pound bags onto Miguel’s shoulder.

“It’s supposed to be an ‘uninterrupted circle,’ but I think that the uninterrupted part is more important than the circle part. One small gap and the whole thing falls apart.”

Colin sank his folding knife into the bag and started making a trail around the Workout Facilities.

*-*-*

Seek Me and you shall be found—

Unlike Him, I seek thee as well.

Damien’s voice was clear as a bell, so close and real that his breath seemed to brush Kylie’s hair from her shoulder. It was unclear if the other was God or Jake, but the voice was whispering that the answer was not here.

When she opened her eyes, the alter seemed to be basked in the same kind of projected image as the crowd from her dream. The difference was that instead of herself, Kylie would see her father, Coach Glen Owens, dripping with sweat and thrusting urgently with his hips.

He was fucking Rachel Bowers, a classmate of Kylie’s and member of the cheer squad. The legs of his desk creaked and groaned along with the grunts and moans of passion as he fucked her. Written in projected light across the face of the hand-carved crucifix, she watched her father be unfaithful to her mother with a girl her own age.

Daddy! she kept moaning.

I can take this pain away from you.

I can make you whole.

Seek me out—

Come and see.

Daddy! Daddy!

*-*-*

It felt so good to hear Emma’s voice, her breathless gratitude at the simple act of kissing him. The subtle tones of his heart monitor told him that his heart was beating faster, which he ordinarily would have felt in his chest. The kissing was so good—it was amazing! His mouth, his tongue—like his whole world shrunken down to the space he could still control.

But the moment was short-lived, as kissing wasn’t enough for Emma, it seemed. Their roles completely reversed from just last weekend. It had become a routine with them, her kissing contentedly, him pressing for more—but now the shoe was on the other foot.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Her hands on his body seemed an entirely separate event from the moment they were having—like she was cheating on him with his own body. It brought him back to how much he was not himself.

“Babe… listen…” his voice quivered faintly, “I just barely figured out how to turn my head. I can’t feel anything that you’re doing down there and…”

His breath caught in his throat, his inhale came in a stuttering sob. Of everything that led up to it, this was the most painful moment of this whole miserable disaster.

“I have a catheter in…” he broke down into sobs, tears rolling down his face.

His face was red and his nose was running. He couldn’t even wipe his own snot—which gave rise to a new fit of sobs. Snot was dripping down to his chest.

“I’m sorry…” Wes apologized, but he wasn’t sure for what.

 

[Curious_Muse]

“In that sad fucking book shop, where I left him!” Rachel hissed at Damien, furious. “Get off of me, you are hurting me!” Through the shock and the pain, there was also the strong urge to rip off his clothes, had she been able to move. “You can ask him on Monday, and he’ll tell you that I did what you asked. He almost instantly came in his pants,” she said, trying to yank her arms free of his grip. “Why are you so invested in Colin? He’s a loser and a freak!”

He smelled so good. How could anyone smell this amazing? She was squirming and writhing, and not only because she wanted to get away. In fact, the need to get her hands on his body was even stronger and growing. “Look, if you want to navigate the politics of Salem High, I can help you with that. I can also help you get what you want and keep it.” She was a little disappointed to see that he was already wearing workout gear and training with the team. But that did not mean that Coach Owens would give him the position he was aiming for.

Maybe the coach needed a little encouragement. His performance earlier had been good, a valid attempt. But Rachel knew when a man tried to hide his hard-on from her. She had an expert eye for eager prey.

“Trust me,” she said in a strangled voice, almost a moan. “Let me help you.”

***

“Oh God, make it stop,” Kylie said in a choked voice, covering her eyes with her hands. “Make it fucking stop!”

The voice reverberated in her head, still. Seductive. Threatening.

“Who are you?” she whispered, her skin crawling with what she had just seen. She felt like throwing up. Was she losing her mind? Was there no safe place from these visions, not even inside an actual church? “What do you want from me?” Tears were streaming down her face now. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” Kylie had not noticed that she was shouting, her voice echoing around the empty church building. Where was God when she needed Him most?

Obviously, these visions were complete bullshit. Figments of her hormone-fueled imagination. Just like Pastor Hawthorne, her dad would never, never ever do something like that. At the same time, all of these scenes – and words – had felt real. She put her forehead against the cool polished wood of the bench in front of her. What was she supposed to do? Who could help her? Not her dad. Not the preacher. Not Jake.

Her eyes wandered to the figure of Jesus on the cross, hoping for some kind of sign that He had not abandoned her, too. That she wasn’t alone. “Help me,” she whispered into the silence. “What have I done to offend you?”

That voice. The unknown boy from her dreams. She needed to find him, if he was real, but had no idea where to start looking.

***

“Let’s get this fucker!” Jessie spoke with a cheerfulness she did not entirely feel.

She felt a little guilty, but she was too proud to admit that Miguel had a point. She had been so eager to do something, to appear spontaneous and fearless, that she hadn’t really thought the plan through all the way to the end. The spell was supposed to trap the demon inside the circle of salt – but then what? Maybe it would expose him to the jocks inside, but would they care? She had somehow assumed that once trapped like that, he would return to where he had come from. That being trapped would render him harmless.

But what if it didn’t? She had given the remaining two amulets to Miguel and Lynn but had no idea if they would work. It all started to feel a little rash. On the other hand, she still believed that time was of the essence and if the devil was trapped inside the gym building, he would not be able to get to Emma.

Right?

She took one of the bags of salt and started to walk in the opposite direction of Miguel, pouring a well visible white line parallel to the wall of the gym building. After that, all they needed was to start to the incantation.

***

It was all so fucked up. Emma withdrew her hand from under the blanket and took out a tissue from the box on Wes’ bedside table to help him wipe his nose. Even he’d been able to react to her attempts to turn him on, it would have felt awful to try and seduce him less than 24 hours after his terrible accident. She felt terrible all of the sudden, like a fucking sexual predator.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “And you have no reason to be sorry, but I do.” She crawled next to him onto the narrow bed and hugged him close, devastated by the sobs that shook his body. “That was…that was thoughtless of me. I’m sorry, babe.”

She buried her face in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, inhaling the wonderful, familiar scent of him. Emma was terrified. Damien had fucked her over. It had been hubris to think she’d be able to outsmart the devil. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit to Wes what she had done, and what the stakes were. “There’s no rush,” she lied, her voice muffled against him. “Let’s focus on you getting better. I had just missed you so much, and…I am so relieved that you woke up.” She bit back the tears that threatened to fall. “Yesterday, at the game…I was afraid that I would lose you, Wes. I could not have lived with that.”

Careful not to seem pushy, or mad, she caressed the muscles of his arm on top of the blanket. It was odd to realize that he didn’t feel any of that when his skin felt so soft and warm under her fingertips. “Is there something you would like? Can I get you anything from the cafeteria? Read you something?”

Emma tried her best to appear joyful and relaxed while her mind was racing. She would not go back to her house after the hospital, and instead spend the night at a friend’s house. Her mom wouldn’t even notice that she was gone, and Damien – she had to hope that he would not come looking. And on Sunday morning she would go to church like she had always done. The thought cheered her up. Of course!

If anyone would be able to help her to fight off the devil, it would be Pastor Hawthorne.

 

[LitShark]

Damien held firm as he considered, holding Rachel against the wall with the immovable grasp of a marble statue. She was a dubious candidate for an ally. She had already failed the first task she’d been given—no, she’d deliberately disobeyed his instructions over some ridiculous concern for petty social constructs. How could he trust her? But the signs of her dependence on his essence were clear.

The realization that she could exert control over the coach changed the scales dramatically in her favor and after a long while of considering, Damien relaxed his grip on her arms and lowered her onto the ground. He kept hold of her arms, feeling the squirming desire gaining strength inside of her.

“I gave you clear instructions and you disobeyed me. You’re useless to me unless you can obey. Never assume that you know better than me. I sent you to make an ally of Colin, because I didn’t want him to become a threat—now he is a threat. I blame you for this.”

At long last, Damien let go of her arms, the red marks left behind were so deep and pronounced that one could almost read the swirls of his fingerprints on her arm.

“If you can take the coach out of my way, make my ascent to QB1 official, I will reconsider taking you into my trust. In the meantime…”

Damien was still adjusting to this mortal coil he was inhabiting. His consciousness was narrow compared to that of an immortal demon lord—his awareness like tunnel vision compared to that of his immortal form. It was just dawning on him that Kylie was calling out to him, that his influence was working its way deeper. He closed his eyes, finding her—a church. He sent her calming sensations and cleared her mind of the visions of her father. They were more closely linked than Damien had expected. Their compatibility was high.

Monday.

Using his mind, Damien reached out and embraced Kylie. He wiped away the fog of her visions. He would grant her respite. The girl was finely caught and Rachel made a fine cautionary tale for sinking the hook too deeply into these fragile, mortal teens.

On Monday I shall place my hands upon thee.

Damien sent her the corner of a promise of the pleasure to come. Kissing her deeply against metal lockers. One strong hand on the side of her neck, the other hand on the small of her back. Her nipples growing hard against his sinewy chest.

On Monday I shall make you mine.

“In the meantime—” Damien redirected his attention to Rachel, “leave Colin to me. I’ll clean up your fucking mess, but don’t expect that to become common. You deal with the coach.”

Damien could hear the other players coming into the locker room from the weight training room.

“And tell no one anything about me or our arrangement. You’ve begun this alliance in disobedience. Fix my perception of you, whore,” Damien backed into the locker room, shedding out of his borrowed sweats, “when you’ve done what I asked, meet me where you dropped me before. I’ll have a reward waiting. But if you fail me… you’d better take measures to ensure that I never see you again.”

“What’s up, Rach-Bunny? You lurking around here cruising for cock? You can use mine if Six here doesn’t want any.” Marcus was leading the pack into the locker room, he grasped himself through his workout shorts and lifted the front of his shirt, showing off his stomach.

“Go on,” Damien was not softened in the slightest by the arrival of others or Marcus’ levity, his dark eyes invited no argument, “do not disappoint me again.”

Damien turned his shoulder, allowing her to leave.

*-*-*

Wes managed to contain his sobs after Emma helped him wipe his face. She was so sweet to him, she was dealing with all of this so much better than he was—she was amazing. He could feel her kisses, her gentle breath, her soft hair dragging across his face.

“I love you so much,” Wes said at last, getting his breathing under control, “but I’m starting to doubt how much better I’m going to get.”

He wanted to wrap her up in his arms, to pull her even closer and kiss her back. But none of that was possible for him. He might never hold anything or anyone in his arms again. With this thought, Wes drifted back to sleep. Even this brief interaction had exhausted him. His body was still learning how to do so little.

In his dream, he was running…

*-*-*

It was sweaty, thirsty work, dragging fifty-pound bags around the ridiculously huge workout facility. Colin always noticed how ridiculous the football stadium was, but he’d scarcely noticed how equally shameless the locker rooms and workout facilities were. Today, he was getting a full tour. He had no idea that the jocks had a pool and a sauna that they were holding out on the rest of the student body. By the time they dragged the salt trail around the adjoining locker room facilities, Colin’s Black Sabbath t-shirt was soaked with sweat. The black that he always wore soaking up the sunlight without mercy.

