I had always dreamed of being part of this world, of feeling my own fur blend against another’s, of indulging in the sensuality that seemed to linger in the very air. And tonight, I wasn’t just an outsider looking in.

At The Crimson Den, the bass throbbed through my chest as I stepped inside. A scent of musk and wildness hung in the air, mingling with the perfume of expensive whiskey and something far more primal. Bodies swayed on the dance floor, pressed together in tangled velvet and intoxicating fur, whispers of promises exchanged in the heat of the moment.

Then I saw him—a man with obsidian fur, lounging in a shadowed booth, eyes glowing like molten gold. His gaze met mine, predatory and knowing. My breath hitched as he beckoned me with a single clawed finger.

I approached, heart hammering. “First time here?” His voice was smooth, laced with something dangerously tempting.

I nodded. “First time… experiencing something like this.”

His lips curved into a smirk as he reached out, trailing a fur covered hand along my wrist, a spark igniting at the touch. “Then let’s make it memorable.”

Led into the back of the club, the world was different. Naked bodies bound to the walls, the feel of that soft texture caressing their bodies. As the music from the club softened, it was the moans that echoed through my ears. Men and women laying face side to the wall, the simulations to sex mesmerized me. I’ve heard of dry humping, hell, I’ve done it, but these people were pressing their most intimate parts into a textured wall. Screams of pleasure and release rattled around inside of my head. Whatever this place was, it seemed to be euphoric for those that visited. The electricity that radiated through the walls sent shivers up and down my spine.

I let myself be drawn into the night, into the heat of fur against fur, bodies tangling in the soft glow of candlelight. In Velvet Hollow, pleasure wasn’t just a moment—it was a way of life.

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Settled down for the night, the coolness of the winter air brought out the big blankets. Living by the beach was ten to twenty degrees cooler than inland, but tonight a layer of fog added to it. There is a place where you’re not quite awake, but sleep hasn’t consumed you yet. When the loud sound of the door opened, I knew this was just another night terror. As much as I would try to work my way out, there was always something dragging me deeper.

 I was startled, sitting up and looking through the smoke that now filled my bedroom, leaving me confused and bewildered. Standing in the frame of the door was the most ungodly sight. Eight feet tall, the man’s skin not human it looked as though there were scales like a dragon instead of flesh.

 “Get out,” I screamed.

 “Not yet,” he said, grabbing my ankles, yanking me from the bed, “You’ll need to come with me. I have a bet to settle.”

 I screamed, my heart raced like a freight train coming down the tracks. I wanted out of this dream before something terrible happened. “What the fuck are you doing? Leave me alone,” I screamed as my ass hit the floor, and I was drug through the open door. Nail marks would be the breadcrumbs left on the floor. I dug so deep that I knew I would never get those scratches out of the wood. Why was I even worried when for all I knew, I would never come back? When the Devil comes knocking at your door, you better believe that’s your final moving day.

 It was the smell of fire that hit me first. Well, that, and his hands. His digits long and slender, they clawed into my flesh with a vice-like grip. Even if I tried to break free, there was no way I would be able to get out of his clutches. He was hundreds of pounds heavier, and his strength that of ten men.

 The descent into hell seemed as though it took a lifetime, every horrible thing I had ever done passing before my eyes. I never wanted to remember some of the memories, but this wasn’t for me. It was a bet, but between who, and why me? All I wanted to do was get a good night’s sleep, and this happened.

 Screaming skulls staked to the wall, the rancid arms reaching out to grab me as I fell. God help me, please let this be a dream. If I’m dead, incinerate me rather than send me to the bowels of the earth. I don’t care what the bet was. There was no way this was a good thing for me.

 I hit the ground hard, my ass plopping down on a bed of rocks, each one piercing into my soft ivory flesh. I screamed. It took me a minute to realize it was me who was calling out to God to have mercy on my soul. The laughter of others echoed through the dark cavern. All of the inhabitants amused that I still had hope that a God even existed.

 “Get up,” a female whispered. The woman’s hand in my hair, she yanked me up, pointing me in the male’s direction who stole me from my bed. He now sat on a red crushed velvet throne. The legs of the chair human hands that bled out each time he adjusted himself in the seat. The chair seemed to be alive, but at this point, I questioned nothing. We learned in church that some would find themselves in their own private hell in the end. I could only imagine what the man did who was now an elaborate seat for the demon dweller.

 I teetered on falling. I stood at the base of the rocks, looking up at the man, my mind still wondering what this bet was, and why me. There were no words from me when another male appeared at his side, his body stripped of all its clothing. The first thing I noticed was the enormous cock that hung between his muscular legs. Sure, cock wasn’t a new sight to me, but I had never seen anything like this. Nor did I ever want to. The veins on his manhood almost pulsating the moment he saw me standing before him. God help me, what was this bet?

 As he would later tell me, the Devil bet this man that there was no way I could deep throat his cock. The man was sure that I could, and if I did, he would get a second chance at life. Is this how this shit works? They always say never to make a deal with the Devil, but I guess no one ever told him what happens if you lost.

