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Subject: story, MF, gothic, "HJooked & Gaffed"
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story: MF, gothic, "Hooked & Gaffed"

Usual warnings apply: no one under 18 admitted without parent or 
guardian, for external use only, void where prohibited, shake well 
before using, et cetera.

HOOKED & GAFFED
by Felix Lance Falkon

Archiving permitted; re-posting is permitted; in those cases 
you must include this statement of limitation of use. The 
author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format. 
However, individual readers may make single copies of the 
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (C) 1997 by Felix Lance Falkon.

=========================================

     Hunger made her all the more careful as she set out for the day's 
fishing: sun-blonde hair combed just so, beach towel spread out on 
the sand in an artfully careless-looking swirl, and the bait -- 
herself -- in all her luscious nudity, with one knee up in enticing 
concealment. The sun was warm, the sand soft, but hunger kept her 
wide awake -- listening for the drone of an outboard motor against 
the sigh of wind through the pines.

     A splash caught her ear. She looked down to the water just in 
time to see a silvery canoe shoot past the headland of the islet and 
cut across the sparkling water.

     ``Hi, there,'' she called, waving.

     A deeply tanned young man with jet black hair looked up from 
the canoe, flashed a grin, and waved back.

     ``Come on ashore,'' she called. ``I want somebody to 
talk to.'' She sat up just enough to give him a momentary glimpse 
of her bare breasts, then modestly rolled onto her stomach and watched 
him approach.

     The canoe spun, then darted to the beach. The young man jumped 
out, pulled the canoe high on the beach, then mounted the slope toward 
her with an easy stride. She examined him with a hungry glance -- 
broad shoulders, sturdy limbs, clean-cut pectorals over a wide, deep 
chest. _This is no city-bred boy,_ she told herself, _but a man used 
to getting around by the strength of his own muscles._ A scarlet bathing 
suit girded his narrow hips, with a bulge at the crotch that re-awakened 
her hunger. _A splendid catch,_ she thought to herself, _now to hook 
him._

     She rolled to her feet, deftly catching up her towel so that 
he got but the barest flash of her bosom. ``It's chilly down here,'' 
she said, turning away from him. ``Let's go over to the other side 
of the dune. There's a lovely little hollow there. . . .'' 
She walked briskly up the soft sand; his footsteps crunched along 
behind her.

     Over the crest of the dune they went, and there she spread her 
towel, not looking back but comfortably aware that he was close behind 
her. She stretched herself out, face down, on one side of the towel 
and patted it invitingly beside her, still not looking up. His shadow 
crossed the sun, the towel shifted, and she heard him lie down beside 
her.

     She smiled a secret smile then: _blood-red swimming suit -- 
how appropriate._ Hunger urged her to hurry, but caution made her 
take a long minute to glance around the little depression in the sand, 
sheltered by the pines and the hump of the dune. The pines hid them 
from anyone on the lake, while the wind in those trees would cover 
any cry for help. She hid her smile and turned to her quarry.

     The young man lay prone, his red-brown body just inches from 
her own. She met his gaze, and found herself looking into dark-brown 
eyes set in a strong, high-cheekboned face.

     ``What's a beautiful siren doing on a little lake like this?'' 
he asked. ``You ought to be at the sea-shore, luring honest mariners 
to their doom.''

     She grinned back at him. ``All the mariners have taken to 
humping each other on the hatch-covers. We sirens have to change with 
the times.''

     ``And lure honest Indians instead,'' he said with a flash 
of strong, white teeth.

     ``And what's an honest Indian like you doing in an aluminum 
canoe, instead of using birch bark from the beavers?''

     ``I'm only half Indian. And aluminum lasts longer. We change 
with the times too.''

     ``Half or whole, it's nice blood,'' she murmured. She put 
one hand on his shoulder, rubbed his smooth, powerful muscles.

     The young man responded with a contented ``Mmmmmmmmm'' 
like a contented puma. Hunger touched her again as she caressed him, 
lying beside her, muscular, lusty and virile, with hot blood pulsing 
through that splendid body. She longed to taste, but knew she must 
hook him carefully.

     He opened his eyes again. She stopped rubbing. ``You'll get 
sunburned if you don't turn over,'' he said, his brown eyes dancing 
as he watched her.

     ``But -- I'm not wearing anything and you are.''

     ``No, I'm not -- not any more,'' he said. He rolled 
onto his side, baring the front of his torso to her.

     She took him in with a hungry glance: not a stitch hid his muscular 
physique now, and a long, hard cock curved up toward his chest from 
his crotch.

     ``Unless wearing a hard-on counts,'' he add with a hint 
of shyness in his voice as he reached down and touched his velvety 
glans.

     ``Magnificent,'' she whispered. He was even better than 
he had hoped. She rolled onto her side, then squirmed closer toward 
him, their naked bodies parallel, facing each other. ``Magnificent.'' 
She put out her right hand, spread it flat on the warm muscles of 
his chest. She ran her fingers down his torso and touched his rock-hard 
shaft, then gently squeezed his heavy balls.

     When she looked up from his genitals, he met her gaze, grinned, 
and reached out and touched her ripe nipples. Then, with effortless 
power, he pressed his broad chest against her breasts, tightened his 
powerful arms around her, and mounted her as he gently rolled her 
onto her back.

