The Gothic Doll (Pt 3)

The sidewalks were silent, mostly abandoned, as he followed his little gothic doll back to her home.  It was just the two of them, walking quietly, and—to his strange surprise—saying nothing.  She led, he chased; she glanced up from under her dark lashes and flashed him a smile, like a lady leading a puppy, and he trotted obediently at her heels.  It was a clear night, but there was no moon, leaving only the streetlamps to cast their pools of light along the path.

Her hair was so fine and pale; he thought it must be soft, like long strands of spider’s silk.  Without realizing he was doing it, he reached out to catch a few strands drifting in the breeze—and Genesis ducked away, spinning to face him.

At first he thought she must be angry, but she was smiling again, a sweet little smile, like dusted sugar.  They had stopped between the streetlamps; in the slanted darkness he thought she looked very, very pale, almost white.

“Darry,” she said quietly.  “Do you want to touch me so badly?”

He couldn’t believe his own words as they escaped him.  “Oh, God, yes.”

His mind was spinning, spinning… he knew, distractedly, that this was insane, that he was following a stranger home with no idea who she was or what she wanted from him; he’d left Winnie behind when she was sick and in trouble, and all he could think of was this girl’s gossamer silver hair, her pearlescent white skin, her soft, velvety gray eyes…

She laughed quietly.  It was like a little patter of rain and wind chimes.

He sidled up closer to her, and when she didn’t shy away this time he slipped his arms around her waist.  She was shorter than him, coming only to his chest—he could bow his head and breathe in the scent of her hair, clean and silky beneath his lips.

“Who are you?” he whispered.  “What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing you haven’t dreamed about a thousand times,” she whispered back.  She tilted her head up to him, those black cherry lips parted in a pouty smile, offering them up for him to steal a kiss.  Still lost in the haze, the floating perfume of roses all around him, he did.

Her mouth was soft, and gently eager.  When he kissed her she reached up her hands to cradle the back of his head—she tasted like raspberries.

“Sweet boy,” she chuckled as their lips parted.  “Do you know what you’ve stumbled on?”

He shook his head.

She was quiet just a moment, searching his eyes—then, she laughed again, a merry tinkling sound, and his momentary trance was broken.

“You don’t want to wait, do you?” she asked sneakily, pressing her body a little closer to his.  He couldn’t have lied to her: already he had a raging erection straining under his jeans, and she had to feel it as much as he did.  He shook his head, and pressed his own hips closer to hers, as if he could show her any more plainly by rubbing his insistent cock against the flat of her belly.

“Then,” she murmured sweetly, taking a moment to glance from side to side.  “Why don’t you do it?”

He gave her a look of surprise, and followed her glance up and down the street.  It was a residential block, with well-lit houses lining both sides of the road; anyone could come outside to bring their trash barrels to the curb, or to let the dog out, or smoke a cigarette on the porch.  Anyone could drive past, pulling up to any one of the houses right across from them!

“You want to do it,” Genesis said.  “I can tell.”

“Here?” he whispered.  “Right… right now?”

“Uh-huh,” she replied.  Taking another quick assessment of their surroundings, she smiled as her gaze rested on a white garden fence, marking the edge of someone’s lawn.

“There,” she said, tugging him in that direction.  Wriggling out of his arms, she quickly slipped towards it.

“Genesis!” he whispered.  She threw him a flirting glance over her shoulder, then climbed up on the little white railing, sitting herself on the crossbeam between two posts.

As he crossed the small space of grass to her, she reached out her arms and pulled him into an embrace.  Wrapping one arm around his neck to kiss him, she let her other hand drift down to expertly unfasten his jeans and slip the zipper down.

Before he knew it she had her hand on his cock—like a patient admirer she slowly caressed it, petting it firmly but gently as she coaxed it free between them.

“Christ,” he murmured.  “What are you doing?”

She pulled him closer, lifting one leg up around his waist.  He saw that, beneath her knee-length, flowing black skirt, she had on thigh-high nylons… but no panties.  Her soft, sweet womanhood was clean-shaven, smooth like an alabaster statue.

His cock gave a familiar, eager throb.  He closed his eyes and moaned quietly, and pressed his body against hers.  He could feel her smiling as he kissed her, leaning back on the fence to open herself up to him, guiding his cock to the opening of her smooth, pink cleft.  A thousand questions went through his head but they were all immediately forgotten as he inhaled her perfume again—roses and wine and incense, some bitter, ancient incense—and she slipped the head of his cock into her wet, warm flesh.

