Author: James Newman
Date: 2011-12-27 05:00:00+00:00
Description: Meet Les & Wanda Sue, aka "HOTCOUPLE30". MWC, very open-minded. ISO same for erotic escapades. Love weekend camping trips, watersports, anything "outdoors-y". She's 5'9", 130lbs, bi & beautiful. He's 6', 170lbs, straight w/rugged good looks. Both 30-something, fit, well-endowed in all the right places. Nonsmokers, social drinkers. Age/race unimportant. Into swapping, 4-sums, whatever feels right. Interested? Give us a call. There's nothing to be afraid of. . . . we promise we don't BITE.
Publisher: Comet Press

Praise for Love Bites

“Singly or together, (Newman and Gash) know how to entertain readers with nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat action . . . Love Bites is a tantalizing treat no lover of spicy horror should miss!” —Horror World

“A well-written variation on the succubus/incubus legend . . . ” — Horror Drive-In

LOVE BITES

James Newman and Donn Gash

A SeX Files Book

SeX Files Electronic Edition,
September 2014

SeX Files is the erotica imprint of Comet Press

First published by Nocturne Press as a limited edition chapbook
First ebook edition published by Naked Snake Press, 2012

Love Bites copyright © 2005
by James Newman and Donn Gash
All Rights Reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Visit SeX Files on the web at: sexfiles.cometpress.us
Visit Comet Press on the web at: cometpress.us

Also by
James Newman and Donn Gash

Death Songs From the Naked Man

About the Authors

James Newman is the author of the novels Midnight Rain, The Wicked, Animosity, and Ugly as Sin, and the collection People Are Strange. He invites readers to drop by his website, www.james-newman.com.

Donn Gash is the author of numerous short stories and nonfiction pieces, most recently appearing in the anthology, In Laymon's Terms.

“Godammit,” Jerry cursed. His penis flopped backward onto his stomach like some fat, lazy worm as he collapsed on his side of the bed, sweaty yet unsatisfied. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s me,” Trish said with a sniffle. She pulled the covers over her breasts, a shield against this frustration she knew all too well. The faded tattoo above her left areole—that butterfly with fiery wings he’d found so sexy a decade ago—resembled a dark, ugly bruise in the night. “I don’t turn you on anymore …”

“Trish, please—”

“Just tell me the truth. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

“It’s not you. Really.” Jerry adjusted himself beneath the blankets, felt her juices cooling on his thighs.

“Whatever.”

“Swear to God. It’s probably stress. Work. You know I can’t even sleep lately, worrying about that Monaghan account.”

“Just forget it,” Trish said, rolling over. “I could accomplish more with my pinkie.”

Jerry clenched his fists, gnashed his teeth in the darkness. “That was fucking low.”

“Not low,” she said. “Just fact.”

He glared at her back for several long minutes, noticed the way the moonlight bleeding through the Venetian blinds at their bedroom window painted her pale shoulders with stripes like prison bars.

Appropriate. Sometimes Jerry thought their marriage was a fucking prison.

He got up then, stumbled to the bathroom. Masturbated furiously into the toilet. He thought of Veronica, his best friend’s wife with the raven hair and those luscious 38D’s, and he came hard.

Variety. That was the missing ingredient in his and Trish’s marriage, Jerry had realized of late. Once-a-week trysts with the old lady—fevered groping under the covers, always with the lights out and you bet your ass in the same old missionary position every time—just didn’t cut it anymore. Jerry felt he deserved something better than that, felt they both deserved much more if they wanted their relationship to stay fresh. Otherwise they would soon feel middle age creeping up on them, and Jerry swore he’d kill himself before he gave in to that.

Sated, he moved from the bathroom to his office on the other side of their apartment. He sat before his computer, his face bathed in a bluish midnight glow as he headed for that website his buddy at work had recommended:

www.swingerz-swapmeet.net

If their marriage were going to survive, Jerry knew, he and Trish would have to take some risks.

By God, it was the only way.

He thought of Veronica again, of the triple-X affair they had recently shared for several short but exhilarating minutes in his head, as he logged on to the Just-A-Swingin’ Chatroom:

CASSANOVA36 HAS ENTERED JUST-A-SWINGIN’ CHAT

FLIRTINHUBBY: C36!

PARTYANML2002: Yo, C-dawg!

CASSANOVA36: Hi, all

SEXYSARA: Cassanova! You’re up late tonight.

CASSANOVA36: couldn’t sleep :(

SEXYSARA: join the club

CASSANOVA36: Anybody seen HOTCOUPLE30 around?

PARTYANML2002: Not I, said da ’anml

SEXYSARA: nope, sure haven’t

FLIRTINHUBBY: sounds like U guys really hit it off!

CASSANOVA36: I guess

FLIRTINHUBBY: they said they REALLY liked the pics U sent

CASSANOVA36: For real? What’d they say???

FLIRTINHUBBY: Umm … something about Wanda Sue wantin’ to fuck your brains out, if I recall. And Les thinks your wife is quite the looker too. Said he’d love to stick 9 inches in her while U watch

CASSANOVA36: OMG, You’re kidding me

FLIRTINHUBBY: nope

SEXYSARA: YOU GO COWBOY!!!!!

PRTYANML2002: HotCouple30 = good people. You guys oughta hook up, no kidding

Jerry leaned back in his chair, cupped his still-swollen balls through his underwear.

He grinned from ear to ear.

Sure, he knew what he had done was wrong. Emailing those nude photographs of himself and Trish—shots they’d taken six years ago on their second honeymoon in Hawaii—to a couple with whom he’d only spoken two or three times online. At first he’d felt guilty, going behind her back like that. Showing total strangers parts of his wife only himself and Dr. Saldutti, her gynecologist, had ever seen before now …

But soon Jerry’s self-reproach gave way to feverish excitement.

Because they liked them. They really liked them …

“Holy shit,” he whispered, feeling himself grow hard again.

He’d met HotCouple30 two weeks ago on his first night in the Just-A-Swingin’ Chatroom, and they’d hit it off right away. Like he and Trish, Les and Wanda Sue were in their late thirties. White. Non-smokers, social drinkers.

They lived about four hours away—Jerry and Trish in Baltimore, Les and Wanda Sue just north of Newport, Virginia.

It was all too frigging perfect.

They told him, that night Jerry stayed up chatting with HotCouple30 until the infant sun of a new day peaked into his office window, that Les owned a construction company. His wife, Wanda Sue, was a dental assistant. And during every second of their free time, the promiscuous pair proclaimed without the slightest shred of shame, they both loved to fuck. God, how they loved to fuck. Sex was one of the most important aspects of their relationship, Les enlightened Jerry. They believed there should exist no outdated Puritanical reservations regarding “pleasures of the flesh” even when such pleasures are explored with other horny husbands and wives.

