Strawberry Cheesecake By Charles E.J. Moulton

Julia’s strawberry cheesecake melted on my tongue and devoured me in bliss. Absolute bliss. The delicious purity of the berries mixed with a crispy crust brought back memories that had me swinging. I had not tasted something this good since I had been a child here back in Wicklow. Our mutual memories of childhood, sitting by the seaside and devouring her mom’s cake, watching that sun set, laughing at silly jokes until the stars came up: all of that came back in a spur of the moment. All of that joy lay imbedded in a strawberry cheesecake.

I looked up at Julia and smiled. She gently lay the spoonful of cake on her tongue and giggled. That splendid new hairdo fluttered in the Irish breeze, one swift lock of blondish red hair falling across her chest and landing on her bosom. The wind threw me a scent of sensual magnolia by the way of a perfumed memory of expensive eroticism.

“Julia?” I asked, seeing this woman in the light of the setting sun just where we had played so many years ago.

“Yes?” she mumbled, swallowing the bite of her seductively tasty cake.

“Why did we take so long to reacquaint?”

Julia looked up, the beauty of her brown reindeer eyes glittering in the light of that red candle. She shrugged, her flowery dress losing one ribbon and letting it drop down toward her breasts. I saw that woman’s beautiful Irish shoulder and compared it to the sound of the waves behind her. Wicklow, I thought to myself, thou art a memory recollected, a new life relived, a girlfriend well met.

“Will you marry me and give birth to my children?”

Julia stood up, laying her spoon aside, fixing me with that stare, grabbing a lock of her hair and gently putting it in her mouth. Circling the table, she ended up on my side and pushed aside all the other things that lay on it. Soon enough, her feminine scent turned more intense and I found myself actually wanting her more than I ever had wanted anyone in my entire life.

I stood up, embraced her face with my hands and tenderly, ever so tenderly, moved my lips in slow motion toward her mouth, seeing those cherry flavored lips moving nearer to my vision by the second. As we met, our lips and our hearts and our souls reacquainting, our eyes closed. I could still taste the strawberries on her mouth and smell the magnolia on her skin.

We breathed out through our nostrils, feeling the heat of our embracing bodies mingling and intertwining. I leaned over her, sweetly opening the buttons of her dress, one by one. Their soft cotton clad covered plastic textures were symbols of her soul. Beautiful and handcrafted, feminine and graceful. A white brasserie met my gaze under that dress, roses decorating the white bliss. I reached over to her shoulder and pulled down the straps, pulling them down a few inches below her bust, displaying openly what I could guess would be a healthy and lucious C-cup.

Time stood still as I, almost in slow motion, reached down and put her pink nipples in my mouth, circling them with my tongue. Julia threw her head backward, smiling, groaning, moaning, grabbing my head and caressing my hair. Inch by inch, centimetre by centimetre, I worked myself down toward the temple of her lust. With the gorgeously lustful sounds of the ocean waves against the Irish coast swooshing into my eardrums, I pulled down her soft cotton underpants and landed my tongue in her sweetly tasting vagina. Digging deeper and deeper into her body, I found myself actually filling my entire face with her juices. Her tasty clitoris reminded me of the salty air of the English coast or a delicious garlic paste that I had eaten down in the Provence.

Her juice literally dripping down off my face, I stood up again, grinning like a crazy man. While gently massaging her breasts, she sat up on her terrace table and rubbed my gender. She slid off the table with a horny thump like a seal sliding into the ocean from its home on the rocky hills of the German coast.

Julia went down on her knees now, waited patiently for my gender to swell some more. She knew that it ached to plop out and say: “Hello!”

Slowly raising her hands, those fantastic hands with red elegant fingernails, she opened her eyes wide, making a very indicative “Ooh!”-movement with her lips upon seeing what was waiting for her. Her one index finger grabbed the buckle of my belt and seductively felt how hard it was. As hard as my cock? That were her thoughts at that moment, I was sure of it. With a very spiritual and candescent looking grin, Julia opened my belt and pulled down my zipper with a sexy howling sound. When she finally pulled down my pants, the revelation of my erect penis inside those white drawers caused her to whimper. Ever so acutely, Julia pulled down my drawers and caused my six inch gender to literally catapult out of my pants almost into her face. It dangled there a bit befor she did anything. It seemed she was inspecting it like she would inspect a painting by Vermeer: as a work of art.

