Paranormal Erotic Short Stories

In some respects, Jake realized, the shipwreck had very nearly been fortuitous. Any marine biologist, for example, would be downright envious of his circumstances.

He hadn’t thought to do anything unusual the afternoon he’d headed out on his sailboat. The Dreamer was his pride and joy, and he practically lived on it. A literature professor by trade, he spent most school breaks out on the water. He’d even been known to meet students at the docks during his advising hours.

Of course, none of this had been in his mind when his sailboat had capsized in that sudden storm, nor when he struck his head on the boom and went under before being able to so much as slip on a life vest. That moment of negligence ought to have cost him his life.

Instead of waking up on the other side, though, he’d been gently shaken awake lying on his side on a sandy beach. The small wound on the back of his head had been washed with seawater and bound with strips of his t-shirt, and aside from a few aches and pains here and there, he couldn’t have felt better. He’d been about to make his first attempts at standing when another voice halted him.

“There’s fresh water just beyond those trees.”

The voice was soft, deep, strangely melodious in timbre. Jake rolled over to find himself staring into a pair of wide, sea-green eyes. “You’re very strange-looking,” the girl remarked off-handedly. “I’ve never seen one of you up close before.”

Jake struggled to contain his bemusement. He had been called many things in regards to his looks – sailing and swimming had given him a not-insignificant amount of lean muscle to fill his six-foot frame, and his shaggy brown hair was always sun-bleached this time of year. His skin was deep even brown all over and burnished by the sun, and he’d always rather liked his square, straight features. “Strange-looking” had never been applied to him before.

He took another look at the girl, and involuntarily touched a hand to his forehead.

“Do you hurt?” the girl asked, her face transformed from curiosity to worry in a second.

“Not a bit,” Jake said steadily, trying not to stare. Like him, the girl was bare-chested. Her round, pert breasts were streaked with the salt of the sea. Though they were in fact very nice breasts, they did not hold his attention for very long. Nor did her hairless crotch, sex completely exposed.

No, the fish-like tail that took over for soft skin just past her thighs was for the time being much more interesting. The scales were as blue as her eyes, and glimmered wetly in the sunlight. Several feet downward, a fin dipped into the rising surf.

“I hit my head,” Jake said, mostly to himself. “I’m hallucinating.”

The girl giggled. “No, you’re not. I’m perfectly real.”

Jake, with some effort, brought his gaze back up to her face. Her blonde hair was beginning to dry in the brisk breeze, resulting in damp, tangled curls that fell over her cheek. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed a lock of it back behind her ear. Her face was pale and lightly freckled, and her hair and skin felt absolutely normal to him.

Her hand flew up to where he’d touched her, and her cheek colored slightly. Jake cleared his throat to break the silence. “I might take you up on that water,” he said. “Do you know where we are?”

“Small island,” she said. “About an hour’s swim from the mainland. There’s no one else here.”

Jake pushed himself to his feet, pleased to find that while he certainly felt a bit wobbly from his time spent unconscious, everything seemed to be working properly. It occurred to him that to this creature, an hour’s swim could mean almost any distance, but he felt confident that a rescue would be imminent. Failing that, he could almost certainly rig a raft from the plethora of wreckage that had washed ashore. With a pang, he realized that most of it was from the Dreamer. It appeared to be far beyond repair.

He stretched, cords rippling over his back, and walked steadily into the trees. True to the girl’s – the mermaid’s! – word, there was a stream of fresh-tasting water coursing through the wood. He drank deeply of the cold water, taking a few minutes to rinse the sand from his face and hair before returning to the beach.

The mermaid was still lounging on the shore, fingers tracing the imprint he’d left in the sand. A faint smile rose to her pink lips, and this coupled with the innocence of her expression left Jake with an unexpected flutter in his stomach. Of course he’d find the fish-girl cute, he chided himself, shaking his head ruefully.

She looked back up as he approached, and he lowered himself back to a sitting position on the sand to talk with her.

“I don’t believe I thanked you,” he said, gesturing to his bandaged head. “I’d have drowned without your help. How could I make it up to you?”

The mermaid shrugged. “You could ask my name, for a start. Jake,” she said pointedly.

The young man started, only to see her flapping a very familiar wallet in the air. “You read my ID,” he said, grinning.

She smiled back. “Not all of us can read, but I picked it up. Here and there.” She dangled the wallet in front of him teasingly. Jake took the bait, letting her snatch it from his reach a few times before she dropped it in his palm.

“What is your name?” Jake asked finally.

“My friends call me Pan,” she replied. “My real name is a bit more complicated than that.”

Jake nodded as though discussing names with a mermaid were the most normal thing in the world.

“Let me check that bandage for you,” Pan said abruptly, crawling forward. Jake froze as she slithered nearly into his lap, straining upwards to reach the makeshift bandage. Her movement brought her breasts almost level with his eyes, her erect nipples brushing his face.

Pan leaned back again all too soon, the blood-spotted bandage fluttering to the sand. Her nipples trailed down past Jake’s face until they brushed his chest, her eyes level with his. Despite the shipwreck and the resulting precarious circumstances, Jake felt himself stiffening in what was left of his jeans. Pan reached out a timid hand and stroked Jake’s face, her fingers moving down until her hand rested on his chest. Jake swallowed heavily, aware of her cold weight pressing against his growing erection.

“I know how you could make it up to me,” Pan said suddenly. “Me rescuing you.”

Jake raised an eyebrow in query.

“I follow cruise ships sometimes. Depending on the ship, you can look right into the windows.” Jake nodded, feeling a vague sense as to where this was going. “And I’ve never kissed a human,” Pan finished.