When he finally “crossed streams” with Jessie, back in the parking lot, Colin wiped the sweat from his brow, more dripping from his chin and elbow. Even in October, today was Texas hot.

“I’m pretty confident in my line. How’s your side look?” Colin asked her, clapping his hands together to disperse rogue salt, “and what do we need to do next? Do we need walkie-talkies? I brought some!”

Colin reached into his oversized back pocket of his cuff-dragging JNCO jeans, extracting a set of pink, Disney branded handsets.

“These were, um… all they had.”

 

[Curious_Muse]

Kylie took a few deep breaths and wiped the tears off her face. She smiled up at Jesus on the cross. “Thank you,” she whispered, unaware that she was addressing the wrong guy. Everything felt clearer, better, less insane. The promise of bliss lingered in her mind, a fuzzy idea that made her skin tingle in anticipation, but it didn’t feel threatening any longer. It felt right.

“Thanks for the break, guys,” she called out to her team when she emerged from the church. “I think Jake was right. I was just dehydrated.” The memory of Jake telling her about his fantasies of dominance had faded away, and she gave him a broad smile. “Thanks for having my back,” she said brightly. “I owe you one.”

Monday couldn’t come fast enough.

***

“Been there, done that,“ Rachel sniped at Marcus’ comment, barely looking at him. “Not interested in a re-run, thank you.” The second part was not true and would probably come as a surprise to Marcus, but she didn’t care. Her mind was set on the task now. She was not going to disappoint Damien again.

Her upper arms hurt like a motherfucker, but she was not going to let her guard down in front of these guys. And she sure as hell wouldn’t show them how scared she was of Damien. How at the same time, this fear turned her on so much that she would have done anything to be in presence again. His scent clung to her, it was as if she was surrounded by a cloud of cinnamon, citrus and clove as she walked out and back into the gym. It felt as if her skin was glowing, humming with his presence and his touch.

It made her wonder who the hell he really was. And it made her feel powerful, almost invincible.

She was relieved to see that Coach Owens was still there, and she made a beeline for his desk. All the football players had filed out. Perfect.

Her nipples were painfully hard, straining against her tight top, and desire throbbed in her pulse. Her pussy clenched tight, impatient.

“Coach,” she said softly, leaning on his desk. “I have a confession to make.” Rachel smiled at him. “Since that time you fucked me, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” This was the very first time she even broached the subject with him, but she didn’t care if this was coming on too strong. She was done pussyfooting around what she wanted and needed. “I make myself cum almost every night thinking of you. When I fuck someone else, I imagine that it is your cock thrusting into my tight little pussy.”

She leaned closer, giving him a full view of her cleavage. “And I just wondered if you feel the same? Or have you already forgotten about me?” The tone of her voice was sweet, but there was a hint of menace there, too. A reminder. “And don’t worry, I don’t mean that I expect you to leave your wife for me!” A little girlish chuckle underlined how silly she thought such expectations would be, how beneath her, but the mention of the wife was yet another little barb she threw into the ring. Another reminder.

“But I would let you do things to me that she would never let you do. You can fuck me any way you want. I could be yours in any way you please, coach.” She licked her lips. “Any time you want. All in return for a tiny little favor.”

***

Jessie took a walkie-talkie from Colin’s hands and made a face. “These are perfect, I suppose.” If the circle is closed and secure, we should take up positions. One of us to the South, that would be the main entrance. If you want, I’ll take that spot – it’s where our meatheads might emerge first, and I just hope they wouldn’t hit a girl.” His expression made her laugh. “You take the North side, off to the main road. Miguel and Lynn will take the other two. We just need to make sure to stay behind the salt line.”

She pulled a few folded sheets of printing paper from her leather shoulder bag. “I have printed out the incantation, too. Here.” Each sheet had four lines on it in very neat .14 print letters. “It’s Old High German. I thought it would be important to be able to read it.” She laughed nervously. “And not mispronounce it…we don’t want to have him grow flaming swords out of his wrists by accident, or some shit like that.” Obviously very nervous, she pushed a few buttons on the device she was holding. “I always thought that my obsession with pagan incantations would come in handy one day.”

Trying to show the courage she did not at all feel anymore, Jessie winked at Colin. “Let’s go and kick some demonic ass!”

***

Emma quietly slid down from the hospital bed, careful not to wake up Wes. Now that he was asleep, she could not suppress a few quiet sobs that she had swallowed down earlier. Damien must have known all along that his wager would never work in her favor. What an asshole. Surely it would have been in his power to do more for her boyfriend. The devil could have chosen to make him whole again, to give him his body back, to allow him to love her like he wanted. He had taken everything from her, and in exchange for what?

She smoothed her dress and bent down to Wes to kiss him softly on the lips. Her desperation turned to anger. What pleasure did Damien get from torturing them like this? When he could have anything and anyone he wanted? It was as if Wes’ love fortified her against her attraction to Damien, to his nasty mind games, and to his body. Her desperation slowly turned into anger.

Why wait until Sunday, anyway? Emma looked at her phone. The youth group would be at the church now, playing volleyball. Mary and Alice would be there, too. As would Pastor Hawthorne. She had no doubts that he would be able and willing to help her. She caressed Wes’ cheek. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “Sleep tight. I’ll come as soon as I can. But first, I have some business to attend to.”

 

[LitShark]

Coach Owens was no fool.

It wasn’t every day that a physical freak like Damien Styles wandered into his gym, looking for a roster spot. He’d have to be a fool not to give someone like that an opportunity. High-value transfers like him had a knack for transferring to other schools and making coaches pay for not giving them a shot—but it still felt wrong to strip Kyle of the chance after he’d sat in Wes’ shadow for so long.

Nonetheless, Glen had been hard at work drawing up packages for Damien to sub in at quarterback. Variations on the “Wildcat” formation that he had taken to calling the “Hellcat” formation—since their mascot was a devil, after all. He’d been so absorbed in his playbook that he hadn’t noticed Rachel’s approach until her tits were practically in his face.

Damn it.

A good coach also should know when he’s beaten, and the mere mention of her tight, teen pussy represented a huge change in momentum—like a pick-six. Glen was out of time outs and down by multiple scores. A moral victory. He was going to take an L on his daily struggle of not fucking the daylights out of Rachel Bowers.

He’d repent at church on Sunday.

“You’re a goddamn slut, Bowers,” Glen smirked, lifting his eyes slowly up her body as he slapped his playbook shut, “I guess that lesson that I taught you last time wasn’t sufficient.”

Glen’s grip was more gentle than Damien’s, but he instinctively gripped the same spot on her upper arm and led her toward his private office, inset with several other offices at the center of the fitness complex. As he led her inside, Glen drew the blinds shut, blocking all the windows in unison. He locked the door.

“Let me guess. This favor you want has something to do with starting this new transfer kid Styles ahead of Kyle. Is that it?”

Glen wasn’t hiding his erection anymore, pulling down his sweats to expose it to her.

“But don’t worry. Styles will get his snaps.”

*-*-*

Colin bit his lip, the fact that they were going to split up for this most critical moment did little to inspire his confidence. Even Jessie seemed to be wavering slightly behind her manufactured bravado. Miguel had barely agreed at all—maybe they should bail…

“It’s now or never,” Colin nodded, working to reassure himself as much as anyone, “we have the element of surprise.”

Colin gathered everyone into a hasty group hug before they took their papers and their children’s toy to the four sides of the huge complex.

“I’m in place,” Colin spoke into his radio, once he was in place, “over.”

“I’m set, too. Over.” Miguel answered back.

The walkie-talkies only allowed for one channel to be open at a time, so they would need to synchronize their chanting on a command from Jessie and take it on blind faith that their cadence would match.

Colin wiped his sweaty hand across his sweaty brow as he studied the words on the piece of paper. He studied for his life—the lives of his friends.

*-*-*

“Yeah, she was singin’ a different tune when this big dick was up in her. Screaming her head off,” Marcus was still boasting as he and Damien made their way out of the locker rooms and toward the main entrance, “but I like you, Six. Hard on them hoes. Like a real pimp.”

“What the fuck is this now?” Damien stopped cold in his tracks, staring daggers across the parking lot at Jessie, a stranger to him—but the salt ring he recognized immediately, “is this your idea?”

Damien’s voice was almost a chuckle, though he didn’t even approach the salt circle. Marcus, not recognizing Jessie or the salt ring—much less the significance of either, continued walking, turning back to find his new friend still halted in the doorway.

“Six, what’s the problem?”

“The bitch is trying to curse me.”

“Curse you?”

“Basically…”

“You don’t believe in that shit, do you?”

Damien just shrugged.

“Hey, freaky, voo doo, The Craft bitch. Please don’t curse my friend—we’ve got bitches to fuck tonight,” Marcus chuckled, tilting his head to one side as he checked out Jessie’s body, her ass jogging his memory, “oh shit! You’re that bitch from the porn store, huh?”

“A porn store?” Damien liked the sound of that, “you should show me around. I bet we could learn a lot from one another.”

Damien’s eyes stayed locked with Jessie’s. Despite their distance, his eyes felt like they were just an inch away from Jessie’s—like the seething coals around the blue heart of a flame.

“You don’t want to oppose me. You want to join me. Don’t you?”

“Of course she does,” Marcus still thought that it was a joke.

“Of course you do.”

 

[Curious_Muse]

Driving down the main road into town, Emma felt almost good. Being away from her house, from Damien, from all the craziness that had happened since last night, combined with having seen Wes in the hospital, having reassured herself that despite everything, their love was stronger than ever, she could at least imagine finding happiness again. And she was convinced that there was an easy solution to her devil problem. There had to be! If it was this easy to call on him, surely it must be possible to send him back.

Despite it being October, it was warm outside. She had lowered the window and turned up the volume on her speakers. She loved Billie Piper, and sang along at the top of her lungs:

I'm thinking about your sugar lips
Got a feeling for you now that's so strong
I'm dreaming of the candy in your fingertips
Baby baby, don't stay away from me too long

I've been missing you, I should be kissing you
Honey to the bee that's you for me
I wouldn't tell a lie, got a love I can't deny

Honey to the bee that's you for me

Wes and she would be okay. She was sure of that. He was going to get better, and Damien could go fuck himself. Why had she allowed some horny teenage asshole to boss her around like that in the first place?

It was early afternoon by now, and when she pulled her car into the parking lot by the Christian Life Center, the volleyball court was already deserted. There were a few stragglers, and Emma could make out Alicia by the side of the court, packing up her things. She waved at her, and the girl jumped up, waving back. They hadn’t seen each other since before the game, and Alicia came running up to her, hugging her close.

“Oh Ems! I am so sorry for what happened to Wes! How is he? How are you?” Alicia had always been the sweetest of the girls she knew, delicate and kind like a fairytale creature. “Have you been able to visit him again?”