“That’s what God made fuckin’ for,” HotCouple30 philosophized in the funky lavender text through which they always “spoke” online, and Jerry agreed despite his initial shock at his new friends’ aversion to subtlety. “If your relationship isn’t strong enough to have a little fun now and then, you shouldn’t be married in the first place, dig?”

Indeed, Jerry dug. Deeper and deeper.

As his nocturnal conversations with Les and Wanda Sue grew more intimate and the flirting ever braver, Jerry couldn’t deny the occasional pangs of remorse—not to mention red-hot jealousy—that churned within his gut at the thought of some other sweaty man plunging in and out of his wife. He envisioned Trish screaming and bucking beneath said man like she’d never carried on with him, imagined her chin and chest glistening with droplets of a stranger’s salty love …

And then his uncertainty dissipated. Because, frankly, such fantasies made Jerry’s cock as hard as steel whether he wanted them to or not.

Not long after their initial conversation, Jerry traded pictures with HotCouple30 via email. He nearly got busted that night, as Trish walked into his office the second he hit SEND on her way to the kitchen for a midnight snack (he convinced his wife that he’d been searching the Net for information on athlete’s foot—a malady which had troubled her for several weeks—and she’d finally gone back to bed after sleepily kissing his forehead and thanking him for being such a kind, unselfish soul). Fortunately, he had saved HotCouple30’s photographs in a password-protected folder on his hard drive, and as he sat here now he minimized the chat window to review those pictures again. As he did so, he began stroking himself faster and faster …

The first picture featured Les in a blue Speedo and Wanda Sue in a hot-pink bikini, both of them beaming at the camera from some tropical beach like gods of lust atop their private Mount Olympus. Their teeth were flawlessly white—Jerry had never seen such perfect smiles. Les was in his late thirties, balding, but still handsome in a rugged sort of way. His washboard abs proved his years in the construction biz had paid off. His chest was hairy, but not abnormally so. He sported a golden-brown tan, a small hammerhead shark tattoo on his left bicep. As for Wanda Sue … she was a knockout, plain and simple. She looked like a porn star to Jerry: gorgeous mane of blonde hair, long legs, killer smile, and a fantastic set of jugs. Goddamn.

Jerry scrolled down to the next photograph, a solo shot of Les. This one appeared to have been taken inside HotCouple30’s home (a rec room, judging from the billiards table in the background, the shiny framed print of Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe on the wall behind that, and the massive stereo system in one corner). Les still sported the same confident smile as in the previous picture, but this time that was all he wore. He flexed his muscles for the camera, his biceps bulging impressively … but those weren’t the only things flexing and bulging.

The dude was hung like a fucking rhino. From the looks of it, Les’s one-eyed beast was as large flaccid as Jerry’s penis was erect, and Jerry didn’t consider his own package anything to snicker at. As he sat there staring at it, Jerry grew even more aroused. Not that he wanted to give Les’s tool a try himself—no, that sort of swinging didn’t interest him at all, as he was happily hetero. What excited him was the thought of that monster pumping in and out of Trish. God help him, he thought of Les pounding away at his wife’s box, and it made him feel a little faint.

Jerry moaned softly, stroked himself more vigorously than ever as he scrolled down the page with his free hand …

The third and final picture showed Wanda Sue sprawled out on a purple beanbag, naked. Her back was arched, her legs spread wide. Her pubic hair was shaved, her vagina smooth and pink and glistening with promises of warm wet Paradise (Jerry remembered how he once pleaded with Trish to shave down South; she wouldn’t hear of it, though, and he had sulked for over a month). Wanda Sue’s only physical flaws—if she had any—were the two barely noticeable scars under each of her nipples. She was obviously no stranger to enhancement surgery. But her dedication to self-improvement was damn admirable in Jerry’s book. Les had certainly gotten his money’s worth outta those babies.

Jerry concentrated his energies on Wanda Sue’s immaculate body now, dared not even blink as he jerked at his rock-hard cock. Sweat streamed down his forehead, burned in his eyes, dripped onto his chest.

Perfect … God, she was so perfect …

Waves of pleasure washed over him. He grunted once, and his load spattered onto the carpet beneath his desk. He collapsed in his chair, spent.

“Jesus …”

He couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced an orgasm like that.

Certainly not with Trish …

A pang of guilt stabbed through him. His wife slept on the other end of their apartment, alone—even from his office Jerry could hear her soft snore, a sound he always acquainted with the purr of a content feline—and here he sat fantasizing about another woman. He felt dirty. Lower than low.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried, though. Adult videos, sex toys, instructional tapes on The Art of Spicing Up Your Marriage … he and Trish had tried them all, to no avail.

Jerry sighed. As he pulled up his Fruit of the Looms he looked hard at that photo of Les and Wanda Sue on the beach. He studied their wide, perfect smiles, their almost visible auras of bliss.

That was what true happiness looked like.

At last he closed the picture files, logged out of the chat-room before bringing up his email program. His Inbox was mostly filled with ads for debt reduction, credit-card offers, and porn (the latter boasting subject lines like “Barely Legal Asian Sluts”, “Cock-Crazy Nymphos With Huge Tits,” and his personal favorite: “Brazilian She-Male Ass-Fuckers”.

Jerry sat up in his chair then, rolled his eyes, and scrolled past the junk mail until he found the subject line “SO WHATCHA THINK?” Chewing at his bottom lip, he read that message for what must have been the thousandth time since he had first received it:

Wassup, Jerry?

We hope you like the pics. No doubt, we had a blast taking them. We especially hope you’ll be contacting us—we’d love nothing more than to meet you & Trish for a great time.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Les & Wanda Sue θ

Jerry took a deep breath before hitting the REPLY button. The “New Memo” box popped up and he typed:

Dear Les/Wanda Sue,

Hi guys. The pics were VERY hot. I hope you feel the same about ours?

Here’s the thing: I would LOVE to hook up, but I haven’t been totally honest with you. I need your help. Would it be okay if I called you? I know we’ve only “talked” a few times, but I feel I can confide in you.

Hope you’re cool with it. Thanks.

Your friend,

Jerry

His heart pounding in his chest, Jerry reread the text several times.

He took another deep breath.

Finally, he hit SEND …

And there it went, flying through cyberspace on its way to Les and Wanda Sue’s Inbox. No turning back now.

Welcome to a brave new world, Jerry thought, shutting down his computer. Let’s just hope I did the right thing.

When he slipped into bed a few minutes later Trish was snoring lightly. Purring. Her chest rose and fell beneath the covers. For a while he just lay there, watching his wife sleep. Her face looked so peaceful. At moments like these it was easy to remember the good times …

Just before he drifted off to sleep, Jerry decided once and for all that he had made the right decision.

Les and Wanda Sue would know what to do.

Yes, he was sure HotCouple30 were going to change his and Trish’s life in a profound way.