 “You WHAT?” I screamed. My eyes never on his face, stared directly at the beast between his legs, pray that I woke from this dream soon.

 “If anyone can do it, you can. The guys down here talk about you when they beat off at night. Everyone says for the best little cocksucker in Los Angeles, to look you up,” he laughed. With his hand on his cock, stroking it, all I could this what was in the hell was he trying to make it bigger? If the man impaled me on that cock he would penetrate my stomach through my mouth.

 I blinked, shaking my head from side to side, “No fucking way. That thing will kill me. I pointed, my finger drew an outline of his cock, gasping when I realized it had to be a foot long.

 The Devil threw his head back, roaring in laughter, as did all his minions that rested by his side. They followed the leader, knowing better than to dismiss anything he said.

 “You don’t think I can do it?” I glared. What the fuck was wrong with me. I argued over whether or not I could deep throat this son of a bitch. Whose bet was this anyway?

 Giddy with excitement, the man could barely wait for the Devil to give him the go-ahead. The minute he did, I regretted it. It seems that it’s been four-hundred years since this man had sex. In hell, they use the earth for their porn. Each of them watching couples fuck while they jack off. The only one allowed to have physical sex is the Devil himself.

 Grabbed from being, I fell to my knees, looking right at the monster cock, almost salivating for a taste. I didn’t want this cock. Why the fuck was my mouth watering for a drink from the man’s dick? My head yanked back. He slapped this thick bulbous head on my lips. A smear of pre-cum glossing my soft pillows, I opened for him without even being asked. A slither of his cock across my tongue, and he pulled back, laughing at the Devil. This man knew that I could take it. If there is one thing I know how to do, it’s take a cock down my throat.

 “Feed me,” I growled. I meant it. There was a craving inside of my stomach that tightened just knowing I would soon gag with every inch the male forced inside of my gulping throat.

 His hand knotted in my strands of golden locked as he pushed into my mouth, letting the head slide slowly over my tongue. I could already taste his fluids. Not sweet, but as hot as the fires of hell. They scorched the flesh on my tongue, causing a whimper to vibrated against the shaft. God, help me. I wanted to take all of him deeper. To have my throat torn from my body and used as a masturbation sleeve for his cock. My eyes sealed shut, tears running down my face, his cock reached the back of my throat. A deep guttural grunt from the man, and he shoved every inch in until his balls rested on my chin. I was choking from lack of air, but none of this concerned the male. He wanted bragging rights and walking the earth again.

 Yanked from his cock, I moved to the table of sacrifice, my body stretched out as my head dangled from the metal surface. It was not cold like I expected. No, it was burning hot, and the smell of my clothing burning repulsed me. Once again, his cock plunged into my throat. One thrust and he was fully engulfed inside of my oral cavity. This time his hand went to my throat, jacking himself off from the outside in.

 “You son of a bitch, she did it,” the Devil screamed.

 Sitting straight up in bed, my hands on my throat as I choked, I don’t know if this was a dream or not, but my clothing smells of burning flesh, and the scratches across my floor will never be repaired.

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His words penetrated her soul with a fever that no traditional medication could control. Wicked, his eyes boring holes into her frame as he sat across the room watching the young blonde undress. Each article of clothing tailored to fit, but she removed them as though they were thrift store quality. Money was never an object when he was involved. She would rip each thread from the silk in which it was sown if he demanded. She stopped at the panties, the red ones he sent to her the night before. Lace bikini cut with a small red bow on the band. They resembled the ones Victoria Secret used to entice men into the store. The difference with him though, was that these were the trophies from the last conquest. His bad habit was taking the panties from his victims.

 “Leave them on. I don’t want to see your cunt, well, not yet at least,” he vocalized.

 She moved across the floor like a cat stalking her prey, stopping only inches from his large frame. God dammit, why was he the drug she craved more than any other? Her lungs expanding with argumentative breath, she struggled with the intensity. Smirking, her crimson lips curling up, even the Cheshire cat would be jealous of her smile. A swift strike of her tongue over her bottom pillow, she moistened the stain with a saliva gloss. Yes, yes, he would like that. Her mouth was wet. He never said a word, but she heard him inside of her head. He didn’t need to speak. She knew.

 “May I?” she whispered.

 “May you, what?” he laughed.

 “Let you rape my throat with your cock,” uttered the young blonde.

 His hand moved down to the jeans he wore, grabbing the crotch of his pants with a rough grip. He was taunting her, and she knew it.

“Are you a good girl?” he asked.

 Her head shook from side to side as she smiled, “No, no I’m not. I am a cock craving whore.”

 As a master would call his dog, his hand slowly tapped his pants to advance her to his lap. Sighing, his hands now on the side of the chair, he waited. She didn’t expect him to help, did she? Of course, not. A cock craving whore knows her place on the food chain.

 “Thank you,” her body shook as she whispered.