Jake smiled and gently cupped Pan’s chin in his palm, tilting her face toward his. “The least I can do is satisfy a bit of curiosity,” he murmured, bringing his lips to meet hers.

He’d intended it to be a lingering but chaste kiss. Instead, he found Pan’s tongue immediately seeking entry, her palms pressing into his chest until he lay back. She moved on top of him, tongue dancing against his with such dexterity that he broke out in a slight sweat. Her lips moved hungrily from his lips to his neck, and her soft tongue traced a small circle on the patch of skin just beneath his left ear.

“I can help you get home,” she breathed gently, grinding her hips against his. “If you give me what I want.” She grabbed one of Jake’s hands and brought it to her nether lips. His fingers felt her wetness like that of any human girl, and he stroked her gently, not yet daring to penetrate her.

“Why?” Jake asked.

Pan ran her tongue along his ear, sending shivers down Jake’s spine. “Have you seen a merman?” she asked. “Trust me. They aren’t half as pretty as you.”

Jake ran his hands over her form, following the sleek line of her ribs down to her curving hips. His fingertips brushed over her rudimentary thighs, tracing the point where flesh became fish scales. Pan gasped.

“Sensitive?” Jake asked.

“Just do it again,” she half-growled, lightly nipping at his neck.

Jake repeated the motion, marveling at the sudden transition from woman to fish. Pan squirmed slightly against him, and finally he relented, moving his hands back up to cup her soft breasts. He kissed her neck gently, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on her skin. [Read more…] about Mermaid Sex Stories – Her First Human

Ren had been in bed for nearly three hours, utterly and almost painfully wide awake. Her parents had waited entirely too long before retiring, and she’d forced herself to remain deathly still as the sounds of teeth being brushed and tiny snippets of late-night conversation slowly ceased to drift down the hall. She had to be absolutely certain they were asleep.

When the house had been silent for over half an hour, she slipped out of her bed, moving slowly so the springs didn’t creak and betray her. She stood stock-still for several moments, bare feet gripping the carpet and back straight, looking for all the world like a wary deer creeping into a forest clearing. Apparently satisfied that everyone else in the house was asleep, Ren cautiously padded her way across the room to the window. She pulled back the curtains with a small sigh, face upturned to the luminous moon. Her small hands trembled slightly as she eased the window open, but it slid easily. Removing the screen was also a simple matter – this was a newer house, with all the conveniences of modern fire codes, and the screen swung out on a hinge to lie flat against the exterior wall. It was, Ren had often mused, as though the designer had expected someone would want to sneak out of the smaller second-floor bedroom.

She climbed out of the window nimbly, deftly swinging her legs over the ledge and catching her balance on a bit of protruding brick. She clung easily to the wall, using the drainpipe and an iron trellis as hand- and footholds until she could drop confidently the last six feet to the ground.

Ren landed in a crouch, one hand splayed in front of her. Her long brown hair fell over her face in tangled curls, leaving the moon to pick out her full lips and dark, shadowed eyes. Though by daylight her skin was a richly dark tan, it seemed almost to glow under the light of the moon.

She was wearing only a pair of silk pajama bottoms and a thin tank top, and she shivered a little as she stood. Glancing about to ensure that no one else dared intrude, she carefully peeled off her top, revealing dark, erect nipples and a beautifully smooth back. She next stepped out of her pants, leaving the girl naked in the moonlight. Ren stashed her clothes behind a rosebush, neatly folding each item of clothing before hiding them carefully amongst the thorns.

Finally she stood clad in nothing but moonlight, not even clothing burdening her. The hazy light seemed to linger on her form, picking out a small smile on her lips and flashes of silver in her dark hair. Her eyes flickered closed, and she opened her arms as though trying to embrace the night.

“Mother Moon,” she whispered. “Take me home.”

The prayer had not even faded on the night air before she began to change. Her eyes narrowed while her face and ears elongated. Her limbs twisted in movements that managed to be both bizarre and beautiful, and in less than a minute where a girl had once stood was a wolf as black as midnight.

Ren thought of transforming much like opening her eyes after a long sleep. Of course the world hadn’t ceased to be while she was unconscious, but the sudden richness of it made her feel as though she’d been deaf and blind until that very moment. Her vision was still steeped in the night colors of black, grey, and silver. Her nose and ears, however, more than made up for the lack of color. Suddenly every sound had a new character and each scent told a story.

She stretched her furred head upward and sniffed the wind. She could tell which neighbors had mowed their lawns earlier that week from the faint whiffs of gasoline and burning vegetable matter that still lingered. Someone a few doors down had cooked bacon not long before, and her fur bristled slightly at the telltale musk of domestic dogs. All of them were inside at this hour, and she almost relaxed before a sudden gust of wind brought another scent to her attention.

It was utterly unfamiliar, but she recognized it somewhere deep in her gut, in the wolf instincts that shrouded her human mind in this form.

Somewhere nearby, somewhere on her turf, was another werewolf.

Ren set off instantly after the scent, dully noting new details as proximity brought them into focus. She learned he was male a block down. And young, she decided. About her age, perhaps a shade younger.

She resented the intrusion. She had graduated college full of hopes and dreams that seemed finally in her grasp, only for her mother to fall ill. Instead of trying to start the business she’d always wanted, she’d ended up moving back home and taking a job at the local bookstore to help cover the hospital bills. The blessing of the moon had been her one freedom – her nightly excursions in which she answered to no one but herself.

