Even today, three years later, I cannot tell you what the creature is, whether it has a name, or a certain purpose. I have tried to speak to it, but then it eludes me, making it extraordinarily difficult to find again. But it allows me follow it. To watch. To feed my insatiable, unhealthy lust I suffer because of it. But a certain distance only.
It looks human, but I can’t imagine it is. At least not without mutation. It appears to be a reasonably handsome man, and that’s the first indication of abnormality. From the first instant it comes within close proximity to a woman, a change comes over her. He (I’ll call it “he”) is not nearly attractive enough to draw attention from across a room. And yet, when he is close, the woman turns almost in shock, like the most gorgeous celebrity in her fantasies just said hello to her.
That face these women first make is what imprinted on my mind and created my obsession. That flush, the widening eyes, the parting lips, the nervous self-consciousness—they all made me burn to see where such potent desires would lead.
They talk for a moment. Each one. Each lovely prey. The words didn’t matter, nor did I think they even existed. It was music, mesmerism, and nods of total assent. They would walk, then, with his hand gently resting on the small of her back. She would tremble during this process. Not out of fear. Out of a bursting, shivery, wondrous excitement. And I follow. I followed the first time, and I’ve followed the hundred and fiftieth time. He knows I’m there, I’m sure. And she never cares. If the women meet my eyes, it’s almost as if they are emoting a beautiful culmination, like everything in life has reached perfection and they are thankful I’m there to see it.
They pass into a room, something that he has arranged, and leave the door open. I close the door after I enter.
He disrobes her as she stares, enraptured, into his eyes. Her nipples are always hard like stone. By the time her total nakedness consumes her (even jewelry is removed), my cock can no longer be contained. It juts and jumps with continuous arousal as her chest heaves, panting.
He then moves towards her neck, and she closes her eyes. He kisses there, in the tenders, and she moans for first time aloud.
When he pulls back, she is caught in some kind of fever. Her moans build breath-after-breath as she lays herself on the bed.
She writhes, arching her back. Her pussy flares, wet and twitching.
She spreads her legs, hips humping the air, wider and wider. He strips during this delirium, and I see his cock is so beautiful.
She stops when she sees it as well.
It is as if the entire universe has frozen. Everything, every infinitesimal moment since creation has existed for what is about to happen. The entire bed quivers from her body shaking. He sinks down, and tears stream down the sides of her face in the presence of perfection.
Her hands take his shoulders, and her eyes beg his, never wavering, completely surrendering everything she can possibly surrender.
And then, he begins to enter her. I can see how slowly her pussy lips part as they open and stretch. My god, the sound the woman make as their souls are seemingly impaled on his cock. Their muscles are forced open, then clench. Their wombs scream in primal ecstasy. It is not natural what they do, especially how they move their faces to his, nose-to-nose. As he pumps deeply into them, they stare into his eyes like they are dying of thirst and the only quenching waters are within.
My cock convulses in a blissful rhythm then, spurting jet after jet of pure, obsessive semen. I never even touch myself. It is the fierce mysteries I am witnessing that tears my mind open and raw enough to have no choice but to cum.
I have asked the women afterwards, a day or two later, about the man they met. I pretend to be a friend, an acquaintance looking for him. At first, they have a glimmer of a memory, but it flits out of reach, like a butterfly rising from summer flowers.
I don’t know what this creature gains, or what it feeds upon, but it takes something when they claw at him and their pussies twist and crush against his cock in orgasm. And I can’t stop looking for the creature and finding it. Perhaps I am part of it. It must be allowing me. Somehow I am serving unknowingly the needs of the unnamed.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ew9gay/the_unnamed