“Yeah, I’m just back from the hospital. Wes is awake and getting better,” Emma said distractedly, disentangling herself from Alicia’s embrace. “How was the match?”

“Good! We won!” Alicia frowned and put her fingers to her lips as if in thought. “Though Kylie was being super weird today. I think Jake might have tried to make a pass at her? But who knows! With Wes and everything…you know.” Emma did know. Kylie was sweet and all, but her crush on Wes was a little annoying sometimes. If it hadn’t been for her dad, Emma wouldn’t have put up with it for this long. Alicia shrugged. “But she went home I think.”

Emma didn’t really care about where Kylie had gone. Her mind was elsewhere entirely. “I’ve been wanting to ask if I could maybe stay with you tonight. Things have been a bit rough and being alone is…” “Say no more!” Alicia cut her off. “Of course, you can stay with us, as long as you need to. I’d love that.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Emma said, looking around the sports grounds. “Is Pastor Hawthorne still around? I’ll come to your house right afterward if that’s ok.” Alicia nodded. “I think he’s in the church. Go have a look, I can wait here if you like.”

Emma thought about this, then shook her head. “No no, go ahead and go, this might take a little while.” Alicia put her hand on her arm and nodded gravely. “I understand. I see you at mine in a bit!”

The church was quiet, and the afternoon sun dipped the wooden pews and the altar in a beautiful light. Emma couldn’t see anyone but heard someone moving around in the front, rearranging the candle sticks and the flowers.

“Pastor?” she called out. “It’s Emma. Do you have a minute for me?”

***

Jessie completely ignored Marcus and stared at the guy in the doorway. His eyes were burning into hers with such violent hatred that for a moment, she was afraid she was going to puke.

This was not just fear. It was naked, unadulterated terror. Her first instinct was to scream, her second to run, as fast and far away as she could. But Jessie was not that much of an asshole. An idiot maybe, yes. But not an asshole. Her fingers instinctively curled around the amulet around her neck. One thing was for sure, Colin didn’t need to feel bad for worrying over nothing. Whatever Emma had done last night, it had worked. Jessie had no doubt whatsoever that she was staring at the devil.

Unable to find her voice, she whispered into the walkie-talkie: Now. With all her heart, every little last shred of hope she could muster, she willed the other three to stick to the beat of three they had agreed to earlier. It was the only way to get the incantation right. Miguel had been right, this had been a dumbass idea, so stupid, she should have listened to…Fuck!

Just in time, she forced her mind back to her task. Three.

Looking up at him, forcing herself to hold his gaze despite the almost physical pain this caused her, she started chanting:

Eiris sazun idisi sazun hera duoder suma
Hapt heptidun sumaherilezidun sumaclu
Bodun umbicuonio uuidi insprinc hapt
Badun inuar uigandun

Maybe it was just her imagination, maybe it was that she was already dead, but a strange humming seemed to rise from the pavement, like an echo that was thrown back from invisible walls rising around her. Louder this time, she began to repeat the incantation, her fingers wrapped so tightly around her necklace that they started to cramp up.

***

Rachel rubbed her upper arms as she watched Coach Owens lower his sweatpants for her. “You guessed right, coach.” Her gaze dropped to his rock-hard cock, and she licked her lips in anticipation. It was just as well that he had agreed to her proposal. It would have been such a shame to drag his wife, or maybe even the principal, into this. “And we both know that you’d be an idiot not to put Damn ahead of Kyle. This-,” she indicated her body with a hand gesture, “This is just a little extra you will get on top of the winning season and the state championship.”

In one quick motion, she pulled her top over her head and let it drop to the floor. “And yeah, I’m a goddamn slut,” she said with a smirk. “But you know what? At least I’m having a good time.” She kicked off her gym shoes and peeled off her socks, not in any hurry. “Unlike the rest of y’all in this fucking shithole with your boring morals and your fear of what the neighbors might say.” There was real anger in her voice as she pointed her finger at him. “You had me on your desk at the very first chance you got, coach. And I loved every second of you fucking me. I bet you did, too!” An amused glint lit up her eyes. “Why should we feel bad about that?”

Rachel pulled the sports bra over her head, and her nipples tightened painfully in the draft of the office. “Do you think I’m the only girl in school who wants to jump your bones?” she smirked. “I could tell you the names of at least three girls in the cheer squad alone that you could have on their knees with one snap of your fingers.” With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the sports bra into a corner. “I’m just the only one who has the guts to say what she wants.”

Then she pulled down her tight gym shorts, revealing a black thong. “What good does it do to be considered ‘a good girl’?” She hooked two fingers of both hands, indicating air quotes. “The jocks in this school will still try and get their hands into your panties, they’ll still corner you in the locker rooms to feel you up. Only you’re neither allowed to tell them off nor to tell them how to do it right.” Smiling sweetly at him, she stepped out of her flimsy panties, holding them up for him to see how soaked they already were. “You just can’t win.”

She walked over to him, swaying her hips, all too aware of the effect her beautiful teenage body had on the coach. “Why all this guilt? Why all this shame over each and every little transgression?” Never breaking eye contact with Glen, she dropped to her knees in front of him, and her little pink tongue darted out for a first taste, swirling around the tip of his thick cock, sampling a drop of pre-cum with relish. “That’s something else you can learn from Damien. We all can. Just take what you want and stop feeling so fucking bad about it all the time.”

Marveling at his cock, she fisted it with one hand, then leaned in to start licking and sucking the base, dragging her tongue along the veiny underside. She lapped at his balls, obedient like a kitten. Then she looked up at him, her eyes innocent. Angelic. “Why shouldn’t you finally take what you want, coach? You’re putting this town on the map! Don’t you deserve a little recognition for that? A reward?”

 

[LitShark]

“Holy shit! She called you a ‘duoder suma’!” Marcus was beside himself with laughter, holding his stomach. He didn’t quite understand the performance he was watching, but Damien’s decision to play along with whatever this girl was doing made the whole display hilarious to him. Damien, on the other hand, was not laughing.

“You must be a friend of Colin’s,” Damien’s voice was like a cold knife, his eyes full of a hatred that threatened to betray his true age. No teen could hate like this. His eyes conveyed an immortal hatred—a hatred that remembered beyond the ages of men. A hatred that would be remembered, “this building is huge… there must be at least four. You, Colin and who else? Ah, it doesn’t matter. You’ll tell me whatever I want to know soon enough.”

With that same immortal hatred in his eyes, Damien backed back into the building, his eyes still locked with Jessie’s even as the automated glass doors slid closed between them. He watched her like a predator, looking for her to lose focus for even a fraction of a second even as he backed away.

Damien’s choice to depart the scene was equally hilarious to Marcus who was leaning against the side of his Audi coupe, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Where’s he goin’? Where’s he goin’?” Marcus shouted between loud peals of laughter, “holy shit. What is going on? This is the most random shit I’ve seen in my whole life.”

Moments later, Damien reappeared in the doorway. He had apparently found a push broom somewhere in the exercise complex. A janitor’s closet most likely. He dropped the heavy row of bristles away from himself, just an inch away from the meticulously arranged salt ring.

“It’s too late for this type of Ouija Board bullshit,” Damien was speaking directly to her, “but now I know that you’re a threat to me. I might have offered you the chance to surrender, but I can’t risk letting you go.”

“Is this some kind of white people foreplay I don’t know about? Are ya’ll about to fuck?”

With one swift motion, Damien swept the bristles of the broom through the ring of salt, disrupting the continuity of the ring and effectively breaking the spell. Once the ring of salt was broken, Damien was in a dead sprint. He nearly tackled Jessie, grabbing her wrist and yanking her arm away from her neck. He pinned her against the nearest car and kissed her—or seemed to, flooding her mouth with saliva.

Damien’s rage smelled like wet tar.

“I knew ya’ll were gonna fuck. I’m going to pre party with the team in the Dairy Queen parking lot. You should meet up with us once you two are done with… whatever this is that you’re doing,” Marcus climbed into his car and rolled down the window “rough on them hoes—I like it, Six”

Marcus laughed one last time before pulling away.

Damien bodily shoved Jessie back against the car, flooding her with more and more of his demonic saliva. As the certainty of his victory washed through Damien, his pheromones returned to the pleasurable end of the spectrum. He smelled like peaches and rosemary, one hand around Jessie’s wrist, squeezing brutally to make her drop the pesky little talisman—his other hand was around her throat. He wasn’t choking her though, it was more like he was massaging her throat, forcing her to continually swallow his spit.

She was like a kitten in the clutches of an anaconda and he was earnestly trying to consume her whole, steadily pumping her full of his venom.

*-*-*

“What can I say?” Glen smiled, guiding his fingertips along Rachel’s scalp, letting her do her thing, his hand a passenger as her head moved, “you’ve got a point.”

The coach sighed and leaned back against his desk, truly enjoying the show that Rachel was putting on. In spite of how righteously he tried to style himself as the dutiful, Christian father and father figure for the students under his supervision, he could certainly see himself getting used to this. Young, nubile cheer sluts—yes, plural! Flexible and eager to please.

Rachel was painting a pretty picture, not only with her words, but with the tip of her dexterous—mobile tongue.

“Haaaaahhh, fuck!” Glen groaned, realizing for certain that this wasn’t going to be the last time he had his cock inside Rachel’s mouth. The last time had been the first time, so he at least had the luxury of convincing himself that it would also be the last time. This time, he had no such option. He was going to keep doing this—until he got caught—maybe even after.

This was who he was.

Unfaithful.

She mentioned Damien again like she was reading his mind. She smelled like heaven but was guilty as sin. The whole building smelled like rare and exquisite flowers that bloomed far from Texas and Glen couldn’t even name if he saw them. It frightened him that in this moment, with his cock in the mouth of a teen cheerleader, cheating on his wife—it was Damien who they were both thinking about. It felt like that kid saw through him. Like this was the man he saw from the beginning, at the hospital.

Damnit. Damn it all to hell.

“You’re absolutely right. I deserve this—and more. To hell with Kyle and paying dues. Damien is a born winner. That kid’s got potential. Now climb that tight pussy up on my desk and show me how wet you are. The world needs sluts too.”

Glen caressed the side of Rachel’s face before helping her up and turning her by the shoulders and shoving her from behind, bending her roughly over his desk. As he stroked her saliva into his cock, he wondered if she had tasted any of his wife’s pussy on his cock, having fucked her just last night without a shower in between.

*-*-*

“Emma! My dear, I’m so delighted to see you—looking more radiant than ever. Like a ray of sunshine.” The pastor smiled at her, finishing buttoning his shirt, but leaving the collar open.

Pastor Hawthorne embraced Emma in his arms without hesitation. His body was still warm under his freshly washed button-up and slightly damp. He was expecting to have to dig Emma out of some depression before he got the privilege of seeing her again, but she looked like she had actually put some effort into her appearance. She seemed radiant—glowing even.

“To what do I owe this distinct pleasure?” Pastor Hawthorne opened the door to his office and invited her inside, “how are you holding up? Have I mentioned that you look incredible—and you smell like a dream.”

