Monstrous Lust- Night Gallery of Monster Sex and Debauchery Read online

  Monstrous Lust

  The Saga of a Erotically Monstrous Forest

  NIGHT GALLERY

  of monster sex and debauchery

  By

  E.M. Beastly

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  Copyright © 2018 E.M. Beastly

  Kindle Edition

  Independently Published

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  THERE IS ALWAYS MORE STORIES COMING OUT. IF YOU LIKE WHAT YOU READ, CHECK OUT THESE AND OTHER UPCOMING STORIES ON AMAZON.COM

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  The Forest of Lust Collection: Bundle #1

  Beasts of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water: Bundle #2

  Squirming Tentacles and other Monstrous Delights: Bundle #3

  Exotic Wilds and the Beasts they Hide: Bundle #4

  Howling Pleasures from Throbbing Night Treasures #5

  Monstrous Seeds made from Monstrous Deeds: Bundle #6

  Eldtritch Desires "Sex and Monsters Bundle #7

  The Devil's Garden of Dark Delights (Another Monstrous Collection of Forbidden Lust)

  Monstrous Family Affairs and Other Dark Tales: Another Monstrous Bundle by E.M. Beastly

  The Forest Stud's Ultimate Bundle:

  THE TOME OF MONSTROUS LUST

  * * *

  Let The Monstrous Lust Continue!!!

  I am an author who loves the weird. I hail from the empty state of Wyoming and spend my time, when not writing erotica, reading weird stories by authors like Lovecraft, Lord Dunsany, F. Marion Crawford and others who like the strange. They inspire me to make erotic monster stories. Its fun and fascinating to explore this strange, taboo side of sexual ideas. So if you want to read erotica that explores some new territory, mixing weird monsters and hot fun, then stop on by and take a read.

  My Twitter: Where I like to share my releases and other things.

  https://twitter.com/em_beastly

  Oh Hey, I now have a email newsletter to let you know when new releases are put on the shelf.

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  Nick hesitantly walked up to the front door of the museum. He hated this place. Sure, it had a nice collection of fine art, if erotically charged pieces were your thing. To be fair, it wasn't all bad. There were some fine nature pieces by artists such as Claude Monet and Winslow Homer. However, it wasn't the art that was the problem, it was the building itself, its location and the woman who ran it.

  Rose was her name, a fiery redheaded beauty to be sure. She had all the flare of a noir dame. She perfectly played the role of the seductive songbird that sings in the shady nightclub the detective of the story visits while following a lead to his case. Always wearing red and always in a dress that is far too revealing, she is the sort who acts like the innocent victim. Yet, when the detective cracks the case, she is always elbows deep into the whole mess.

  Nick couldn't trust her as far he could spit even if he found the irony of his situation. Usually, in such stories, it was the wife who was jealously suspicious of her husband. It should be Olivia jealously concerned that he might be cheating on her with this Rose person. Rose was definitely the type most men would be tempted to cheat with, and the type that would absolutely let them do it too.

  Nonetheless, his wife met Rose one night at no other than one of those shady nightclubs. Rose filled the role of that sexy singer on stage with a lavish red dress that sparkled in the spotlight almost too well. Up there in lights and glamour, she was a sight for the eyes and a pleasure to Nick's ears.

  Rose only became a problem after her performance. He wasn't sure what led to the attraction to his wife but they met and starting drinking and talking together. Their subject of interest started with art, and the next thing he knew his wife wanted to visit Rose's museum, a quaint little place practically in the middle of nowhere. There really is nothing for miles around it but mountain forests. Well, there is also a small town but it hardly justifies the existence of such a museum housing exquisite and expensive works of art. Every time Nick had come out here with his wife the place had always been absent of other patrons or visitors. Rose ran the place by herself; she even lived in the museum, having a personal room in the back.

  That first time they came out here was fine. His wife wanted to see some art and he didn't think it a bad idea either. The hour drive was a bit long, mostly because it went through winding canyon roads. He was less than impressed by the size and the condition of the museum upon their arrival: An old building, one that had to be a hundred years old.