Another moan—he slid himself in slowly, savoring each dewy inch of her little pussy, tight and welcoming.  He decided he had to be dreaming again: it couldn’t be real, fucking his little gothic doll in public, right there on the street in front of somebody’s well-lit house.  But, there it was.  She took him in with a happy sigh, tilting her head back and guiding his hands to her hips.

“Oh, yeah,” he muttered, eyes shut, slipping into a slow, gratifying rhythm.  Her pussy was hot and eager; she lifted her hips to meet him with every deep, indulgent thrust, and he felt her firm and tighten around him when he slid it all the way in.

“Do whatever you like to me,” Genesis whispered in his ear.  “But remember… somebody might pop their head out their door, and see you going at it like a horny dog on their front lawn…”

He groaned in response, fucking her a little harder.  She laughed happily, putting her other hand behind his neck and hanging away from him, opening up wider and taking him even deeper.  He pressed her against the little white picket fence and thrust faster, more eagerly, driving his cock again and again into her slick, perfect slit. He could already feel his orgasm building, his cock straining as her pussy tightened around him, squeezing as he withdrew as if she couldn’t bear to let him go, as if she needed his hard, desperate fucking to fulfill a deep, forbidden craving.

She let out a moan, thrusting her hips against him, eyes rolled back in pleasure.  He fucked her faster, banging her sweet wet pussy harder, feeling the hungry, frantic drive to explode inside of her, to fill her up with it over and over.

“Can I—can I come in you?” he gasped against her ear.  She nodded, head turned to the sky, body arched against his as she moaned in rapture.

“Do it,” she whispered.  “Come in me as deep as you can… please, Darry, fuck me until it runs down my thighs—”

“What are you?” he breathed, his rhythm intensifying.  He could feel it approaching now—each hungry stroke brought him closer and closer, his cock throbbing and swelling in her, the heated pleasure climbing with every deep, slick thrust.

She suddenly let out a voiceless gasp, thumping her hips against him, rocking back with a groan—he felt her coming, her pussy tightening around him, quivering and clenching with desperate pleasure.  An instant later he reached his own peak, and he was coming inside her, thrusting his cock to the hilt in her as he pumped his seed deep into her.  He came so hard he wasn’t sure she could take it all, and sure enough as he pulled out it was running down her delicate pussy lips, glistening on her thighs.

“Oh, God,” he murmured, staggering away from her, grabbing his cock without realizing it and immediately starting to knead the head.  “Oh, fuck…”

Then, she surprised him: sliding down from the fence she dropped onto her knees and quickly took his cock in her mouth.  Sucking eagerly, she licked every last drop of his come and hers off of it, swallowing without question, winding her tongue around the head with a hungry sound of joy.

“What are you doing?” he panted, but then he gave another deep moan as he was coming again without warning, semen jetting on her face and throat and blouse.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he muttered, but she only chuckled happily. 

Blinking a little, she returned to her licking.  She was patient, more gentle this time, slowly claiming the last of the come on his cock.  When she was satisfied, she stood up, and wiped the come off her face, licking it off her fingers as she did.

Darry practically fell backwards, putting out his hand to lean against a tree.  Genesis gave him a sweet, joyous little smile, waiting while he regained his breath.

“Is that better?” she asked, when he finally managed to rearrange himself, and stood up straight again.

“God, Geni,” he muttered.  “I don’t know—that was… God.”

“I like you, Darry,” she said, taking his hand affectionately in hers.  Again, he was struck suddenly by the glinting sparkle in her eyes… like coins, glittering silver coins.  And her teeth… they looked even more like fangs now… four fangs, canines and eyeteeth[1]…

“Would you like to come home with me now?” she asked softly, brushing back a strand of his hair.  “We can do whatever you like there… Anything at all.  You can do whatever you want to me.”

He knew, somehow, that this was not right.  He knew there was something very wrong about his gothic doll, something scary and dangerous and thrillingly insane.

But… she was so beautiful… and he wanted her so badly…

He somehow managed a nod, forgetting about those strangely bright eyes and her preternaturally sharp little teeth.  He only wanted to follow her, to feel her soft skin and get lost in that strange perfume.  He wanted to be in her again, again and again, filling her over and over with his seed.  Nothing else seemed quite as important anymore.

He had to follow her now.