Even the sexy, blond stripper masturbating herself over my cock didn’t merit cracking a smile. By all accounts, I should have been filled with glee, downright fucking jovial. I just wasn’t. She rode my lap like a saddle, her thighs gripping my legs tightly, as she humped and writhed on my pants-covered cock. Nude, except for her stiletto heels and a black thong pulled to one side, I watched her back-muscles flex as she moaned and grunted on my shaft. Her pussy juice left wet trails on my pants, glowing in the strip club’s black light. She leaned forward, assaulting my cock with vigor and verve, her hands gripping my knees.

Although my mood was foul, I had to admit that she had one of the best asses I’d seen in recent memory. I’d won the day in court, a huge win for our firm, the mobsters that run this town, and a victory for me, personally. I was primed for a shot at the big kids’ table, a full partnership on the horizon if I played it right and kept my mouth shut.

I sipped my drink, top-shelf booze, and watched her get off in my lap. The musky aroma of her sweat and cheap perfume mingled with the stench of the rotting city that permeated the club. My mindset mirrored the ominous thunderhead hovering over the decaying filth of the corrupt city. Although we won the case, I was morose, fed up with the moral decay that infested everything and everyone.

“Take me home tonight, Dar,” she moaned to me, throwing her head back. “You can cum on me anywhere, even on my face.” Any other night and I’d take her up on her offer, just not that night.

The filth of society even permeated the Grindhouse, the club I was in. In this town, the rot and filth penetrate everything. The stink of hedonism and empty souls sticks to everything like grease that just won’t wash away, the stench ever-present. You could feel the grimy film of society's decline on the tables, and the fetid odor washed about the club along with the billowing clouds of smoke and the waft of cheap booze.

The justice system, my line of work, had nothing to do with justice. It’s all about money, power, and getting what you want. Sure, I played the game, damn well, but I wasn’t the poster child for corruption. I’m no paladin, but I’m also not the villain type. At least in here, everyone stopped pretending to be upright and moral; pleasure ruled, no false airs in the Grindhouse.

The writhing blond reached the point of no return, her ass humping back and forth over my shaft with frenetic fury, her moans and contractions telling me that she just orgasmed in my lap, the smell of her arousal mixing with the odors of the club and the stench of the city.

Sergio, the club’s owner, looking as mafioso as ever, and Josh, a partner in my firm, sat a few tables away, drinking and drugging themselves into a stupor. The mobster types that ran this city were our primary clients. Because of that, we got VIP treatment pretty much wherever we went. Here, we weren’t just some saps to pump for money. Hooking up with one of us big-city lawyers was a form of hypergamy; as far as the girls that worked the Grindhouse were concerned, we were in cahoots with the criminal types that run this town, run the club. I wasn’t involved in anything shady, but I did defend those that were. Think what you want, but it made me rich. The politicians were far worse. At least the mob gave the people what they want: gambling, sex, and entertainment.

“Com’ere,” Josh slurred to me. “Got something for you.” He reached inside his suit jacket, producing a swollen, white envelope.

I removed the sexy blond, Tiffany, from my lap and went on over. Tiffany’s offer was tempting, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I’ve had my share of the strippers here, even dated a few of them on and off, mostly fucked them. I was just fuming from the morning’s case and didn’t feel like putting up with the bullshit.

In the firm, they call me “The Detective.” I have a knack for digging up the dirt on anyone. Most plaintiffs backed off when threatened with exposure. Because of that, most of my cases never went to trial. The morning was an exception. I’m fine in court; it’s just another type of fight. If you do your homework, you can ambush your foe, put them on the defensive, and cut them down.

The judge, a low-life womanizer with a drug habit, thought it’d be apropos to interrupt my opening statement. As soon as I said, “my client,” he interjected with, “we know exactly what sorts of clients you represent, Mr. Murphy.” That spurred me into attack mode. I dropped enough thinly-veiled innuendo to let the judge know that if he got in my way I’d go right for his jugular. He kept his mouth shut after that, but he didn’t make my Yuletide list.

However, the judge, the foul weather, and the urban decay of the city cinched my mood for the day. I was pissed off and looking for an outlet. It was Josh’s idea to come to the titty bar and blow off some steam. He was kicking up his designer heels; I just needed to vent.

I knew what was in the envelope before my friend told me. “Your bonus for a job well done,” Josh slurred. “The Capollis send their gratitude. Promise me you’ll blow it on booze, sluts, and drugs.”

I took the ill-begotten cash and stowed it. I have no qualms about taking dirty money; it’s all dirty money. From the top on down, everyone has one hand out and another reaching for your pocket. No matter what side of the law you pretend to be on, it’s all the same. I’m a damned good defense lawyer that does his detective work. That garnered me a nice spread overlooking the city, a fine art collection, and enough cash to live how I saw fit. I knew how the world worked; don’t ask why or dig too deeply and grow rich. There was probably ten grand in under-the-table cash in there. “What’s in it for me” is the name of the game. My answer was ten large above our already-exorbitant fees. If you want to play in the major leagues, corruption comes with the territory. Along with it comes profit, if you’re willing to see right and wrong as mere points of view.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to sound too dour. “I think I’m going to head home.”

“Fuck that judge,” Josh slammed his fist on the table, rattling more glasses. “You gave that piece of shit what he deserved. That’ll teach him to fuck with Detective Darwin, huh? Stop being a gloomy Gus party-pooper and let loose.”

“Thanks, but I’m cutting out. See you in a few days.”

“Murphy,” he choked on some foul weed he was inhaling. “Darwin. Enjoy your vacation; you earned it.”

When I emerged from the Grindhouse, Tiffany’s cum still dewy on my suit pants, the thunderheads chose that moment to break into a nominal rain, a fog rolling, but at least hiding the urban desolation. The entrance let on to a parking lot, rundown bars and late-night restaurants lining the edges. The streetlights cast a sickly, jaundiced glow over everything, turning the rain piss-colored to match the city’s urinal stench. Various denizens of the night milled about, some late-night revelers, others plying their nefarious trades. I had no quarrel with the crooks, hookers, and pushers. They knew better than to fuck with me. Unless paid or provoked, I don’t take any shit, and I don’t give any shit; I’m not in the fertilizer business.

