Odalisque Paradise
The woman on the couch was rotten. Not in the spoiled way that some ladies he had met seemed to be rotten. Indeed, Charles could have born that for the duration of his first sexual encounter. The woman’s flesh itself was rotten, a mess of green and brown clumps hung to her skeletal frame. And the decomposition of her body was so advanced that she left bits of herself behind as she moved against the couch.
Charles looked from the girl on the couch to her twin still moving against him. He looked into her eyes, which were as they had always been. As he looked at her face however, he saw how gaunt and sickly she had become. Her entire body was a mass of rotted flesh as well. And the juicy place between his legs into which he had been thrusting was nothing more than a residue of rot.
Charles screamed. His scream was an expression of the horror that had so quickly replaced the pleasure that had consumed his mind. He screamed and pushed at the frail skeletal corpse that had been humping him. The girl fell back and hit the floor with a sick wet thud. He thought she looked angry, but he could not precisely interpret the look because he was not used to reading the minds of decomposing women.
“Sorry,” he choked, more out of habit than out of a need to apologize. Charles moved toward the shelves that blocked his view of the door. He had forgotten the man that had been his reading companion earlier. So when the man rounded the corner to face him with a wicked smile, Charles panicked.
Charles looked from the girl on the couch to her twin still moving against him. He looked into her eyes, which were as they had always been. As he looked at her face however, he saw how gaunt and sickly she had become. Her entire body was a mass of rotted flesh as well. And the juicy place between his legs into which he had been thrusting was nothing more than a residue of rot.
Charles screamed. His scream was an expression of the horror that had so quickly replaced the pleasure that had consumed his mind. He screamed and pushed at the frail skeletal corpse that had been humping him. The girl fell back and hit the floor with a sick wet thud. He thought she looked angry, but he could not precisely interpret the look because he was not used to reading the minds of decomposing women.
“Sorry,” he choked, more out of habit than out of a need to apologize. Charles moved toward the shelves that blocked his view of the door. He had forgotten the man that had been his reading companion earlier. So when the man rounded the corner to face him with a wicked smile, Charles panicked.
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