  It looked to have been a house at one point in its history. In its heyday, it must have been quite extravagant as it was of a most elegant colonial design. Nowadays, as a museum, its paint peeled and there were missing tiles on its roof. One could hardly suspect it was holding great art of the likes of Francisco Goya or Peter Paul Ruben.

  The whole place was creepy, especially inside. The halls and rooms were gloomy. The place seemed devoid of windows and lights; Rose said it was to preserve the paintings better. The bare floorboards creaked and moaned when walked across. Spider webs occupied nearly every corner, Nick had watched such a creepy crawler scurry across one of the seductive paintings by Jean-Honoré Fragonard; a painting that Nick found too dark and weird to be erotic even without the spider helping.

  Adding to the weird, the interior of the building just seemed wrong to Nick. The rooms and halls were disorienting, making no sense as to how they were put together. The whole place seemed bigger than it should be, and some rooms were slanted or maybe it was just a disorienting illusion caused by the weird angles of the ceilings and walls. It was only part of the reason Nick didn't have the interest to return here.

  The erotic nature of many of the pieces also had something to do with his reluctance to return. The artists were all well known and famous, while the pieces were beautifully exquisite, but something about the mix of atmosphere and imagery felt wrong. Rose also preferred to highlight the more unusual stuff. She had at least five different versions of 'Leda and the Swan,' and a bunch of others depicting goatish satyrs doing graphic things to women. There was even a large sculpture dedicated to the wild god's gluttony for lust, wholly depicting him in the act of cunnilingus.

  Rose was an erotically charged woman. It did not take long for Nick to put two and two together. She dressed in red dresses that showed off her sensual curves through thin satin. Then there was her uncomfortable stare always watching them as they perused through her gallery. It only asked the question of why they were the only two people in her abode, or why Rose followed them like a predator stalking prey. Her eyes always looked hungry, eyeing both him and his wife in such a way that always made him feel like he was naked. If he didn't cover himself up quick, she would pounce on him in one of her convenient love stalls she seemed to have ready for every painting.

  In front of every erotically charged piece of art were placed curvy, luscious-red chaises. Their intentions seemed all too obvious to Nick. He had to wonder how many patrons to the museums were encouraged to use these recliners for more than just sitting to enjoy the art. They looked comfortable to rest on only if you had someone else to do it with, preferably while lying down or perhaps on one's hands and knees.

  Olivia didn't see it that way and thought Nick was overreacting. In the beginning, he thought he was too. The suggestion of such an idea was mostly on a whim. He had to laugh at himself back then for bringing up the idea of him and his wife somehow getting hot and bothered by a nude painting by Diego Velázquez and finding the conveniently placed chaise as someplace to get a little intimate. However, there
was just something about Rose, the way she walked, talked and presented her prized artwork that hinted that was exactly what she wanted her visitors to do, and she would be right there to watch it all happen.

  He and Olivia argued about it, but the more she visited that woman and her estate, the more he could see she was hiding something from him. Olivia seemed to get rosy cheeks and a flustered, dismissing attitude whenever he tried to confront her about what she and Rose would talk about in private.

  More and more she wanted to go visit Rose while Nick had enough after his third time walking these halls. Nick tried to tell himself then that his wife just liked the art and had made herself a friend. After all, Olivia and Rose did spend a lot of their time at the nightclub where they first met.

  She started staying out late with Rose, not coming home until after nine at night. Then it was after ten and then eleven, soon she wasn't coming home until the wee hours of the morning. Still, Nick tried not to worry too much about it. He did voice his concern. After all, it was a nightclub and Olivia was drinking more now that she was spending this time with Rose.

  As much as his wife's new drinking habits and late night partying aggravated him. It was when she started not coming home until the next day or even the day after that truly set him off. Olivia had started to go home with Rose after their nights of drinking.