Enjoying the coolness of the impending storm, I popped the trunk to my black Lexus and dialed the combination to my briefcase—667, the neighbor of the beast—and tossed the money in, right beside my Ruger nine millimeter. That’s when I saw her and the scumbag she was with. She was a looker, that’s for sure.

While I consider myself an ass-man, her body, enticingly displayed by her skimpy attire, was drool-inducing perfection. Long, flowing, red hair, sexily matted and tousled by the rain and her struggling, fell like fiery waterfalls over smooth, vibrant skin. Her breasts were high, round, firm, and swollen, two perfectly-rounded balloons ready to burst. The rest of her was just as exquisite. Tiffany in the club was instantly demoted to the second-best ass I’d seen, recently. Her clothes, a wispy, light, short skirt, and thin halter top, were already growing translucent from the rain, exposing taut nipples set atop puffy areolas. She was struggling to free herself from the grasp of some sleazebag, her assumed boyfriend, and her movements exposed her lack of panties as well as proving that she was a natural redhead.

The guy she was with was as greasy and sinister as she was hot and sexy. He had slicked-back, shiny, black hair showing off a neanderthal’s forehead. Beady, dark eyes, locked in a squint, detracted from his crooked, thin-lipped sneer. Like a typical low-life, he was decked out in a black trench coat, despite it being summer, dark clothes showing beneath it.

“Let me go,” she was screaming, along with some colorful obscenities.

He had one hand clamped on her bicep, refusing to let go. Unless paid to represent, I don’t typically stick my nose into other people’s business. In this town, that’s a good way to get it broken or worse. I did, however, lean against my open trunk to watch their little domestic dispute unfold. She was insisting that she was leaving for good; he very physically demanded the contrary. Her boobs bounced amazingly as she tried to escape his grasp.

Their struggles brought them near. I could see that she had piercing eyes, the color of a lake after a storm, full lips, and that look of wild passion about her that just made your dick hard. I couldn’t even look at her without imagining slamming my cock into her. Her flailing resistance was mesmerizing to watch. While the best strippers in the best club in town couldn’t get a rise out of me, her ass, hot pussy, and bouncing tits gave me major wood.

“Do as I tell you,” he sneered, vilely. “You know what will happen if you don’t obey me.”

One of her meek attempts to free herself resulted in a punch to rat-face’s chest. The cave-dweller backhanded her across the cheek, sending her sprawling to the asphalt, landing at my feet. It appeared that my foul mood had just found its outlet. I’m not the knight in shining armor type, but even I have a point where I feel compelled to intervene.

The little punk was in mid-kick, about to use her head as a soccer ball when I interrupted him. “Leave her alone, or you’ll regret it, tough guy.” My tone let the day’s annoyance drip from every word.

He stopped and sneered, showing yellowish teeth. “Looks like we got ourselves some sort of crusader.”

Woman-beater struck a comical pose, letting out a wail that reminded me of a tortured cat. Before I could react, he jumped into range with a “Kee-ya” and landed a surprisingly powerful blow that sent me reeling into a complete one-eighty. I caught the edges of my open trunk, coming to a stop facing inward, staring down at my open briefcase and the handgun nestled inside.

“Kung-Fu from China,” he laughed. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I pondered shooting the greasy bastard. I could get out of any chargers easily enough. Something else caught my eye, though. I grabbed it and spun around.

It was a foul blow, roughly four inches beneath his skull belt buckle.

“Mmmph,” he managed, doubling over under the incapacitating pain as I walloped his family jewels. I swung my weapon up and around, a satisfying thud ringing in my ears as the metal slammed into his right arm.

“Crowbar,” I countered. “From the hardware store.”

Laughing-boy leered at me.

“Now beat it before I decide to not be nice.”

He made the usual threats, penciling in a future appointment with regret, but showed me his heels, splashing away. The woman was cowering near my rear fender; soaked from the rain, her clothes adhering to her perfect figure, still radiating horny arousal, even her terrified countenance made my heart thump.

“You’re safe, now.” It was cheesy but all I could manage. “I’ll walk you to your car if it will help you feel safe. He’s gone.”

She blubbered, making crying sounds. Her tears mixed with the rain. “I don’t have one. I don’t have anything or anyone. I’m all alone and scared!”

She launched into a long, sobbing soliloquy, lamenting that her greasy, scumbag boyfriend, Klaus, was a control freak. He kept her in fear, held dominion over her, and dominated every aspect of her life. She ran from him, trying to escape when she and “Santa Klaus” interrupted my night. She had no car, only the clothes on her nubile body, no place of her own, and not even any money for a hotel room. According to her song, she was one step above his slave, a plaything. She had my sympathy, but we’re all the architects of our own disasters. Sympathy can be found in the dictionary, right between Shit and Syphilis.

I knew better. No woman that hot is anything but trouble. I didn’t know Klaus other than recently trading some tough love, but I knew the type. Guys like that are insecure, little boys that get their rocks off beating on women. My mind told me to stay away, but my cock wanted her. She was bad news with emotional baggage. I could just leave her there to fend for herself; it wasn’t any of my business. I could slip her some greenbacks, some of my mob-money bonus, and feel good about it.

Instead, I invited trouble. “Get in, then. You can crash at my place until I figure out what to do with you. Try not to ruin my leather seats.” Like a sap, I helped her up, trying not to be too obvious about admiring her body.

She sighed and embraced me, pressing her soaked, shivering body against mine. I could feel her tits against my chest, her nipples poking into me. Her pussy radiated heat like a furnace, despite her trembling. I wanted her. Feeling chivalrous, I closed my briefcase, slammed the trunk shut, and opened the passenger door for her. Climbing inside, I blasted the heat, letting her warm up a bit. A gentleman would have offered her his suit jacket to stave off chills. I’m no gentleman; I’m a lawyer.

