Page 13

R ussian Roulette

Cherrie and Azazel take a break from their drive, finding themselves in a dimly lit motel room, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of lust. The room is sparse, with a single bed, a nightstand, and a small table in the corner, adorned with a solitary candle, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the walls. The atmosphere is electric, charged with a dangerous energy that only these two could create.

Azazel towers over the bed, his muscular frame adorned in a black leather vest, his eyes piercing through the shadows. He exudes an air of raw, untamed power, like a predator ready to strike.

Cherrie sits on the edge of the bed, her curvy figure accentuated by a sheer, black lace nightgown. Her brown hair falls in soft waves around her face, framing her stunning blue eyes. She is the epitome of a femme fatale, a seductive siren with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Her plus-size figure is a work of art, curves in all the right places, and a soft, inviting warmth that draws Azazel closer.

On the nightstand between them, lies a polished revolver–its metallic surface gleaming in the candlelight. The gun is the centerpiece of their erotic game, a deadly prop in their twisted romance.

"Let's play, my love," Cherrie purrs, her voice dripping with desire.

She reaches out, her long, slender fingers caressing the gun's barrel, running along its length with a possessive touch. "I've been craving this moment–craving you ."

"Oh, I know you have. You're a wild one, always craving the thrill." His deep voice rumbles, sending shivers down Cherrie's spine.

"And you, my handsome devil, are the only one who can satisfy this craving." She leans forward, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. “But tonight, we take it up a notch. Tonight, we play a game of chance.”

“A game, you say? And what rules do you propose?”

"Russian Roulette. A game of trust, desire, and the thrill of the unknown." She leans in, her breath hot against his ear. “We take turns, spinning the chamber, and pulling the trigger. Each click, each breath, brings us closer to the ultimate climax.”

"A game of life and death, intertwined with pleasure. I like it." He reaches for the gun, feeling its weight in his palm.

“But there's a catch. With each pull of the trigger, we strip away our inhibitions–our clothing, and our secrets. We bare ourselves, physically and emotionally, until we're left with nothing but raw desire.”

“A game of revelation, then. I accept.”

With a slow movement, Cherrie takes the gun, her fingers brushing against his, sending a spark through their connection. She holds the revolver, the candlelight glinting off the metal.

“One bullet … six chambers. A game of chance; a dance with fate.”

She spins the chamber, the metallic click echoing. The tension is palpable, their hearts pounding in unison. Cherrie's nightgown falls, exposing her voluptuous curves. Her breasts rise and fall, her nipples hardening. Azazel's eyes devour her, his gaze tracing her skin.

“First round to me. Now, it's your turn, my love.”

Azazel positions the gun against his temple, his eyes never wavering from hers. Cherrie's breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding so hard she can feel it in her chest. The tension is almost unbearable as Azazel slowly pulls the trigger.

*Click.*

The empty chamber echoes in the silent room, and Cherrie exhales sharply, her body relaxing a smidge. Azazel's grin widens. He lowers the gun, his eyes never leaving Cherrie's. He sheds his vest, revealing a sculpted torso, his skin glistening. His hands roam over his body, sending a jolt of desire through Cherrie. “Your turn, my beauty.” He encourages.

Cherrie's excitement continues to grow as she takes the gun from him. She brings the cold metal to her temple, feeling the chill against her skin. Her eyes lock with Azazel's, daring him to watch as she pulls the trigger.

*Click.*

Another empty chamber. Cherrie lets out a soft laugh, her body tingling with adrenaline. She hands the gun back to Azazel, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of fear and desire.

“We're both still alive, my love. What now?”

Azazel's gaze intensifies, his eyes burning into hers. "Now, we take it to the next level."

He climbs on top of Cherrie and slowly pushes her onto her back, his muscular body looming over her. With one hand, he pushes the gun into her hand, pressing it against her soft skin. His other hand reaches down, caressing her thigh, slowly moving upwards towards her core. Cherrie's breath quickens as his fingers brush against her sensitive flesh.

“I want you to play with yourself, Cherrie. Show me how much you want it. How much you want me.”

Cherrie brings the gun down, pressing it against her breast–the cold metal contrasting with her warm skin. Her other hand moves to her thigh, mirroring Azazel's touch. She begins to stroke herself, her fingers gliding over her soft curves in teasing strokes.

“That's it, Baby. Touch yourself. Make yourself wet for me.”

Cherrie moans softly, her body responding to his words. She slides her fingers lower, finding her wetness. Her fingers dip into her warmth, her body arching slightly as she begins to pleasure herself.

“That's it. Keep going. Show me how much you want this.”

Cherrie's movements become more frantic, her fingers working feverishly as she brings herself closer to the edge. Azazel's hand moves to her breast, squeezing gently, his thumb teasing her nipple. Her breath comes in short gasps as her body trembles with pleasure.

Azazel takes the gun and puts it to Cherrie’s temple, looking her in the eyes, “Do you trust me, my sweet little cherry blossom?”

“With my soul.” She softly bites her lip

“Till we meet in death,” Azazel whispers

“Till we meet in death,” Cherrie repeats

Azazel slowly slides his dick inside of Cherrie’s pussy, and moans in pleasure, right before he pulls the trigger.

*Click*

Cherrie moans, wrapping her legs around Azazel’s waist, pulling him deeper inside of her. She then takes the gun and points it at Azazel’s chest.