‡ ‡ ‡

One week later Jerry shifted nervously in his booth seat at Annie’s Country Diner. He alternated between checking his watch every ten seconds and wiping at the sheen of sweat on his brow. Every time a car pulled into the parking lot he would stare out the window, his face practically pressed against the glass. When he saw it was merely some hungry blue-collar worker or elderly couple he would return to his anxious routine.

He couldn’t believe he was about to meet HotCouple30 in the flesh. Any second now, two strangers who had seen him naked would walk through that door. They would no longer be disembodied typists from a chat room, but real human beings who knew things about his sex life he’d never even told his best friend.

The morning after he fired off his frantic email to HotCouple30, Jerry had checked his account and found a reply. Les was out of town on business, Wanda Sue explained, but he would return that weekend. As luck would have it, they planned to visit her sister in Jersey the following Tuesday, and would pass through Baltimore on their way. They couldn’t wait to hook up, she said, and when Jerry suggested Annie’s Country Diner off I-95 she declared it a “date.”

Now Jerry felt like he might be sick. Despite the erection in his pants and the excitement pounding in his chest, his guts roiled like storm clouds. He thought he might need to take a dump before the couple showed, but didn’t want to chance missing them if they walked in while he was busy in the men’s room.

He buried his face in his hands, wondered what he had gotten himself into.

He was so overcome with nervousness he never noticed the attractive couple approaching him until they were standing beside his booth. Standing right over him.

“Jerry?” asked a sweet voice with a slight Southern lilt.

He looked up, a deer-caught-in-headlights expression on his face.

“Hi there.”

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Wanda Sue?” His voice cracked as he spoke. He felt like he was back in high school, the nerdy Chess Club president daring to speak to the Prom Queen against his better judgment.

“That’s me,” she said, and her voice was like fine wine, satin sheets, and sexy jazz all rolled into one. Her hair was tied into a ponytail save for several golden curls falling free around her ears. She wore make-up, but not too much. Her long legs were clad in denim, her incredible bosom in a tight pink T-shirt. The bracelets around her wrists were gold, as was her expensive-looking watch.

Jerry could imagine throwing her onto the table right then and there, having his way with her in the middle of Annie’s Country Diner while the lunch crowd cheered him on.

He forced his mouth to close, and for the first time noticed the man behind Wanda Sue.

“What’s up, Jerr’?” The guy smiled at him, proffered his hand. Les was even tanner in real life than in their photographs, but now faded blue jeans and a red CARIBA CONSTRUCTION T-shirt covered his hard body.

Jerry slid out of the booth—almost knocking over his iced tea in the process, how studly was that?—and shook the man’s hand enthusiastically.

“Les. Wanda Sue. H-hi. Wow. It’s great to finally meet you in person.”

“Same back atcha.” Les’s grip was strong, but not threatening. “Mind if we sit?”

“Yeah,” said Jerry. God, he’d never been so nervous. “I mean, n-no â€“ please, have a seat! You guys hungry?”

“We’re fine,” said Wanda Sue, yet the look in her eyes said, I’m hungry, Jerry … but not for anything on Annie’s menu.

She winked at him. Showed him her perfect teeth.

Jerry swallowed the softball-sized lump in his throat, returned her smile though his was lop-sided and goofy.

At last the couple settled in the booth with him. They took seats on opposite sides of each other—Wanda Sue where Jerry had been sitting, Les across from her—and for some reason that terrified Jerry to no end.

Wanda Sue patted the seat beside her with one perfectly manicured hand. Her nails were long, pink, but not gaudy. “Sit.”

Jerry glanced at Les, and Les gestured for him to obey.

“It’s okay, brother,” Les whispered. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“We’re all friends here,” Jerry said. “Right.”

Jerry sat. Sipped at his tea. Wanda Sue’s leg, slightly touching his own, seemed to burn him through his pants.

“So where’s Trish?” she asked him.

Jerry bit his tongue. Fidgeted in his seat. Nearly spilled his tea again. “She, er, that is …”

They glanced at one another then back to Jerry, but their expressions seemed to indicate that they understood his predicament already.

“That’s sorta what I needed to talk to you guys about. T-Trish, um … she doesn’t know about you. We’re new to this.”

There. He’d said it. Let the cards fall where they may.

Les nodded slowly. “I see.”

In the distance, Jerry heard the sounds of hamburgers sizzling on the diner’s grill, the gentle pings and clinks of Jorge the busboy at work, the gruff voice of a customer flirting with a giggly waitress … yet none of it seemed to occupy his world. It all might as well have been on Mars at that moment.

“I’m sorry,” said Jerry. “I think I made a mistake—”

He stood, wishing he’d stayed home and left this all to fantasy. Jerked off to Wanda Sue’s pics one last time before deleting them, forgot all about this ridiculous dream-life of wife-swapping and no-strings-attached animal fucking …

It was insane. Stupid.

“Sit down, man,” Les said.

Jerry frowned. The man’s tone sounded harsher than he must have intended.

“Please,” Wanda Sue quickly added.

“I don’t—”

“We were all newbies to the scene at one time. We know exactly what you’re going through.”

Jerry licked his lips, sat. “You … you do?”

Wanda Sue’s hand went to the bulge in his jeans.

Jerry gasped.

“There,” Les said. “Isn’t that better?”

“You’re afraid your wife will hate you, aren’t you, Jerry?” said Wanda Sue. “You want … need … to experiment, but you know convincing Trish won’t be easy.”

“You know your marriage cannot last without something new and fresh,” Les said. “Isn’t that right?”

“Y-yeah,” Jerry said, glancing over his shoulder. He felt as if everyone in the restaurant were staring at them, disapproving of their liberal, ungodly ways. “Th-that’s exactly it. T-took the words right out of my mouth.”

“We’ve been there, buddy. Trust me.” Les winked at his wife, and she blew him a kiss.

Jerry said nothing, just focused on Les’s piercing gaze and the feel of Wanda Sue’s hand on his dick.

“You want her, don’t you, Jerry?” Les’s voice dropped several octaves. Now his tone was seductive. Hypnotic. “More than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.”

“I … y-yes—”

“It’s okay if you want to fuck my wife. Really.”

Les smiled at Jerry then, and his teeth were so unbelievably white.

Under different circumstances, that too-perfect grin might have sent a chill down Jerry’s spine, as there was something not quite right about it.

In another time. Another place. But not now.

“Let’s talk about a camping trip, hoss,” Les proposed, “Next weekend. No pressure. Just two couples, one tent. A bottle of Dom Perignon, chilled to perfection. Love under the stars. I think you’ll like this, Jerry, and I’m sure Trish will too …”

‡ ‡ ‡

Teeth …

Jerry dreams of teeth.

Teeth bared amidst lustful grins … teeth nibbling at hot, wet erogenous zones quivering with ecstasy …

Teeth that draw geysers of blood.