The scent was nigh-overpowering by the time she reached the park and the copse of trees where she had spent many nights. Ren preferred to get away from houses and crowded neighborhoods: she’d hate to find out that she’d accidentally hunted down a neighbor’s cat. But the little wood was full of squirrels, mice, and the occasional fox. Plenty for her to stalk, chase, and even kill if the mood took her.

He wasn’t even trying to hide from her, she realized. He was all over silver grey, and leggy. He was thin beneath his shaggy fur, and his tail lowered slightly at the sight of her.

I’m bigger than he is, Ren realized. It was a strange thought. She wasn’t especially tall as a human and hadn’t considered herself to be an abnormally large wolf, either. A sudden impulse took her, and she bounded straight for him, barreling directly into him and knocking him to the mossy ground.

The two wolves tumbled and snapped at each other’s throats for several minutes, the male several times almost managing to throw Ren clear but never quite succeeding. Finally Ren locked her jaws around his throat and the fighting ceased, both wolves breathing heavily and snarls dying in their mouths.

Golden eyes locked on Ren’s, the wolf beneath her began to shift, fur and muscle dwindling until her teeth brushed smooth human flesh.

“I yield,” the boy said softly. His eyes were golden brown as a human, and his hair was dark and shaggy. Ren felt rather than saw that he was still thin, but also taller than she would be as a girl.

“You’ve never met another one, have you?” the boy asked, remaining deathly still. Ren pulled away reluctantly. She hadn’t. She hadn’t even been sure there were others.

“I’m Nicolas,” the boy continued. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, two or three years younger than Ren. His features were soft, almost dreamy. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

There was something in the simple way he spoke that made Ren want to be able to smile at him, and she surrendered her wolf’s skin, melting back into a human girl in the moonlight. She leaned back, still crouched over him, and more aware than she’d like to be of the fact that they were both naked.

“Ren,” she said by way of introduction. The bloodlust she’d felt, the animal sense of intrusion and territoriality, had faded and been replaced by a swirl of much more human emotions. The boy was, she decided, pretty rather than handsome. Something about the delicateness of his features – high cheekbones, pointed jaw, and slightly slanted eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” Nicolas said simply. “I’m glad you won.”

“What do you mean?”
“We’re wolves.” Nicolas smiled. “And you beat me. You can do whatever you want with me now.”

Ren considered this for a long moment, then leaned down again and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

She’d meant to simply unnerve him a little – shock him, maybe punish him a little bit for trespassing – but he returned the kiss with such fervor that her heart began pounding. Their tongues met, and goose bumps broke out over Ren’s arms. A heat began to rise in her loins, and she realized just how long it had been since she’d enjoyed a young man’s company.

She pulled away abruptly and studied Nicolas’s face. His breath was coming hard and his eyes were wide, regarding her adoringly.

“I want you to be mine tonight,” Ren said, shifting her weight ever-so-slightly downwards. Beneath her, Nicolas’s breath hitched. “Are you okay with that?”

“I’m yours,” Nicolas replied. “Completely.”

Ren grabbed both of his wrists and pulled his arms over his head, pinning them down with her left hand. She leaned down again and kissed him savagely, nipping sharply at his lower lip. Her right hand stroked the side of his neck and moved down to his chest until her fingers could toy with one of his nipples.

Nicolas strained lightly against her, tensing at her touch. As Ren’s lips moved away from his mouth and down to his neck, she felt his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth. A low groan escaped his throat as her tongue flicked lightly over his flesh. She closed her teeth gently over his earlobe, then traced the shape of his ear with her tongue. He was practically whimpering now.

“You like that?” she asked, nearly purring.

“Y-yes,” Nicolas gasped, his eyes closed.

Ren grinned. She adored submissive partners. She sat up and released his arms briefly. The young woman moved forward until she was kneeling over Nicolas’s shoulders, her knees pressing into the ground to either side of his head. Her weight kept his arms pinned down and useless. [Read more…] about Werewolf Sex Stories – The Female Werewolf

Some people go their whole lives searching for the perfect sexual mate. And sometimes, you don’t even have to look for it to find you.

When I first moved into the old Township house, I was expecting to find maybe a lingering spirit or two in the attic. What I wasn’t expecting to find was my sexual match roaming the halls, waiting for me as if he knew I was destined to come… In both senses of the word.

My experience with ghosts has been going on for as long as I can remember. My very first memory is talking to an old war general that apparently nobody could see but me. When I was ten my parents made me undergo electro-shock treatment, “to fix my mind from playing with demons,” so they claimed.

Mine was a religious upbringing that strictly believed that spirits meant only one thing – sin. Not only did our church glorify the sanctity of marriage, it forbid the existence of  or communication with those who had already crossed over. Ghosts, sex, these were the work of the devil. Not long after the electro-shock therapy the poltergeists came.

My parents committed me on and off as a teen for psychological evaluation, even stooping to sending me to various religious retreats. When I was seventeen they finally kicked me out, resigning to the fact that my soul was perpetually damned. Once I was free from the hell they’d imprisoned me in, I was able to start exploring my gifts. And my sexuality. You know how it goes: The more forbidden the fruit, the sweeter the juice.

So here I am, at the age of 20, closing the deal on my first home purchase, which I’m only able to afford  because of the earnings I bring in from my work as a medium. People travel from all over the country to pay me for a session. Believe me, if they are willing to travel hundreds, possibly thousands of miles to see me, then they are also willing to pay a nice, hefty fee for my services. I don’t feel guilty for taking advantage of my God given gift. I never asked for it.

The first time I set foot in the house, I sensed an unseen power emanating from the floor boards. It both turned me on and drew me to it, peaking my natural curiosity as to what the story behind such energy possibly could be.