The ominous fog billowed its way into the city streets, hiding the litter and decay. Cutting it with fog lights, I headed out of the city, towards my cubist’s wet dream of a house. “Murphy,” I introduced myself, “Darwin Murphy.”

“My savior has a name,” she said. Her voice oozed honey-coated sex, heightening my arousal. “I’m Amber.”

I must have a masochistic streak; I asked, “So, how does a nice girl like you get tangled up with a bottom-feeder like that Klaus character?”

Amber, all sexuality and invitation, launched into a tear-filled, trite story of her youth, her upbringing, and how she had come to her fate. A typical, abused runaway, she fell in with the wrong crowd, addicted to the excitement and sense of freedom. I heard all about low-life Klaus being so charming at first, then showing his darker nature. It was a typical tale of woe, like everyone else in this town. I only half-listened, mostly watching her body. All of me wished I hadn’t offered her a ride, wished I had earplugs. Then she dropped a doozy.

“But he got into some really nasty business, bodies everywhere. You’ve heard of the Satanic Slayer? That’s Klaus.”

Everyone had heard. Some would-be serial-killer had been on the rampage, knocking off some ill-fated victim every six months or so. It was always the same; the body was found near the abandoned park, bled out with Satanic symbols, drawn in blood, on their bodies. If I could believe her, some friends of mine on the force would pay handsomely for that tip.

“Even worse,” she continued. “He’s big into the occult, a priest, and was going to offer me up as a sacrifice to the Dark Horned One.”

“You mean a human sacrifice?”

“Yes,” Amber sobbed. Her whimpers sounded like hot sex. I wondered what kind of noise she made when she cums. “I have to willingly enter the circle to be offered as a blood sacrifice. My death would increase his power from the blessings of the Dark Lord.”

“You mean that little twerp is the Satanic Slayer?” I immediately saw the loophole in her mystical debacle. “Why didn’t you just refuse to go willingly?” Defending the seedy underbelly of this city, I thought I’d seen and heard everything, but, apparently not. Klaus had just earned himself top-billing on my shit-list. I’d need to do something about him.

She snuggled up against me, hampering my driving a bit. I didn’t object. Her body was cold and clammy from the rain. “I tried! I told him that, earlier, tonight. When Klaus heard that, he said that I was of no use to him, and he’d just have to kill me to keep me quiet. That’s when I went to the bathroom and crawled out the window to escape. You know the rest.”

We eventually arrived at my place, which I call The Bunker, leaving the rotting heart of the city far behind. Some “artiste” decided that slapping cubes of thick concrete on top of each other made for a fine abode and some post-industrial, artistic statement. I didn’t care about such things; my concerns were that it was spacious, luxurious, automated, and far enough from the filth of the city that I didn’t get any on my pajamas. I had a scenic view, a place to park my cars, and plenty of stony wall space to hang my art collection.

I let her inside as she “oohed” and “awed” over my spread. Swinging back and forth like a pendulum, one second she was bubbly and grateful, the next shivering and terrified. I turned on the fireplace for ambiance and warmth and poured us both a couple of stiff ones.

“Devil’s blood,” I held out the whiskey. “It’ll warm your bones.” She sipped the drink; the glowing firelight silhouetted her figure through her very thin, alluring clothing

“I’m cold,” she stated. “And so dirty.” I don’t think she meant the kind of dirty my mind latched onto, but a man can dream.

I knew better but decided worse. She looked so sexy, so vulnerable, and so perfect with her wet, matted hair, erection-creating figure, and uninhibited nature that I couldn’t help myself. The wiser, more cynical part of my brain told me to kick her to the curb before I was in over my head. She was neck deep in mire, bumping uglies with killers and thugs. Sure, she played the victim, but, in this town, everyone does. Chivalry, in the form of a hard cock, vanquished common sense.

I pointed at a door beside the stairs, adjacent to the one leading to my spacious, affluently-decorated bedroom. The bathroom door opened inward, a full-length mirror in an ornate, antique frame dominating most of its facing side.

“That door, the one with the mirror, leads to the master bath. Take a shower and get yourself cleaned up. There are two doors in there. One leads to my bedroom, the other, to my closet. Pick out anything you want, so you’ll have something dry to wear.”

She opened the door, whistling at the spaciousness and decor. “This place is huge. Mind if I leave the door open? My nerves are fried, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re there to protect me.” I just grunted approvingly.

Amber left the door open at a wide angle. From almost every vantage, I had an unobstructed view of the bathroom. I could see my rain shower, the sinks, and most of the room. Either oblivious or uncaring to the fact that I could see, she stripped out of her clothes. Uncovered, her magnificent breasts were epic. So plump, high, and round, those perfect nipples still standing out, the strippers at the Grindhouse would have been green with envy. Shirking off her skirt, I had to revise my prior opinion. She had the best ass I’d seen in my entire life.

She bent into the shower, the view of her puffy pussy sticking out from between her legs making me choke on my drink. I watched, hungrily, as she cleansed herself, wishing I were the suds that were oozing all over her body. When she poured the body wash over her chest, the white tendrils running over her tits made me wish that it was my cum on her chest, not soap. I may get sappy, but I’m no sap. I divided my attention between watching her, drinking, and doing some of my infamous detective work.

As suspected, Klaus was easy to find. The bottom-feeder had a record a mile long, typical low-tier, hood stuff. His recent mugshot was the fifth one I looked at. Assault, larceny, extortion, drugs, theft, and enough domestics to fill an ocean, his latest arrest, hot off the presses, gave me his address. As it turned out, Amber hadn’t lied about him; he was heavily involved in the occult, a quasi-Satanic cult that called themselves the Golden Orb. Another drink, a quick search, and the exploits of the group shone on my screen.

The Golden Orb was a cult for those that found hardcore Satanism too warm and fuzzy. They were all about personal power at any cost, and damned be he that opposes them. Klaus was cited as a “Priest” in some of the articles, a person of interest in the police files.

