And, of course, the demons are out, playing, hunting, fucking...

And one lone demon slayer.

Standing in the alley behind Willies, I lean against the dirty brick wall, unconcerned about my clothes. The alley reeks of death and decay, garbage and urine. It's dirty.

The dirtier, the better.

A shiver runs through me and I lick my suddenly dry lips as I peer down the alley, waiting.

Suddenly the sound of a motorcycle approaches and another shiver hits me. As I wrap my arms around my thinly clad waist, the black harley turns down the alley and comes to a stop. The engine turns off and the rider slides gracefully and silently off the seat, walking towards me without a greeting.

We rarely talk. It's better if we don't. Better for both of us, I believe. We're here for one thing only.

One thing neither of us seems to be able to get anywhere else...or from anyone else.

As he stops in front of me, his eyes narrowing as he sweeps them over my skimpy skirt and midi-blouse, I smile and feel the dampness pooling in my silk panties. Just a look from him makes me so incredibly hot.

He's not wearing much either. None of his usual layers. Just a simple t-shirt and jeans. Not even a belt I'll have to deal with. Just a snap and a zipper. Just a tug of my panties...

I've never seen him completely naked. I've never been completely naked with him.

We fuck in our clothes, hard and fast and furious, pounding against each other in desperation.

My heart rate increases and I start to pant. Licking my lips again, I stare into his dark, fathomless eyes. His lips quirk slightly and one pale, graceful hand rises to cup one of my breasts. Already swollen, my nipple pokes into the palm of his hand, covered only by my thin cotton shirt. No bra, only three buttons...

With a quick movement, my shirt's up around my neck, baring my breasts to the cool night air. My nipples pucker even more and I'm unable to contain my moan of desire.

Two rough thumbs rub my hard nubbins, circling the dark pink aureoles, and I arch away from the wall. As I whimper, I glance down and see the bulge of his cock straining against the front of his jeans.

I know that nothing comes between him and his Levis.

As his hands become rougher, more urgent, I slide my own hands around his waist, tugging him closer. Our pelvises touch and I wriggle automatically, whimpering at the pressure growing deep in the pit of my stomach.

He growls, the first sound he's made, a sound that humans can't make very well. It sends lightning bolts of need from my nipples to my now throbbing clit.

One of his hands slides down my body, through the perspiration rising on my skin, to find the hem of my skirt and push it up. I aid him, lifting one leg and clamping it around his waist, my now soaked crotch rubbing enticingly against his erection.

Dimly I wonder how he'll take me tonight. Three nights ago he bent me over a tombstone and fucked me from behind, his fingers leaving deep bruises in my ass as I wailed in pleasure, confident that no one would hear me.

Tonight we're in a more public place. Anyone could step out the back door of Willie's and see us. The danger of getting caught makes it even more exciting. The last time we did it here, he covered my mouth with his hand, cutting off my cries.

I never came so hard. Just the memory of how erotic it felt to be silenced makes me tremble in longing.

The hand on my hip slides around to the back and tugs the waistband of my panties down. I lower my leg and wriggle until the pink scrap is around my knees. As his knee parts my thighs, the elastic scrapes at my damp flesh.

Again, I lick my dry lips and moan softly. Our bodies are writhing together, our hands fondling, squeezing. No tenderness, no gentle raising of passion...

No kissing.

We never kiss on the lips.

Not kissing makes the act dirty...sordid...exciting...

Although he always pleasures me, sometimes over and over again, there's nothing tender or loving between us. Just fucking, pure fucking, pure mind-blowing fucking.

I simply don't let myself feel guilty for betraying the love of my life. I don't know what he thinks, probably the same thing.

We rarely talk.

My hands find his waistband, pulling his t-shirt free, then going for the snap and zipper. In a few swift motions, his cock is in my hands, throbbing and hard, yet silky. I had never touched a man's cock before our first time. Now, I've done just about everything I can imagine with one.

I've learned what touches please him, that a fingernail along the underside makes him moan, that my tongue on the slit can make him come.

He grunts in pleasure as I pump his cock, the head disappearing between my fingers and thumb.