Hawthorne closed the door behind her.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Jessie had always wondered if it was true. If in the short moments before one was about to die, one’s own life would play before some inner eye like a reel of film, the good moments and the bad.

It turned out that that was, sadly, bullshit. When the devil guy broke into a sprint towards her, all she saw were his blazing black eyes. It was funny, really, his idea with the broom. If those bloody witchfinders and demon hunters had more of a sense of humor, they might have warned her of a stunt like this. A chuckle rose from her belly, and had she not been so frozen with terror, she would have doubled over in mad laughter, just like Marcus.

In the few moments before him breaking the ring of salt, when she realized what he was about to do, she pressed a button on that damn pink walkie-talkie, and whispered hoarsely for them to run, hoping that at least one of them would get the message. It sure was too late for her. She could not bite back the scream rising from her throat when he was right in front of her, smelling like the hell creature that he was.

He hadn’t looked that strong, not like some of the beefcakes on the football team, but he shoved her back against a nearby car with such force that she thought she might have cracked a few ribs. The walkie-talkie was knocked from her hand and slithered under the car, and he yanked her other hand away from her chest, taking the thin chain that held the talisman around her neck with it. “Mmmph!” was all she could say when he closed her lips with his, devouring her in a ferocious, hateful kiss, spewing some kind of horrific liquid down her throat, and Jessie felt tears run down her cheeks because she had been so stupid.

It was odd, being able to still think about that. People talked about out-of-body experiences, but what about its opposite? Being trapped inside a body that was being mangled and manipulated into becoming something else, somebody’s plaything? Because Jessie felt herself slipping away, felt the talisman dropping from her hand, felt how she pulled him closer, how his attack felt more and more like a real kiss, how her fingers started to travel underneath his shirt, wanting more of his hot, naked skin…

BAM. And it was gone and she was pushed onto the ground.

At first, she felt anger, when all this was suddenly and violently knocked away from her. Then confusion. What had just happened?

***

Lynn stopped chanting. Had it worked? There was a strange vibration in the air, an uncanny tension. But no indication that their spell had done what it was supposed to.

There was some crackly static – these shitty walkie-talkies were probably not made to withstand any kind of serious demon hunting, Lynn thought – and then, quite clearly and audibly, Jessie’s voice, telling her, or them, to run. Then there was a bloodcurdling scream, and a bodily thump and a metallic squeak, as if Jessie had collided with somebody else and a car. Then more crackles and silence.

Lynn wouldn't do shit. Certainly not run when her friend was so clearly in trouble. She was closest to the main exit and Jessie, and ran towards where she was supposed to be.

She stopped short when she saw Jessie across the parking lot, apparently kissing some guy whom she could only see from the back at this angle. It looked intense. For a split second, she hesitated. Maybe the douchebag Colin had been afraid of was just some hot guy, a regular jock asshole. Jessie might have succumbed to his charms – he did have a fine ass from where she stood – and was now dry-humping him in the sports center parking lot. It would have been nothing if not disappointingly mainstream, a very Salem High Saturday afternoon. It could have been that – had Jessie not told her only two days ago that she had finally met the girl of her dreams, and that she had never been as in love as she was now.

That put that theory on pretty shaky ground. And now Lynn could see that it looked like Jessie was struggling and that his hand was around her throat. Fucking hell. That did make him a regular Salem High jock douchebag, and if there was a type that sent Lynn into a spiral of white-hot fury and hate, it was that guy. Pulling out her house keys from the pocket of her pants, she grabbed the longest and sharpest key in her fist, holding it like a knife.

Breaking into a fast sprint, she launched herself at him with the force and speed of a very small missile, and thirteen years of professional dancing had put enough strength into those slender legs to gain some momentum. Ramming the key hard into his midriff she threw herself at him at hip height, pushing him away from her friend. The collision hurt like a motherfucker and Lynn felt a sharp stab of pain in her shoulder.

“Let go of her, you fucking pervert creep!” It looked like Jessie was free. “Run, Jessie! Run!”

***

“Now you’re talking, coach,” Rachel purred, letting him maneuver her onto the desk. The laminated wood felt cold and smooth against her naked skin, and she wiggled her butt for him a little. “You deserve the world for what you’ve achieved here, and I can help you get it.”

She spread herself out onto the desk, stretching for him like a cat. The sound of him fisting his cock made her shiver with delicious anticipation, and she couldn’t wait for him to finally fuck her. Turning her head, so that her cheek was laying on the desk and she could catch glimpses of him from the corner of her eye, she said softly: “Did you know that little Teresa Garcia told the entire squad that she wanted you to be her first?” She chuckled. “I mean, she was a little tipsy then, and she’s too timid to even look at you, but I thought you should know.”

Then Coach Owens was behind her, urging her legs further apart, and with one heave of his hips, he was inside her, rocking her forward on the smooth wood. “Fuck!” she exclaimed as he bottomed out in her, stretching her tight little pussy, holding her there. He felt bigger than he had in her mouth, bigger than she remembered, filling her completely. Rachel gyrated her tight little ass against him, urging him on. Her pussy felt on fire as he eased back out, and pushed back in, thrusting long and deep each time, forcing deep moans from her lips.

His fingers dug painfully into her flesh as he took from her what he wanted and needed, and Rachel loved being his little fuck doll.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. “Fuck me good and hard. Show me that you could rule this town and all the little bitches in it, just like Damien will.”

***

Emily was grateful for the pastor’s sweet and enthusiastic welcome. She realized that this was the first hug she received from anyone since Wes’ accident, and she relaxed into it, letting herself linger a little, enjoying the reassuring solidness and warmth of his body. She only now realized how exhausted she really was after everything that had happened in less than twenty-four hours, and for a moment, Emma was on the brink of tears.

But when she disentangled herself from his embrace, the traces of her sadness were gone, and she smiled at him. “That’s kind of you to say, Pastor Hawthorne,” she said politely. Like most of the other kids from the youth group, she adored and respected him. His comment about her smelling nice had been a bit peculiar, but then again, he always was a little peculiar, in the cutest way, probably like most people who spent so much time in conversation with God.

“It’s been a bit rough,” she finally said in reply to his question. “But I just visited Wes and for now I am just incredibly grateful that he is awake! After what the doctors initially said…” She bravely choked back threatening tears again. It was because of that doctor that Emma decided to do what she did. It really was that fucking doctor’s fault when one looked at it squarely.

“Though…I am here for another reason, Pastor Hawthorne.” In the car, she had decided to straight-on ask him about Damien, but now, in his office, she didn’t have the nerve to tell him about her ritual, and everything that had happened since. In fact, she couldn’t even look at him when she thought of what she had agreed to.

She bit her lip. “I suppose you believe that the devil is real, right? That he can talk and walk among us?” Heat crept into her cheeks as she continued. “So, let’s say that you have identified him, and you start seeing the evil that he does, and you want to stop him. How would you go about that?” It was a lame attempt at dressing up her real question, but maybe it would suffice. “Are there, like, tricks to make him go away again?”

 

[LitShark]

“Walk among—please, have a seat,” Pastor Hawthorne was confused, this was not at all the conversation he expected to be having with Emma and needed a moment to compose himself, “the devil is real, yes. But he’s not a person. There’s no person with horns and a pitch-fork.”

Pastor Hawthorne sat across from Emma, reaching over his desk to take her hands in his own.

“The devil lives in all of us. He taunts us with impure thoughts, impulses. He drives us toward selfish goals and urges us to forget our loyalties, our faith in God. He makes debauchery and sin feel appealing, but when we remember Christ’s love he loses all control. We choose every day, to walk in the light and oppose the darkness—and even if the devil gains ground on us. If we slip, Christ has it in his power to forgive us and we can spurn the Devil the next day.”

The Pastor was conveying confidence, but it mostly came from the fact that he had yet to compose his Sunday sermon and Emma’s concern over the devil had inspired him—the sermon had just practically written itself.

Those fools love that flavor of bullshit.

“I know that your faith has been tested lately, but God only gives us what he’s given us strength to endure. We cannot see as God sees. His ways are not our ways. We just have to have faith that God has a plan, a purpose for everything. Let go and let God.”

I bet I could bounce a quarter off her ass.

*-*-*

“Yes, oh fuck yes…” Glen brought both of his hands down on Rachel’s round, firm ass with a slap, he squeezed so hard that his forearms flexed and her ass remained both firm and pliable in his hands as his hips moved faster, pounding her like she asked, “you can be my little whore wrangler. I’ll buy you a whip.”

He dragged his fingertips from her thick ass and raised it up to smack her hard. He couldn’t slap his wife like this, not even her ass—he respected her too much. He did it again, as hard as he could.

“We’ll turn out girls from other schools too, get them to bribe their players to take dives and shave points,” Glen was suddenly covered in sweat, the office was suddenly very hot, the windows fogged and dripping and the whole complex smelled somehow like baking ginger cookies, “then we clean out the local sports books, bus out bags of cash from their small town economies. We could make millions just during the regular season, not to mention the playoffs—and if we go to the Championship in Dallas…”

As this plan occurred to him, Glen continued hammering Rachel’s tight, wet pussy. She was so fucking wet! And tight! These revelations made Glen realize that he wasn’t even wearing a condom this time. The previous encounter, he’d at least had the foresight to wrap himself up, teens being known for their fertility and questionable judgment.

This scheme was totally immoral, completely illegal but enticingly possible. Most of the players would jump at the chance to get cut in. They wouldn’t ever take a full dive, just shave points to sneak under the spread from time to time, then they could blow out their toughest opponents to keep the spread large. They could push to make the Over or shave for the Under—they could change their strategy weekly, making it nearly untraceable. As long as they kept winning, who cared? No one would.

“Oh fuck! This tight pussy is making me a genius!” Glen shouted triumphantly, grasping Rachel’s thigh and raising her leg off the ground, “but didn’t you want to work on something? Your coach should help you with your splits.”

As his cock continued slamming against Rachel’s insides, his heavy balls slapping her clit, he grasped her other thigh and raised it onto the desk as well. Once she was fully spread out on his desk it felt like she was gripping his cock in a vice—the angle making her so fucking tight around him it felt like she might put a bend in his cock.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Glen reached over her hips to the other end of his desk, pushing her into an even deeper split, thrusting his hips quickly and roughly, “after this I’m going to fuck your ass.”

She’d mentioned Damien again, he was trying not to think about him, but he was finding that oddly difficult. There was something really special about that young man. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt certain that it meant big things for him over the next year.

Suddenly and unexpectedly purged of guilt, Glen was eager for anything if it felt as good as raw fucking Rachel’s pussy.

*-*-*

“Ah! Damnit!” Damien shouted as Lynn slammed herself into him, leading with a key, “you bitch!”

After dropping the other one, Damien turned to the girl that had rushed him, his eyes completely black now—no pupil, no iris, no whites, just black. He lifted his shirt, exposing his ripped torso. He had a small puncture wound in his side, just below his ribs. He touched his finger to the tiny hole, gathering his own blood.

“I’m bleeding…” Damien muttered, briefly in awe of the spectacle. It had been ages since a mortal had wounded him, even slightly. It was exhilarating, “I’m going to dress you up like a little doll.”