Strangely enough, however, Jerry isn’t sure exactly what he just dreamed when he awakens. They were in his dream, he knows. Les and Wanda Sue. Otherwise he can remember nothing but rows and rows of teeth.

Bright teeth …

White teeth …

Very, very sharp teeth …

Teeth embedded in flesh, buried to the bone.

‡ ‡ ‡

The following evening Jerry told his wife about his new friends, though he left out several details (namely, his desire to fuck Wanda Sue till she could no longer see straight, and the fact that Les would probably do the same to Trish).

“You’re kidding, right?” Trish said as she took off her jacket and put away her purse. She’d just gotten off work, and he initiated his attack the second she came through the door. “A camping trip? With people I don’t even know? Doesn’t sound like much fun to me.”

“But it will be!” Jerry said. “Les and Wanda Sue are good folks.”

Trish shook her head, made her way toward the bathroom. Jerry followed her. While she peed he sat on the edge of the tub, desperate.

“Please, darling—”

“It sounds fishy to me, Jerry,” she said. “Like these two are trying to—”

“Trying to what?”

She sighed loudly. “What if they’re sickos or something? Swingers. You know, into ‘wife-swapping,’ that sort of thing? Yuck.”

Jerry face went as red as Les’s shirt back at the diner. He cleared his throat, stared down at the bathroom’s tile floor for a few seconds.

Finally, he said, “Labor Day weekend’s coming up, babe. Wouldn’t you love to get out of the house, do something fun for once?”

“Maybe,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows, grinned. It was a step in the right direction. “Really?”

“I’ll think about it.” Trish stood. Flushed. Pulled up her granny panties. “Maybe that is what we need, just to get away for a while.”

“Exactly!”

“But God so help me, Jerry …”

“What, sweetie?” he said. “Anything …”

“If you get me involved with a bunch of perverts, I will never forgive you.”

He waited until her back was turned before thrusting his fist in the air.

“We’re gonna have a blast!” he promised her.

And then he started packing immediately, his cock hard with anticipation of the erotic wonders to come.

‡ ‡ ‡

The night before their camping trip, Jerry sat up with a hoarse gasp and a rash of goosebumps stippling his forearms. He peered around his living room, unable to identify where he was or even the time of day. His heart slammed in his chest, yet he couldn’t remember what had startled him.

More nightmares? About teeth? He wasn’t sure.

“Trish?” he called out, grimacing at the sour taste in his mouth. He realized he had fallen asleep on the sofa while watching the evening news. The glowing green numbers on the VCR across the room told him the time was 9:27. Trish worked second shift, so she wouldn’t be home for another couple hours.

Jerry stood, stretched. The cracking and popping in his joints reminded him of his impending middle age.

On the boob tube, a soft British voice was narrating a show about nature’s most vicious predators. Jerry yawned as a ravenous school of piranha devoured a cow that had wandered into the Amazon River for a drink. In a matter of minutes the poor creature was nothing but stark white bones floating in a ghastly sea of red …

Jerry shuddered, rubbed at his eyes.

Over a grainy close-up of one silvery fish’s rows of needle teeth, the narrator explained that the red-bellied piranha’s scientific name was Serrasalmus nattereri. His smug tone insinuated he had established this fact on his own.

Jerry shrugged, scratched at his balls. He moved toward his office and sat down before his computer. Brought up his email program.

There were two new messages in his Inbox. The first came from someone calling himself simply “ME,” the second from HotCouple30. Jerry could barely sit still when he saw the second subject-line (“CAN’T WAIT”). He figured he’d save the best for last, however.

He opened the first message. Its header read “BEWARE”:

DEAR CASSANOVA36:

STAY AWAY FROM “HOTCOUPLE30.” THEY ARE BAD PEOPLE.

THIS IS NOT A JOKE …

“ME”

Jerry reread the email several times. His throat felt very dry.

What the fuck?

It had to be a joke. A sick prank concocted by someone formerly involved with the swingers, who was pissed off that Les and Wanda Sue were now courting another couple? Or maybe Les had made an enemy in the construction biz, a person aware of Hotcouple30’s liberal ways, who considered this the perfect way to ruin him?

Jerry frowned as he read the email once more. He stared for several long minutes at that mysterious signature: “ME.”

A practical joke. Definitely. That was so much easier to believe than some elaborate conspiracy against two harmless, fun-loving swingers!

Jerry shook his head again, let out a nervous chuckle before permanently deleting the message.

Alas, he knew he’d made the right decision when he saw the email from Wanda Sue waiting next in his Inbox, and the more he thought about someone trying to drag her sweet name through the mud the more he wished he could get his hands on “ME”:

Hola, Jerry:

Just wanted to take a moment to tell you how much Les and I are looking forward to our camping trip. I promise there’s NO reason to be nervous. You and Trish will have the time of your lives, or my name ain’t WANDA SUE. θ

Anyway … looking forward to being with you. Hope you feel the same.

Sweet dreams and TTFN,

Wanda Sue

XOXOXO

P.S. If it helps any … I swear to God, every time I look at your pics I wanna EAT YOU UP.

Jerry’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

Oh, Wanda Sue …

By the time he read her email a second time he had completely dismissed the bizarre letter sent to him by the enigma known only as “ME.” With its silly melodrama and oh-so-ominous warnings, it hinted of paranoid schizophrenia on the sender’s part more than any legitimate danger …

It was horseshit, Jerry decided.

He leaned back in his chair, began to imagine all the things he would do to Les’s wife.

I wanna eat you up …

No doubt about.Tomorrow couldn’t get here soon enough.

‡ ‡ ‡

By the time they reached the campsite the sun had begun to dip below the treetops of the surrounding forest. The sky was a pleasant golden-amber hue, like honey on the horizon.

“Here we are,” Jerry announced.

Trish said nothing. She had been quiet the whole trip, as if waiting for the first sign of trouble to unleash her fury upon him.

Jerry shot her a dirty look, prayed she wouldn’t keep up her party-pooper attitude all night. The car’s brakes whined softly as he pulled off the road onto a patch of flattened brown grass a hundred yards or so from their destination.

Stately maples and pines surrounded the tranquil clearing, a lush canopy of green. A wide creek ran behind the campsite, its foamy current rolling over smooth rocks, its whisper filling the woods. A blue and yellow two-man tent rested in the center of the scene. Four lawn chairs encircled a small, crackling campfire. Citronella candles burned pleasantly on either side of the site like tribal totems at the entrance to Eden.

Les and Wanda Sue were nowhere to be seen.

In the distance a whippoorwill cried out its lonely song, as if welcoming Jerry and Trish where their hosts had neglected to do so. The late-summer breeze sighed through the treetops like the voice of the forest itself.

Jerry swallowed loudly. Popped his knuckles. “Looks comfy.”

Trish’s only reply: A noncommittal grunt.

“Not having second thoughts, I hope?”

She eyed the camp suspiciously. “I don’t know.”

