Butterface by Press Callie

Author:Press, Callie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotica, halloween, southern gothic, paranormal, horror, lovecraftian, sexy
Publisher: Callie Press
Published: 2015-10-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

JimBob. Wake up, JimBob

“Huh?” he said, half-yawning and half-snorting as he sat bolt upright on the wretched sofa in the huntin’ cabin. He hadn’t done jack nor shit all day, but he had still gone to bed tired, even after loafing about in the woods and taking two naps after his dunk in the fishin’ hole. He had sat up much too quickly. His erection stabbed him in the diaphragm when he did it, hurting him in both spots so much that he groaned and said, “Sheeyit!”

He couldn’t see past the couch. He put a leg down to stand up and it disappeared into a haze, electricity coursing through it painfully as if it was asleep, until he pulled it back into view and the circulation returned.

“What’n the hayell?” he whispered to himself. His tentative hand had the same experience: disappearing and feeling nothing but shocking pain until he jerked it back into sight.

“Ah’ll be damned,” he said.

Yes. Yes you will. But you’ll enjoy it.

“Who’s there?” he said, looking around, not realizing that the voice was only in his head.

You know who I am.

“Oh Lord, is it you? Butterface?”

That’s one name I’ve been called. I’m not fond of it.

“Oh.” He sat there, naked (how did ah get plum nekkid?) and erect, trying to get his sluggish mind moving. That was the best he could do.

“Well, uh, Miss Butterface, how did ah get plum nekkid like ‘is?” he said.

Stroke your big cock for me.

Suddenly he could think of nothing else, so he started his normal slow stroke with a full palm grip, thumb up ahead of the rest of his hand. “OK.” He had a hard time focusing his eyes, like he hadn’t slept enough, or had slept too much. He spread his knees, but brought the left one back in when it started going numb—his addled wits already forgot about the hazy area around the couch to which he was limited.

Miss Butterface? He thought.

Yes? I’m here…

“Am ah dumber than ah normally am?” he said.

Yes, JimBob, a little…but it’s ok, I’m here with you…I’ll take care of everything. You just stroke. And DON’T COME until I TELL you to come.

“I’ll do mah best Ma’am,” he said. “Did you make me dumber already? Like Dumb Luther?”

Oh no, dear…you’re still fully yourself…but I need to take your virginity. Do you mind?

“I reckon ah ought to, if’n ah’m-a gonna end up like Bobby Joe or Dumb Luther,” he said.

That’s a very intelligent thought for you, JimBob.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Stroke, stroke, stroke. “Oh Lord amighty, I reckon I’m-a gonna come here soon.”

NO. WAIT.

“Yup, thar it is,” he said, squirting several massive spurts of jizz all over his chest and belly, then leaking down over his palm and testicles. “Sorry bout that, I never can help it.”

JimBob’s mind was blasted with an intangible wave of formless curses and epithets that left cosmic debris of anger in his thoughts, like stray leaves and loose papers following a passing dust devil.

You have something wrong with you, JimBob. I’ve never seen an ape ejaculate as easily as you.

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