Her open mouth, pulled wide open by the pure awe inspired wonder of seeing my flagpole swaying in the wind, ejected a chuckle. With a happy moan, Julia took that erect penis into her mouth, hugging it with her lips and swallowing it inch by inch. I lifted spiritually into bliss, my soul literally rising to the heavens. My old girlfriend from Kindergarten, my school pal with whom I had played chess on this very porch, now knelt before me just feet away from where we had eaten ice cream and read comic books at age 9. Her closed eyes indicated her absolute recovery from her painful past, my erect cock in her prosperous mouth. Me, her first male friend. Me, her first painful loss at age 14. Me, her hopeful lover gone astray. Me, living years and years abroad. Me, getting a job in Ireland after a difficult divorce. Me, remembering her. Me, seeing her face in the local Irish paper. Me, here with Julia, living alone in her family’s old house by the coast. Me, here with Julia, another divorced soul. Us, happy at last.

In what would be a musical largo, Julia got up from her knees and gave me a kiss, her lips now tasting of precum mixed with strawberries. When she turned her flabbergasting ass toward my cock, I parted her butt cheeks and slid in my dick into the hot glory, at first very slowly pounding her butt and making those wonderfuls buns wobble, her hair blowing in the breeze, a couple fucking in the open Irish springtime.

When we accelerated, we lost our touch with reality and disappeared into ecstatic lust. The speed of our frenzy caught the wind and made our hearts fly. Soon enough, my explosive sperm caught the wind and shot its load into her fertile body.

I felt like flying.

We rested together for a while on her comfortable terrace chairs. When we were ready to look into each other’s eyes again, sweaty and lucious and relaxed and juices dripping off our bodies, naked Julia turned around and faced me.

“The answer to both of your questions is yes,” she smiled. “If we’re lucky, my body will accept your sperm and catapult it into the glory of my pregnant future.”

I smiled.

“Where do you want to marry me?”

“Here in my house on the terrace, where we just fucked. Where else?”

Naked, laughing, horny and hungry, we walked into the house again, brought out some ice cream, read comic books, played games all night and tickled ourselves to sleep just like old times. After we fucked for the sixth time that night, we made arrangements to turn our horny bliss into a nuptial paradise.

After all, we had a lot of matrimonial fucking to do.

Once our kids arrived, we couldn’t fuck outside any more.

So we did the only sensible thing, even when she was diagnosed as pregnant.

We made love in every possible corner of the house and my wife rarely needed to eat breakfast. She had all the protein she needed right in my fabulous and very explosive gender.

Ah, Irish bliss.


Devil’s Delight By Matthew Wilson

Nicola could see the castle from her bedroom window, but her poverty bought her no closer to it. How she wished for the bright lights of the city, instead of rotting like summer fruit back here in the suburbs.

She could even see the white dome of the palace, if she squinted she had burnt it onto the back of her eye lids like an old missed memory. Was it too much to ask that a pauper be a princess in desperate times. If only for a day? Wishes were not so rare things in the west though she had yet to meet a genie.

Her mother was old and dying, and after working her fingers to the bone to get food on the table Nicola felt the old woman deserved a better final few days then to cough up oil and slowly succumb to the darkness.

Nicola told herself that she did it for her mom, and that helped with a little of the guilt. Though she had never stolen anything in her life. She had always been a goodie – goodie as mother wished. And yet it had gotten her nothing.

Just hunger pains.

A mother dying of cancer, too poor to afford the medicine to cease the never ending agony as her body was eaten away by tiny, angry cells. She had to do it. For her mother. For herself.

She broke into the mansion.

Not the palace for the guards would be out in force for the recent coronation. She wouldn’t get through the gates without an invite. Maybe she would loose her head, and then who would look after her mother?

She had to take it nice and steady. One foot at a time. Especially when she started climbing the wall. The poison ivy bled through her torn gloves and made her hands hardened by manual labour itch madly. But she thought of mother relying on her for medicine. For money.

