The creatures fed intently, drawingtheir sustenance from each boy in snowy-colored spits or drizzles.Across the aisle from the feral boy, the deaf lad...huffed. His succubiadjusted its mouth; projected out over the boy's abdomen his penis was aquilled spike, hardened as granite, a pale extension of his body heldclenched by both the magical creature and the very human responses ateenage boy has to intense pleasure.The proboscis tightened, twisted in an undulating corkscrew – the boypanted. The. That was understandable. The kid was still wet behind the ears. She, no doubt, represented wisdom and safety to him. And, at eighteen, the hormones no doubt rushing through his body wouldn’t care if she was a nun or not. She was female. That’s all they cared about, at that age.Her mind wandered for fifteen seconds, trying to remember what it had been like when she was eighteen. There had been a boy, back then, not like Bobby Wilson, a normal boy who made her blood sing. How long had it been. More

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