Two months after closing the deal my real estate agent found me, I finally moving in to the old, two story Victorian manor house. As I unloaded boxes from the U-Haul I’d rented, packing them up the steps to my huge wrap-around porch, I felt a shiver go up my spine. I stopped and stared at the second story windows for a second, debating whether I wanted to pursue the feeling further. In the fraction of a heartbeat, I shook my head, as if to shake the feeling off of me. But still it lingered. For a split second I thought maybe I was possessed, but the feeling quickly faded away. So my new home had ghosts. So what?

Usually I find it somewhat comforting to be in the presence of spirits. I don’t want you to think that I’m a slut with the afterlife, that is simply not true. I do have my limits, and lines that I absolutely will not cross. I will not find pleasure (of the sexual nature) with anybody’s deceased husband, father or grandfather. The spirits I allow myself to enjoy, I suppose you’d say, must meet a certain criteria. They must  be unattached. In other words, flying solo. They must also be benign in nature; no malignant, or malicious spirits.

I do not summon ghosts or demons to pleasure me, or to do my bidding. They must seek me out, and they must be persistent and take the first initiative. I will not start an affair with a ghost who doesn’t show interest in me. In other words, he – or she -must make the first move.

Fucking a ghost is like having sex with any mortal partner: if the conditions are right, sometimes it just happens. They must meet my expectations for a partner, and not be seeking any earthly gains in return.

As I unpack, I learn a bit about my new roommates personality. Several times I’ve turned my back, only to discover things put away as soon as I return to the task I was working on. I smile each time he does this, and thank him; I do appreciate the gesture.  Throughout the afternoon I gather more of a sense of who  my new roommate is. He appears to be male, between 30 and 40 years of age when he died. Furthermore, he appears to be unattached, meaning I do not feel any emotional ties binding him to anyone.

This pleases me, although I’m not sure why. I do not know this gentleman’s name, or even what he looked like when he was alive. Instead of repelling me, this only intrigues me more. There is a thrill in the unknown, after all. More than once I feel ghostly fingers resting against the small of my back, causing me to shiver. I must break contact, however; there is work to be done.

But now it’s evening, and I find myself singing an entirely different tune. Not that I mind my other worldly roommate, oh, no. Like I said, I’m used to it. As a matter of a fact, you could even go as far as to say as I welcome him- I’m sure it’s a him, as the energy being emitted definitely feels masculine. But he’s yet to apparate, or manifest into being, so to speak. I know he’s here, I can feel him all around me. But I have not seen him yet, nor has he spoken to me. Without communicating, it’s virtually impossible to get a sense for who, or what, he is.

I have spent the day unpacking, and now the sun is starting to sink in the West. I am not wearing anything particularly sexy, just a pair of tattered denim shorts and a ratty old purple button up shirt. It’s hot- my new home is stuffy. I go over to the big, picturesque window in what I have designated will be my bedroom, and attempt to pry it open. It won’t budge. I try both pushing and pulling on the glass pane, but it still won’t open. I sigh in defeat, wiping my hands on my short shorts and backing away.

All of a sudden, the window flies open, and a cool breeze billows in. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. He is here, in this room. I can feel his presence.

I attempt to continue working, but the strong presence of a man I cannot see has shaken me up a bit. Something stirs deep within me as the soft fragrance of Old Spice fills musty air. I feel something brush against the back of my leg, and I shiver. It is hard to tell what his intentions are, when he has yet to reveal himself to me. Yet I don’t feel any sense of danger. There is an invisible, electrical current permeating the atmosphere, a  burst and flow of energy seeping through the cracks in the wall from another place and time. [Read more…] about Sci Fi Sex Stories – Carrie’s Fucking Ghost

Every morning she awoke to the sight of a pale, brooding face; full lips, haunting eyes, and skin that sparkled. Sometimes to the point that she had to wear sunglasses to bed.

“OK, so I gotta take my poster collection down.” Sitting up in the sheets of the simple camp bed that formed the center of her cluttered dorm room, Verna Blake ran her chubby fingers through her tangled mass of curly dark hair. She struggled to focus her tired eyes on the wall that formed the left border of the room. She smiled at the sight of a makeshift poster gallery that represented just about every vampire movie released in the past 30 years. Well, at least those that featured really hot vamps.

“It scares away just about every room mate I’ve ever had, the last of which went so far as to wear a garlic sweater vest to bed. The odor almost got us both evicted.”

Her gaze flowed free from one poster to the next, taking in all of the gorgeous actors who had tried their hand at sexy vampire roles. “Sure, my mom would have preferred floral wallpaper and pictures of puppies and flowing brooks.” She rolled her eyes, rising to her feet and stepping in to the fanged bunny slippers that sat on her tiled floor.“To me, though, nothing says home décor like some bare chested, feathered haired dude with painfully sharp fangs.”

And as much as she realized that she should really take down at least some of her vampire posters, she knew that others would take their place; wallpapering her dorm room with numerous examples of what she liked to call the ‘hunky undead.’

Tonight in fact, the 21 year old planned to take in the midnight debut of “Vampire Fantasy”; one in the latest in a long line of thriller movies that were scoring big at the box office.

“Only this one promises to be even more thrilling than most.” She strolled into the bare kitchenette that came complete with a microwave oven, a sink, and a portable fridge. The fridge was topped with an oversized clove of paper mache garlic that was a prank birthday gift from a friend.“I’ve been hearing some mighty strange things about that movie.”

