It was a Friday night. More customers than usual had found their way into big ol' Toms tavern. The tavern wasn't exactly overflowing, though. The old man himself was the calmness in person, easily keeping pace with the ever-recurring orders.
“As usual,” some may say.
One particular lady had been sitting at the bar the whole evening long, listening to all kinds of stories told by all kinds of customers. Stories of love, desire and lust; some of them truly naughty, some of them a little more decent. After all, the tavern wasn't entitled “The place where stories are told” for nothing.
Nonetheless, that one lady's center of attention seemed to be big ol' Tom who always appeared to be a little too busy to really pay attention to her humble self.
“That's the fifth pint you're ordering, young girl,” said big ol' Tom in reply to her ordering said beverage. “You don't have to pay for it if you tell all of us an entertaining story, you know?”
The lady looked up with tired eyes, and replied, “Of course, I'm aware of how this tavern works. I've had more than enough time to observe and listen. I've heard over a dozen stories tonight, and came to wonder how it comes you ain't got no stories to tell, old man?”
Tom took a clean glass from the sink to dry it.
“You know, young lady, there are no stories I haven't already told. Not anymore. And none shall ever tell their story more than once. Not underneath this roof.”
Big ol' Tom paused to pick up another glass.
“...save for Crazy Ryan. He's been one of my regulars since more than twenty-five years, always telling us the same story all over and again. But don't anyone dare say his story is boring. His story keeps on changing constantly, and he always knows how to tell it in such a way that you just have to listen. With him, in here you sure are entertained for a good moment or two.”
Big ol' Tom had hardly finished his explanations as an elderly-seeming creature entered the scene. It needed a considerable amount of imagination to recognize that this loathly being had once been a human of the male gender. All eyes were glued to him, including the young lady's.
“Speaking of the devil...” said big ol' Tom, smiling.
Although this man that seemed to be more of a specter than human was emitting a dark yet oppressive aura, the guests rallied around him once he had found the seat right next to the young lady.
“Same as every night?” asked Tom.
As the obscure man opened his mouth in reply, the young lady registered a faint odor of alcohol in his breath, but was too mesmerized by his aura to back off.
"Gimme a glass of your home-made iced tea, as always,” replied the Gollumesque creature, “best in town.”
He looked at the girl through his pitch-black eyes, before raising his voice again, “You're new here.”
He pointed his rawboned index right to her face. His wide grin revealed a feculent set of yellowish teeth—some of them missing. The grin wrinkled his face to an even more hideous picture.
“Wanna hear my story?”
The young girl nodded slowly, her eyes glued to the deep grooves in his ugly face.
“Let me see...”
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It happened twenty-seven years ago... Or was it twenty-nine? Doesn't matter anyway.
I was a young man back then.
Believe it or not, this ugly face you're looking at once belonged to a handsome young man.
I was thirty-five. I know that so precisely because my age and my looks mattered to me back then. Who I was or what I did for a living does not matter. I was just I, OK?
I remember that Saturday night—rainy night. It all started right before midnight. I had just turned off the TV, and I wanted to close the shutters. Taking a look outside before I did so, I realized how beautiful the night was with all that pouring rain and the rumbling of the roaring thunder. These cascades of water looked wonderful in the light of the street lamps that were rocking to and fro in the stormy wind.
One lightning hit one of these street lamps, and the whole street went dark. But I had seen something in the very moment the lightning had struck.
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Although every last soul inside of Big ol' Tom's Tavern was sitting around the hunchbacked creature—even Big ol' Tom himself—one could clearly feel that he was actually only telling his story to the young lady. To him, everyone else just happened to be there.
He paused to satisfy his thirst, and order another one of Tom's iced teas. Not for him, though; it was for the girl.
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I thought I had seen something—or better, someone—a girl! Alone in the rain. Pale face, white gown, long black messy hair.
I opened the window, and yelled, "Hello!" No answer. So I got the flashlight, my leather jacket and an umbrella. I didn't have a raincoat. Or I didn't find it. Who cares about that now anyway.
I ran outside. There she was. All wet, trembling, just standing there, doing nothing but stand there.
She didn't say a thing. I just threw my jacket over her shoulders and placed the umbrella above us. Her index pointed to the house at the end of the road.
“That ruin?” I asked.
She nodded.
To that day, I hadn't known that anyone was living in that ruin down the road. I had always found it a strange place: always surrounded by a light fog. Or was it dust? I didn't know. Nor had I ever been curious enough to find out by myself.
We started walking. She pressed her soaked body to my arm. I didn't mind. It actually felt great. Her smile was happy and tantalizing. How old was she? Eighteen? Nineteen? Certainly no more than twenty.
As we arrived, I felt darkness surround me. A voice in my head told me not to follow her into that ruin, but my hormones were stronger. Stupid me. She took my hand and led the way inside.
There were cats. Tons of cats. A big-ass load of cats! All over the goddamn place! And black! All of them black! Only her bedroom up that creaking flight of stairs was free of these furry little animals.
With every step I took up that stairway, the voice in my head got louder. It was shouting at me to turn around and run, just fucking run! Or was it just the worm-eaten wood that made that insupportable creaking under my feet? I ignored it. Stupid me.
The voice in me was silenced by her kiss. Or was it because we had left the creaking stairs behind us? These exquisite lips just couldn't be a bad omen. So soft, so sweet. Her tongue was so tender yet delicate as it gently caressed mine.
She broke the kiss to offer me her happy smile again. My heart was melting. One more time, she took my hand and led me to her bed. I followed blindly. Stupid me.
Her tantalizing smell, her firm breasts as she opened her white gown, her pale body as she let the gown slide off her shoulders, her crimson lips, her invitation into her bed... It all clouded my mind. Could these be bad signs? I was all hers. I had cast away the voice screaming in my head as far as I could to blindly give in to the temptations given by this temptress.
I lay down beside her. First, I felt her body. I just had to. My hand ran over her cheeks, her shoulders, her arms. Her breasts were as soft as ripe fruit and certainly tasted as sweet. My touch made her gasp. Her hand guided mine between her legs.
There it was: the sweet nectar of the forbidden fruit she was. I felt it cover my fingers. Its rich scent awoke the deepest desires within me. This girl was just as much in heat as I was!
A moan escaped from her lips as I dipped my fingers into her drenched cavity. With her tush raised, she tried to push my fingers in deeper. Her claws dug into my skin, announcing the first waves of her approaching orgasm.
She kissed me as satisfaction overwhelmed her. But I was far from done with her. She knew that.
She helped me undress. Her time to please me.
She coated her hand with her own juices and lubricated my rigid member with them. Her divine touch awoke feelings I didn't know even existed. She was a goddess of pleasure. And that was just her hand. Imagine how her pussy would feel... I wouldn't have to wait for long to confirm.