She blew on her bust and bleeding fingernails and kept climbing, telling herself not to look down. But she did. She might have fallen, a distance that would have killed her if she hadn`t smelt the perfume and her body tensed because of it. Her numb fingers made fists in its spell and glued to the ivy.

What was that beautiful aroma? She had never been to the river before, though an open sewer ran at the back of her dilapidated home, she supposed that this was what the fresh water exotic flowers smelt like. Crushed and bottled to heighten a ladies attraction perhaps, but losing none of it`s wonder.

How much would the lower class pay for a scent a lady of power put on her body.

Nicola knew nothing of the woman she was robbing, and for her conscience that was how she wished to keep it. The rumours had been going across the houses since she had moved in. It had taken three furniture carriages pushing wheezing, plodding Horses close to death with exhaustion to get all her possessions here.

Which meant she was rich. And by proxy a selfish cow. Who needed so much nice stuff when she had nothing but a smile for the world and good wishes for her mother. None had bought her a penny while Nicola supposed this woman hadn`t worked a day in her life for a blood line inheritance.

Didn`t Nicola deserve some good things in her life too? Things that glittered. Intoxicated by the sweet smell she peeked her eyes over the lip of the window frame and checking the coast was clear quickly climbed inside.

The night was muggy and restless. Likewise, she would have left her windows at home open. If she could have afforded the glass. Breaking and entering was not her thing, but the smell was a candle and she was the moth, and obeyed.

I`m coming she thought and nearly broke her neck as she tripped upon a sleeping puppy curled up upon a rug dreaming of bones. The white shaggy terrier snapped awake, howling in pain with its tail bent in the wrong direction as Nicola tried to find her feet, and not smash her head on the polished floor.

Stupid thing.

Nicola had a natural empathy for little creatures, being some one who was used to be trodden on bigger people. She cooed at it until it seemed to gain courage and trundled out, broken tail wagging from under its hiding place of the foot cushion.

Nicola had never seen a foot cushion before. She had old curtains for bed sheets.

Rich indeed. The woman would not miss a few sheets and small objects Nicola could fit into her pockets and take down the pawn shop for mothers medicine. Seemingly mollified, Nicola tickled the pooches ear once, he licked her thumb and forgave her.

“Just our little secret, eh?” she smiled and wished that she had bought a bag.

She felt like a kid in a candy shop. There was too much to take in. Too many pretty things to steal. She felt overwhelmed. The bedroom had a feminine charm and satin sheets. The rose flowered wallpaper made her feel she was in a summer orchard.

A mirror stood like an alert guard on a table surrounded by make up material and experimentally, Nicola smudged some on her lips. It tasted of strawberries. The dog yipped and watched as Nicola pulled a drape down from the bed and started squirreling items into it like a road sweep cleaning the clutter.

Anything bright, anything shiny that promised a profit. A pretty penny. It would make a hell of a racket, but maybe it would be safer to drop all of this out of the window rather then risk clambering down the wall with it tied round her waist. Should the wind pick up or she overbalanced it would mean the end of her.

No, better safe then sorry.

She couldn`t carry the bag of goodies large as a portable TV now, but she was a stubborn young woman and would drag it all the way home even if the skid mark`s in the grass led all the way to her home, if that was what it took to get mom better.

“Bye, boy.” she said as she headed for the window, and apologised for her original mistake as the dog rolled over onto her back to be tickled and Nicola saw she was missing the makings of a man.

The dog wasn`t too offended. It didn`t bring blood when it bit her ankle. Not deeply. Hardly a nip, but she had to cover her mouth before she moaned.

“What the hell was that for?” she asked. Was she really having an argument with a dog? She hadn`t believed them capable of being petty. But there was no wound but a small bruise. No scar, no-

Nicola dropped the bag as the room started spinning.

What the hell had that dog being drinking, Cobra venom? She lay down to stop her cracking her skull when the darkness fell. And a moment later her eyes closed, then it did.

The first she knew of reality was the small dog, yipping as she danced on her chest, her paws had its claws filed to polished perfection showing its owners vanity., It did no damage to her skin.

