1. The Devil's Pact Ghost of Paris Chapter 8: Public Transportation


    Date: 5/29/2017, Categories: Fantasy, Anal, BDSM, Cuckold, Exhibitionism, Straight Sex, Mind Control, Voyeur, Author: mypenname3000, Source: sexstories.com

    The Devil's Pact, The Ghost of Paris by mypenname3000 edited by Master Ken Copyright 2014 Chapter Eight: Public Transportation Tuesday, September 17th, 2013 – Paris, Texas I had just made a pact with Astarte, giving her Darleen Cummins—the mayor's gorgeous, sixteen-year-old daughter—to possess for the night in exchange for unlimited sexual stamina, and now my pecker ached painfully. I had the worst case of blue balls I had ever felt in my life; I had to, needed to, find someone to stick my cock in and take the pressure off my nuts before they ruptured. I stumbled into the alley, leaving behind the parking lot where I fucked Darleen and summoned Astarte, my pecker leading me on like a divining rod, only it was seeking cooch not water. I reached the main street, almost bumping into a fat man slouching his way down the street. Fuck, I really needed to get my rocks off. A wheezy screech—air brakes releasing. I looked up to see a Paris Transit bus pulling up. A stunning woman with flaming-red hair and stacked like brick house, was walking through its open doors. Those melons were huge, stretching her tight t-shirt and jiggling as she climbed into the bus. That gave me a great look at her rear; a tight, and very short skirt, hugged that magnificent ass like a second skin. I had to have her. I raced down the street, knocking a teenage boy to the ground—his skateboard kept rolling down the sidewalk—and managed to squeeze in past the closing doors. The driver frowned, muttering, ... “Damn doors never work.” The bus was only half-full, but the woman chose not to sit down, holding onto a shiny, metal bar anchored to the floor and ceiling. I didn't blame her for standing—some absolutely disgusting lowlifes, yours included, rode the bus. One of those disgusting lowlifes eyed the woman's ass, rubbing his hands on his ratty jeans. I got a good look at her face—sensuous mouth, emerald eyes, smooth skin—and I recognized her. Carla Haroldson—ghostXhunt. The famous paranormal investigator that had come to Paris, Texas hunting after my growing legend. This was my lucky day! I was going to pork one of my all-time idols. I loved watching her investigations into ghost hauntings on youtube, or maybe I just loved staring at those wonderful titties as she wandered through old buildings, jumping at any little sound. Either way, I was going to have some fun on the bus! I squeezed past her, letting my hard pecker rub against her side. If I wasn't invisible, I'm sure I would have left a line of cum across her skirt. She jumped, looking wildly around, then smiled, a pleased, hopeful twist to her lips. Her green eyes gleamed with an excited thrill and color blossomed in her cheeks. Her hand darted into her purse, fishing around, and she pulled out one of those smart phones, her fingers tapping the screen. Was she calling the police? “Tuesday, September 17th, 2013 at approximately 8:30 PM, made contact with the Ghost of Paris,” she spoke into the phone like a reporter into a tape ...
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