It seemed that for the past few years, right around the solstices, some poor soul was discovered in the dilapidated, abandoned park where the Golden Orb was known to hang out. The cops knew, just couldn’t pin it on him. In the real world, that translated into Klaus and his merry band of morons being protected by somebody higher up the food chain. That made sense. Low-level thugs like that were used as brute squads and foot soldiers by the movers and shakers, just like the police are foot soldiers for the other side.

I knew at least one cop that was vying to get him cuffed, not because he was killing taxpayers or because it’s right, but because he was bucking for a promotion, and bagging the Slayer makes for good brownie points. Checking the victims’ list, the names surprised me. Businessmen and a few lawyers seemed to dominate the list. At first, it was vagrants, but it seems that the Dark Overlord liked his sacrifices to have some money and influence. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over the list of bled-out lawyers. Lawyers are scum; it takes one to know one. What was evident was the fact that Klaus and his motley misfits were under somebody’s protection.

That was fine by me. I didn’t want to topple the empire; I just wanted him to back away from Amber, so I could get some. I found my dirt, and he’d get his “come to Jesus” speech tomorrow. A kind word and a nine-millimeter go a long way in this town.

Two good deeds in one day; I was becoming a regular, fucking boy scout. Karma being all about balance, I evened things out by watching Amber rub her hands all over her body as she showered. She exited the shower, choosing a lucky towel to dry herself off, and wrapped the rag around her hair. She saw me watching her in the mirror’s reflection as she crossed the bathroom. She winked at me, smiling. A gentleman would have averted his eyes, not me, though.

“Wrong door,” I heard her say. “Please tell me that you don’t sleep alone in that huge bed,” her distant voice resonated with dismay. I chuckled at that. I only sleep alone if I want to, usually. There was, however, what I wanted and what would be. I would’ve liked to bed her, but she’d been through quite a bit, and that was a little too crass for even me. I heard my boudoir door close and the closet door open. “Mmm, cedar,” her voice was muffled.

I spread out some grub, pouring more whiskey, triples. The thunderhead chose that moment to break, a violent storm erupting. The wind howled, lights flickered, and lightning flashed. Rain and hail crashed against the roofs and windows like muted machine gun fire. Shadows danced all over the stark, concrete walls, reminding me of an impressionist's nightmare done in shadow. Living on top of the hill, overlooking the city, has advantages, but it also leaves you exposed to the elements.

Amber gasped, startled by the cacophonous storm. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m still scared that he’s out there, waiting to kill me…” She emerged from the bathroom wearing one of my white workout t-shirts. I wondered if she’d borrowed some of my shorts, but her first few steps revealed that she was wearing only the shirt. I’d never wanted to fuck somebody that much, before. I damned myself for having enough morality to not take advantage.

Ignoring her comment, I said, “sit by the fire and have something to eat.”

I ate in relative silence; Amber filled my lack of conversing by chattering double-time. She ate as if she’d never had a warm meal in her entire life, erotically sucking the meat’s juice off her fingers, and sucking on the vegetables before savoring them. I’d never been turned on watching somebody eat before, but I used to be a virgin, too, and that got better. Every time thunder would clap or lightning would strike, she’d jump and quiver, sidling closer and closer to me.

I struggled, but valor won over my hard cock. When it was time to sleep off the booze, I took her upstairs to my guest room, not that I ever had any guests. At Amber’s request, I left the door open, so she could scream if she needed anything; she was terrified of her junior psychopath, Satanist, murdering, recent ex-boyfriend. I didn’t mention that I was already working on that and that Santa Klaus would soon get the North Pole shoved up his ass. When she climbed into the bed, her ass completely exposed, her juicy pussy showing, I almost jizzed in my pants.

Climbing down the stairs, I noticed that there was a finger or two’s worth of whiskey left in the bottle. I didn’t want the booze to get lonely, so I sent it all down the hatch before I hit my bed. I listened to the storm rage, mentally debating whether I should go upstairs and fuck her or go the fuck to sleep. Counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder kept me occupied while I made up my mind. I was already on the road to Hell; I just needed to figure out if it was paved with good intentions or lusty desire.

The decision was made for me. During a particularly violent squall, my bedroom door opened, the dim light from the hallway haloing her perfectly-proportioned, well-endowed, nude figure.

“I’m scared.” Her voice dripped with sexual honey. “May I sleep with you?” Taking my silence as affirmation, she closed the distance and crawled under the covers.

I figured she’d just lie there, but Amber had better ideas. She crawled right to my crotch, making a low, guttural growl. Her hot hand grabbed my cock and started stroking it, her other fondling my sack. Some do-gooder part of my psyche told me not to take advantage, but that demon was quickly exorcised. Before I could protest, her wet mouth plunged over my glans, her lips slamming against my pubes.

Without missing a stroke, her voice making “mmngh, unngh, mnng” sounds as she fucked me with her mouth, she swiveled around, climbing over me, shoving her cunt in my face.

Pulling her mouth off my shaft with a sucking pop, she moaned, “finger my holes and lick my cunt. I like it rough. Abuse me.”

Her face slammed down on my cock once more, taking all eight inches of it like a pro. Her mouth was a volcanic vacuum, both hands squeezing my balls. I’d seen women get wet before, but they all paled in comparison. Her pussy was soaked, visually pouring, sexual honey dripping onto my face and running down her perfect thighs.

Diving in, her cunt tasted sweet and smooth, the heat of it scorching my tongue. My fingers were saturated at the barest touch of her soaked pussy. As roughly as I could muster without causing her pain, I thrust two fingers inside her sopping cunt. Amber wailed at that, losing suction.

“Fucking yes; fuck me! Fuck me hard with your hand. Harder!” Her hips began thrusting back against my strokes. “Fuck my ass; I need your fingers in my ass. Yes, harder. Fucking take my ass; take my cunt. Make me cum.”

Amber, moaning, grunting, thrust her juicy pussy against my lips, nearly knocking my teeth out with her horny force. She violently pushed back against my fingers, her mouth returning to my cock.