Damien was done toying with these prey. His blood had been spilled. An example had to be made. It was time to invoke the Old Magic. The demonic lore. He reached down, pressing his thumb to her forehead, just between her eyebrows. He drew a small cross in his own blood and recited backward scripture.

“Nema, yloh nema!” the demonic magic was strong in him and he effectively rewired Lynn’s entire brain chemistry. Endorphins, wide open. Deep dependence. Unshakable loyalty. “Nema, yloh nema!”

Damien repeated the curse on Jessie and then helped her back to her feet, wrapping his arms around both of them, possessively.

“Lynn!” Miguel had come from the back of the complex, it had taken him the longest to answer Jessie’s cry.

Colin had been frozen in terror when he arrived on the scene—the Devil’s black eyes rooted him to the spot. He pissed himself.

Miguel was fueled by love and managed to press through the terror. He charged Damien, swinging his fists. Miguel had studied boxing and knew how to fight, he threw a combination straight at Damien’s face. It felt like hitting a wall. Damien didn’t even flinch. He just removed his arm from around Lynn’s shoulders and pushed Miguel in the chest. The shove sent Miguel flying backward until his back hit a car hard enough to shatter the windows. Miguel slumped over, unable to stand back up.

“Lynn…” he called weakly.

“C’mon you dirty girls, let’s go wash those brains of yours.” Damien laughed at his own joke, flashing one last smirk over his shoulder at Colin, still helpless, as he led the two girls into the sports complex toward the men’s locker room. The parking lot smelled like cold pressed soap.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Emma didn’t withdraw her hands from his because she liked how strong and warm they felt. Like most of the girls in Salem – and, truth be told, most women, period – she loved his sermons, and loved watching him give them. But this time she had no patience for any of it.

“Look, Pastor…Sir…you don’t understand. I don’t mean the devil inside, or some other metaphorical bullshit idea…,” Here, she blushed a little. “No offense. But I do actually mean the actual devil, walking and talking and preparing to set this whole town on fire.”

She realized that she would have to come clean, if he was at all to believe her. “Remember that guy from the hospital last night? Damien?” Since she wasn’t sure how to interpret his facial expression, she volunteered a few more details. “The hot one. Black hair, black eyes, a bit of an attitude?” A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled meeting him for the first time. “Well, I am not sure how to sugarcoat this, but…it’s him.” There was an urgency in her voice as she spoke. “Satan. The devil.”

There was a brief pause and Emma swallowed hard. “And I know that…because it was me who summoned him. Last night after the accident, I went to the crossroads. You know the place.” The words were spilling out of her now, there was no stopping them. “I had borrowed a black candle and all…I was so desperate to save Wes, after what the doctors had said, after what happened…it seemed like the only way out.” She was crying now, squeezing his fingers in hers. “And I know it was crazy, and selfish…and evil, probably, but I didn’t even think it would work, I…but now he is fixing to take over this town and we need to stop him.”

Her eyes were wide and swimming with more tears as she looked at him. “Please, Pastor. You must help me. Help all of us!”

***

Lynn stared up at Damien, her face a motionless mask. She wanted to speak but found that she couldn’t. Not because she was physically unable, but because there were no words to describe what she felt at that moment when her eyes met his as if for the first time. Only the glint in her dark pupils revealed the deep level of devotion. Of admiration. She would follow him anywhere. Do whatever he asked. If he had demanded she gouge out her own eyes, she would have done it without a second thought.

Fuck, she had never felt better in her life.

Jessie looked a little worse for wear, somewhat dazed and hurt, but she didn’t resist when he put his arms around them both, leading them back toward the building.

“What a loser,” Lynn snarled over her shoulder at Miguel, snuggling deeper into Damien’s arm holding her. “He doesn’t deserve to even say my name, don’t you think?” She looked up at him, a glint in her eyes. “Maybe you should pluck out his tongue, too.” Her eyes briefly met Colin and she gave him a cute little wave. But to her two companions, she said: “Oh look, that one pissed himself. Hopefully, he’ll get the hint.”

Jessie chuckled softly at that. Her head felt heavy, and she felt slightly nauseous as if she was experiencing a nasty hangover. What had just happened? Not that it really mattered. All she wanted was to feel Damien close. Feel protected.

“Showers are nice,” Lynn said, licking her lips. “But the real party will be elsewhere tonight, Damien. If you want, we can take you there later. Where all the cool kids will be. The boys from the team.” Her fingers absent-mindedly caressed his bare midriff beneath his t-shirt. His skin felt soft and smooth and scorching hot against her fingertips, and she had to swallow down an urge to lick it. “But it will all be as you wish, of course.”

***

“Oh my god! Oh, dear Lord!” Rachel was crying tears of pure bliss, the pain and the pleasure melting into one perfect sensation of wonderful debauchery. He was pumping her so fast and so hard, thrusting his cock so deep into her tight pussy that he touched something primal. Each time, he rocked her forward on his desk, and her entire body started to sweat. Her thighs and ankles ached, and yet there was nothing she loved more than the slap of his body against hers, the feeling of his thick cock filling her up, choking her from within.

“Yeah, fuck me! Make me take it!” she yelled, both oblivious and acutely attuned to his words. Normally all football talk would have been an instant orgasm killer for her – she was more of a basketball girl herself – but hearing Coach Owens mull over the various ways in which he planned to cheat his way up the league and get obscenely rich on the way almost made her come.

Desire sharpened inside her and peaked. The desk was creaked and rocked beneath her with each thrust, and she had to wrap her fingers around its edges in order to stay grounded, and not lose her mind. Her heart was thumping so hard that she thought she could hear the rushing of blood in her ears. Ragged cries escaped her lips, and she didn’t care at all if someone might hear them. She wouldn’t have been able to hold them back had she tried.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck, coach…,” she breathed and moaned, trapped in his iron grip, impaled on his cock. This was nothing like last year in his office, nothing like the almost shy rutting before that tournament. This was him staking a claim, and Rachel knew she’d be hooked. This was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

And then, in a blinding rush of pleasure, she came, and her orgasm made her scream, crashed through her long and hard and good. Nobody had ever made her come like that, but she knew that he wasn’t done with her yet.

 

[LitShark]

“Oh fuck yes, you dirty slut!” Glen snarled, his bared teeth next to Rachel’s ear, “when we get to the championship game, I’ll have you wait for me in Vegas. You bet all our winnings against us. The spread ought to be huge. We’ll shave points to win under the spread, I get a ring and we—we—we—”

Each time he said “we,” Glen was really throwing his hips into his thrusts, making the heavy desk rock on its metallic legs, thudding deeply with metallic percussion each time he withdrew and let the desk rock back onto four legs. It was unclear if he liked or hated the sound of it, “we,” he’d made them an “us” and he wasn’t even sure before now that he wanted that with anyone other than his wife. It felt like this plan was passing through him more than he was concocting it on his own. It was unclear if she could even hear him with all the screaming she was doing, but he continued as his hips continued in time.

“We can afford to change our identities and split for Dubai. We bring the hottest sluts with us on our private jet and start a high-end, appointment only brothel for the super-rich,” Glen held himself inside her, as deep as he could manage, feeling her climax below him, he slowly wrapped his forearm around her throat, “we’ll have a yacht with a helicopter pad.”

As his forearm closed around her throat, his cock withdrew from her pussy, slowly, deliberately.

“Now, back to you… you’ll do what my wife don’t and all that shit. We don’t need the dog whistles, you can just ask me to fuck your ass. Do it. Ask me. Beg me to fuck your tight, cheerleading ass,” Glen’s big, hard cock was sliding wetly through the round globes of Rachel’s athletic ass cheeks, “and call me ‘Daddy’.”

*-*-*

Damien chuckled at Lynn’s spiteful words for Miguel, he leaned in, close enough that his lips glanced against her ear as he whispered to her, “Let him keep his tongue, it’s not like he knew how to use it anyway.”

Damien’s own tongue wound its way into her ear, writhing and overlapping on itself for a moment in her ear, demonstrating its dexterousness inside one of her very sensitive holes with the unspoken promise of more. Having been briefly inside her mind, he was uniquely able to press on the spots in her relationship that were most vulnerable. She’d never spoken aloud her dissatisfaction with Miguel’s oral technique, but she had felt it, thought it, and now the Devil knew all about it.

“Let him keep that name anyway,” Damien said, loud enough for Miguel and Colin to hear, “I’ve got better names for you anyway. You’re going to be my Little Slut Bunny—‘Bunny’ for short. And you,” Damien turned toward Jessie, “you’re going to be my Thirsty Cum Kitty—‘Kitty’ for short. Those other names are your dead names. You should only answer to the names I’ve given you from now on.”

Damien raised his arm from around Bunny’s shoulder, reaching down to gently grasp her wrist, guiding it from where it was on his chiseled stomach and down into his sweatpants, onto his low-hanging cock. He then steered Kitty’s hand in much the same way until both girls had their hands on his cock, unable to grasp its full length between the two of them.

“And Bunny, you don’t need to tell me about the party—you dumb slut. I’m on the fucking team. And for what it’s worth, I invented Saturday nights.”

Damien led both of his new pets into the locker room and then into the showers where he turned every single showerhead on its hottest setting. He returned and held out his arms to the girls.

“Undress me first and then each other,” Damien commanded, the sounds from Coach Owens’ office filtering through the locker room, and one of you, give me your phone-camera-device thing.”

Once the girls had stripped him naked, Damien turned them on each other to keep them warm while he snuck back to the coach’s office. He took a moment to figure out the camera function on the borrowed device. He was pleased to find that there was a gap in the blinds on the office windows. He quickly and effectively compiled blackmail material.

It was the type of thing that it was better to have and not need than to need and not have.

He returned to naked flesh and billowing steam.

Damien grabbed the back of each girl’s head, one then the other, kissing them deeply and passionately, his cock getting harder as their tongues fenced lewdly. He knew that the water would be painfully hot for them—not conditioned by hellfire as he was, but he knew that pain was good for them. He was making an example.

*-*-*

“Oh,” Pastor Hawthorne sighed, his eyes lowering as if in some intimate reverence, “I think I understand.”

Hawthorne disentangled his hands from Emma and rose from his seat. Without a word he left his desk and moved behind Emma. The sound of the door locking filled the room with ominous overtones.

The next contact they had was from Pastor Hawthorne’s large, veiny hands coming around Emma’s athletic shoulders. His thumbs pressed into the tense muscles at the base of her neck—she was incredibly tense. He began massaging her, around the straps of her cute sundress, kneading her tanned flesh while his index fingers bore into her trapezius tendon, relaxing her further.

“You’ve gone through a terrible trauma and you’re feeling things that your traumatized brain is trying to rationalize I terms that you’re most familiar with. You’re feeling attraction to someone outside of your relationship, but you’re not ready to admit that to yourself, so you’ve concocted this fantasy about the Devil and selling your soul. Maybe he’s even playing along with it, but take it from me—that boy is not the Devil. You haven’t sold your soul, just because you’re feeling attraction to someone else. The impulse to sin is within us all. It is a necessary part of being human.