“Aw, c’mon, babe.”

He reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away, though her tone was anything but affectionate.

“These people could be psychos, for all we know.”

Oh, for Chrissake. Jerry let slip an exasperated laugh, but put on a straight face when she turned her frown on him.

“I’m serious, Jerry.”

When he saw the genuine trepidation in his wife’s wide green eyes, Jerry remembered that cloak-and-dagger email from “ME.” Back home he’d scoffed at it, but now goosebumps rose on his arms and a nagging voice taunted him in the back of his mind …

What if? What if Trish was right?

“THEY ARE BAD PEOPLE”, the message had warned.

Jerry stared toward the campsite, pondering what it could mean. How were HotCouple30 “bad people?”Did they put Monopoly money in the collection plate at church? Beat up handicapped kids? Were they horny yuppies by day, slavering axe-murderers after dusk?

Or were Les and Wanda Sue bad people simply because they were different from most folks? Because they liked to have a good time, and didn’t kowtow to “traditional” values?

Jerry cleared his throat, nodded. He had met these two. They were kinky folks, yes, but a far cry from homicidal lunatics. He couldn’t allow his anticipation of tonight’s pleasures to be diluted by Trish’s irrational fears. He was doing this for her. For their marriage. He had to be confident. Strong.

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you,” he promised his wife. “You’ll love these guys. This weekend’s gonna be a lot of fun. Just relax.”

Trish’s expression warmed, just barely. “You’re probably right,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

He leaned across the seat. They kissed.

Jerry took another long look at the campsite. Strange. Still no sign of Les or Wanda Sue. Surely they’d heard the car pull up. For that matter, shouldn’t they have heard his approach from a distance? Judging from the drive up, there was no one else around for miles.

What if something had happened? Maybe one of them got sick or hurt and they’d left in a hurry … ?

No. Les’s Dodge Ram sat just a few feet from Jerry’s Taurus. It was a handsome, rugged vehicle for a handsome, rugged guy. Silver and red. Big black toolbox in the back. The vanity plate on the front read BIG LES.

“So what do we do now?” Trish asked as they got out of the car.

Jerry barely heard her. His jaw dropped. His car door slammed behind him, and the sound echoed like a gunshot through the still forest.

Wanda Sue stepped out of the tent at last, buttoning up her cut-off blue jean shorts as she came. Her breasts threatened to burst free from beneath a flimsy camouflage bikini top. Her hair looked damp, her neck and cleavage slick with sweat and a bright pink flush. A quickie before their guests arrived, Jerry wondered? Probably. He wiped at his mouth with the back of one hand to make sure he wasn’t drooling.

“There’s Wanda Sue!” he announced, sounding more excited than he’d intended.

“She’s pretty,” Trish remarked, but her tone was unimpressed. She eyed the voluptuous blonde the way an athlete might size up an opponent.

Jerry cleared his throat, made a lame attempt at damage control. “I guess. You’re my perfect Ten, though, baby.”

Trish rolled her eyes at him.

Wanda Sue gasped melodramatically when she saw them at the edge of the forest. She waved, her lithe fingers wiggling. Jerry noticed how her flawless white teeth sparkled even at this distance like something out of a toothpaste commercial. She made her way toward their Taurus without further hesitation, her breasts jiggling to and fro as she dodged the various dips and roots in the forest floor. When she came within a few feet of them Jerry caught a whiff of her, a recognizable hint of perspiration and sex. His knees grew weak.

“Hey, sweetie!” she greeted him. “Sorry we didn’t hear you drive up. Les and I were catching a quick nap before you got here.”

Nap, my ass, Jerry thought.

“You must be Trish! Jerry’s said such wonderful things about you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Trish replied.

“Are you guys hungry? Les and I were planning on burgers and ‘dogs, if that’s okay.”

“Hungry? I’m starving.” Jerry rubbed his belly to emphasize his point. “How about you, babe?”

“That sounds nice,” said Trish. “Shouldn’t we unload our stuff, though? It’ll be dark soon.”

“Eh, you can get that squared away in a few,” said Wanda Sue. “First I want you to meet Les.”

As if signaled by some telepathic cue, Les strode out of the tent. He yawned and stretched beside the campfire before “noticing” the trio at the car. He smiled, made his way over. Tonight he wore a blue tank top and khaki shorts, showing off his muscular arms and legs.

Jerry glanced at Trish, who suddenly seemed very interested in her camping companions. Her smile seemed a little warmer now, a little wider. Jerry never thought he’d see the day he might wish for his wife to desire another man, but now he couldn’t remember a time when he’d been happier.

Les walked up the incline, met them at the edge of the forest.

“Glad you could make it, brother,” he said.

The men shook hands.

He grinned at Trish then, exposing those bright white choppers of his. “Hi there. I’m Les.”

Trish smiled demurely. “Trish.”

“Most honored to make your acquaintance, Trish.” Les nudged Jerry, gave him a sly wink. “You dog, you. I hope you won’t mind my saying so, but your wife is quite the knockout.”

Trish let out a girlish giggle, covered her mouth to stifle the worst of it. Good Lord, Jerry hadn’t heard her do that since the two of them first started dating. He should have been jealous. He should have been worried. But he wasn’t. Because so far things were working out so much better than he had expected.

“Why don’t you boys unload the stuff from the car while we girls trade gossip?” Wanda Sue suggested, hooking Trish’s arm with her own.

“That sounds like a great idea!” said Trish.

Together they walked down to the campsite. Les and Jerry watched them go.

“Mmm-mm,” Les said. “Gonna be a hell of a night, Jerr’.”

Jerry moved to the back of the car then, unlocked the trunk. He tried to hide the shaking of his hands as he did so, though it was no easy task.

Les patted him on the back. “How you feeling, bud?”

“Kinda nervous. Mostly excited. God … you think this is gonna work?”

“Positive,” Les said. “Things are already going great. Trish and Wanda Sue seem to be hitting it off nicely, don’t you think?”

He gestured toward the camp. The ladies were already enjoying cold beers by the fire, gabbing away like old friends.

Jerry nodded, grinned. “You and Trish, uh … seem to like one another too.”

Les laughed. “I meant it when I said she’s beautiful. I understand why you’d want to do everything you can to hold on to her.” He patted Jerry on the back again. Hard. “Trust me—when this night is over, the two of you will never be the same.”

They stared at one another for the next few seconds.

Around them, the woods grew darker.

Les’s teeth were so, so white.

Jerry looked away first. “C’mon. Let’s get this equipment unpacked, have some fun.”

“Now there’s a man with a plan.”

Jerry grabbed two rolled sleeping bags while Les hefted the Igloo. Beers, sodas, and ice sloshed loudly inside the cooler.

Jerry closed up the trunk, and at last they joined their wives by the campfire.

“You two ladies wouldn’t happen to be talking about us, would you?” Les teased.