Will he want me to use my mouth on him tonight? To drop to my knees on the damp, dirty pavement and take his cock to the edge of my throat?

One night that's all we did, sucking and licking each other to multiple orgasms, until I thought my clit would explode from painful intensity. It was sore for a whole day afterwards. I often wondered if his cock was sore, too.

Pulling my hand free of his hard flesh, he drags me a few paces down the alley, farther away from the streetlight and the back door of the bar. There's a pile of crates against the wall and he shoves one aside, leaving the remaining ones at waist height.

Panting furiously now and trembling, in need of release, I turn, placing myself over the crate, my ass in the air. The wood is hard and rough on my breasts and I hazily worry about splinters, then stop thinking totally when his hands jerk my skirt up.

Hampered by my panties, I can only spread my legs so wide, but he lifts me, angling my body so that he can impale me in one hard stroke.

Catching my breath, I wait, feeling his fingers moving lightly over my ass. One slides down my cleft, and I know it comes away drenched with my secretions. My pussy clenches and I grit my teeth.

All the pent up air explodes from me as the wet finger worms its way into my ass. Squirming on my stomach, I gasp for breath as new sensations spin through me.

I never knew a finger in the ass could feel so good. It makes me wonder if he'll ever put something a lot bigger up there.

I shiver again and whimper as the finger saws into me. Maybe tonight's the night. But, then, the finger slides out and his hands take my hips, pulling me back slightly. My nipples rub against the wood and I wince at the painful pleasure, then groan as the tip of his cock runs over my swollen clit.

"Please."

I can't help it. I beg softly, over and over, needing him inside me to relieve the constant ache, the ever present arousal.

And then he slams his cock home, stretching and filling my tight pussy. We both grunt at the impact as his pelvis smacks my ass, then are caught in our mutual pleasure as the quick rhythm begins.

It's nothing like my first time--the slow, tender, often hesitant loving. Does this feel good? Did I hurt you? Do you want me to touch you there? Yes...slow... gentle...gentle...more...

No, this is raw, even violent at times, our bodies moving as one, working to a mutual, explosive release. The stimulation of the rough wood on my tender nipples, the hard slap of his pelvis on the globes of my ass, all send electricity straight to my womb. As my inner muscles clench around his driving cock, I moan deep in my throat and dig my fingers into the crate.

He grunts loudly, pounding faster, lifting my hips off the wood so that my feet are dangling. One of his hands slides over my slippery skin beneath my skirt and nimble fingers dance over my swollen clit. I buck backwards, biting my lower lip to hold in my cries of pleasure as I feel the tension build unbearably.

Just when I think I'm going to go insane, he murmurs one word and my body explodes. As I cry softly, my body shakes, putty in his hands as he caresses my clit and my pussy clenches over and over again.

As I begin to come down, my sweaty, hot body sinking onto the crates, I hear him gasp, then growl harshly. His cock pistons into me in shallow, quick slams, as he comes. The coolness of his semen soothes my inflamed pussy and I sigh his name.

He straightens, releasing me, recovering much quicker than I, much quicker than I suppose a human male would. As I hear the sound of his clothes being refastened, I push myself up off the crates.

Pulling my top down over sore breasts, I wince slightly, wondering at the bruises I'll have by morning and hoping again that I didn't get any splinters. My back still turned, I feel him pull my panties up, smoothing them over my reddened ass, their dampness uncomfortable, yet erotic at the same time.

My clothes adjusted, I turn to face him, unable to meet his haunting gaze as he explores my flushed and trembling body. His hand cups my chin, lifting my head, and he grins at me.

"Friday, Overfield Cemetery, the Stanhope Mausoleum."

"...There are manacles on the walls there."

His lurid grin sends fresh lust streaming through me and I swallow hard.

Turning, he strolls jauntily to his motorcycle, and I head the other way, not quite as jauntily as my legs continue to tremble and our mingled secretions ooze down my inner thighs. As I hear the engine start, I turn the corner out of the alley and head for home, his voice ringing in my ears.

I hear him over and over, saying the same one word, the one word that makes me come so hard when he's inside me.

My name.

Buffy.

The End

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