“Christ’s sacrifice was giving his life to forgive us our sins—real or imagined. The harder part is forgiving ourselves,” the massage was over, Pastor Hawthorne’s right hand was moving down to Emma’s chest, slipping inside her cute summer dress.

“Forgiveness is the bounty of all who have accepted Christ’s love. So… accept it…”

He squeezed her perky breast in his palm.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Emma froze. She was so shocked by what he was doing that it took her brain a few moments to catch up with it. “N…no, I think you don’t understand,” she stammered, a whisper only, obviously flustered. Ducking away from his touch, she slid sideways off her chair and out from under him. Surely his hand had slipped. There was no way that the Pastor Hawthorne she knew would have touched her like that on purpose.

With a panicked expression, she scrambled away to the other side of the table. “You don’t understand at all! Didn’t you listen to me? That boy is the devil!” Her face was flush with indignation and a trace of fear. “And he is hellbent on bringing everyone in this town under his spell!” What if Damien had gotten to the pastor first? But that was impossible. Nevertheless, she paid careful attention to staying a table length away from him.

“Everything happened exactly like I told you!” She had not expected that a man of the church, of all people, would be so difficult to convince that Satan was real and that he walked amongst them. “This has nothing to do with what I might or might not feel shitty about, nothing with me feeling guilty for wanting to fuck another boy – “ She paused, shocked about her own words, and uncomfortably aware that she had done so much more than just wanting to fuck another since Wes’ accident – “…and if you don’t help me, you’ll have an entire congregation of literal devil worshippers at your hands!”

Another pause. Her heart was beating so violently that Emma was afraid she might collapse. Have a heart attack or something. “Please, Mr. Hawthorne…Sir…you have to believe me! And if you don’t…go and ask Colin Hartford!”

***

The water was scorching. “Fuck!” Bunny hissed when she stepped under the shower. Kitty traipsed hesitantly after her and flinched back when a stream of hot water hit her. “Ouch! That’s way too hot!” But then, without a second thought, she joined her. Damien had asked them to, and that was all she needed to know.

“Bunny. What a lame name,” Bunny mumbled under her breath, lazily sucking Kitty’s nipple into her mouth. “You’d think someone like him would come up with something less mainstream porn flick. But I guess even Satan needs an update every now and then.” Her friend was moaning softly, throwing her head back.

“But he’s so pretty….,” the taller girl now purred, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the lewd caresses. “And anyway, you shouldn’t question him. He has his reasons…” Her voice trailed off into a plaintive groan as the other girl slipped one hand between her legs. Bunny rolled her eyes. Sure, Damien was the most beautiful guy she had ever laid eyes on. But those names were fucking boring. But everything else?

Fucking awesome.

Bunny had not thought of herself as uninhibited or carefree. Now? She didn’t give a shit about shame, morals, or the worry of what others might think of her. All that useless fucking baggage, gone.

When Damien joined them, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him, to feel his glorious body. Impatient, eager to enjoy her newfound freedom, she buried her fingers in his wet hair, greedily kissing him, her other hand closing around his hardening cock.

***

Rachel looked back over her shoulder at the coach. “Oh, is that how it is?” She batted her eyelids with mock innocence, still panting hard from her climax. “She doesn’t let you fuck her ass?” Classic, really. Wiggling her hips, bumping her tight ass against him to coax him to proceed, she said in a low, smoky voice: “Please, will you fuck my ass? Will you rock my world?” And with another smile, she added. “Please, Daddy, will you split that tight little ass with your big, hard cock?”

Oh, she enjoyed this. And she hoped – knew – that Damien would, too.

 

[LitShark]

The whole locker room was filled with dense steam by the time Damien returned to the shower, walking through the streams of near scalding water without hesitation or reaction. He was like a black shadow moving through mist. He turned into Bunny’s affection, letting her caress his hardening cock, kissing her back as she lavished him with affection.

Then, his hand closed into a fist at the back of Bunny’s head, gripping the wet strands of her short, ebony hair in his fist, forcibly pulling her back from the kiss.

“You have mistaken yourself—just because this feels good, doesn’t mean that I’ve brought you here to reward you. You crossed me, tried to bind me—an example must be made…”

As he spoke, Damien’s deep voice seemed to vibrate the tiny, floating particles of steam faster around his body, like the vapor itself was burning. With his hand in her hair, he backed her into the stream of hot water. Fortunately for Bunny, the water temperature had leveled off as the flow outpaced the tankless water heater—but it was still hot enough to sting. He held her face under the fast-flowing stream until she resisted and released her.

Once he was finished dousing Bunny’s face, he reached over to grasp the back of Kitty’s neck.

“I didn’t name you after pets to be cute, or original. I named you after pets because that is what you are—little, kept creatures. Only alive because you’re too fucking cute to kill. You are my possessions, my playthings. Your humanity has been revoked.”

Damien pulled Kitty closer, leaning forward to kiss her slowly. She was less enthusiastic in her eagerness to please, but at least she hadn’t been complaining about her name. His tongue caressed hers, and he pulled her body against his. The water was splashing against his muscular back, dampening the heat enough to wrap her in a warm mist.

“You don’t mind being my Kitty, do you?” Damien smirked, flattening his palms across her shoulders and lowering her onto her knees.

While he allowed Kitty to suck him, he looked back at Bunny, the stream of hot water hazing the air between them. Bunny seemed more eager for the comfort of his flesh, so he withheld it. Something from Kitty’s past life seemed to still be conflicting her, so he tempted her. The give and take of soul-breaking second nature to Damien for ages before the birth of time.

“This is your trial by fire. Nothing new can be born without painfully stripping away what was before. Step into the fire and be reborn.”

Damien gently took Bunny’s hand, leading her back into the water to kiss her again while Kitty sucked his huge, erect cock.

*-*-*

“Colin? You mean Val Hartford’s kid?” Pastor Hawthorne knit his brow. He didn’t know Colin well, but Val was a notorious figure around town. A barfly known for falling in and out of torrid affair with married men—and even women in some cases, rumor had it.

All the Pastor knew about Colin was that he wore threatening t-shirts and often smelled like drugs. Hardly the compelling witness that Emma clearly thought he would be.

“Darling girl, I hope you haven’t been experimenting with drugs. There’s no future in it…” Hawthorne composed himself, realizing how badly he had misread the situation, looking across the desk at her, it was clear that her distress was real. Whatever this boy had done to her clearly had shaken her up, “I’m sorry. I misread this perhaps. I’ll talk to this boy if you want. And if he’s the… Devil, like you say, we’ll smite him back to hell!”

Hawthorne chuckled over the last bit, unable to even feign confidence that what she was telling him was true.

“I’m sorry. You’ve been through a lot. This place should be a refuge for you. On Monday I’ll go by the school and check on you. You can introduce me to whoever you wish. Fair enough?”

Pastor Hawthorne gave a kind smile and unlocked the door, opening it for her to leave.

*-*-*

Glen smiled at Rachel’s dirty talk—she knew exactly how to get him revved up. As she wiggled her ass against him, his thick, hard cock smeared her juices across the firm, round globes of her athletic ass. He spat loudly, the sphere of saliva landing audibly between her cheeks and across the head of his cock.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her ass as he spread her cheeks wide. Leaning forward over his desk, burying his cock to the hilt inside her tight ass.

The descent was slow but unmerciful until he felt her wet pussy against his balls. He held himself there, deep inside her ass while his hands glided and caressed her firm ass flesh. Once he decided she was used to it he drew his hips back and then slammed his cock home once more. Then again. Then again. Until the desk was slamming back onto its legs again, the ferocity of his thrusts tipping the heavy desk faintly each time before he let it crash back onto four legs.

The desk maintained a metallic rumble as sweat began streaking down the muscular lines of his body. The office was filling with steam that smelled like rosemary, eucalyptus and cardamom. It felt like a day at the spa—except with ass fucking.

“Take that cock, you fucking whore. Take Daddy’s big cock in your tight ass, slut. I’m gonna split you in half like dried pine.”

 

[Curious_Muse]

Kitty didn’t resist when Damien gently pushed her onto her knees. Her reluctance didn’t stem from her unwillingness to please him – she wanted to – but from the mind-numbing fear that still paralyzed her. The hard tip of his cock pushed past her lips and intruded her mouth. It was an entirely new, unusual sensation, so different from wrapping her mouth around the cold dildo of a lover’s strap-on. He was so huge that she could hardly use her tongue, but she bobbed her head back and forth, trying to do the best she could.

Bunny watched, mesmerized by the sight. He was too big for Kitty to take completely into her mouth, and she could see that she skirted the edge of her gag reflex, pushing herself as much as possible. Bunny could see from her hollowed cheeks how hard she was sucking and could feel a certain aggression build in her own body. Wondering how his beautiful cock would taste and feel in her mouth.

“I understand,” she whispered in reply to Damien’s words, and she did. There was so much of her old self she wanted to get rid of and hoped that the burning steam would help her with that cleanse.

Kitty moaned softly as the tip of his cock bumped the back of her throat. With one hand she braced herself against his thigh, the muscles hard and smooth under her fingers. She sucked harder, the taste of him so familiar and new at the same time. Notes of ginger and coconut milk. Hints of roasted cumin. With her other hand, she started working him, twisting her small fist around his cock with every stroke, pumping him the way she imagined he might like it. She could feel every vein, every throb.

Funny, really, that she had never touched a live male cock before.

Salty pre-come slicked the inside of her mouth, moistening her lips. She wanted to run her hands over his hard stomach, his thighs, and his ass, the swell of muscle cresting from his ribs to his hip bones, everywhere. But she knew that this was not about what she wanted.

***

Emma reached out for the doorknob but stopped herself. She had come to see Pastor Hawthorne for a reason, and she wasn’t going to give up this quickly. Even if it was clear that he didn’t take her and her distress as seriously as she needed him to.

“Monday might be too late, Pastor. That will give him all night and all of tomorrow.” She turned around. “Yeah, her kid. But don’t judge Colin by his mom. He might be a weirdo and a freak, but it’s not his fault that his mom is such an irresponsible bitch.” Though maybe, if she hadn’t been, Colin wouldn’t have ended up helping her summon the actual devil. But Emma didn’t say that part out loud. “

She decided to pretend that his hand had never been down her dress. Or that it hadn’t sent the tiniest sliver of excitement through her.

“Do you have time now?” She looked up at the wall, where an old-fashioned clock told her that Colin should still be working at the shop. “Because we could just go and see Colin. You can ask him yourself. I’m afraid that it will not be that easy to…to send Damien back to where he came from.” Emma felt a jolt of terror when she thought of the previous night. “But we shouldn’t lose any more time.”

***

For all her bravado, Rachel tensed as she felt his still rock-hard cock slide up from her pussy. Nobody had ever put it in her asshole before. It was going to hurt. It would have hurt with anyone, but Coach Owen’s massive cock would split her in two – but it didn’t matter. Spirals of arousal span through her head, dizzying and intense. Her pussy was throbbing and aching, still sore and clenching in the aftershocks of her climax.