But the handcuffs did.

“Gerrof.” Nicola moaned, tried to rub the sleep from her eyes and heard her wrists jingle. It was no bracelet. “What the hell is this?”

She was tied to the bed, a limb fitted to each four posts of the bed. Instinctly her knees tried to buckle together, she felt exposed with her legs open so wide. Her mother would think it most unladylike.

A chair squeaked in the next room.

“Behave.” the voice said and the puppy licked her face.

“Go away.” Nicola said, then turned her head toward the shadow. “Wait, I can explain. Its not what it looks like.”
“It looked like you were trying to rob me.” the voice was light like a teacher would not think too harsh a child might not know two plus two. An aunt with sweets to give.

Nicola felt her skin erupt in small stabs of prickly heat, the sweat lathering her lessened only the white iron tip of each sting but not removed it. Still the puppy was watching her with those dopey adoring eyes, annoying her.

“Look. I`ll pay you back. Can`t we work something out?”

Nicola heard footsteps, a clack clack of high heels. The woman was coming and her imagination worked against her. Of course she would have many small and wicked yellow teeth, a wart on her nose. A cauldron to eat her bones.

“In my business one must be careful. I have not lived so long being in plain sight where anyone might remove my head once I sleep. It is best to be cute and cuddly, to lie under peoples nose so that they might walk over me, their back to me. There is no shame is keeping your life at any cost. A knife between the shoulders works just as well as between the breasts.”

Nicola wondered what she was on about, realised the woman might actually be insane before she realised she couldn`t breath, their was a heavy weight on her chest, crushing her, pressing her into the bed. She blinked and the woman on top of her cocked her head so that her swan feather coloured hair – the same as the Terriers- swept from out her eyes.

She shifted her weight, and let Nicola breath.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

The witch smiled, thought her pretty, but not too bright. It had been so long since she had had a friend. A partner. Humans were so fragile. They died so easily. She would have to take her time with this one.

“Be still now.” she purred. “This will only hurt as much as you allow it.”

From her mouth, Nicola detected that same sweet flowery smell, and thought she had seen those same adoring blue eyes before. Though she had crone hair as white as the bottom layer of an ashtray, Nicola thought she was quite the most beautiful creature she had lain eyes on. She radiated youth and sweet promise. The witch giggled as if recalling a joke to which she alone knew the answer.

She licked the tears out of Nicola`s eyes and slid down her body like a ribbon scarf caught in the wind. She did not bother removing the thief’s skirt, the witch doubted it was worth a penny. Later she would have better. If she behaved.

Nicola gasped as the witch ripped her skirt open between her knees and groin. Nicola opened her mouth to scream and the witch spoke first. Then Nicola had no mouth at all. Below her nose was as smooth as her forehead. She raged against the membrane of flesh against her gums but nothing came out beside some heaves through her nostrils.

“I would like to kiss such lips.” the witch smiled again. “So be a dear and make me feel inclined to keep them on you.”

Nicola felt something rip on her face and suddenly she was moving her jaw, breathing through her mouth. The witch had returned her mouth, but only if she did not use it but for her own pleasure.

Nicola was wearing panties – despite her messy clothes, mom always insisted she kept these clean and change them every day on the off chance that she was run down by a horseless carriage.

The witch put two fingers together and touched the panties tag, then lower, started massaging her clitoral hood through the fabric. Round and round in a dime sized semi circle as if she were drawing a sun in the sand.

Nicola crushed her eyes, trying to look away, but she moaned, the witch felt her body tremble and smelt her fingers. “I think no man has touched you. In a world where women sell their bodies for the price of a meal your morals are something to be proud of, thief.”
I`m not at thief, Nicola thought, defiant. She wanted to curse, to call the witch all the names she knew and her mother didn`t think she did. But she bit her lips till they bled, she did not wish to lose her mouth again.

The witch wiped the saliva gleaming on her top lip in the candlelight off and pulled Nicolas legs up onto her shoulder. “Up we go.”

Before Nicola could blink, the witch had removed her panties and lain them on the floor. For once, she didn`t mind the mess. “That`s better.”