She was insatiable, cock-starved. Her hands were squeezing my sack and probing my ass in time to the lunging of her mouth pumping up and down my cock. The sensation was unlike any blowjob I’d ever received, made all the hotter by her enthusiasm.

Amber’s lower half had a will of its own, grinding against my face, drowning me in her waterfall of lust, while she slammed against my hand so hard I feared she’d break my fingers. Her hips gyrated at a breakneck pace, maximizing the sensation in both her holes.

She pulled her mouth off my manhood once more, “Don’t you fucking stop. Fuck me like a whore; fucking take it. Own me.” Her mouth clamped down on my manhood. With impassioned moans and gurgling sounds vibrating my throbbing cock, she shoved that perfect ass all the way onto my fingers, her entire body convulsing.

Amber flailed about; my cock barely muffled her cries of ecstasy as she came all over me. Her asshole and cunt contracted with severe spasms, so tight that my fingers were locked inside her; her cum poured from her, soaking my face, wetting the sheets. Her horny passion was too much for me. Her orgasm triggered mine. I tried to tell her that I was cumming, but her thighs had my face clamped so tightly against her pulsating cunt that I could barely breathe, let alone announce my orgasm.

As if she knew, she shoved her mouth down even tighter, forcing as much of my cock down her throat as she could fit. Her head stayed there, still jackhammering down hard in rhythm with her writhing gyrations. Amber took every shot of my jizz, swallowing it, sucking harder and harder.

Relentless, her dripping cunt thrust back onto my mouth, her ass fucking my fingers once more as she continued sucking, going fast and violently, forcing my spent cock back into hardness. She used my fingers and face to get herself off two more times, using my cock as a toy to fuck her face. Each orgasm became more intense, more severe.

When I was vacuumed back into hardness, longer and thicker than usual, Amber screamed a primal wail, climbed off my face, and impaled her dripping cunt on my cock. Just as before, she didn’t ease into it; she was at full speed, brutally rough, slamming her body on my cock and riding it as if she wanted me to break her. She rode me as if her life depended on breaking me.

“Fucking slap me! Hit me. Make me cum on your cock. Take my cunt. Take it!”

Not waiting for me to obey, she began slapping those perfect, bouncing tits of hers so hard that the sounds of the impact drowned out the thunder. I got the hint and began brutalizing her, stopping occasionally to tug on her throbbing clit.

“Harder! Fucking fuck me harder. Punch my clit; slap it. Fucking tear my nipples off.”

As wild and crazy of a fuck she was, as soon as I let loose and wailed on her, giving in to her begging, I realized that her previous intensity was just a warm-up. She went insane, her body humping and fucking me so hard that it hurt, so fast that her carnal perfection was a blur before my eyes.

“Fucking hell, fuck Satan; fuck me in Hell. Take me; fucking fuck me. Fuck me, you fucking Devil. Shoot your fire into my womb.”

Screaming, “fuck God, fuck the Devil, fuck me harder,” she fell over me, her swollen tits at my mouth. Her cunt was on fire, searing-hot liquid drenching me. She kept my cock buried deep inside her, her hips gyrating and swirling with wild abandon. “Bite my tits, make me fucking bleed.”

I was lost in the moment and bit into her so hard she screamed. I lessened the pressure, pulling back. She begged me to bite harder, her hand shoving my mouth over her nipple. Then, with strength that defied her frail, lithe figure, she forced one of my hands around her throat.

“Fucking choke me. Kill me as I cum all over your cock. More, harder; strangle me.”

I didn’t have much of a choice. Her hand closed around my fingers, forcing me to choke her. “Fuck yes, I’m yours, take it, take my cunt.”

Her obscene speech gasped out, incoherent, nothing more than primal grunts and screams as her pussy clenched my cock like a velvet vise. Amber fell off my cock, her entire body shaking violently. Fearing a seizure, I moved to help her, but she shoved me back, her fingers jamming between her legs, assaulting her clit twice as hard as I had done.

“Now,” she commanded, “brutally fuck my ass. Just fucking take it; ravage me. Don’t be gentle. When you cum, pull out and shove it down my throat, so I can drink your gifts.”

I watched as she got on all fours, pointing that heart-shaped ass toward me. Amber fucked her cunt violently with three fingers, sloshing her cum all over her hand. Without preparation, she fucked her ass with those dripping fingers, then turned to me. “Fucking take my ass, Darwin. Brutalize me.”

I did as she asked, pulling out as she eagerly devoured my cock, drinking my cum. Afterward, we lay in bed together, her cuddling me, one hand possessively gripping my manhood. Before I drifted off to sleep, my last thought was wondering why all the epic fucks are bad news. Then, the blackness of sleep overtook me.

She was still asleep when I awoke. I let her be, stopping to admire her perfect body and that peaceful look on her sleeping face. Even the dried cum encrusting her thighs was sexy. I left Amber a note, telling her to make herself at home and that I’d be back later in the day. The wisdom of letting a complete stranger have free rein of my home was questionable; for all I knew, she’d load up my valuables into one of my cars, and I’d come home to an empty shell. I quelled those thoughts as soon as they arose. After last night, I was thoroughly addicted. Nobody fucks like that, not even in porn, and I would do anything I could to get some more of that.

I drove across town to the slums, Klaus’ last-known address. The shit-hole was the stuff of nightmares. Through the grimy windows, I could see various bits of drug paraphernalia, foreboding occult symbols spray-painted on the walls, and piles of fifth. I didn’t see my target, and a few minutes of waiting hinted at nobody being home. Tomorrow was another day; I’d school him later.

Maybe I’m not as sly as I think. When I got back to my car, it was still intact except for a note stuck under the wiper blade. Klaus was just a laugh a minute; apparently, The Dark Horned Overlord doesn’t worry about spelling or grammar. “Shes mine, I’m cuming for her.” I laughed out loud, tossing it into the littered gutter. I knew he was watching from the shadows that infest this crummy town.