She couldn’t suppress a shriek of pain as he sank himself into her tight rear channel, balls deep. The short moment he granted her to adjust to the intrusion was not enough – when he started to withdraw, Rachel let out a little whimper, wiggling uselessly in his grip. Then the coach started to pound into her, so hard it felt as if he wanted to break her.

Rachel almost feared that he might.

The desk creaked and rocked beneath her, and she had to grip the edges even tighter to hang on. His ferocity made her dizzy and light-headed. Her senses were filled with the intense scent of herbs and spices. With the softness of steam, as if they were fucking in a sauna. The pain was intense, but with each of his thrusts, she cried out her mounting pleasure.

“Yes, Daddy!” she moaned with a croaky, stifled voice. “Fuck your little cheerleading whore!”

She could barely breathe, teetering on the brink of blacking out. It sharpened her arousal into something like fear. But Coach Owens just fucked her, kept fucking her until she came again, pulsing hard around his cock. It would have seemed impossible before today. Her body shuddered with the force of it all. It was like she could no longer see or move. And had she not been pressed against the table, firmly in his grip, she would have collapsed.

 

[LitShark]

Glen was grunting and panting as he continued fucking Rachel’s ass with all of his might. Any hesitation he’d had at the outset was long gone, evaporated like the steam that had filled the entire locker room. The fact that she was beginning to struggle with his brutally deep strokes was totally lost on him, as Glen had suffused himself in complete indulgence. He might as well have been alone in the selfish haze of completely self-serving pleasure.

He only remembered that there was someone else in the room with him when Rachel’s body tensed up and her ass started clenching around his shaft. It felt almost like she was pulling him in deeper by some concealed fist inside her body.

“Fuck—fucking tight!” Glen groaned, squeezing Rachel’s round ass between his fingers as he hilted inside her and started dumping glut after glut of cum into her, “oh, shit!”

He made no effort to withdraw or hold back. Fucking her ass made him immune to the concern over birth control, so he didn’t hold back. His balls contracted and pulsed as he filled her up with his hot, thick cum.

“Fucking hell…” Glen sighed once he was finished, bringing his hand down on her ass with a gentle slap.

With his ardor spent, Glen laid there on top of her for a long moment, regaining his breath.

“We should do this more often,” Glen sighed, raising himself off of Rachel’s lithe body.

*-*-*

Damien was moved to a faint smile, looking down at Kitty as she struggled with his cock. Despite not being innocent, she was inexperienced with a cock. To Damien, she was a Sodomite, as more evolved terms for sexuality were anathema to the Devil.

Still… if she had never been with a man she was still chaste, in the biblical sense. Modernity was so much fun!

“Come, pet,” Damien helped Kitty back to her feet, turning away from Bunny to kiss her deeply, when it broke, he sighed, “We have time to teach you many things, but now is not the time. I’ve brought you here to make you mine.”

One might have even mistaken him for Gentle as Damien pressed Kitty’s back against the wall, pressing his chest against her chest, letting her feel the length of his warm appendage sliding between her thighs. He lifted her left leg, his hand caressing her thigh as the rounded head of his cock gently slipped between her trembling lips.

“Hold her other leg,” Damien instructed Bunny, “do a good job or I’ll keep you waiting.”

It was an empty threat.

When Kitty was sufficiently suspended, Damien didn’t hesitate. He kissed her again and slid into her, sliding forward until he could go no deeper and holding himself there while their tongues intertwined. When the kiss broke he withdrew and shoved back inside of her.

“I’m going to stretch you out. Mold you into the shape of my cock. Nothing else will ever be enough for you. I have ruined you for every other being that exists. You may thank me.”

Damien’s firm grip on her leg rotated as the hot water cascaded down both of their bodies. In the heavy steam, Damien’s pheromones where so heavy that the air seemed to crackle around them. He continued kissing her, moving his body faster, moving her in rhythm, deeper, faster—but never quite roughly.

When she tensed under him, rising to the crest of her mighty climax, he allowed himself to indulge in kind. He wanted them to cum together. They would be bound that much more deeply. When she came, he came as well, deep inside her. Marking her. Branding her.

“Good pet,” Damien sighed, his balls tugging and jerking as they aggressively pumped his potent, addictive cum inside of her.

He turned to Bunny next.

“Bend over, whore. It’s your turn at last.”

Damien’s cum dribbled out of Kitty as he lowered her onto her shaky legs and slipped his cock out of her.

*-*-*

Hawthorne sighed deeply. It seemed that Emma was inconsolable.

Perhaps she was even implying that he needed to indulge whatever this was that had her so worked up in order to buy her silence for his previous misreading of the situation. He glanced at his watch.

“You have one hour. After that, I need to work on my sermon for tomorrow morning. I’ll expect to see you there as well,” Pastor Hawthorne grabbed his coat from the hook pointedly, “let’s go, you can show me whatever you want to show me.”

Pastor Hawthorne opened the pivot door on his office, extending his arm for Emma to lead the way.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Emma put her hands against the glass door of the Adult Bookstore and peeked inside. The “Closed” sign was out, which was strange, and the shop seemed to be deserted. “He should be here,” she mumbled, half to herself and half to Pastor Hawthorne, who had walked up next to her. When she leaned against the door, it creaked open.

“What the…,” Emma whispered. The door was unlocked, but there was no sign of Colin, or anyone else. Emma pushed it open and stepped inside. It was the first time that she actually entered the shop – strictly freak territory under normal circumstances – and she was surprised to see that it was not the sleazy porn store that she had somehow expected. There was a faint smell in their air, patchouli maybe, and the scent of…what? A dark, ancient forest. Fresh moss.

“Colin?” she shout-whispered. There was no answer. She could hear Pastor Hawthorne following her inside, and despite everything, felt the heat rising in her cheeks. The Adult Bookstore really was the last place she wanted to take the hot pastor to, and she tried not to see the posters showing artsy erotic prints, naked bodies in suggestive, revealing poses, the shelves filled with dildos – some made from rubber, some from wood and obsidian stone, some disturbingly lifelike and large - the whips, the handcuffs, and all the other stuff perverts like Colin and his friends probably thought of as fun bedroom accessories. There were also shelves filled with books, and a few cases full of trinkets of a more esoteric variety.

She cleared her throat, only too conscious of the pastor’s presence. Where was Colin? It was not like him to leave the store unlocked and unattended, certainly not on a late Saturday afternoon with an entire football team on the loose.

“Colin, are you here? Is anyone?” Still no answer. Emma walked up to the counter. There were two empty paper cups still smelling of coffee, and a paper bag with a half-eaten Danish next to it. A tangle of necklaces and thin chains beside it. It looked like they had left in a hurry, but where to? A book lay open on the counter, a dusty tome that looked like a prop from a Buffy episode.

“Let me try and text him,” Emma said nervously. Something was wrong. At the same time, she felt a strange tingle, and despite the cool air of the shop, her skin felt warm and even the thin summer dress like too much. All this freak shit around them made her feel both uncomfortable and self-conscious. It had been a stupid idea to come here. What would the Pastor think of her now?

***

Bunny did not need to hear more. She had watched Damien fuck Kitty and had cum. Twice. She could not wait for him to shove his cock deep inside her dripping tight little pussy, to experience the real deal for herself. Her skin was burning, but she didn’t care. With a lascivious smile, she bent over, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Fuck me.” Her voice barely carried through the hiss of the showers, but she knew that he would hear. “I want to be yours.”

Kitty slid down against the tile wall, semi-conscious at best. Her orgasm still lingered. She was barely able to draw breath. She could still feel his hard chest against hers, deliciously squashing her body against his. The long, deep strokes. Has she been screaming? Sobbing? Praying? Never, not once, not even during that drunk threesome with the two girls from the band, had she felt this sated, and this hungry. Through the mist of the water she watched her friend Bunny. How had she ever wanted anything else but Damien’s cock? How had she ever even considered anyone beside him?

***

Rachel didn’t reply immediately. She was still trying to draw deep, even breaths, recovering from a truly magnificent pounding. Her heart was beating fast and hard in her chest, and his cum dribbled out of her, running down her shaking legs.

“This was better than any workout I could have done, coach,” she finally sighed, lifting herself up from the desk. “And anytime, really.” Rachel smiled. “And my offer stands – if you want it, the town is yours for the taking.”

 

[LitShark]

Pastor Hawthorne reluctantly followed Emma into the unlit store. As much as he professed overtures to progressive Christianity, the Adult Bookstore was still somewhere he didn’t want to be seen—though he had fantasized about him and Emma visiting this establishment, it was under vastly different pretenses. Maybe this was pretense too. Maybe she did want what he wanted. Maybe the “Devil” would take them both.

Maybe Hawthorne wouldn’t resist.

He had stopped to examine a silicone dildo molded into the rough shape of Christ on the cross, his legs morphing in a nightmarish transfiguration into a huge, veiny cock. The object itself a frightening vore narrative. The erection overtaking the resurrection.

“Jackhammer Jesus…” Hawthorne muttered, mostly to himself.

He glanced over at Emma when she mentioned texting. He thrust his arm outward to reveal his stainless Rolex on his wrist. He’d promised an hour and nothing he’d seen yet was very compelling evidence of a living corporeal devil.

“I do have appointments this evening.”

*-*-*

“Fuck you, man! That thing nearly broke me in half—God knows what it’s doing with my girlfriend in there! This was the dumbest thing you’ve ever talked me into—” Miguel hesitated to spit blood onto the sidewalk, “I’m getting the fuck out of here before it comes back out.”

“Where can you go? If it wants to find you, it will. Besides, you can’t leave Lynn behind like that—let her become what the Devil wants to make her.”

“What can we do about it? He knows we’re after him, our best advantage was surprise—now that’s fucked.”

“Hang on…” Colin’s phone vibrated, which was a somewhat unusual occurrence, so he checked it immediately, “Emma is back at the store. She has the Pastor there! He can help us.”

“I’m getting a message too…” Miguel muttered, reaching for his phone.

*-*-*

“Yes,” Damien sighed, running his hand from Bunny’s wet, angular hip across her lithe, dancer’s stomach, under her arm and behind her neck, leaning into her until her cheek pressed against the sweating tile wall and his cock was nestled between her eager pussy lips, “mine you shall be.”

He reached down to grasp the shaft of his huge member, maneuvering it around, trying to find the correct angle to slide deep into Bunny’s tight, tiny pussy. Once he found it, his hips knew the motion all too well and bottomed out inside her in one stroke.

“Get up!” Damien barked at Kitty who was still recovering, “go get her phone. Bring it here and record us. I want her pathetic boyfriend to see how she loves taking my cock.”

Even Damien wasn’t cruel enough to just start hammering away, even if this was punishment. He intended to use this pussy a lot more, he didn’t want to totally destroy it on his first adventure with it. He allowed her time to stretch and adjust to his size, holding himself inside, leaning slowly forward, stretching her like a yoga instructor.