 Slowly taking the space between them away, her slender digits working down his zipper with ease. The button next, one slip of her hand and she released him from the confines of his pants. It was at the point, that she used the tip of her finger to push a strand of drool that escaped from the side of her mouth. Looping the saliva around her finger, she pushed it back into her warm mouth, pulling back with a soft suck. God, wait, there was no God present here. All she wanted was her throat to be torn from her body and used as a cock sleeve for this man. He intoxicated her soul.

 He pushed his body back in the chair, lifting a bit to allow the release. As he placed his hands behind his head and laced his fingers, he waited. She knew what to do. They all knew. A breath exhaled, he was tired of waiting, and she would know that before the night was over.

 As though a serpent, her tongue perched between her lips, tasting the air around. Fuck, he was delicious, and she hadn’t yet tasted his nectar. Slithering up the underbelly of his cock, her tongue followed the thick vein from his sac to the head. A flicker back and forth, she painted his cock with an overabundance of saliva. Every stroke of her tongue caused her body to tingle with a wanton desire.

 “Umf,” he muttered.

 Both hands on the floor to brace herself, she wrapped those pretty lips around the head of his cock, engulfing it to the rim. A slow roll of her tongue, she fucked the slit with the tip of her oral muscle, pulling back with a sudden pop. Eyes to his, her lips in a well-defined whistle as she blew on the damp mushroom. Inch by inch, she engulfed him, her crimson prints left around the base of his thick cock. As much as she tried, the gag reflex was too strong. Choking on the size, her mouth slowly retracted, saliva pouring the moment her lips released the meat.

 “No!” his voice boomed like a clap of thunder.

 He reached out, grabbing the back of her head and forced his cock against the seal of her lips. With force, his hand pushed down, the head of his cock threatening to break her teeth if she didn’t comply. Lacing his fingers in the soft strands of her hair, he didn’t stop until every inch of his dick stretched her mouth to capacity.

 “Bitch, do we choke?” he asked, yanking her head back, looking into her shocked eyes.

 “No, no we don’t choke,” she whimpered.

 He pushed her head down hard, the head of his cock pushing deep into her throat, holding tight to stop her from pulling away. It wasn’t about what she wanted, but about what he needed. Forcing his hand back with regret, no sooner did he give her a breath did he take it back away. There is giving head, and then there is this. Throat fucking with a jackhammer speed, the head of his cock causing her mouth to bleed from the size. One after another, his thrust caused him to lift from the seat to impale her on the length. No longer a concern as long as she kept her mouth open, he used it for his pleasure.

 Gasping, her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. Crying with each thrust, her eyes widened, the streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. Cheeks bulging, her lips burned from the stretch. Her pain was his pleasure, and the more she gagged, the closer to cumming he was. Her nostrils flared as his hand restrained her head, holding her throat to the point of collapsing around the bridge of his cock.

 “Fuck, eat that fucking cum,” his voice raspy as he demanded.

She opened her eyes with the first hit of scalding fluid down her throat. His nuts resting on her chin, he dumped them down her greedy throat in waves of lava from the head of his dick. Her cheeks expanded, filling them to resemble a chipmunk stuffing nuts in for the winter. In her case, she was on a liquid diet. Pure protein.

 He exhaled deep, leaning back as his hand released her hair, pushing her back from the over sensitive head of his cock.

 “Go clean yourself up. You’ll do better next time,” he laughed, lighting the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. 

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BBC cock? Why do some women love it, and others fear it? A lot of it has to do with the taboo aspect of that venture. Growing up for some of us was that “talk” from our fathers. Do not mix the waters. Some know what that means, and others are repulsed by it. Yes, I was one who heard that very saying growing up. I guess my Dad didn’t realize that made me what to find out why.

My first experience with BBC was by accident. Yes, accident. I spent a summer at camp at a counselor, and one of the tasks we had was cleaning the showers. On my first trip into the shower area I heard the water running. Since I was in the girls area, I thought nothing of it. Well, never trust that just because you’re in the girls restroom that you won’t see dick.

BBC was not something you see in a girls bathroom, or is it?

Moaning, yes moaning, was coming from the last stall. At first I thought maybe someone was hurt, but I realized that was a moan of pleasure, not pain. I knew that sound very well. I was a very skilled masturbator and often pleasured myself. Panting and grunts were the bread crumbs that forced me to take a peek. Well, that was the shock of a lifetime, well, at that age it was a big deal.

Standing in the shower was one of the male counselors and the pretty little white woman who ran the whole camp. She was down on her knees with that BBC stuffed down her throat. JESUS CHRIST, he was massive. When he pulled back, that cock had to be at least 11 inches long and as thick as a coke can. She was a married woman, and this was not her God fearing husband.

I wonder now if he knew what was going on, or was this a big dark secret?

It didn’t take long for the man to cum, but when he did, it was shocking. Have you ever saw a fire hydrant uncapped to release the pressure? I can honestly say after seeing that, I have. He shot all over that face and that poor woman looked like she was covered with white paint splatter. I slipped out before they could see me, but I will never forget my first, but not my last, experience with BBC.

Let’s talk soon. I can’t wait to whisper more filthy details.

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