The Smell of Debauchery

An Excitingly Enticing Excerpt from the novel “Desire, A Dream of The Past”, by: Carnal Desire

From “Desire, A Dream of The Past” Chapter 2: Pages 823–825:

He wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t always the man sitting in the corner of the bar, contemplating his half-emptied whiskey. He didn’t always have this hard demeanor, and the scar, too, was a new addition to the man I see across the bar. I know that behind those angry, dark brown eyes, there still lives the memory of the curious, young boy he was before his childhood was stolen from him. The fire that once burned bright behind those eyes, now but a spark. A hopeful loss of hope.

He doesn’t see me. I make an effort to ensure that fact remains the case as I approach. I take a slow step towards him and feel the battered wood creak beneath my feet. I take another, more carefully this time. Then, another. The smell of leather and whiskey fills me. I pause and allow myself to remember, but for a second, before I proceed further. He continues to stare into the now-empty glass he holds in his hard, calloused hands. With one final step, just before I can say a word, he interrupts with a question:

“Why are you here?”

His voice is not the one I remember. It’s not the hope-filled voice I met 17 years ago. The smooth, deep words I once fell in love with, replaced with harsh, cracked syllables.

“You need to leave,” he growls. He’s firm and unwavering. We both know it’s a mask, yet his words continue to hang in the air between us, followed by a deep, long silence.

I break it: “We need to talk.” He stares right through me.

“I mean it, I need to know what happened the night before you left.”

He reaches for his coat and begins to stand. The once slender, awkward boy now replaced by six feet and four inches of hardened, unyielding man. He pushes past me. I try to stop him, but his powerful frame forces mine into submission. I had one final attempt to dissuade his departure.

“You deserve what you’ve gotten!” A successful attempt it seems, as he turns to meet my gaze.

“Why are you here?” he demands.

“I answer your question when you answer mine,” I retaliate. A compromise. He understands this.

“Fine. Not here, though.”

I don’t provide an answer. He doesn’t look for one. He continues towards the door and glances back. His eyes command me to follow. I obey.

He leads me out into the dark alley, where I lose him. I venture deeper into the darkness when his voice grabs onto me.

“This way.”

The warm breath of his words kisses the back of my neck. My eyes turn to meet his. My hands begin to shake.

His calloused hand encompasses mine as he leads me through the darkness. I give myself over to him fully.

He leads my body to his manse, guiding my mind back 17 years to that suburban street we both once called home. He directs my body into his room, guiding my mind back 16 years to the bed he first had me in.

He tells my body, ‘I missed you’, telling my mind ‘I need you’. He allows me a choice. I make one.

“Yes,” I breathe. It doesn’t answer his current question, but it answers his next one.

My lips are inches from his. They beg me to meet his, or rather, reacquaint. He breathes me in. He goes to speak, then stops. His eyes meet mine again. This time, I see the fire.

He waits for permission. Finally, I grant it, and he pounces.

A swift firmness casts us onto his sheets. Those hard, calloused hands which, but an hour prior, gripped an empty whiskey glass, now pin me to bed. His lips finally reach mine. Softly, as though to allow me a say. I pull away quickly and meet his gaze. There is need in his eyes.

I bring my lips a breath away from his and torment him a second longer. He brings his lips towards mine, and I evade, teasing him once more. This is the last time he allows me to misbehave.

He pins my wrists above my head with one hand and holds my neck with his other. This time, his kiss is successful, but only for a moment before his warm lips find my neck. The hard hand that held my quivering neck seconds ago is now replaced by gentle lips. His hand explores my thigh as his teeth meet my neck.

A playful nibble is succeeded by the crisp pain of a hard bite. I wince, he softens. I attempt to reach for his back, wanting nothing more than to wrap my entire self around him, when I remember the strong grip burying my hands in his mattress.

My desire remains as one, as I no longer possess any control. His mouth leaves my neck, and his eyes return to mine.

There is hunger behind his eyes. He stares into me as his hand discovers my heat. My breath trembles. He hovers over my core, no longer in search of permission.

The pad of his thumb firmly presses itself into my clit, and I feel a warmth rise up through me. It’s the same warmth I felt 16 years ago when he taught me about my body.

“Please”, I muster.

He derives my meaning and puts his PeePee into my piss hole.

End of Excerpt.

About the Author

Carnal “Carl” Desire is an Author, Dungeon Master, and Bishop of the Boise Catholic Diocese. Carnal lives with his supportive mother and Crucifix, his Bichon Frisé. When Carnal isn’t writing smut, rolling to defeat a monster, or sharing the good news, you can find him enjoying food at his favorite local restaurant, Petey’s Pig Trough: We bring the food to YOU! Here at Petey’s, we believe in one thing: We don’t like plates and also, we love to serve you the best barbecue on this side of Wyoming, but before you make it to Oregon. That’s right, we offer the juiciest, tastiest, rarest meat you will find anywhere in the world (as long as you are only looking on the Western edge of Idaho)! Meats, meats, meats! You want it? We got it: pulled pork, chopped pork, tuna. Head on down to Petey’s Pig Trough and tell ’em Ol’ Petey sent you. We’ll have you squealin’ in no time!