“Take it,” he urged her, his breath close to her ear as he leaned in, pressing her face harder into the wall, “take my cock, whore. Yes, take it!”

When Kitty returned with the phone, Damien began to move his hips. A little faster, a little deeper, faster and deeper, little by little. He continued pressing her face into the wall as he nibbled on her ear.

“Play with your clit,” he instructed before turning back to Kitty, “record, now! Hello, loser! Look what I got here! Your girlfriend is cumming all over my cock, bitch boy! If you even think about coming back for her I’m going to let the whole world watch your slut girlfriend take my big cock! She’ll get used to it, I’ll make sure of that.”

Water was splashing off their bodies as they collided over and over again as the hot water ran out and the spigots began to spray them with cold water—which, oddly enough, was equally hot.

*-*-*

“Yeah, I think that’s got a good ring to it. I’ll break the news to QB 2, your boy is going to be my starter,” Coach Owens remarked, pulling his sweats back up and walking around to open his desk, “we can get started this week. This is all I have on hand…”

Glen opened a locked drawer in his desk and extracted a few bundles of cash, still strapped together by bank notes. This was where he kept money that he hid from his wife.

“It’s four grand. We’re favored by thirteen points next week, lay this against us before the line moves. Then, let Damien know privately that we need to win by less than two touchdowns. If the line moves next week, we’ll bet on ourselves and run up the score. Keep doubling it up until the playoffs, then we’ll split it up among long odds prop bets—especially if your friend Damien is as good as he thinks he is.”

Glen smiled, gently tugging Rachel close again by the tight waistband of her athletic shorts, he slipped the bundles of bills into the front of her shorts before kissing her deeply.

“Just don’t get recognized. We need to keep anonymous, so obviously use a fake name.”

 

[Curious_Muse]

“He’ll be here. I’m sure it’ll only take a moment until he arrives.” Emma played with her phone, willing it to chime with the sound of an incoming message. “Just a few more minutes, I promise.” Her gaze landed on his sinewy underarms. They were such perfect arms to have. In the light of the evening sun that feel through a shop window, the hair covering the tan skin looked a rich gold. Her thoughts wandered to the image of these arms encircling her waist, pulling her close. These arms, braced to both sides of her, as he…fuck, what was wrong with her? Emma tore her eyes away. A large retro movie poster above him advertised a French erotic classic, the forbidden affair between a young priest and a married woman. It was ridiculous, of course, but she suddenly felt as if the shop itself was working against her. “Come on, Colin,” she mumbled, desperate. “We need you here.”

The faint but unmistakable scent of moss, warm stones and pine needles in the shop reminded her of church summer camp. It felt like ages ago, but it had been only a few months since they had been up north, somewhere close to Austin with the youth group. Hamilton Pool, a lovely spot. Emma remembered sitting next to Alicia beneath the overhanging grotto, watching Pastor Hawthorne jumping off a low cliff with some of the other boys. The memory was so clear, so vivid, that she thought she could hear the splash and the peels of laughter. Drops of water clinging to the pastor’s leanly muscled body. His tousled, wet hair. Emma’s mouth suddenly felt horribly dry, and she had to clear her throat.

The shop was eerily quiet, as if holding its breath. Hadn’t Colin mentioned a colleague he worked with on Saturdays? One of the freak chicks from school? Where were they?

A sudden whiff of burnt sugar and smoke brought back the images of bible study with s’mores. The pastor had looked damn fine in casual shorts and a T-shirt. Her and a few of the other girls had all secretly tried to catch his attention: meaningful glances, braless dresses, a brush of nude skin against his, knees touching, seemingly inadvertently. Then, it had felt like harmless teenage girl fun. She had already been dating Wes then, but in those nights, she had made herself cum thinking of Pastor Hawthorne, fantasizing of how she would slip into his tent and seduce him, a ruthless nymph. An irresistible succubus. She had never told anyone, not even Alicia – though she had always wondered if the shy, pretty brunette had not shared those dirty dreams.

What the fuck was wrong with her? Emma cleared her throat, her face flushed. “I’m really sorry…,” she whispered, scared of her own unruly brain and suddenly afraid of what she might be capable of. Was this Damien again? “For making you come here,” she rushed to add. “You must think that I’m just another crazy teenager…but I think something very bad is going to happen if we don’t stop it.”

***

„Oh Jesus,“ Bunny moaned, fully aware and enjoying the irony of that exclamation. But god, he felt amazing. It was as if her small, slender body moulded itself around him, as if his wonderful cock had been a missing puzzle piece.

“Yes, yes…!” she moaned, grinding her ass into him, on tiptoes, her enjoyment obvious and without inhibition. “Fuck me, Damien! This is the best cock I ever had!” It wasn’t a lie. Bunny couldn’t remember anything better and couldn’t imagine having to be without him ever again. When he instructed her to play with her clit, she gladly obeyed, her fingers snaking between her thighs, rubbing small, firm circles around the swollen nub. She groaned as the climax rose, the sweet burn tingling up her thighs and bursting open against her fingers, around his cock. Bunny felt her pussy clench down on him like a steel vice.

Kitty felt her orgasm as if it was her own and she was barely able to hold up the phone to film them. The sight of his beautiful cock fucking her friend was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed, and it made her imagine his penetration between her own legs, hard and merciless. Her eyes drank in every shape of Damien’s beautiful body. Her pussy was screaming to experience him again, throbbing deep and hot with need.

Bunny came apart. She writhed and twitched in his grip, screaming for more, her orgasm ebbing and flowing in intense, deep waves. In some corner of her brain, Kitty felt pity for Miguel, but it was a weak, stillborn thought. Damien was the only guy who deserved this, the only guy who would be able to satisfy her friend. She pressed “send”.

***

Rachel took the money from her waistband and smiled. “Sure thing, coach. Just leave it to me.” Her ass was burning deliciously. Her friend Damien. She fucking loved the sound of that. This time she hadn’t disappointed him. In fact, she had gotten more than he had asked.

Breaking the kiss she hopped back on the desk, caressing Glen’s inner legs with her feet. Gave him a daring, playful smile. “But why not combine work and play?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “There are a few girls I want to introduce you to, coach. Do you wanna go party?”

 

[LitShark]

“Yes! Yes! Yes, you are mine!” Damien roared as his hips collided with Bunny’s athletic hips again and again, hilting his massive shaft inside her bullied open pussy, he’d made space for himself inside of her and he commanded all of it each time, “my good, little, tight, Slut Bunny!”

While he fucked Bunny, Damien looked into the lens of her phone, communicating with his eyes, letting Miguel know that this was the new normal—that he wouldn’t receive the mercy of just getting dumped. He would be cuckolded over and over again, until his mind or her body broke—whichever came first.

When Kitty pressed “send” Damien beckoned her with his hand, slipping his palm around her wet hair at the back of her neck, pulling her into a deep, lewd kiss, before pushing her down to lick Bunny’s asshole while he continued pounding her.

As his second climax began to loom, he released both girls’ heads to reach around her body and grasp both of Bunny’s shoulders, pulling her into each of his thrusts—arching his back into each motion, which caused his huge cock to move up and down inside her, like a butter knife reaching for the last bit of jam in a jar.

“Take it,” Damien sighed, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “accept my dark offering and be mine!”

He buried himself inside her again, his balls tugging and jerking below them as he poured his thick, almost uncomfortably hot semen into her, in one glut after another. He sighed, leaning his head back as he released Bunny’s shoulders, leaning her against the wall like a bike to be ridden again later. Without even looking, he pushed Kitty’s head down again so that her mouth was over the other girl’s pussy before he removed his giant cock from her filled pussy.

“Waste not, want not,” Damien sighed, cutting off the water and striding confidently naked back into the steamy locker room.

He wrapped a towel around his waist as he caught sight of Coach Owens and Rachel emerging from his office. He smiled knowingly at Owens, who looked like the cat that ate the canary.

“Styles! What the hell are you still doing here?”

“Same as you, I imagine. Don’t worry coach. Your secret’s safe with me,” Damien grinned knowingly, beckoning Rachel over to him with a snap, “get your shit together, we need a ride to that bookstore or whatever.”

*-*-*

“Hush, child,” Pastor Hawthorne smiled, reaching out to cradle Emma’s face in his hand, urging her into a reassuring embrace, “you have nothing to apologize for.”

Hawthorne drew her toward himself, bringing her face to his chest. Her anxious energy and frantic need to bring him here, of all places was beginning to reaffirm his suspicion that this whole “devil” idea was an expression of a deeper sense of regret—guilt maybe. She loved Wes very much, but they were no longer suitable as a couple. Wes was no longer the Prince of their high school, he was a cripple—it was harsh, but it was a harsh reality.

If this sweet child needed to believe that the literal embodiment of Satan was responsible for her growing apart from her boyfriend, he didn’t wish to discourage that notion. He wanted only to give her a safe place to land.

“I’ll wait here… with you,” his palms were moving greedily over her back, the curve of her shoulder-blades, her upper arms where the dress left her exposed, “whatever you need, I’ll be right here.”

His eyes drifted closed without thinking, he leaned forward, his lips pressed against hers, his nails dragging down her back…

*-*-*

“Tempting though the offer is, I need to be home for dinner, play house and all that. I don’t want my daughter ending up…” Glen managed to catch himself before saying like you, “with Daddy issues.”

Glen turned away from Rachel’s teasing feet, gathering the rest of his things and shrugging into his team-branded windbreaker.

“But I might be able to slip out later tonight, if I can get my face time in sooner than later,” Glen grabbed his keys and opened his office door for Rachel, “in other words, time to go.”

Coach Owens closed the door behind Rachel, his brow furrowing at how much steam had filled the locker room. He could still hear running water. He was wondering who could still be hanging around when Damien’s eyes pinned him to the spot. Damien smirked, his dark eyes cutting straight through Glen and laying him bare. There was no pretense of him wielding authority—it was as if Damien could see straight through him. He saw the flawed man behind the respected coach.

“Styles! What the hell are you still doing here?” Glen demanded, trying to scrape together some vague sense that he was the authority figure in this situation. His own voice sounded tremulous, unconvincing.

“Same as you, I imagine. Don’t worry coach. Your secret’s safe with me,” Damien grinned knowingly, beckoning Rachel over to him with a snap, “get your shit together, we need a ride to that bookstore or whatever.”

“D-don’t talk to her like that!” Glen tried again to play tough, but he was speaking to an empty locker room. A slow shudder trickled down his spine.

*-*-*

“Oh God…” Miguel groaned, watching the same video from Lynn’s phone, watching through red, tearful eyes as his girlfriend was fucked half-way out of her skull.

“Stop watching it, dude. We’ll figure something out,” Colin climbed out of Miguel’s car, rushing toward the Bookstore, “c’mon. Emma said she brought the Pastor. If anybody can help, he can.”

Colin was so distracted by Miguel’s moaning and whining that he barged into the Adult Bookstore somewhat recklessly, barging in to find Emma and Pastor Hawthorne in a tawdry embrace, kissing each other like long-lost lovers. His mouth fell open.

“Um…” Colin didn’t know what else to say.