Halloween Fumble

by A. Winchester

He had that wholesome, small-town boy look about him—the kind where you just knew no one had corrupted him. Yet. I had a particular thing for guys like him. Mostly, I just liked blowing past all their self-imposed limits and making them realize a thing or two about themselves. Making guys like that submit was my favorite game to play. Fuck, I was a thirty-one-year-old man eye fucking a college kid across the dance floor.

“Say the word if you get uncomfortable, if something hurts, or if you don’t want to do this anymore, and I’ll stop, understand?” the Devil asked,

“Hold still, little wolf,” the Devil growled in my ear, “or I won’t let you come.” Jesus fuck. This was it. This was how I was going to die—death by orgasm denial. And I liked it.

“Tonight, you’re mine,” I told him. “You come from my hand only, not yours. Test me and see what happens.”

“Look at you. Such a greedy little wolf. Look at how desperate you are… fucking yourself on my cock. Do you want more, little wolf?”

Even as a former church-going kid, I never dropped to my knees so fucking fast in my life as I did when the Devil ordered me to.

My heart kicked up wildly in my chest. Oh, fuck. Fuck… fuck… fuckity fuck. I lost my virginity to Rhodes Kennedy. Holy fuck, I’d had sex with Jude’s brother. Stupidly, I raised my hand and waved. What the hell else was I supposed to do? And from the growing horrified expression on Rhodes’ face as he stared at me, he realized it too.