Jack's Head

by Siggy Shade

“I’d rather suck a corpse than go anywhere near your relatives’ rancid cocks.”

I glance at the rearview mirror to find the road empty, save for a glowing horseman. And he’s galloping toward me, a foot above the tarmac.

“Show me what else you can do, wench,” he growls, the sound going to the pulse between my legs. “Impress me, and I will spare your life.”

“I have waited centuries to find a hussy who could take my wood,” he growls. “You’re a special little slut.”

“I would kill those bastards before they lay their eyes upon what’s mine.”

“I want to train you like a show pony. I want to ride you so hard that you neigh for more. Any objections?”

“Ride me,” he rumbles. “Ride me like a stallion until the curse drags me back to hell.”

“Oh my god,” I say with a gasp. “I appreciate the sentiment,” he growls, “But you should call me Jack.”

“M-my soul is really pure?” “I see your kindness, your giving heart, your self-respect. I even see your pain. You are even more lovely on the inside.”

“Bess,” he growls, his hot breath warming my folds. “I told you to sit.”