Monday, 4 July 2016

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a filthy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's piece is in honour of some very happy Lovecraftian news I have to announce (later). Here's a tentacle-porn scene I wrote in my big, mad, bad, XXX, fairy-story novel Named and Shamed:






“Tansy!” squeaked Gail.

I turned just in time to see her pitch flat on her face. I was still wondering how she’d tripped over from a standing start when I saw her hauled backward several metres through the weeds, clutching vainly at the long stems, her mouth wide with shock.

I tried to lunge after her, but my feet wouldn’t move and I tipped forward onto my hands and knees. A glance at my ankle told me the worst — there was a ropey grey thing coiled around my boot. Both boots. It flexed visibly. I just had time to phrase the word tentacle when another thrust out of the ground and whipped around my right forearm.

Where it touched, sensation blossomed under the skin, like flowers bursting open.

“What the -?” Vince yelped, his arms flailing.

All around us through the grass, great grey-green ropes were rising like shoots reaching for the light. There was a wet glisten to them that was more fungal than floral, though, and they were as slippery as eels. I’ve no idea if they were all limbs of one great underground creature or many small separate ones. I don’t suppose it matters. In moments the three of us were caught and bound by several tentacles each. They slithered bonelessly up my thighs and arms, feeling their way along the skin and under my clothes, to furl around my torso. They were, I discovered as I thrashed in vain, trying to tear myself free, horribly flexible — and far, far too strong.  
    
They hoisted Gail. I saw her lifted high above the grass, on her back but held aloft by a dozen tendrils. One gripped each of her legs to haul her thighs apart. An appendage as thick as a python emerged obscenely from the waistband of her jeans and flexed. With a sharp ripping sound the cloth gave way and shredded. Her bright pink panties lasted less than a second — and I just had time to think That’s deliberate! before a tapered tentacle oozed up between her thighs right into her splayed sex.
   
“Nooooo!” squealed Gail, sounding outraged.
   
“No!” roared Vince. He was still on his feet but faring no better, his clothes literally torn off him as I watched. Then I stopped looking, stopped paying attention to anything going on elsewhere, because I felt the first slippery invader probing from behind me, up between my own sex lips and muscling into my cunt. It was neither warm like a mammal nor cold like the squid it resembled most, but tepid and slippery and full of purpose. In seconds it filled me and I felt it flexing. For a moment I struggled wildly, in blind terror. It did me no good at all. All my thrashing did was open the iris of my ass to another questing tendril.
   
“No! Oh fuck no!” Gail’s scream was less outrage now and more hysterical panic, and I knew just how she felt.

I nearly dislocated my wrists wrenching at my living bonds. Looking down between my thighs I saw a great muscular ripple run up the tentacle that violated me. And then I felt it — the bulge forcing its way into my sex, opening me up then filling me. Another bulge, another pulse. Meanwhile, the one insinuating itself into my anus slipped past the portal of clenched muscle and filled my ass.
   
The slime tingled on my inner membranes, like arousal in alchemical form.
   
I felt myself hoisted off the ground, face down and legs spread wide, my ass and pussy stuffed with writhing, oozing appendages like the trunks of elephants. They weren’t just filling me — they were fucking me, their waves of stretching and contracting muscle working me like I was a sex doll. And, of course, my body responded. I felt myself opening in welcome, felt my own hot juices mingling with the creatures’ tepid slime. I started to pant and squeal, my fear turning to excitement, my excitement becoming an overwhelming imperative.
   
“Stop this!” Vince cried. “How do we stop th — Ahhhh . . . !”
   
That’s what the men saw when they burst through the orchard gate: the three of us stark naked, trapped and bound and despoiled. Gail was stretched out on her back, her tits barely visible between the coils wrapped around her chest, her pussy impaled by something resembling an anaconda. I didn’t even get that much dignity. My ass was in the air, my legs wide apart, and I was suffering a full-on double penetration. Vince was held with his toes off the floor, like a chrome hood ornament, his spine bent like a bow and a tentacle rummaging around in his back passage. I don’t know if he’d ever taken it up the rear before, but his eyes were wide and there were little explosive grunts bursting out of his throat — uh-uh-uh-uh. His cock stuck out from his torso at full erection, a whip-thin tendril wrapped tight around it, stroking and milking it with rhythmic squeezes.
   
I reckon that was the sight that stopped the men coming any closer.
   
To be honest, I barely registered that we had an audience, I was so busy wrestling with my orgasm. I came first, of course. I was already fired up before the ravishing started, and I screamed as I climaxed, half in release and half in terror. But from the sounds Gail was making, she was on her way too. I tossed my head, my hair flailing in my eyes. As I blinked myself back into lucidity my gaze fell on the puffball I’d kicked through the grass. Its empty sockets stared up at me.
   
It wasn’t a fungus at all. It was a skull. Human. The implications fought their way through my mind even as the relentless plunging between my legs caused my body to gather toward another orgasm.
   
“Awwwwahhhhh . . . !” cried Vince, and I looked up in time to see him ejaculate heavily, white spurts arcing from his cock and splashing onto the writhing grey ropes.
   
Would it be quick or slow? I wondered. Would they hold us here, fucking us, until we died of exhaustion? Or kill us swiftly, and feed off our bodies just as eagerly?
   
A tentacle coiled up around Vince’s straining throat.
  
 Quick, I thought, dazed.
   
“Tansy!” he yelled, his voice already strangled. “Do something!”
   
I had no idea what to do. I’d never heard of any Good Neighbour like this. But as a slick tongue of living tendril lapped at my face, searching out any orifice to penetrate, my blurred gaze finally registered the blobs of white flowers on the elder scrub.
   
And I remembered that somebody owed me.

“Bour Tree!” I screamed. “Elder Lady! You gave me a wish! Save us! Save-”

Then the tentacle spilled in over my lips and silenced me. I couldn’t stop cumming even then. That thick member filled my throat like a cock, and though it cut off my airway its touch was pure bliss. I was still cumming as I blacked out.



2 comments:

t'Sade said...

And this is one of my favorite novels of all time.

Janine Ashbless said...

Thank you t'Sade!