     She spread her thighs wide as he settled himself down onto her. 
His thick, iron-hard shaft scarcely needed guiding, but she gripped 
him with both hands until she felt his glans part her vulva. _He's 
hooked now,_ she thought to herself, _and this hot-blooded stud is 
all mine!_ She wrapped her arms around his chest, locked her legs 
around his supple waist, and squirmed eagerly while that hard shaft 
slowly impaled her, inch by irresistible inch, till he was in to the 
hilt. They kissed for a long, breathless moment. As their mouths parted, 
she felt him withdraw a few inches, thrust again, pull back, thrust, 
and on into a powerful, pumping rhythm, somehow going deeper with 
every thrust.

     ``How's my little siren?'' he asked, without missing a 
stroke.

     ``I'd rather be a succubus,'' she murmured, meeting each 
thrust with an upward curl of her own hips. He raised one eyebrow 
in wordless question. At the bottom of his next stroke she squeezed 
extra-hard with the muscles of her vagina, relaxed them, and started 
to explain: ``A succubus lures men to fuck her.''

     ``Including honest Indians?'' he asked, maintaining his 
stroke.

     ``Including honest Indians. _Especially_ magnificent Indians 
with muscles like yours. A succubus is just like woman -- except 
that she feeds on blood.''

     ``Like a vampire?'' the youth asked. He gradually accelerated 
his stroke, going deeper with every thrust.

     ``Much neater than a vampire. _Much.''_ She paused, tightened 
her arms around his broad chest. ``She has teeth in her vagina. 
And when her victim climaxes, she bites into the tip of his prong 
-- his glans. She cuts him open -- and sucks his blood, sucks 
him dry.'' She raised her head and kissed the young man on the 
tip of his nose.

     He was breathing deeply now, muscles tightening, hips pumping, 
going ever deeper with his virile shaft.

     She smiled, not bothering to hide it this time, as she though 
to herself, _It's such fun hooking a lusty stud who keeps on pumping, 
even when he knows what will happen when he finally shoots his load. 
And unless he didn't hear what I said . . ._

     ``How -- how will I taste?''

     ``Delicious.'' _Aha! He does know what's coming, but he 
can't stop!_

     Suddenly, the muscular body atop hers went rigid. His shaft, 
buried to the hilt inside her, jetted a great rush of hot fluid, another, 
and another. He relaxed, pulled back, and rammed himself hilt-deep 
again.

     She smiled again. ``You _do_ taste delicious,'' she crowed. 
``Now to taste your blood as well . . .'' She locked a 
band of muscle tightly around the base of his throbbing shaft. He 
was hooked: now to gaff this lusty catch. She tensed the muscles that 
moved dozens of needle-sharp teeth, ready to rasp away the flesh 
of his glans and open the gush of hot blood -- only -- somehow 
-- his glans had already gone too deep, was now sliding into her 
entrails.

     The young man grinned down at her. ``Am I in far enough for 
you now? I've got a secret too. Heap big secret.'' He laughed, 
a deep rumble in his broad, beautiful chest. ``I'm half Indian, 
half incubus.''

     She wriggled desperately, but his big arms held her tight, while 
his shaft slowly bored deeper and deeper . . .

     ``An incubus,'' he explained, ``lures pretty girls -- 
especially pretty pale-face girls -- and sirens and succubi -- 
and fucks _them._ And while they --'' He chuckled again, bent 
his head, and kissed her nose. ``And while _we_ fuck them, we feed 
on them with our prongs.''

     ``Then -- it's not my imagination,'' she gasped. ``You're 
going _all_ the way in and -- and you've already started _eating_ 
me, eating me alive.'' She started to scream, tried to squirm free, 
then fell back. ``I picked a place where my victim couldn't be 
heard, and now that _I'm_ the victim . . .''

     ``That's right,'' the youth said cheerfully. He straightened 
his arms, raising his muscular torso clear of her breasts, so that 
only his long shaft linked their bodies. ``Just now, while we talk, 
my prong-tip's starting to work on your liver. Being eaten alive like 
this hurts, yes; but I'm hurting you less than you hurt the men 
you've drained. And besides that, it's a waste just to drink a man's 
blood, instead of eating the all that good meat inside.''

     ``Just -- my -- fucking -- luck: an environmentally 
conscious incubus.'' The blond succubus ran her hands over the 
Indian's powerful chest, touched his shoulders, rubbed his muscular 
arms. ``You're most magnificent stud I've ever hooked, but now 
_you're_ eating _me_ alive, instead of . . .'' She thrust 
her hips up against his, impaled herself to the hilt on the prong 
that was gutting her, and gasped, ``. . . letting me feed 
on you. So -- how do I taste, O Long-Prong, the half-Indian?''

     The young man grinned at his squirming victim. ``Not bad, 
not bad at all,'' he said, thrusting slowly with his lean hips. 
He licked his lips, grinned, then lowered his muscle-sheatheded chest 
onto her breasts and tightened his arms around her again.

     She met each stroke with an upward thrust of her own, pulling 
him ever deeper into her naked body as they fucked.

     ==============================END==============================

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