Pulling out my redhead-addicted cock, I urinated all over the threatening note. “See, Klaus,” I mused to the ether. “You scared the piss out of me.” Simply put, I didn’t care what sorts of vile gods he worshiped or who the fuck he was. He was in the way of what I wanted, and he had to go. I drove off, laughing at the irony of the radio twanging out some sunny, feel-good song in the middle of a city so vilely decadent that even the sun shunned it. Sure, the scumbag preys on lawyers and such, but I was connected; he was small potatoes, just another bug to squash.

Because I’m a big softie, I dropped by some shops on the way home and picked up some ladies’ clothing for Amber. A dress or two, some casual clothes, some undies. I resisted the urge to buy her something sexy. To my pleasant surprise, she was still there when I got home. Not only did she not loot the joint, but she also cleaned every nook and cranny and made a fine meal. She was wearing one of my oxford shirts, giving me an instant hunger for her, not food.

“Hi, honey,” she said as if we’d been shacking up forever, as soon as I walked through the door. Smiling at the bags in my hands, she approached, purring out, “if you drop anything, I’ll stop.”

I’d barely said, “huh?” before she dropped to her knees in front of me, pulled my cock out of my pants, and sucked on it with toe-curling force and enthusiasm.

Not satisfied with me just standing there, Amber grabbed my ass and pushed me deeper into her mouth until she gagged, tears coming out of her eyes. Still, she kept on sucking, one hand fondling my balls as she fucked me with her face, her other hand furiously fucking her cunt. As soon as I came, she increased pace and suction and kept on fucking me with her mouth until I was hard again.

“Keep it hard, and you can have me for dessert.” That wasn’t a problem; everything about her oozed sex appeal.

I tried to concentrate on dinner, but she made it hard, very hard. Those perfectly-round, swollen tits of hers, nipples always hard, kept jiggling when she moved. Even the way she ate foreshadowed wild sex and danger, and her cooking wasn’t half-bad. Like a fool, I told her she could stay with me as long as she wanted. Her face grew soft at that, tears welling up. Water is wet; women cry. There are some constants in the universe.

“Look what I found,” she beamed, those smoldering eyes of her dancing with mischief. Holding a bottle of Cristal Champagne aloft, she added. “I thought you’d like some for dessert.”

“Not really in the mood for bubbly,” I chortled.

Ignoring the plates and uneaten food on the table, she climbed on top of it and pushed my plate aside. Sitting, facing me, her legs spread wide in front of my drooling face, she just smiled.

“I bet you’ll change your mind, Mr. Darwin Murphy.”

Everything about her was sexually hypnotic. That dripping pussy shoved in my face had me in a trance. Amber leaned back, propping her legs on my shoulders, and ran the bottle over her wet lips. Enthralled, I watched her soak the neck of the bottle with her sexual nectar before she shoved it into her snatch.

“Fucking yes,” she cried out. “So hard and smooth. Do you like watching me fuck myself? I love fucking myself. Watch me cum. Fuck the Devil, it feels so fucking good.”

She didn’t just play with the bottle, she violated herself, shoving the bottle in with such force and depth that the shoulder of the bottle disappeared. She went harder and faster, her hand becoming a blur, her other hand pulling on her clit so hard that it swelled up big and red.

Cursing and swearing like a sailor, her hips bucking on the table, she fucked and fingered herself to the verge of orgasm. Amber slowed down, her body quaking, breath coming in impassioned moans, and pulled the cork out of the champagne bottle, pointing it at her pussy.

Being so agitated, the sparking booze sprayed all over her cunt, mixing with her fluid, the bubbles massaging her clit. Amber growled in lust, shoving the spewing bottleneck into her cunt, moaning as an intense orgasm overtook her. Her legs kicked and flailed with the rest of her cursing body; I was too focused on her kinky display to notice the kicks to my head.

Her voice came in caterwauling moans. “Now, fuck…lick it out of me.”

I dove in and lapped up as much of it as I could. Her cum mixed with the champagne drove me into a sexual frenzy. My damsel in distress urged me to be more brutal, to go harder. She shoved the dishes and food out of her way, leaning completely back. I heard the shattering of china and couldn’t have cared less.

“Fucking suck the life out of me, you fucking bastard,” she urged. “Then, fuck me like the worthless whore I am.”

After I got her off for the second time, I shoved my hard meat into her cunt as harshly as I could. She begged for more, burying her heels in my back and forcing me to go harder, faster, and deeper.

There was still some liquid in the Cristal bottle, and she poured it over her tits, then proceeded to lick her cum off the bottle.

“I’m going to cum,” I announced. “Where do you want it.”

Sadistic and smiling, she pulled off my cock, then turned over, sticking her ass out over the table. “Fuck my ass and shove the bottle up my cunt until I bleed. Cum in my ass, fill me with your hellfire.”

“Fucking fuck me,” she chanted. “Take my ass. Make me yours. I’m your fucking slave; you can do anything you want to me. I fucking love it. Harder; be brutal! More.”

I held off as long as I could, which wasn’t very long, and, despite her emptying my balls three times already in the past twenty-four hours, I unloaded my cum in her ass, screaming along with her.

“I fucking love you,” she screamed as I shot my load into her perfect ass. A guy could get used to this.

As soon as I pulled out, Amber grabbed the bottle from my hand and shoved it into her asshole. “Eat my fucking cunt, Dar. Make me cum again.”

From Amber’s point of view, that was foreplay. Without any pretense of keeping things civil, she dragged me into the bedroom, and we proceeded to wreck the place. Her insatiability was only matched by her depraved perversion. She wanted all of her holes violently abused, and her wanton abandon was legendary. Thoroughly drained and exhausted, I fell into the black pit of slumber, Amber cooing in my arms.

Her panicked scream woke me. I made to jump out of bed but reconsidered due to the shotgun pointed at my chest. Klaus was there, some of his demonic acolytes in tow. I wondered how he’d gotten in, but that wasn’t my priority.

Rat-faced and still wearing that stupid trench coat, he had one arm around Amber’s trembling body, his other one holding a knife to her throat. She was crying. A common saying is that there’s no pussy worth dying over. Hers was. However, I was in no position to do anything at that moment, just hoping to get out of this in good enough condition to act.

