Cucked By The Dead: Part 1 (Patreon)

I'm still working my way through my first draft of 'Trade', so there will be some more sections of that on their way shortly.

But at the same time I've also decided to dust off an old project from a long time ago and finish it off. I had pretty much assumed I'd never return to it, because it's so long since I've started and because I don't know if it would be allowed on Amazon. But when I read back through my draft I realised I actually love it, so I want to go for it and try finish it off.

It's called Cucked By The Dead and it's It's a kind of silly mix of erotica and horror. Who knows if anyone will like it - I feel like maybe horror and erotica aren't necessarily a great mix. But I want to share it with you anyway, and I'm interested to know what you think.

Some of you may remember the first scene because I've posted it as a stand-alone post before. But now I'm planning to share the whole story - up to where I got to so far, and as I continue to work through it.

💀 ☠️ 💀 ☠️ 💀 ☠️ 💀 ☠️ 💀

For the first second or two after I wake up I’m confused about where I am. The curtains are thin and the moonlight is illuminating the room just enough to make out shapes in the darkness. But none of the shapes or the shadows in the room look familiar. It takes a few panicked breaths before I remember that I’m in my own, familiar bed, just in an unfamiliar bedroom. The memory of the day before comes back to me and I remember moving in, assembling the bed, standing on the balcony on the other side of those thin curtains and looking out onto our new neighbourhood.

I can’t remember what I was dreaming that woke me up. But I have a feeling it was something disturbing, because I’ve got that uneasy feeling you get when you wake up from a nightmare. I have a sense that I find hard to identify: like a sick dread, like I’ve witnessed something menacing and my gut knows it’s still here, lingering in the darkness somewhere. 

Whatever it was that scared me though, it obviously wasn’t enough to stop me getting hard in my sleep.

I turn my head to look at Keith. He’s asleep, sprawled out on his back, his face facing mine. One hand, the one closest to me, is resting by his face. The other’s by his side under the covers.

He grunts softly. His eyes twitch. His mouth, too, making his thick moustache wriggle like a slug trying to crawl away. That moustache, that square jaw with a couple of days’ worth of stubble, they make him look like a Tom of Finland character. God, he’s fucking handsome. And I’m fucking lucky.

He grunts again, this time followed by a long, contented sigh. “Mmmh.” He squirms a little before settling again. Another twitch of the eyes, another sigh.

I see the blankets move where his hand is. That’s when I notice the tent in the sheets: he’s hard too. I see the lump travel, disturbing the sheets as it moves from his side to his crotch. Another little moan of contentment, and the sheets start to rise and fall over his cock as he slowly strokes it.

I look at his face. No sign that he’s awake, or conscious of what he’s doing. He looks happy though.

I’ve never seen him jack off in his sleep before. It’s a fucking turn-on though. My hard-on hasn’t subsided yet from when I woke, and the sight of him stroking himself off in his sleep makes my own cock throb with arousal. 

I consider sliding my own hand across the bed, under the sheets, and taking over from him. It’s always better when you have someone else to do it for you. But I don’t want to wake him, or disturb the moment he’s having. So I don’t touch him. Instead I run my hand down my own body till it finds my hard cock, and I start stroking myself too.

Keith lets out another moan, a blissful, long exhalation. As I stroke my cock I look straight at his face. His eyebrows furrow a tiny bit, that familiar expression I see on his face when he’s having his cock serviced and it’s starting to really get him off. He bites his lower lip and lets out a long, low moan, louder this time than the ones before. He’s picking up the pace. I do too. 

I bring my hand out from under the covers, spit into it and the wrap my hand back around my cock, rubbing the saliva all over to lube it up. I let my hand glide up and down the shaft, focusing my efforts on putting just enough pressure right on that sweet spot where the shaft meets the underside of the head.

Keith starts to writhe in the bed; the combination of what he’s doing to himself and whatever he must be dreaming about is really getting him going. His breath is getting deeper and faster, and louder. Suddenly he inhales sharply, holds his breath, and I can feel the mattress move as his body tenses up. For a moment everything is still and silent, before he slowly exhales and relaxes his body again.

