The Devil, the Witch, and the Walking Dead
Chapter 4: The Walking Dead
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Walking Dead - Lonely on Halloween, Linda's night is upended by three supernatural strangers. A magical candy awakens her body, unlocking a desperate, sexual lust. The Devil, the Witch, and the Walking Dead have a pact to offer, promising to claim her, possess her, and use her in ways her ex never could. By midnight, she will be reborn... or consumed.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Mystery Paranormal Ghost Demons Group Sex Anal Sex Oral Sex
The knock rattled the door like bones in a grave. Linda jolted. Her body was still a hazy, sated buzz. Her lips tingled, her throat was loose, and now, a new, teasing clench stirred her ass.
Another one? The last one?
She rose unsteadily. Through the peephole: the hulking zombie. Alone. Tattered green robes. Glowing emerald eyes.
This one was different. Bigger. Rougher. Can I even... Mark’s image flashed—safe, stale. The curse’s pull, a deepening clench in her rear, compelled her.
She cracked the door, chain latched. “What ... what do you want?”
The zombie’s hood shifted. He was massive, muscles like twisted roots under mottled gray skin. “The veil thins, Linda,” he rumbled, voice like grinding gravel. “The walker comes for the depths. The pact demands its anchor.”
Depths? Anchor? The words sent a shiver straight to her ass.
“Fine,” she whispered, unlatching the chain.
Thorne—the name echoed in her mind—lumbered inside. The air grew heavy, scented with moss and midnight earth.
“The fire and whisper have prepared you,” he said. “Now, the earth claims its root.”
“Pact ... alignment ... What happens if it doesn’t?” Doubt flooded her. This was a beast.
Thorne’s emerald eyes softened. He didn’t pick up the green candy from the table. Instead, he stepped closer, raising a massive, scarred hand. His cold fingers brushed her cheek.
The magic wasn’t sweet. It was soil. It shot straight through her, bypassing everything else, and centered low. Her ass reacted instantly: cheeks plumping, rounding; the tight ring loosening, nerves awakening with a vivid, throbbing responsiveness.
“Ah,” she gasped, hand instinctively cupping her rear. The new fullness was empowering.
“The anchor sets,” Thorne watched. “Will you yield to the walk, Linda? Let the depths bind us.”
Him? There? She’d never. Not once. But the others had changed her. She nodded, voice husky. “Yes. Complete it.”
He guided her to bend over the couch arm, dress hiked high. He knelt behind her. His mouth descended first. His broad, cold tongue lapped her inner thighs, cleaning the mingled trails from the earlier encounters.
Linda moaned as his tongue circled her puckered entrance, rimming with expert pressure. Oh god. Vivid pulses radiated from her rear. This ... this is disgusting. He’s a zombie. I’ll get... But her ass pulsed under his tongue. She was lifting herself for him. The shame was so hot it was almost an orgasm in itself. He delved deeper, his tongue thrusting shallowly, drawing out gasps.
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