“I told you I was coming for her,” Klaus vomited menacingly. “Be a good boy and say good night.”

All I saw was the shotgun’s stock headed towards my face. Stars erupted in my skull, followed by utter blackness. When I came to, it was light outside, at least what passes for it. No thunderheads, just bleak clouds hovering in the morose, gray sky. I had one monster of a headache, but I’d live.

The hoodlums hadn’t ransacked my place; except for my pride, nothing was missing. I checked the video surveillance footage, discovering that they had strolled right in. That struck me as odd. I’ve lived in this house for almost a decade and had never once forgotten to lock the doors or set the alarm. In my defense, Amber’s mouth on my cock was a huge distraction.

It didn’t take a detective or a lawyer to work out where I’d find her, the old park. Even Klaus wasn’t stupid enough to shack up at his place, knowing that I was aware of the location. Checking the solstice calendars, my suspicions were confirmed. Tonight was the big night for the Horned-God-worshiping cretins. A cross-reference also showed me that the bodies discovered in the park were always on the morning after the solstice.

Then it hit me. Love may be blind, but lust is worse. The names on the victims' list passed before my mind’s eye, sticking out their tongues. Most of the victims were connected with the Capollis, our firm’s main clients. Not only was Klaus and his Satanic Panic front furthering their demented power quest, but they were also thinning the ranks of the Capolli syndicate. That meant they had an agenda. I was already in too deep to walk away, and I wanted more of that pussy. I just couldn’t figure out how I played into all of this. I was connected; it was one too many coincidences for random chance.

Some preparation and a good deal of Ibuprofen and whiskey later, I took a cab out near the park. The wind was howling, and the clouds mostly covered the night sky. I found a nice hiding place in the underbrush and waited; they showed up, bit by bit. All in all, there were thirteen of them, a dozen bottom-feeding miscreants, sworn to their dark overlord, and Klaus, the ringleader. Amber, looking scrumptious in a diaphanous, white dress, gagged with hands manacled behind her back, was with them, making fourteen in total.

Except for Kung-Fu-Theater Klaus, who wore a white robe, all the others were decked out in blood-red ceremonial robes, the hoods up. Their shoes told me that they ran the gamut from impoverished to very affluent. One tall man, in particular, had nice, Italian, designer shoes.

I followed at a distance, staying out of sight. Eventually, an opening would present itself. I was becoming a regular full-time savior and in it way over my damned head. I swore that this would be the last time. She was one hot fuck, somebody I wouldn’t mind keeping around, but I didn’t feel compelled to rescue her on a day-to-day basis.

I had two sidearms with me, one hidden down my pants, and my Remington shotgun to start the party if it came to that. If things went south, a frisk might not reveal the sidearm secreted beside Mr. Willy. Most guys shy away from patting down your meat stick. I could have called in some favors and grabbed some mob muscle to do the dirty work, but it was just a few punks with delusions of grandeur.

The fact that I was unwittingly involved haunted me. I wasn’t concerned enough to run and hide, but I did call my buddy down at the station. Cops were like nuclear weapons; they have theirs, so I have mine. Once you use them, they fuck everything up. They were my ace in the hole. They’d be dropping in, shortly.

Deep in the dark heart of the overgrown park, the occultists formed a circle, torches set into the ground. Amber was tied to a lamppost in the middle; she seemed resigned to her fate, no longer struggling. Klaus was definitely into all the ritualistic aspects. Despite the adrenaline, I almost had to pop a stimulant; paying respects to the Dark Horned One was more boring than a Catholic mass. I had everything ready and just needed to wait; then I saw my chance.

I’m no hero, but my dick is. We sprang into action. The first guy I reached, running up from behind, was the fucker that clubbed me with the shotgun, earlier. That one was personal, and I returned his prior favor with compound interest, right where the back of his hooded skull met his neck.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I quipped, pointing my Remington at Klaus. “If you had left things be, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

He sneered at me, glancing at the shotgun. “You don’t have the guts.” His beady eyes darted to my right. I saw somebody step towards me.

My Ruger was freed and pointed toward the cloaked figure with heroic delusions. “One more step and I’ll fire.”

A single shot felled him before he completed his last step.

“Toss me that pretty knife. I’ll be taking the girl.”

Klaus’ laugh was truly maniacal. “So mote it be.” He flung the knife with expertise. It thudded into the ground between my feet.

I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night. I kept my eyes on the circle of people around me. They were sheep, probably why they’re always called a flock. Rather than be at a disadvantage, I propped the shotgun against the pole Amber occupied, then, with pistol ready, retrieved the dagger. I cut her free, ready to hightail it out.

“Dar,” she laughed as she picked up the shotgun and pointed it at my gut. “Thank you for willingly coming to our circle.” I heard Klaus chuckling as the betrayal sank in.

My wiser if more cynical self screamed, “I told you so,” as the pieces fell into place. I’d been had, strung along all the while. I was relieved of the Ruger as Amber tied my hands around the pole, propping the shotgun against it once more. She gave me a furtive smile and wink, quite odd.

“You were the sacrifice all along,” she said. “The sacrifice has willingly entered our sacred circle; we call upon the All-Father.” She kissed me, her face triumphant.

Klaus picked up the dagger, a psychopathic smile framing his yellowed teeth. I struggled with my bonds, finding them to be very loose and easily slipped. In the distance, I saw the headlights of several vehicles; it had to be the police. They sure liked to cut things fucking close. At least my cop-buddies would get their breaking case.

With the dagger held aloft, both hands raised over his head, Klaus stood there, chanting. Following some incomprehensible babbling, he drew the edge of the ceremonial knife across his palm, wetting it with his blood. Amber had been dancing around me all this time. I didn’t feel regret, merely enraged and foolish. I knew she was trouble, and this is where it got me. How did I, the Detective, not put it all together?

She ripped open my shirt, running the bloodied dagger over my chest, drawing red symbols. Her lithe hands caressed me, moving down my stomach, over my crotch. Her eyes grew wide when her fingers ran over my other firearm.