I realise I’ve stopped too, caught up in the moment of his climax. But I’m close too, so I start stroking again. Fast, tugging it back and forth, feeling the pressure of my orgasm building. My breath’s getting faster and harder — I’m breathing shallow to keep the noise down — and then with a little grunt I cum, my load landing on my chest in three separate shots one after the other.

As I lie there, by breath returning to normal, I feel Keith shuffle in the bed next to me, turning over onto his side facing away. As he settles onto his stomach he lets out a contented sigh, and I hear him mumble, “Thank you.”

I chuckle quietly. Then I wonder who it is he’s thanking in his dream.

☠️ ☠️ ☠️

When I wake up in the morning I’m alone in the bed. The room is light; the curtains are still closed but they’re permeated by sunlight. I adjust the pillows, stealing one from Keith’s side of the bed, and I sit up. 

The room is in a state of semi-completion. The chest of drawers we brought with us is the only item of furniture other than the bed. Apart from that there’s stacks of boxes that are yet to be opened and put away in the wardrobe, and a couple of pictures leaned in a corner waiting to be hung.

I check my phone for a couple of minutes, kind of hoping Keith will return any second now with coffee. But with no coffee in sight I throw back the covers and got out of bed.

I walk out into the hallway. It’s dark and dingy; it’s a narrow row-house, with neighbours on either side separated by brick walls, so there are no windows in this part of the house. At the end of the hallway is the second bedroom which we’re planning to make into a workspace. And to the right, the door to the bathroom. There had originally been a third small bedroom, but the previous owners had turned it into a large wardrobe and some extra floorspace in the master bedroom. 

I walk down the staircase, the stairs creaking under my feet. As I go I run my hand along the bricks, weathered and chipped but covered over in a layer of white paint that’s smooth to the touch. 

By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs I can hear and smell cooking, and I find Keith in the kitchen at the back end of the house. He’s in just his underwear, the muscles on his torso flexing as he reaches across to put toast in the toaster while continuing to scramble the eggs on the stove.

“Morning,” he says cheerfully, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey. I wasn’t expecting to find you cooking me breakfast.”

He shrugs. “Anything for you, babe. Coffee’s there in the machine if you want any.”

I  eye up the boxes stacked on the kitchen table, one of which has to contain the mugs. Keith stops me before I started rummaging through them though. “I’ve unpacked the mugs already. Second cupboard from the end.” He pointed.

“Wow, you’ve been busy.” I grab a mug and pour myself. “How long have you been up for?”

“An hour or so, maybe,” he replies. “I guess I just woke up early. Had the best sleep in ages.”

I suddenly remember the middle-of-the-night jack-off session, which seems so hazy in my head that for a second I wonder if I had just dreamt it. But no, it definitely happened. Thinking about it makes me laugh.

“What?” Keith asks.

“Do you remember the dream you had last night?”

He pauses and thinks about it. “No. Why?”

“Remember doing anything in the night?”

“Doing anything?” He looks perplexed. “No. Doing what?”

“I woke up in the night and it looked like you were in the middle of a really good dream.”

“You could tell I was dreaming? How?”

“Because you were making a bunch of sex noises, and then you jerked off in your sleep.” I couldn’t help grinning as I told him.

At first Keith looks a little shocked. I can see his eyes start to dart around in different directions as he tries to cast his mind back. “Are you sure?” he asks finally.

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

He touches his happy trail, just above his belly button, with a thoughtful look on his face. “I hadn’t even stopped to wonder why I woke up with dried cum all over me this morning.” He laughs. “Oh shit. That’s kinda embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? It was hot. You got me going too.”

“Oh really?” He puts down the spatula and walks over to me. He put his arms around me, resting his hands on each hip. “You liked seeing it?”

I nod, and kiss him slowly.

“So I guess we kind of did christen the new bedroom last night after all. I’m glad; it felt a little inadequate just going to sleep without it.”

“I still think we should christen it properly though,” I reply. “Together. As soon as possible.”

He kisses me. “Breakfast first. But after that we can christen it all day.”