“Wait-” Nicola said, but the witch, squatting drove her tongue forward, in, penetrating the wet warmth of her insides. Her right hand pushed aside her labia and the left massaged her clitoris. She was not a selfish person by nature, she would let the thief enjoy it.

That heat rushed through Nicola`s body again. Her cheeks burnt and every goose bump became a volcano leaking lava, her skin burnt and she thought she might catch fire as her being betrayed her and she screamed.

Now she`ll take my mouth, damn it.

But the witch was busy, using her own mouth, working her tongue between Nicolas thicker lip`s. She might have been a fool stuck in a desert, happening upon an oasis, driving her face harder between Nicola`s groin. She was sure in her fury the witch might bite down.

Nicola twitched as the bottom fell out of her stomach, something welled then breached, the witch opened her mouth as Nicola screamed again and ejaculated. The witch swallowed as the hot brine coloured liquid splashed her like a hosing severed jugular.

Nicola sagged, spent. She heard the witch laugh again, not wipe her face as she stood and scratched her ear like puppies liked. The juice around her mouth like she had drunk bad milk direct from the jug fell about her black high heels. They clicked once as she moved forward, lay herself gently across Nicola and kissed her.

Nicola gagged as she tasted herself. She tried to turn her head but the witch lapped at her tongue like a thirsty pup. She twisted Nicolas nipples, then spread her own legs as bizarrely she put all her weight forward, her head pressing over Nicolas shoulder.

“Ssh, this is my favourite part. My mom used to do this trick to my father once in a while. He couldn`t walk for a week.”

The witch said some words from a dead language Nicola knew not and gasped with horror as she felt something hot and fleshly dangle from the witch press against her thigh.

“No, don`t-”
The witch grabbed the bed either side of Nicola`s head, creasing the sheet`s and cheered. “Here, we go.”

Everything went white as the witch plunged forward, impaling violently Nicola with her prick. They stuck together and Nicola tried to bite the witches ear but she must have sensed the thief’s fury for she pushed herself up on her arms. She stayed there like an aborted press up, savouring the thief’s anger, pulsing electric like through her. Making her vibrate.

Making the witch purr.

Then softly, remembering her promise not to bruise the thief’s insides, nor wear her out too quickly, the witch started working her hips slowly back ad forth. Primarily frustrated for she was used to a quicker pace. Wham – bam. But this was the girls first time judging by the blood she felt slip over her temporary scrotum.

“How`s it for you?” she said for something to say, to keep up the connection of a partner rather then having any genuine matter for her opinion. Then in time with her grinds she moaned. “Take it, take it.”

Nicola took it, trying not to cry as the witch pounded into her, clamped her lips against her ear lobe and nibbled like a dogs chew toy. But she bought no blood, seemingly some leverage to hang on to as she upped the pace. Shuddered. Howled as she erupted.

“Oh fuck!”


The witch lay on her, light as a blanket and suddenly, desire expended, she became tender. Hugging the thief like they were old friends.

“Kiss me.” she said and didn`t wait for an answer. Nicola didn`t open her mouth but a peck seemed sufficient for the witch. “Can`t lay here all day you know. We`re not on holiday.”

She gave Nicola another quick kiss on the cheek like a mother wishing her child well on school and suddenly Nicola was free. She heard a clink and the chains fell off her. She could breath again, the room stopped spinning and her venom had a target.

She could pick up the bedroom lamp and break the witches face open.

But first she would complete her own promise.

She would use her mouth to tear her mouth off.

She would call her all the names under the sun. But when she tried to. She did not talk.

She barked.

The witch smiled and tickled the terriers ear. “Naughty girl. You know your not allowed on the furniture but you`ll learn in time.” While the witches desire was gone the witch had no need for a partner, but a friend, some company was always welcome.

What harm could a small terrier do? Certainly not tie her to a stake and burn her to ash as her own father had. Honestly, that man could not take a joke. Or being dominated.

Nicola barked and barked but the witch took no action but to tie a blue collar gently round her furry neck. “Come on, dear. Lets go for a walk. Polly, do you like that name? I think its suits you as a dog.”

Later, when she felt frisky the witch would return her to her human form.

Maybe tomorrow.

If she behaved.