“That’s between us girls,” Wanda Sue said, sticking her tongue out playfully. She winked at Trish, and the other woman erupted into laughter.

“I don’t know about you, Jerry,” Les said, “But those two make me nervous.”

Jerry chuckled.

“Nothing to be nervous about,” said Trish. “Just girl talk.”

“Yeah, but I’m always nervous around beautiful ladies.” Les lightly touched Trish’s bare arm then. He winked at her. She blushed, but didn’t seem to mind the physical contact at all. In fact, she looked as if she wanted Les to touch her in more places than her arm.

Jerry cleared his throat, decided it was now or never. “Um, honey?” he said. “We’ve got a slight problem.”

“What’s that?” Trish’s voice sounded dreamy, distant. He couldn’t help but notice her eyes were on Les’s bulge.

“I, uh … God, I feel so stupid.”

“What is it, babe?” Trish asked, though she still had yet to turn toward him.

“I s-sorta … forgot to pack our tent.”

That snapped Trish out of her daze.

“What? Jesus, Jerry, how could you forget the tent?”

“I’m sorry. I just … forgot.” He stared down at his feet like a scolded child, wondered if she was buying his bullshit.

“Where do you expect us to sleep?”

“You could crash in our tent,” Les said with a shrug. “No problem.”

“Sure,” said Wanda Sue. “It’ll be cozy.”

“Cozy?” Trish cocked her head, studied the tent a few feet away. “No offense, but it seems awfully small for four people.”

“It’s not huge, but we can all fit,” said Les.

“Maybe …”

“Don’t worry,” Wanda Sue added with an uber-sexy wink, “We won’t bite.”

“Unless you want us to.”

Trish ignored that as best she could, though the pink glow in her cheeks betrayed her. “Couldn’t you just go back and get our tent?” she asked her husband.

“Gee, baby, I don’t know … it’s an awful long drive, and it’ll be dark soon.”

For effect, Jerry peered up at the sky. The horizon had turned a rich azure, with just a sliver of hot orange-pink above the tree-line. The sun had disappeared entirely.

“Maybe we should just do this some other time …”

“Please don’t leave,” Wanda Sue pleaded with Trish. “Les and I rarely meet nice folks like yourselves. I already feel like I’ve known you for years. We could become great friends, I think, if we don’t let this minor inconvenience ruin our weekend together.”

Trish pondered Wanda Sue’s words for a minute. Jerry remembered her saying many of the same things to him on occasion. All their high school friends had moved away, casual acquaintances from work drifted in and out of their lives without ever becoming close …

“We don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Les said, “But we’d be honored if you’d stay.”

Jerry didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

Trish sighed.

“Okay,” she said at last. “You talked me into it.”

“Great!” Les and Wanda Sue exclaimed in unison.

Jerry finally exhaled. He felt like cheering, but stifled the urge. He beamed at Les, and the other man gave him a knowing nod.

Everything was proceeding exactly as the swingers had predicted.

‡ ‡ ‡

“How do you like your burgers?” Les asked. He had removed his tank top now, and his muscles seemed to ripple fluidly in the flickering glow of the campfire.

“Well-done, please,” Trish answered.

Jerry seconded that motion.

“Man, you guys are nuts.”

“Why?”

“You might as well eat charcoal! Rare is the only way to go.”

“The bloodier the better,” Wanda Sue chimed in. “I like my meat to moo.”

Everyone laughed.

The couples chatted and drank beer as they ate dinner by the fire. Les explained that he had inherited his construction business from his father. It was a small operation, but he did good business, and he’d been considering selling to a larger company. With the proceeds he could retire young and still live comfortably for the rest of his life if he was wise with his investments. Wanda Sue and Trish, meanwhile, discovered that they had some things in common with their jobs. While Wanda Sue was a dental assistant, and Trish was a nurse, they both agreed that they did the real work while the doctors took home the glory and the fat paychecks.

Jerry felt as if he might burst with happiness. They were all hitting it off so wonderfully. Whenever Les spoke, Trish seemed to hang on his every word. She laughed at all his jokes, even the dumb ones. Jerry couldn’t help but notice his wife’s nipples were hard through her cotton T-shirt. He also couldn’t help but notice Wanda Sue. Throughout the evening she’d been giving him meaningful glances, running her tongue over her full ruby lips every time. Jerry’s little soldier, needless to say, stood at full attention.

Finally, when the crescent moon filled the sky like a great white fang, Les stood.

“I think it’s time Wanda Sue and I hit the sack,” he announced. “We’ve got a long, fun weekend ahead of us, and we need our beauty sleep. You two feel free to stay up as long as you like, okay?”

Jerry turned toward Trish. “Um, I think I’m ready to turn in too. How ‘bout you, hon?”

Trish shrugged. “Sure.”

The four proceeded into the tent.

Les and Wanda Sue kicked off their shoes, slipped into their sleeping bag. Jerry and Trish followed suit.

They said their goodnights then, and the only sounds were those of the woods around them. A chorus of crickets. An inquisitive owl. The whisper of the creek. The lonely sigh of the night’s breeze blowing through the trees.

As Jerry lay there, he wondered if it would happen tonight. It. Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure what “it” was. Les and Wanda Sue hadn’t revealed that part of the plan to him.

“You just get her to sleep with us in the tent,” they’d promised that day at the diner, And we’ll take care of the rest.”

Who knew what the weekend held, what sensual pleasures would become known to them here, deep in the woods …

Jerry lay awake in the darkness, listening to his own pounding heartbeat.

‡ ‡ ‡

Meat …

Jerry dreams of meat.

Flesh sizzling over open flames, its juices spitting on white-hot embers … teeth, rending and tearing …

Boiling blood running down greasy chins.

One piece of meat in particular stands out amidst Jerry’s dream. Brown and tasty. Round.

Marked.

Faded and irregular: a butterfly with wings of fire.

A greedy mouth munches it down. Slick wet lips part in a satisfied sneer, revealing razor-sharp fangs.

In horror, Jerry realizes that this nightmare morsel is a piece of his wife.

Worst of all, the ravenous maw devouring her is his own.

And nothing has ever tasted better.

‡ ‡ ‡

Jerry awoke with a start. His eyes darted about the darkness. His clothes were soggy with sweat. Bile rose in his throat.

“My God …”

What the hell was that?

A whisper beside him: “Jerry.”

Goosebumps rose on his flesh like tiny pinpricks.

“Jerry!”

A chilly hand touched his shoulder, and he nearly screamed.

“Jerry. Wake up.” Now he recognized the voice. Trish.

“I’m awake. What is it?”

“They’re doing it.”

“Huh?” Jerry grunted. “Who? Doing what?”

“Jesus Christ, Jerry, they’re having sex.”

Jerry was wide-awake now. Of course! It all came back to him. Their camping trip with Les and Wanda Sue. The Plan.

