Extract: All Come Together, a tale of paranormal erotica

Back in the village... he hadn't expected this.

The first streets had been quiet, but now... now a woman hung out of an upper-storey window, topless. Naked for all he knew. "Hey, lover boy," she called to him, words slurring. "Come here, lover boy."

Up against a wall, lovers tangled. Two women kissing hard, legs tangled, grinding. As he watched, one tore open the other's top and dropped her head to suck and bite at a dark nipple.

He hurried on, only to find a group of women in the street near to the inn, blocking his way.

They saw him and it was as if a pack of predators had spotted prey.

"Hey, Saul," said one of them, a woman he half-recognised. "Saul, you going to show us what you got? Where's a man when you want one? Off fucking the witches of the Hall. Well we can all play at that now, can't we? Saul? Saul? Come here, Saul."

Buffeted from woman to woman, he tried at first to treat it as a joke and laugh it off, but they kept blocking his way and so he tried to force his way through.

Just a short distance to go to the inn and refuge, a door he could barricade himself behind until this madness evaporated.

One of the women caught his shirt and pulled, ripping it, and the sight of bare flesh seemed to drive them into a frenzy.

Another grabbed his belt, and then there were hands all over him, scratching and stroking, hands on his chest, on his arse, hands squeezing his cock through his trousers, hands buried in his hair. He would have fallen, but all the clutching hands supported him, and suddenly he was being lifted, carried at waist height in the middle of the throng.

Trousers parted, hands pulled at his hard cock and suddenly he feared they might pull it right off. Hands... hands... he didn't know how many hands, pulling and squeezing and scratching as they carried him.

A gunshot froze the scene, and Saul was half-dropped, half-released so that he could manage to extricate himself, to stand.

He was wearing only open, torn trousers now, and one boot.

He forced his way through the crowd and there was Rosie, his saviour, standing at the side door of the inn with a shotgun pointed skywards, smirking at his rapidly dwindling erection.

"Get inside, Saul," she said softly. "You really don't want to be out on a night like this. Not if you want to stay in one piece. Not with half the village out for a revenge fuck while their men are up at the Hall with the sisters."

[...continues]

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