Mr Hopkins.
With his bald head and thin spindly limbs. His pinched face and emaciated body.
Misty shivered at the thought. But he was supposed to have a really big willy and know how to use it.
She laughed at herself. Willy! Really! “Mr Hopkins has a cock.” She said to her reflection. “A big fat cock.”
Peter Hopkins was awake early the following morning. As he busied himself with making breakfast he thought about young Misty Gardner. He didn`t really know what to make of her. She was beautiful without a doubt, but didn`t seem to socialise much. She rarely had friends around, and he had never seen her with a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend for that matter.
The last time he had fucked her Grandmother was only two weeks before her death. The old bird knew she was dying, but still wanted cock. He smiled at the memory. She told him that Misty was a virgin, and she hoped that it would be he that fucked her into the real world. He knew that she loved her Granddaughter dearly, but by God she was a dirty fucked up bitch. Just the way he liked them.
He heard footsteps above his head, and knew that Misty was on her way to work. He had originally taken to waiting outside his front door when she left, because looking directly above his head, he could see through the holes in the grating. If she was wearing a skirt, he would more often than not, be treated to a flash of white panty. But these days she tended to wear trousers or jeans, so he figured he`d been rumbled.
Looking out of his dining room window he watched as she made her way to her car. What a fantastic piece of cunt, he thought to himself. But a piece like that wasn`t going to stay cherry for long. He had to press on with his plan.
Peter Hopkins hadn`t been a practicing Satanist for many years, but even when he was, he was only in it for the sex and the drugs. Most of it was rubbish of course, utter crap. But as he rose within the ranks, he had been instructed in various rituals that had been of great benefit to him. Things that only those who attained the very highest rankings got to know about.
The first of these was the knowledge of how to supercharge his libido. Even at eighty years old, his sexual stamina was way in excess of even the most hormonal teenage boy, and his thick, ten-and-a-half-inch erection, remained as stiff and hard as it had ever been. Then of course, was his spunk. It was copious to say the least, being in much greater volume than the average male could ever hope to produce.
The second, was how to fuck any woman he wanted. Once they had tasted his `special mixture` they simply couldn`t say no. And it was this mixture that he was about to prepare and feed, to poor unsuspecting Misty.
Removing his clothes, he took a wooden bowl from the kitchen and placed it on the table. Taking his cock in hand, he closed his eyes and began a slow stroking motion, quickly bringing the long flaccid organ to full erection. He fantasised about Misty while he did this. This was a very important part of the ritual. At the moment of orgasm, he had to be thinking of the woman he wanted to seduce. This wasn`t hard. He pictured her naked, riding his thick cock. Pushing her tits into his face, urging her swollen nipples into his mouth.
His hand moved faster, flashing up and down his cock, groaning loudly as the crisis approached. He aimed the head of his cock into the bowl and a moment later, a steady stream of spunk began running into the bowl. It was thin and weak, the consistency of piss, but this was how it started. As his orgasm reached a crescendo, a white-hot surge of sperm spattered heavily against the side of the bowl, followed by another, and another.
Peter was bent almost double, as still more heavy jets of spunk erupted from the spasming organ, coating the sides and bottom of the bowl.
Having milked the last of his sperm into the container, he took another glass which contained a mixture of plants and herbs which he`d distilled into a clear watery solution and added it to the bowl. He stirred the mixture thoroughly.
Now came the hard part. The incantation was long and difficult, with each word, phrase, and inflection, needing to be precise and accurate. But Peter was a master at this. He sat naked over the bowl with eyes closed and recited the whole thing from memory. Never pausing or hesitating, the strange words and syllables rolled off his tongue, and when he had finished, he opened his eyes and smiled.
The large bubble in the middle of the mixture told him it had worked. Now for stage two.
Retrieving Misty`s milk from the bottom of the staircase, he unscrewed the cap, and poured the milk into the bowl, mixing it with the thick viscous liquid already there. Satisfied, he poured it back into the plastic container and replaced the cap.
He knew from personal experience that the mixture tasted foul, but Misty would taste whatever she expected to taste. If she expected to taste milk she would taste milk. As long as she didn`t give it to anyone else he was safe.
It was a tried and tested formula that had worked on countless women, and it would work on Misty too. This was her third dose in as many days and he was expecting to see some significant results.
He placed the contaminated milk outside Misty`s door and waited for her to return.
Misty arrived home at her usual time and was fully prepared for another awkward encounter with Mr Hopkins. But he wasn`t there. She let herself into her flat and collected the milk that was sitting outside her door.
She was so pleased that she had kept her Gran`s milkman, as she drank loads of the stuff and it saved her a constant journey to the store. She took a long drink now, straight from the container, and sighed with pleasure. Why did it seem to taste so much better from the Milkman than it did from the store? She had taken some into work today and shared it with her colleagues in the staffroom, who promptly tipped it away as being off. Weirdos. It tasted just fine to Misty.
She ran herself a bath, and while she bathed she thought of Mr Hopkins in the flat below, and how when she had first moved in he tried to peer up her skirt from beneath the grating, the old lecher. She idly wondered what he would do if he got a flash of bare pussy. She giggled to herself. He would either croak it there and then, or a couple of days later from beating himself off.
She gently caressed her tits as she thought of the look on his face and noticed that her nipples had sprung suddenly erect. “Hi boys.” She said to them. “You`re frisky today.” She felt a shiver of excitement pass through her as she caressed them some more.
I can`t believe I`m getting turned on thinking about pervy Hopkins she thought to herself. But what would the old lecher think if he saw me do this, she thought to herself as she lifted her hips clear of the water and ran a long finger down the length of her slit. She put one leg on to the carpet and opened her legs wider eagerly rubbing her erect clit. “Or this.” she moaned, as she pushed the tip of her finger into her tight hole.