So how the hell had he fallen asleep so fast? How had he fallen asleep at all, excited as he’d been?

Maybe he drank more beers than he remembered. He wasn’t sure.

Heavy moans close by. The sleek whispery rustling of a sleeping bag. Jerry turned his head in the direction of those noises, his sight adjusting slowly to the darkness. At first he could make out only one dark form beside him, hulking and misshapen, moving to some unheard rhythm. But before long he realized there were two figures there, one atop the other.

Les and Wanda Sue …

Oh, God. This was it. They were fucking. Sweet Christ on a pony, they were going at it like animals, their ecstasy growing louder with every passing second.

“Les!” moaned Wanda Sue. “Oh! Oh, Les!”

“What are we going to do?” Trish whispered in Jerry’s ear, her voice high-pitched with panic.

Jerry didn’t reply. He was mesmerized by the sight before him, felt as if he were watching some erotic movie come to glorious life.

“Jerry? Jerry, answer me!”

He grasped her hand. Squeezed it a bit too hard. She gasped.

“Let’s fuck, Trish,” he said.

“What?”

“Let’s be like them.”

She jerked away. “Are you crazy?”

Jerry flinched as Wanda Sue’s voice suddenly came to them from out of the black. Trish let out a frightened yelp.

“If you will allow yourself to exist in the moment, you’ll see how wonderful it can be.”

The couple stopped pumping now. Their perfect white teeth glowed at Trish at Jerry in the darkness.

“A whole new world could be yours for the taking.” Now Les’s voice filled the tent, the forest, but at the same time seemed to exist only inside Trish and Jerry’s minds. “Cast off your inhibitions, and release the beast inside of you.”

Jerry put his hand on Trish’s thigh, ran his fingers up the warmth of her sex. He could feel she was wet even through her shorts.

“Do it for me, baby,” he urged. “Please.”

She turned to him, her face drawn tight with revulsion. “You knew. These people brought us up here to seduce us, Jerry … and you knew.”

“Now, hold on just a minute. I did it for you.”

“For me?” Her words dripped venom. “How dare you say this … this twisted shit is for me.”

“I just wanted us to have fun again. I wanted passion.”

“This isn’t passion. This is sick.”

Wanda Sue reached over, stroked Trish’s hair.

Trish pulled away, but only slightly.

“It’s okay, Trish,” said the other woman. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I know you are attracted to my husband. I don’t mind, sweetie. I love my Les. I love him so much, I want him to have whatever his heart desires. And what he desires tonight … is you.”

“I could do things to you,” Les picked up where his wife left off, and now he reached out to run his fingers through Trish’s hair. This time Jerry’s wife did not pull back. “Such wonderful things. I don’t want to replace Jerry. I just want to show you something different.”

He placed his hand on Trish’s belly, where the fabric of her shirt had ridden up. Slowly, he moved upward, and began fondling her breasts.

Trish didn’t fight it. She moaned in Jerry’s ear. Her body quivered against his.

Then Les’s hand drew back at the height of her pleasure.

Trish looked hurt.

The swinger stared at her, his eyes dark pools of lust.

Wanda Sue rose then, her nakedness revealed. She held one hand out to Trish.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Trish took it willingly.

Together, the women walked out of the tent.

“Where are they going?” Jerry asked Les. His voice was hoarse. His head felt as if it were stuffed full of cotton.

“Shhh.” Les held a finger over pursed lips. He climbed from their sleeping bag and stepped to the doorway of the tent, his half-erect penis bouncing. He pulled aside one of the flaps, peered outside, and then grinned, beckoning for Jerry to join him.

Jerry obeyed. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw what transpired by the campfire. In its flickering glow, Wanda Sue and Trish passionately embraced. Their tongues worked against one another, glistening-wet with saliva.

“Oh. My. God.” Jerry’s mouth hung open.

He watched as Wanda Sue pulled up Trish’s shirt, freeing her lover’s small breasts. Her mouth lapped at Trish’s hard, pink nipples. Trish unbuttoned her shorts a few seconds later, and they fell to her ankles. The women’s hands worked between one another’s legs, their flesh shining and dripping with raw Sapphic ecstasy.

Jerry’s erection was so intense it threatened to leap out of his pants and slap him in the face. Never in his life had he been so aroused. He turned to tell Les as much, but his friend had disappeared.

As if by magic, Les now writhed by the fire with Wanda Sue and Trish. He kissed the back of Trish’s neck, squeezed her breasts from behind while his gargantuan cock rested in the crack of her ass. She enjoyed that for a minute or two before turning to rub her hands over his muscular chest. His fingers danced in her hair.

Jerry was breathless.

The orange glow of the fire cast the threesome’s shadows in countless directions, an army of passionate lovers cavorting about the thick, black forest.

Trish bared her teeth, firmly grasped Les’s penis. It seemed almost inhumanly large now, impossibly stout, as thick as a soda can and twice as tall.

Over the crackle of the fire, Jerry heard his wife say, “Fuck me.”

Les happily obliged. He laid Trish down on a bed of pine needles and gently guided his erection inside her. She squealed with delight as he went deep … so deep …

“What are you doing over there all by yourself?”

Jerry gasped. He hadn’t seen Wanda Sue approach him. But there she stood, nude and ready and waiting.

“I’ve looked so forward to this,” she whispered as she pulled him close.

In one fluid motion she undressed him and they were on the ground. Before he knew it, he was buried in her silken warmth. Her touch was electric. She grinded against him, her breasts swaying in his face.

God, it was all happening so fast. Jerry’s mind reeled. He felt dizzy, out of control. Wanda Sue’s fingernails dug into his chest. A bit of pain, but at the same time it felt so damn good.

“Yessss,” he moaned. “Oh, Wanda Sue …”

Off to his side, Trish cried out, “Oww, Les. You’re hurting me.”

Les’s only reply was to grunt harder. Louder.

Jerry could only focus on the pleasure Wanda Sue doled out. Dear God, he had never felt anything like this …

“I mean it, Les,” he heard his wife exclaim again, a tone of panic creeping into her voice now. “That hurts!”

Jerry started to turn his head but Wanda Sue stopped him.

“Don’t,” she said. “Put her out of your mind. For tonight she is his and you are mine. You belong to me, Jerry.”

“I belong to you,” he agreed, his voice groggy.

“Forever …”

Wanda Sue bucked harder and harder. Jerry kept his eyes shut, allowing his sense of touch to dominate his very essence.

“This is too rough!” Trish wailed from somewhere far away. “I don’t want this anymore. Please … stop!”

Jerry tried to care. He really did. But his mind and body were no longer his own. Wanda Sue owned them now. His soul had become her plaything.

“Jerry!” Trish shouted. Fear edged her voice. Fear and pain.

Jerry kept thrusting into Wanda Sue. Close now, so close. Perhaps he could help his wife once he finished with his lover. He felt his orgasm rising up, the ebb and tide of inevitable euphoria, but just as he was about to let himself go a terrible shriek filled the night.