“Deeper please, Daddy. I want every inch of you.”

Azazel starts to thrust in and out of Cherrie harder. Cherrie's orgasm builds, her body tensing as she teeters on the brink.

*Click*

Azazel's hand moves lower, his fingers sliding inside her, thrusting in rhythm with the movement of Cherrie’s hips. She cries out, her body convulsing with pleasure. She drops the gun next to them and pulls Azazel in for a kiss.

Their tongues move in sync as Azazel continues stroking in and out of Cherrie.

Cherrie bites Azazel’s bottom lip, drawing blood as she arches her back and her eyes roll back in pleasure. Breaking the kiss, Azazel trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

“Cum with me, Babygirl.”

Cherrie's hips buck off the bed, her hands tangling in the sheets as she tries to anchor herself against the overwhelming sensations. Azazel laces his fingers with Cherrie’s as they orgasm together. Their moans fill the room, their orgasms ripping through them–strong enough to upset the cosmic balance.

Azazel slowly pulls out of Cherrie and with deliberate slowness, slides down her body, his lips and tongue leaving a path of wet kisses along her stomach. Kneeling between her thighs, Azazel parts Cherrie's folds with his thumbs, exposing her glistening pinkness. He leans in, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh, causing her to shudder. With a flick of his tongue, he teases her clit, sending sparks of pleasure through her body. He smiles at the sight of cum dripping out of her.

“You're mine, Cherrie. My little stuffed twinkie.”

Azazel sticks out his tongue and lets the cum drip into his mouth. He stands and grips Cherrie’s face forcing her mouth open as he spits the cum inside, leaving her to swallow every drop..

“And you're mine, Azazel. Forever.”

Azazel puts his hand out. “Let’s get you all cleaned up and fed my queen.”

Cherrie tries to jump out of bed, but one foot gets caught in the sheet, and she ends up face-planting the floor. She giggles and puts a thumbs up in the air.

“Five second rule!”

Azazel giggles. “Get up, ya goofball”

…

Cherrie steps into the shower, the hot water cascading down her body, washing away the sweat and evidence of their lovemaking. Her skin glows in the steam, her curves accentuated by the water's caress. She closes her eyes, tilting her face toward the showerhead, enjoying the sensation.

“You're so beautiful, Cherrie. I love watching the water run over your body.”

“It feels amazing. But I have a feeling you're going to make it even better.”

Azazel slowly lifts Cherrie’s chin so their eyes meet. “Oh, I plan to. But first, let me wash that gorgeous hair of yours.”

He reaches for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. With gentle, massaging motions, he works the lather into Cherrie's hair, his fingers kneading her scalp, sending shivers down her spine. The scent of the shampoo fills the steamy air, a sweet, floral fragrance that adds to the sensual atmosphere.

Cherrie takes a breath and closes her eyes.

“Mmm, that feels so good. You have magic hands, Azazel.”

Azazel's hands move with purpose, his fingers working the shampoo into a rich lather, ensuring every strand of Cherrie's hair is thoroughly cleansed. He takes his time, his touch firm yet gentle, and his breath warm against her neck.

“Thank you for always taking care of me and spoiling me, Daddy.”

Azazel smiles. “I aim to please, my love. But I'm not done with you yet.”

With that, Azazel reaches for the body wash, his hands gliding over Cherrie's body, covering her in a layer of creamy lather. His touch is deliberate, his fingers exploring every inch of her curves.–from the soft swell of her breasts, to the roundness of her hips.

His hands glide over her body with expert precision, his fingers finding her most sensitive spots, eliciting gasps and moans from her plump lips. He teases her nipples, rolling them between his fingers, causing her to arch her back and press into his touch.

As the shower fills with steam, their bodies become a blur of passion and desire. Azazel's hands roam freely, exploring every inch of Cherrie's wet, soapy skin. He kneels, his lips trailing down her body, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites, until he reaches her throbbing core.

“Azazel, please.” Cherrie moans

“Patience, my love. I'm going to make this last.”

He continues to tease her, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy over and over again. Cherrie's legs tremble, her body shaking with the effort to hold back her orgasm.

“Please, Az. I can't take much more.”

“That's what I like to hear. But I'm not done with you yet.”

With that, he stands, his body pressing against Cherrie's, his hardness evident against her wet skin. He lifts her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he enters her in one smooth motion.

“Oh, God … Daddy!”

“You feel incredible, Baby. I want to feel you cum around me.”

He increases the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and deeper, his hands gripping her curves possessively. Cherrie's body responds, her muscles clenching around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rides the wave of pleasure.

“Azazel, I'm close. I can't hold on much longer.”

“Let go, my love. Cum for me.”

With one final, powerful thrust, Cherrie's body shudders, her orgasm ripping through her. She cries out, her voice echoing off the shower walls as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her.

Azazel holds her tightly, his own release building as he feels her climax around him. He groans, his body trembling while he empties himself deep within her, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

As their heart rates slow, they remain locked in an embrace, the hot water still cascading over them. Cherrie's head rests on Azazel's shoulder, her body limp and satisfied.

“Az, that was…”

“Perfect.”

With that, they step out of the shower, the steam slowly dissipating, leaving them with a sense of renewed energy and a deep connection forged through their shared passion.