Sure, she’d heard of people fainting at horror movies; their limp, unconscious bodies being carried from the theater and revived before they fled the theater in a state of fear. From what she’d heard, though, several ladies in attendance at “Vampire Fantasy” had been found delirious and barely coherent on the floor. They wore big smiles and threatened to donkey ass kick anyone who tried to take them from the screening room.

“Now that must be one heckuva movie,” she thought, pouring a heaping bowl of Count Chocko Bits cereal. “It also will be my big reward for surviving another finals week, my last in fact before graduation.”

After spending so many recent nights lost in tedious textbooks, she reasoned as she chomped, she deserved to lose herself in a sumptuous dark fantasy. One that allowed her to lose herself in the paranormal netherworld that had intrigued her for so long.

“Yep, I’m all for paranormal netherworlds.” She smirked, depositing her cereal bowl in the depths of her sink.“Especially if they just happen to be populated by impossibly hot vampires.”

Then, walking past the cardboard cutout of Count Dracula that was conveniently situated somewhere between her coat rack and a rotting potted plant in desperate need of water, she headed to her bathroom in search of a shower. A cold one.

****

“Verna, are you still on this planet?”

Noon found Verna on campus at Clearview University, seated in the corner of the student union hall with Taylor Bryant, her best friend of two years.

Blonde and petite, Taylor could barely make it through a campus lunch without encountering some desperate frat boy who begged for her phone number.

Of course, they bug me a lot too, Verna reminisced, settling her fully made form in the booth she shared with the woman who currently held the esteemed title of Miss Clearview U. For Taylor’s phone number. Or, on occasion, for the name of the pizza dish I’m eating or for a peek at my comic book selection.

Today, though, nothing could spoil her divine good mood; or, for that matter, her dreamy disposition that did not go unnoticed by a confused Taylor.

“It’s finals week,” she reminded her friend.“No one has the right to be so—I don’t know….”

“Borderline orgasmic?” Verna tilted her head.

Taylor thought a moment, then nodded with enthusiasm.

“Well, now that you mention it….”

Verna leaned forward across the table, lowering her tone to a confidential whisper.

“After my night class wraps up tonight, Taylor, I’m headed off to see Vampire Fantasy.”

“Vampire Fantasy,” Taylor repeated, stroking her chin in thought.“Never heard of it.”

“Really?” Verna squinted in confusion. “Haven’t you seen the ads for it in the campus newspaper?Haven’t you read all those stories about women fainting and going all batty at the showings?”

Taylor shook her head.

“Nope.” She replied, still as confused as before.

Verna smiled.

“Taylor, fess up,” she beckoned to her friend, “you haven’t willingly read anything in the campus newspaper except the gossip and the fashion sections since freshmen year.”

Taylor cocked her head.

“Nope.” she again replied.

****

Theater Rouge was far more than a theater, at least to its current visitor. Verna Blake considered this independent movie theater to be the product of fantasy; a multi-level, Victorian style building that boasted stained glass windows, a broad columned front porch, and flag like banners flying from the roof of its arched, cathedral-like top.

Yet tonight she did not pause to marvel at the beauty of the theater, or enjoy the heavenly light of a beautiful full moon. Instead she raced onto the porch with frantic steps, straight in the direction of the row of movie posters that lined the theater front.

After weeks of seeing ads for and reading about this movie in the newspaper, none of the three people I discussed it with today had heard anything about it. And one of them has seen so many movies I fear for his sanity and social life, in equal measure. She bit her lip.

She sighed relieved as she saw the title “Vampire Fantasy” appear on the top of one of the posters, and sighed yet again as she saw the gorgeous image just beneath the title.

She’d never seen the lead actor who played the vampire, but now that she’d witnessed his stunning male beauty, she knew she’d never forget him.

Tall and muscular, the actor boasted a long fall of gorgeous black hair and gem blue eyes. He had full lips, and carved cheekbones that completed a perfect face.

This face led down to a massive bare chest and ripped abs, as well as trim legs clothed in a pair of tight leather pants.

“OK, name please?” Her mouth fell open.“I need to know who I’ve fallen madly in love with, to know the title of the man who will someday bear my children.”

Her gaze fell to the bottom of the movie poster, where she expected to find the names of the actor and his cast mates.

All she discovered, though, was the movie’s rating; which, much to her shock, turned out to be NC-17.

Whoa! Her eyes flew wide. The last time I saw a NC-17 movie it was with my last boyfriend. We ended up going home and…well actually come to think of it, we didn’t even make it home.

 “One please!”

The lady at the counter, a blonde in her mid-40s, acknowledged her with a knowing smile.

“Do I even need to ask which movie you’d like to see?” She arched her eyebrows.

In no mood for humor, Verna slipped a fiver and her student ID across the counter. She used her free hand to wipe some telltale sweat from the surface of her brow. “Well I don’t know. Have you ever seen a chicksta get this hot and bothered over Transformers 8?”

The woman chuckled, taking Verna’s money and handing her a scarlet hued ticket that glowed in the light of the moon.

“Have fun, Dearie,” she winked.“Your movie will be showing in the balcony theater.”

Heading inward into the theater, Verna stopped a minute to admire the crystalline chandelier that hung from the ceiling of Theater Rouge. It was a traditionally designed theater that also boasted a brass railed spiraling staircase that lead to the second floor.

Verna’s heart raced with anticipation as she mounted the velvety stairs that would take her to the midnight showing of Vampire Fantasy.

Her broad, downright drunken smile dissolved moments later, as she walked into a theater that boasted a stained glass ceiling, paintings of cherubs and woodland scenes, and thick velvet carpet. A carpet that she walked on alone, before claiming an empty seat in an empty row.