It was Trish. Trish was screaming. The sound was not one of pleasure, but of hot, searing agony. Jerry’s erection withered. He craned his neck in his wife’s direction to see her arms and legs flailing about.

“Jesus!”

She was fighting. Trying to get away.

Les was still on top of her … only now, Les was not a man.

Les was a thing. A hideous, grinning monster with shiny, slavering fangs.

Trish was bleeding, crying, her dying eyes wide with terror. She reached for Jerry.

“Trish!” Jerry bellowed. He tried to get up, but strong hands pinned him to the ground.

He looked up, into Wanda Sue’s face, and now he began to scream as well.

Wanda Sue was a monster too. Her eyes were bulbous, yellow-green, wet and unblinking. Like fish eyes. Her fingernails had grown into long black claws, spiny talons that threatened to blind Jerry if he moved. Her hands were webbed and covered with shimmering scales the color of fresh bile. The bottom half of her face appeared strangely bulldog-like, her bright red lips puckered and bloated above rows and rows of silvery needle-teeth. Three slits in each side of her neck resembled half-formed gills sucking in air every few seconds.

Jerry turned his head away from the vision of hell Wanda Sue had become only to see the Les-thing bury its own razor-fangs in Trish’s neck. She howled, writhing beneath him as if in some crude mockery of lovemaking. A geyser of crimson erupted from the wound, splashing into Les’s demonic, piranha-like face and all over the forest floor.

“Trish! Oh G-God, Trish!”

Jerry closed his eyes, wept. The night was filled with the sounds of Les’s feast. Sloppy wet ripping noises. Greedy gasps and sated sighs.

“N-no,” Jerry wept. “Wh-whyyy …”

“You should have listened to my warning,” the Wanda Sue-creature said to him. Her voice gurgled and wheezed like something crawled from the depths of the sea. Yet, impossibly, through the murky black fog of his own impending insanity, Jerry was quite sure he recognized genuine sympathy in her tone.

He stared up at her, his mouth working soundlessly.

“That’s right,” the no-longer-beautiful Wanda Sue explained, her bloated burgundy lips dripping thick gray saliva onto his chest, into his face. “I was ‘ME’. I sent the email warning you not to come. You’re a nice guy, Jerry. Not like the other sleaze-bags we have preyed upon for so many years. They were perverts just looking for a good time, but I could sense something different in you. I believed you really were doing this to help your marriage.”

“Wh-wh-what are you?” Jerry spat. “V-vampires?”

Wanda Sue threw back her head, laughed. The sound resembled a rush of dirty water through ancient, rusty pipes.

“There’s no such thing as vampires, silly.”

Jerry retched. This could not be happening. Trish couldn’t be dead. He refused to look in her direction, not wanting to see what Les had done to his wife’s body. He could hear, though. He could hear the thing’s coarse, hungry tongue lapping up rivers of blood.

“I’m truly sorry,” said Wanda Sue, and oddly enough Jerry believed her. What reason did she have to lie at this point? “You had no choice. We have powers, you know. You couldn’t resist us, Jerry. That’s how we catch our victims. Sex. No one can say no. Trish put up a good fight, I’ll give her that much. She sensed something wrong in us. In the end, though, she gave in. They always give in.”

Les stood above them now, his face and torso smeared with grue. He was still erect. The gill-like slits on both sides of his neck flared as he glared down on them.

“What’s the hold-up?” he asked. “You gonna get this over with, or are you gonna talk the guy to death?”

Wanda Sue ignored her mate. “I wasn’t always like this,” she told Jerry. “Please believe me. Les made me this way. He gave me these powers, turned me into something not quite human.”

Les laughed. “And you’ve loved every minute of it, haven’t you?”

“Oh yes, baby,” said Wanda Sue. “And I’m especially going to love doing this.”

She opened her mouth wide, and that dark pink chasm was full of teeth. An almost blinding vortex of bright white needles spiraling all the way down inside her throat.

Jerry flinched.

Wanda Sue pounced.

Les gave a surprised grunt as his wife leapt on top of him. She swung a claw at his neck, and he tried to dodge her. But he wasn’t fast enough. Before Jerry even knew what was happening, Les’s fishy head was gone. It landed with a sick, wet thud somewhere in the darkness beyond the campsite.

Les’s muscular body stood there for several long seconds before tumbling to the ground. It twitched, shuddered once, made a farting noise, then lay still.

Jerry stared in disbelief, his life flashing before his eyes. He thought about making a break for it, but knew it would be a futile gesture. Wanda Sue was too fast, too powerful.

“Y-you killed Les,” he stammered.

“Les stopped being fun a long time ago. He became arrogant. Tiresome. No way could I live an eternity with him.”

Wanda Sue climbed back on top of Jerry. She licked a drop of blood from one of her ebony claws.

“You’re different, Jerry.” She gazed down at him with those bottomless, amphibian eyes. Somehow, Jerry recognized her expression as a smile. “I knew it the second I saw you.”

“W-what the f-fuck do you want with me?”

“I desire a new mate, Jerry. I don’t want to be alone.”

She bent down, licked his chest. Her tongue was long and coarse. Like being caressed with a strip of damp sandpaper.

Jerry trembled. “Oh, G-God … God …”

“I could make you like me,” she purred.

“B-but … Trish …”

“Trish is gone. For that, I am truly sorry. But I can take her place. I know it wouldn’t be the same at first, but you could get used to it.”

She bit gently at his nipple and he stiffened.

“Join me, Jerry. Live forever …”

Jerry wanted to tell her to fuck off. He wanted to scream at her, tell the bitch he’d rather be dead than live without Trish. He wanted to, but he didn’t. Wanda Sue’s scaly fingers wrapped around his penis now, and she started working it gently. He felt himself growing hard against his will.

Tears filled his eyes. “T-Trish …”

“Shhh.” She kissed him, that slimy, sandpaper tongue worming its way into his mouth. “You know you want this.”

Jerry gazed heavenward, toward the pinpricks of stars in the infinite cloak of night.

And when she bit deep into his neck, her teeth parting tender flesh, he knew she was right.

As Wanda Sue’s saliva mixed with his blood, Jerry felt the most excruciating pain he had ever known. But also the greatest pleasure.

A smell like salty sea air filled the night.

And as the two made love anew, the campfire raged on and on.

SeX Files, a Comet Press imprint, is an independent publisher of high heat erotica

Visit SeX Files on the web at sexfiles.cometpress.us
Follow SeX Files on Twitter and Facebook
twitter.com/sexxxfiles facebook.com/sexfileserotica

Visit Comet Press on the web at: www.cometpress.us
Follow Comet Press on twitter and facebook:
twitter.com/cometpress facebook.com/cometpress

SeX Files and Comet Press titles are available at amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com and other major booksellers.