Just then, my Satanic executioner grabbed her harshly, spun her around, and sent her sprawling with a full-forced punch to the jaw.

“I told you not to touch him and not to fall for him. You’re mine and mine alone,” he sneered. “Assume the sacred position.”

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Amber’s face was a mask of demonic rage. With a haughty glance back, she bent over, her hands on my belt to steady herself, and spread her legs. 

“With the unholy union of the demon and the whore, I call you, Dark One. Let the spilling seed and blood sate you. Bestow your power upon me.”

“Just please fucking kill me, now, so I don’t have to listen to this shit,” I grumbled.

Klaus opened his robe, his body a canvas of occult tattoos and grime. The others chanted some nonsense as he readied to enter her.

She’d played me for a patsy, and I was just foolish enough to fall for it. I’d been her mark all along. She’d have made a damn fine lawyer. Her eyes met mine; I held no pity for her plight. I hoped that I could still see her when I died; there were worse last sights to see. I wasn’t angered over her betrayal. Amber was scheming, dishonest poison; I just wished it would have worked out better.

I knew what was about to happen. Klaus was going to fuck her in front of me, then kill me. I bought her damsel in distress act, hook, line, and sinker. My hard cock led me right into her ritual of deception. I wondered if I’d make the papers when my body was discovered; probably not.

As I tried to surreptitiously free myself, Amber gave me another wink, a determined look crossing her lusty face. Her perfect teeth, covered in blood from getting smacked around, chewed on her lower lip. Quickly, before it even registered, she grabbed my shotgun, spun around, and fired it from the hip. The flash and report rang out, scaring the birds from the trees. Klaus went down without a sound. She’d shot him!

If the Satanists wanted Hell on earth, their wish was granted. Some of them screamed, others looked on, stunned. Pulling my hand through the loose rope, I quickly freed myself during the commotion. Amber, looking sexy and deadly, stood there, the shotgun still in her hands. She was staring at a writhing Klaus, repeating “I did it,” over and over.

I saw an opening and ran for it, pulling my remaining pistol from my pants. I heard police whistles, then chaos erupting from behind me. I wondered if Amber would fare well and laughed at myself for being concerned over the backstabbing bitch. Shouts, gunfire, and general chaos could be heard as I ran. I had to fire four times, not bothering to look to see if I’d bagged my limit of robe-wearing Satanists.

Coming to a clearing by a stream, I paused to catch my breath, and collect my senses. Trying to get my bearings, I made to creep out of the park, hopefully avoiding any assailants, prying eyes, or men in blue that didn’t know me; they’d ask too many questions.

“Leaving without me,” that sultry, familiar, female voice said to me. Her husky tone still dripped with sexual honey. “After I saved your ass?” She emerged from behind some bushes, shotgun pointed directly at me.

I raised my gun, leaving us at a standoff. “First you fuck me, then you fuck me over.”

“It’s not like that, Dar,” she persuaded. “I like you better; that’s why I got rid of Klaus for us.”

“Us,” I repeated. Sure, she double-crossed Klaus and the hail-Satan club for me, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t do unto me as she did to them.

“Except for not telling you that it was my job to get you to go willingly into the circle, it was all true, I swear!” More tears. I wondered if any part of her was on the level. “I meant it when I said that I love you.”

Two nights bouncing on my cock and she drops the L-word; I knew I was damn good! They were just crocodile tears. One look at her, standing there panting, breasts heaving, that white dress showing off her figure, and my brain shut down.

“You played me for the sap, once, because I was stupid. Just fucking shoot me and get it over with.”

“I had to string you along,” she countered, more tears welling up. “Now we can be free and happy. Don’t you want me?”

“How can I ever trust you?” It was a valid question.

Her passion-kissed face grew harsh and vile for a second as she brought the weapon to bear, aimed at my face. I inhaled, thinking it would be my last breath, but instead of shooting me, she swung the barrel to one side.

“Friend or foe?” I shouted.

“I’m yours, now,” she said. “We can be happy, Dar, I’m...”

“Safe and sound if you can forget everything,” a familiar voice said from behind me. “Turn around, Murphy. I won’t harm you.”

Amber was nearing panic. I saw her finger tighten on the trigger but turned around. I doubt I hid my dismay. It was Josh, my friend and partner in the firm.

“Now I get it,” I laughed at my ignorance. “You’re the ringleader of the Klaus club, whittling away at the Capollis’ power so you can sweep in and take over.”

“You’ve got it wrong, Dar. We work for the Capollis, I’m just here to make sure that Klaus and his vendetta posse lose their fangs. Couldn’t handle it in the courtroom, so we needed to line the dominoes up just so. He was deep with the opposition, working for them on the sly; he had to go; thinning the ranks and all.”

“I thought you were my friend, you fucking snake. Shoot him, Amber.” I even pointed my sidearm at him for good measure.

“You know the game,” he defended. “Look the other way and the world opens for you. Bygones and such. Drop the damn gun, forget all about it, and not only will you be a full partner, but you’ll also be a made a Capolli, a made man. You can even keep the girl.”

Speaking of the girl, “Why shouldn’t I ice you right now, Amber? You’ve brought me nothing but trouble; you almost got me murdered.”

She had guts, I’ll give her that. Rather than shriek, beg, or cower, Amber stood straight and tall, defiant. “I did for us, Dar. Tell me you don't want me, and I’ll go away, or just shoot.”

I considered shooting her. Call me anything you want, but I just couldn’t. I lowered the weapon. “Deal,” I said to Josh. “But I don’t come cheap.”

Two nights ago I wondered; now I knew. My road to Hell was paved with lusty intentions. “Come here,” I said. I held her close and kissed her deeply, her pleasured moans arousing me. “Feel like Chinese food? I’ll hail a cab.”

“I never sucked anyone off in the back of a cab, before. Interested?”

That merited me cracking a smile.

This town will eat you alive unless you’re willing to adapt, look the other way, and let bygones be just that. Women? They’re like motorcycles; we all want the one that’ll kill us. I knew she’d be the death of me but what a way to go.