“Don’t come back!” 

Scared of his depravity, I pushed away the devil’s son.

But now, in bed, thoughts of him crawl inside me. Nest. He’s persuading, “Let me in,” ethereal fingers slipping inside my cracks.

They burrow deep, no hole sacred as I clutch. Claw. Clamp him at need's interface where fingers, tongue, teeth explore, probe and debase my ravaged body.

Gasps fill the room. Then begs. Until he takes me, pounding, defiling as twisted shrieks swell. Surface. Spill.

I cum, nails digging, scratching skin, drawing blood as the magnificent nightmare slips away.

“Come back!” I scream into my pillow.