lies
Part Trois
Metaerg was a quiet sort. He was hard working and down to earth. Most people felt at ease in his company, and if they never bothered to try and get to know him- it was probably because they didn't think there was much to know. He gave off a, "what you see is what you get", kind of vibe- but what of still waters run deep? I guess you can imagine the sort that dive eagerly into murky waters.
He looked at the text blankly. He wished this person would at least tell him if they were male or female. So far, it didn't alarm him in the least. It could just be some teenage prankster- he was growing more curious now that it was going on 3 months since he first received one though. If this person was trying to scare him, they were barking up the wrong tree. Not because he had seen too much, and grown callus-no. Met had not been exposed to much at all- so he had a kind of child like view of the world, and didn't take too many things seriously.
The phone number was always different. He shook his head and let out a sigh- then stretched his arms before getting up to go pee. He was half erect, but didn't notice. He lived alone- so it's not like he had to worry about who would see it. He always waited to go pee with an half or full erection, in the mornings. It helped to heighten his arousal. He wondered for a second, if this person ever lurked outside his windows. Then shrugged the thought off. There was nothing to suggest this person was anything more than a phone stalker. He heard the doorbell just as he was shaking the last drops of piss away- and groaned. He was really aroused now, and was looking forward to taking care of business.
"I'll be there in a minute!" He yelled- Thought about rubbing one out really fast and hard- then decided that would be pushing it, and also a bit too desperate. He grabbed a pair of dirty jeans that were laying on the bathroom floor, and tucked his cock into the elastic on his boxers so it wouldn't poke out. It would go to waste now, but nothing could be done. Now he would have to do something else to treat himself. Like, take out a pocket pussy or fleshlight. That made him smile again, and he slowly made his way for the door with a now, throbbing cock.
He looked through the peephole to no one there- but an envelope had been shoved in the crack of the door, right at eye level. He felt relieved that he didn't have to talk to anyone, and ran his hand down his shaft for a moment to keep things going- then reached for the envelope. It wasn't sealed, and it had no writing on it. Inside he found a few pictures- and the person he saw, sent a surge of electricity up his spine. They were of him. The first 4 were anyway- then the last one was of an eye. One very feminine looking eye- shaped like an almond, and black as coal. You couldn't even make out the pupil, the iris was so dark. It gave him goose flesh, and he knew right away that this was serious now.
On the back of the picture of the eye it said: "The eyes are the window to the soul."
"What the fuck?" He said aloud.
If this person had a soul it was black as midnight- he thought to himself. Then a smile parted his lips.
"Everyone wants to be the devil these days." He said. Then reached down to encourage his erection once again. It hadn't gone soft at all. Even with the unexpected startle. In fact, he had grown that little extra half inch he always got when he felt possessed by his need to feed on someone. He licked his lips and fell back against the door, ready to take care of his needs, and thought about how maybe this person still lurked close by, waiting for a reaction.
"Can you hear me, Eyes To The Soul?" And she could hear. "Can you hear what I'm doing right now?"
This was completely unexpected. Sugar's eyes widened in disbelief. Not only was he not afraid, but he was getting himself off right there- like, daring her to get closer. As she stepped out from the bushes near his porch- she spit on the front step, and walked away. Had she picked the wrong guy? That can't be. She always got her prey right. She always knew exactly what she was dealing with. This man was laughing at her while he pulled on his dick. "Cocky motherfucker!" She muttered as she straddled her motorcycle- yanked her helmet on, and started it up. She wasn't going to stick around to hear him cum. That's not the sort of thing that got her off. She wanted his fear. She wanted him looking over his shoulder, wondering what manner of animal was stalking him. She wanted him to wake up screaming in the middle of the night- a cold sweat soaking his pillowcase- begging god to make the nightmares go away.
"That's okay"- she thought as she sped away. "I've been needing a good challenge."
Met could hear the roar of her bike as he sped up the pace to an almost climax- but that sound was distracting, and he knew it was his audience leaving. He couldn't cum. "Fuck!" He cursed, and sped up even more trying to get it back again. But all he could feel was the heat of his frustration, and the inevitable dark mood crept in as he realized- he would not be getting his fix today. "Fucking cunt." he said aloud- and then he slumped to the floor in defeat.
