The Devil's Pact - S01 E340

Story 6 hours ago

The Devil's Pact - S01 E340

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 340

There was a splintering crash, then booted feet pounded through the house. Dust fell down into my face as they raced upstairs, tickling at my nose. Oh no. I clasped my hand over my nose, trying to ignore the growing, tickling sensation. One of the soldiers was searching the first floor, the other the second. More dust trickled down and I could feel the sneeze building. Please no! Not now! The sensation was growing unbearable. Any second I would sneeze and they would find us and kill us. I fought it, suppressed the ticklish urge.

Achoo!

I jumped as Loreena sneezed, and fear surged coldly through my veins. Everything seemed to be quiet all of a sudden. Were the soldiers listening? Did they hear Loreena's sneeze? They must be straining, trying to figure out where that sneeze had come from, looking for the place where we were hiding. I squeezed Loreena tightly, felt her heart thudding in her chest.

"Clear!" one soldier yelled from upstairs.

A soft moan came from Loreena and I could feel her trembling. She was deaf. She didn't know what was happening. It was too dark in here for her to see my lips, to let me tell her to be quiet, that everything was okay. Her moan was growing louder, she was going to give us away. I had to silence her.

I kissed her.

Her lips were soft and moist. I could feel her tense in shock. She tried to pull away, and I grabbed the back of her head and pulled her tight, thrusting my tongue deep into her lips. I felt her start to relax; start to kiss me back.

"Clear!" the other soldier yelled back, and then the booted feet were stomping down the stairs and they were out of the house.

I kept kissing Loreena, our passions growing. All the stress of the last twenty-four hours melted away as kissed this beautiful, kind woman. My hands reached out and found the cotton nightgown she was wearing, and I started hiking it up. She rose up and I pulled it over her ass. I rubbed at her pussy beneath her panties, feeling the soft hair and the growing wetness.

Her hands started touching me. I wore a borrowed nightgown and I helped her pull it up my body. I wore no panties and her fingers gently touched my bald, teenage curit. I moaned into her mouth, enjoying her uncertain touch as she stroked my flushed vulva. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them off, stroking her silky pussy hair and finding her snatch dripping wet.

Loreena moaned into my lips as I gently stroked her clit. I shifted, turning to face her and scissoring my legs with hers. I scooted closer and closer until our pussies kissed. I started writhing my hip, sliding my wet pussy along her furry muff. It felt so good to forget about everything that had happened and lose myself in the pleasure of this woman.

She started humping me back and I broke the kiss to lean back on my elbows and really started to trib her. "Umm, your cunt feels so soft on mine!" I moaned, forgetting that she was deaf as my orgasm built inside me. "Fuck me! Yes, yes! I need this!"

Loreena was moaning just as loud, but wordlessly, a pure sound untainted by language. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out her form as she writhed in pleasure. One of her hands had pushed up her nightgown and fingered her nipple. Pleasure blossomed within me, every time my clit rubbed against her pussy it grew and grew.

"Yes! I'm coming! Oh, Loreena! Sweet Loreena, your pussy's driving me wild!"

Loreena's moans grew shrill and I could feel moisture flooding my pussy as her orgasm exploded through her. I shuddered a few more times, then stopped pumping my hips, breathing heavily. I leaned over, captured her lips with a gentle kiss, and hugged her tight. I tried to hold onto this happy, satisfied feeling.

But the fear and stress was bubbling back up.

Mary Glassner - Toulouse, France

It was late at night in France when we arrived, landing in Toulouse. Back home, it was Sunday afternoon, and I was told that all the footage from America was Mark getting beaten for the second day, interspersed with clips of the President surrendering to Brandon. I kept sending Mark supportive thoughts, letting him know that I had a plan, that I was coming for him.

I wasn't going to let my husband down.

The eighteen hour trip to France had seemed to drag on and on. I couldn't sleep, I could barely eat. All I could do was fret and stare out the window or open my locket that Mark gave me on the day I met him. It was silver, heart-shaped, with a pink rose sculpted into the front. It was absolutely gaudy, not at all something that I would have chosen for myself.