Hmmm, so much for the vampire fans of this city. She shook her head as she turned to face the screen. Heck, I’m pretty sure there are actual vampires in this city. I can’t believe that I’m the only one at a midnight showing of a flick called Vampire Fantasy.

She took in her breath as in a sudden flourish the lights went down around her. As darkness engulfed her, the sound of a low, eerie harpsichord filled the air above the theater.

Suddenly the screen came alight with the image of the vamp himself.

He’s one of those rare people who looks even better in high def. She sat forward in her seat: Blast him.

The image of the vampire was cloaked in a coat of black leather. He was surrounded by a kaleidoscopic glow that shone alternating colors of red, black and blue. Everything seemed larger than life, but oddly realistic as it shone from the screen.

“I could almost reach out and touch him…”

Verna bit her lip, the pounding of her heart almost drowning out the music that set their scene.

“Well why don’t you?” [Read more…] about Vampire Sex Stories – Fucked By A Movie Vamp

He knew he shouldn’t venture out on the night of a full golden moon. Something, though, told him to go to her. She needed him tonight, that much he knew.

Although the shine of tonight’s moon would bring forth the dreaded change, an eternal transformation whose pull and force he could not resist, the magnetic pull that he felt toward this woman was far stronger. It spirited him forth from his modest cabin in the woods, to the place where he knew she would be. The place where he hoped she awaited him.

His heart, he reasoned, was already there; so his body might as well follow.

****

“Could you go any slower tonight Doll? The salsa that table five has been waiting for since time began is just about to fossilize.”

“Is it now? Well then, I’ll just have to bring some home for your late night snack this evening, won’t I?”

Mya Kline shot a hard stare in the direction of Brian Randolph, the owner of the Full Moon Inn. Mya had been Brian’s employee for eight years and his girlfriend for six. Right now though, she regretted both positions in equal measure.

“You know you haven’t said a kind word to me all day. You haven’t kissed me in a week. We haven’t made love in a month.” Mya heaved a deep sigh as she retrieved a cracked wooden tray from the corner of the Full Moon kitchen, a small and modest space where burgers were grilled and salsa was whipped on a nightly basis.

The 29-year-old wearily made her way to the plain wooden door that lead to the bar beyond. I went to four years of culinary school for this?

“Hurry it up!” Brian called from behind her, his tone harsh and unyielding.

“Shut it up!” She called back, balancing her salsa tray with one hand while using her free one to gift her beloved with a spirited one finger salute.

Ignoring his grunts of protest, she stepped into the rustic tavern that had made the Full Moon a favorite among locals.

Maybe they like my original artwork, that occupies the walls. Deep in thought, she smiled slightly at the sight of the woodland portraits that hung just above the bar. Maybe they like the nostalgic ’50s jukebox and the friendly service. Again she rolled her eyes, taking note of the long line that formed just before the bar. Oh ef it, they just want the brew.

Just then, Mya spotted something that she wanted. Or, more specifically, someone.

A newcomer to the Full Moon Inn, Cody Fuller was a gorgeous hunk of a man. On top of that, he was one of the kindest and most courteous customers who’d ever passed the threshold of her rough and ready watering hole.

Tall and muscular, his massive, rock hard frame really filled out his clothes. He donned a fitted plain white T-shirt, along with tight blue jeans. Simple, yet effective. He had wide dark eyes, a carved sculpted face,m and a long mane of silky black hair that flowed down his sturdy back.

“Now that’s a man if I ever saw one.”

She shot a sly grin in his direction, trembling as he returned it with a sexy smile and a slant-eyed leer that made her pulse race.

I’m sorry, but this is just short of ridiculous, the thought entered her lust stricken mind. He looks to be a good five or six years younger than me, and with his looks he could have his pick of any woman in the place.

Sneaking a quick look at a wall mirror, Mya winced a bit at the reflection that, in her mind at least, did not come close to matching the perfection of the man she desired. True, her own smoky ebony eyes and full ruby red lips seemed hot enough. So did her curly dark hair, and full plump breasts.

Yet, the hips that fall directly below those breasts are pretty plump too, she snorted, and working the night shift has left some wrinkles on my mug, no use denying it.

So why did this man look at her as though she was the hottest woman on earth? And why was he now crooking his finger at her, beckoning her to him?

Ours is not to question why, she giggled in spite of herself.

Suddenly, she found herself face to face with the man who tempted and teased her, often without saying a word.

Mya attempted a casual smile as she approached Cody’s table. “Good evening Cody.”

“Evenin’ Mya.” His deep, sexy voice made her pulse race. “You’re looking lovely tonight.”

“I’m looking sweaty tonight.” Mya corrected, nudging him across the table. “So what can I do for you tonight here at the Full Moon Inn? Get you a burger and fries? Maybe some of our prime brew?”

Cody shook his head, pinning her with a penetrating stare.

“Actually, Miss,” he leaned back in his slick leather chair, folding his hands behind his head, “I was wondering just what I could do for you.”

Mya froze. Her customer’s soft, suggestive words sending chills up her spine.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” She planted her hands on her hips, a smile softening her tough stance and no nonsense tone.

Cody shrugged, meeting her teasing grin with one of his own.

“I was just wondering, Ma’am, if I might have the opportunity to entertain you here at the Full Moon.” His voice was soft and alluring.

“Babe you entertain me every time you come in,” she blurted out, then felt her cheeks flush red as she considered these words.

Ah, dang it. He noticed.

She blushed outright as her words were met with smoldering eyes and a sensual smile.

“Well I’m always eager to please.” Cody winked. “And I’ve been told I can sing a mean country rock song.”

