Odalisque Paradise
Charles backed up, stumbling over a table in the process. He hit the floor hard and looked up at the rotten ladies. The smell was immense from where he lay, and his mind reeled from it. Charles scrambled, trying to gain purchase of something suitable to aid in righting himself.
The women knelt beside him, their hands caressing him, and preventing him from getting up all at once. The fleshy lumps that parted with their decomposing fingers left stains on his waistcoat along with darker sticker things. Charles screamed, his mouth open wide and crying his despair.
One of the girls descended on him, her mouth covering his. The remnants of her lips formed a suction cup to his lips. Her tongue played wildly with his, and he could taste death on her. Vomit fought from the pit of his stomach to reach his mouth, but she would not let him go, and so he had no choice but to swallow it again. His arms thrashed as he attempted to escape her clutches, but it was now evident that she was stronger than he.
Charles felt another mouth near his waist. The slurping noises of a kiss reached his ears. The other girl he assumed was now moving down toward his manhood. Charles felt tears escape his eyes. He was frightened and sick with panic. The sensation of the woman’s rotten tongue slimily lapping at his thigh did nothing for him. He felt bony fingers clutch at his skin, but his body would not respond.
Finally he was released from his kiss, and allowed to sit up. He thought this was a blessing until he looked to his lap and saw his shaft vanish into the living corpse’s mouth. The hands of the girl who had kissed him held his head immobile so he could not look away from the sight of oral stimulation. His limp skin hit against the disintegrating side of her face and part of her cheek fell away to reveal a nest of maggots.
This time Charles did throw up, but being unable to turn away the chunks merely hit his shirt and dribbled down his chin. Charles thought the girl might stop in sight of his being sick. After all, all the girls he had ever known were revolted by such displays of illness. The girl’s head bobbed faster, until at one point her eyeball fell and hung on her cheek attached only by a thin ligament. Charles tried to jerk his head away to look away from the sight, and to escape the smell of his own vomit.
“Don’t bother mate,” a male voice said with clearly intoned pleasure. “It’ll all be over soon anyway.”
The women knelt beside him, their hands caressing him, and preventing him from getting up all at once. The fleshy lumps that parted with their decomposing fingers left stains on his waistcoat along with darker sticker things. Charles screamed, his mouth open wide and crying his despair.
One of the girls descended on him, her mouth covering his. The remnants of her lips formed a suction cup to his lips. Her tongue played wildly with his, and he could taste death on her. Vomit fought from the pit of his stomach to reach his mouth, but she would not let him go, and so he had no choice but to swallow it again. His arms thrashed as he attempted to escape her clutches, but it was now evident that she was stronger than he.
Charles felt another mouth near his waist. The slurping noises of a kiss reached his ears. The other girl he assumed was now moving down toward his manhood. Charles felt tears escape his eyes. He was frightened and sick with panic. The sensation of the woman’s rotten tongue slimily lapping at his thigh did nothing for him. He felt bony fingers clutch at his skin, but his body would not respond.
Finally he was released from his kiss, and allowed to sit up. He thought this was a blessing until he looked to his lap and saw his shaft vanish into the living corpse’s mouth. The hands of the girl who had kissed him held his head immobile so he could not look away from the sight of oral stimulation. His limp skin hit against the disintegrating side of her face and part of her cheek fell away to reveal a nest of maggots.
This time Charles did throw up, but being unable to turn away the chunks merely hit his shirt and dribbled down his chin. Charles thought the girl might stop in sight of his being sick. After all, all the girls he had ever known were revolted by such displays of illness. The girl’s head bobbed faster, until at one point her eyeball fell and hung on her cheek attached only by a thin ligament. Charles tried to jerk his head away to look away from the sight, and to escape the smell of his own vomit.
“Don’t bother mate,” a male voice said with clearly intoned pleasure. “It’ll all be over soon anyway.”
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- ID: 57249
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