“Oh, we’re talking about singing here?” Mya forced a smile, hiding her disappointment at Cody’s words.

A disappointment that evaporated moments later as Cody surged to his feet, leaning across the table to sear her lips with a wet, hot kiss.

“We’re talking about anything you want here, baby girl,” he whispered. “You know I’ve wanted you since the first night I walked in here.”

Mya took in her breath, unable to speak as a raw wave of passionate desire wracked her from head to toe. Everything about this man, from his gorgeous looks, to his smooth, deep voice and musky, masculine scent drove her over the edge. It tempted her to do something she’d surely regret.

After, that is, I enjoyed it. She licked her lips, her gaze scanning the length of his tall, muscled form. A lot.

Aloud she said, “Now behave yourself Dude. You know my old man runs this place.”

Cody stiffened at the mention of Brian, Mya’s boss and other half.

“I also know that he treats you like crap and you deserve much better.” He folded his arms before him, adding in a confidential whisper, “And I’m just betting he doesn’t please and satisfy you like I could.”

Mya stepped away from the table, barely hearing her own nervous laughter above the pounding of her heart.

“You’re an animal!” She chided him, waving an accusing finger in his direction.

His smile dissolved, and he looked away as he considered her words.

“You have no idea,” he muttered, more to himself than to Mya.

An uncomfortable silence followed; one that Mya broke by clearing her throat and stepping just a bit closer to the table.

“So you say you can play a mean a rockabilly tune.” She tilted her head. “Well as it turns out we are auditioning acts for our live entertainment nights.” She shrugged. “Right now we have a 75-year-old fiddle player and a zookeeper who counts a one footed penguin as his backing vocalist. If you think you can stack up against that caliber of talent, I do welcome you to audition here this time tomorrow night.”

“Why thank you Ma’am.” He inclined his head in a gentlemanly manner. “Why don’t we get started right now? Do allow me to dazzle you.”

Cody stepped around the table to erase all distance between them, cupping her face in his hands and searing her mouth with a second passionate kiss. This time he lingered to rub his full, moist lips against hers and slide his tongue inward.

For just a moment Mya lost herself in the kiss, bracing her hands against his hard, massive chest as their lips and tongues joined in a succulent tango. One that caused their public surroundings to dissolve around them.

All too soon the moment passed, and Mya once again stepped away from the source of her temptation.

“This is madness.” She shook her head. “I’m standing in the middle of my boyfriend’s bar, which lucky for us is poorly lit and filled with people who are either too drunk or too bored to care, kissing another man.” She shot a disbelieving look to a grinning Cody. “I gotta get back to work.”

“Mya.” She stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of his voice.

“Yes Cody.” She didn’t turn to face him.

“If he was taking care of things at home, taking good care of you, then another man wouldn’t have to step in and do his job for him,” he said, releasing his words in an animal growl that made her pussy gush.

****

These words haunted her later that night, when she made a long trek to the back porch area that formed the south border of the Full Moon Inn. [Read more…] about Shifter Erotic Short Stories – Lust For A Wolf

With great calm she cast a loving gaze across the vast area of her homeland; a pretty meadow that, in the eyes of Angelika, formed the whole of her magical world.

Throughout this emerald green meadow, grew a variety of surreal flowers. Her favorites, while resembling roses in structure, shone in every color of the rainbow; from rich scarlet red to startling indigo. From a deep violet to a yellow so bright it rivaled the hue of the sun.

Of course, even the sun shone a greater gold in this surreal living space, causing the leaves of the trees to glow like emeralds in the scope of its tender beams.

Angelika shared her homeland with a host of birds, butterflies, and other playful woodland creatures. These were neighbors she also claimed as friends and family members.

I do love them dearly she thought, as she cast an affectionate glance toward a small butterfly that hovered close by her shoulder. Indeed I am blessed by my life, my home and my friends. It would be nice, though, if I could find a mate to share this charmed existence.

Whenever Angelika inspected her reflection in the surface of a one of the meadow’s ponds, she saw a face that boasted wide blue eyes, a long silky fall of pinky blonde hair, a trim waist, and perky breasts that lay uncovered in the light of the sun.

All features that, or so I’m told, are favored by most young gents she thought almost aloud.

Of course, this reflection also displayed a most unusual rear view; one that displayed a fetching set of legs, four to be exact, and a spotless pink and white tail.

No matter how liked my personality, she sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward, most gents usually stop short when they see the horse’s ass.

Her troubled mediation was disrupted by a flare of sharp, jarring pain. One caused by a dart thrust without warning deep into the flesh of her side.

She let out a scream that startled a flock of tropical birds flying low overhead. Their worry-drawn faces formed her final vision just before the world slipped away.

****

London, 1905

“Mum, must we go to the fair again?”

Julian Ross let out a low sigh, stretching his muscled arms high above his head as he regarded his mother, the respected Editha Ross, with a bored stare that brought a rare smile to her noble face.

“It’s the event of the season, young man, and you know as much.” She ran a soothing hand through his shoulder-length mass of golden blond hair. “Now get ready, as I am really keen to see the opera singer who opens this year’s fair.”

“Oh joy.” Her 21-year-old son rolled his eyes as he grabbed the bowler hat that hung from a nearby cherry wood rack. “Fine then, let’s be off.”

An hour later, Julian found himself trekking the streets of downtown London. There was a number of attraction booths around, featuring everything from games and craft displays, to minstrel performances and public story readings. And while his mother headed directly for the clothing carts after hearing her much anticipated opera performance, he preferred to see shows at the fair, especially those that might in some way shock or titillate him.

Heaven knows, in the life of a young English nobleman, one does not often get shocked or titillated, he thought, disappointed at the lack of opportunities.

Indeed, since graduating from university four months earlier, he’d done little more than sit about his family’s manor house and write fantasy stories about creatures and legends that had captured his imagination. He had a thing for mythical creates since early childhood, and this thing had stayed with him ever since.

I know that my mum wants me to follow in Da’s shoes and became a banker. He shrugged, eyes scanning the brightly painted signs that oversaw the fair’s booths and tents. I’d far rather write books filled with my own takes on fairy tales and legends. Better yet, I’d love to meet some of the strange and wonderful mythical beings that fill these legends.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he came to a tent marked Female Oddities.

“Brilliant, just what I was looking for!” He clapped his sturdy hands together, smiling as he ran between the tent flaps. “I’d most definitely prefer an odd female over any of those boring society maids I’ve been courting the past few months.”

His grin dissolved the moment he entered the tent; a sparse, dirty space occupied by a tank and a cage.

“Only two attractions?”

He cast a disinterested glance toward the tank on the left, which was really a shallow transparent barrel that held a beautiful but bored mermaid. Dressed in a makeshift fin that seemed to be made of cheap, sparkly cheesecloth, she returned his dull gaze before racing to the top of the barrel. She broke the water’s surface as she coughed and gasped for air.

“Are you quite all right, Miss?” Julian shoved his hands down deep in the pockets of his smart brown pant suit.

“Yes.” The mermaid spoke, spitting forth a stream of cool water that ruined what was left of her illusion. “I tell you though, after being a ‘sea siren’ for two full days, I’m quite ready to go back to my days in the pleasure houses. At least there I didn’t have to swim or wear this ridiculous fin.”

“You may indeed have a point,” Julian smiled briefly, “and a plan.”

His smile again dissolved, this time in shock, as he approached the cage that occupied the right side of the tent.

Standing inside this enclosed space was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. One whose vivid blue eyes and soft pink hair instantly mesmerized him, along with what seemed to be a unique lower half.

While the woman boasted a perfect face and top half that would make any man howl with delight, her lower half seemed to take on the form of a fully functioning, anatomically correct horse.

“By God, she’s a centaur,” he breathed, taking a long gaze across her rear and more animalistic features. It was Angelika.

Although overwhelmed by the view of this wonderful woman, he still tried to summon the information he’d learned about these remarkable creatures in his books of mythological history.

He recalled learning the teachings of Greek storytellers, who praised the ultimate and divine beauty of women half human half horse. He himself had seen a Roman painting that showed several of these female centaurs as they flanked Venus, the great goddess of beauty, crowning and praising her. Yet in his eyes the centaurs had surpassed the beauty of the goddess herself.

Yet even they paled in comparison to this glorious creature, whose upper half bore more of a likeness to a glorious angel than an everyday woman. And even her ‘horse parts’ bore a thick pinky coat that took his breath away.

“Why not do a sketch of me, milord.”

Planting her dainty hands on her hips, the centaur lifted her chin in his direction.

“It will last you far longer.”

Her admirer froze at these words, laughing outright as he considered their meaning.

“I like a feisty lass.” He applauded her. “And a beautiful one.”

The centaur was unimpressed.

“Go ahead and call me a beautiful freak,” she waved him onward with a weary hand. “A lovely mistake of nature. I assure you, good sir, I have heard it all.”

Julian shook his head.

“Never would I insult such a glorious creation.” He waved down the length of her figure with a gentle, admiring hand. “Surely Shakespeare referred to you when he said in King Lear, “Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women all above.”

For what he suspected was the first time in months, the centaur smiled. And laughed. Hard.

“Tell me lad.” She arched her feathered eyebrows. “Does that line work on all the lasses?”

Julian grinned, before joining in her laughter. “Only the four legged ones,” he winked.

Angelika smiled, almost blushing from this human’s words.

“Well I’ll say one thing for you,” she shrugged. “Your words for me are kind and humorous, which is more than I can say for most of the so called gentlemen who pass the doors of this exhibit.”

Julian stepped up to the bars of the cage, eyes fixated on his new female friend.

“Then I must ask Madame.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “Why do you allow them to cage and insult you like this?”

Kneeling to the floor of the cage, the centaur lowered her sing song voice to a soft, confidential whisper.

“I allowed nothing.”

She leaned forward until their faces loomed dangerously close; separated only by the cast iron bars that restricted her freedom.

“The man who runs this exhibit abducted me from my home, a secret meadow on the outskirts of London.” Her lip quivered as a single tear ran down the skin of her fair cheek. “Three months ago I was the queen of my valley, a ruler and protector of creatures great and small. Now I am nothing but an object, a pawn in a nasty game…a thing to be leered at and ridiculed in equal measure.”

Her words wrung Julian’s heart, before making him good and mad.

“I demand at once to speak to the monster who runs this abomination of a show!” He jumped back from the cage, balling his fists as he roamed the dusty floors in search of a certain target.

His search was not a long one, as he soon came face to face with an aging, bearded man who seemed to be in charge of the show. A man who sprang forth from behind a long black curtain at the back of the tent.

“What is the meaning of this outburst?” He roared, pinning Julian with an accusing glare.

His glare however was soon replaced by a look of shock when the enraged nobleman punched him full in the face and knocked him to the ground. Delivering a second punch that rendered the show owner woozy and distracted, Julian took his opportunity to snatch a set of keys from his jacket pocket, and surged toward the cage door. [Read more…] about Paranormal Sex Stories – Ride The Female Centaur