  Sure, he liked to think he was a progressive thinker, but that still didn't change the fact that his wife could be cheating on him with another woman. He couldn't imagine it really, at least, not at first. His wife never showed any signs of swinging that way, but that Rose woman. There was something poisonous about her.

  He could feel her trying to put her claws and fangs into him whenever they met. It was why he decided to stay away from her. He argued extensively with Olivia to do the same. Rose did more than flirt, and she was more than some slut. Nick could not put a finger on it, but something just didn't feel right.

  Many men would get excited about the prospects of a possible three-way with their wife and some lovely stranger. Nick found he was thinking about it more than he liked to, especially while he and his wife had sex. This was funny when he thought about it. Their sex life had improved since the introduction of Rose and her art gallery. It was funny again because they also were fighting more and it was all because of Rose.

  Nick's marriage had turned into a weird circus of arguments and sex, but only if his wife was home. It turned into a regular routine. His wife would come home first in the late hours of the night. Concerned and worried, he would be waiting for her, or at least he was at first. Later, he started going to bed just so he could try to avoid her.

  She came home each time this different woman. She was this voracious animal. She didn't want to talk, argue, or do anything other than fuck her husbands brains out.

  Olivia became incredibly strong. Even if he tried to sleep, she would come and rip him out the bed, tear off all his clothes, and fuck him until the sun came up. It made for a very exhausting day at work and even more so for the rest of his workweek when she kept doing it night after night.

  Nick knew he shouldn't complain as other husbands would be jealous of such a sex life. The problem was, this wasn't Nick's wife. Sure, she looked like her and sounded like her, but her actions and her attitude belonged to someone else. Olivia was a gentle woman. She liked to cuddle and have sweet romance. Sex was something you earned and savored with her, and he was proud of himself every time he earned a night of romantic passion.

  Even before they were married and even during their honeymoon, they would first snuggle up together in a private and romantic scene; in front of the fireplace was a classic spot.

  First, they would touch; nothing serious but playful tickling or flirtatious shoulder rubs. Then came the kissing, just playful pecks at first but soon they were all over each other as they nipped sensually at the others lips, cheeks, neck and sometimes an ear. It was during this time that he had to skillfully undress her. Playing a game of, 'don't let her know I'm trying to undo her bra or slip off her panties,' by keeping her occupied with so many wet kisses. When she discovered what he was doing, she was already playing the same game. Her hands were already down stroking his cock as his hands played around inside her shirt wrestling with her jiggling tits he had just unbound from her bra.

  They would play around like this for a while, still kissing passionately. The goal of the game was to see who could get the other completely naked first. If either one stopped kissing or whispering sweet nothings in the other's ear, then they lost and the game was over.

  Neither wanted the game to end and so both restrained themselves from attacking each other's privates too rigorously. Nick had mastered the art of restraint by keeping his hands only on her tits even though he so badly wanted to run his fingers through the lips of her vagina or stimulate the cute button that was her clitoris. She would slap him away if he tried anyway, even if it wasn't fair because he let her do whatever she wanted to his cock with her fingers.

  It was only after they were fully undressed and eyeing each other's naked beauty when he was allowed to explore more of her with his touch. Nick was always so excited to finally make it this far. He felt like he earned the right to penetrate his wife. He savored it, slowly sinking his cock to watch it disappear into the soft pink depths of his wife's body. Her warm wet juices making a cute squishing sound as it accepted his gift.

  Their union wasn't about the pleasures of the flesh. He had learned to not concern himself over just getting his dick wet. His love for Olivia was about embracing all her body, every curve and every detail of her face, neck, breasts and navel. He felt down her arms and rubbed her legs with his. He loved every part of her.

  That was not how it was anymore. At first, though surprised with the change, he thought it as a nice change. That first late night he waited for her to come home from her night out with Rose, she jumped upon him like a wild animal.

  Olivia was ravenous for sex. She took control of the situation and threw him to the bed. She didn't even wait for his clothes to come off before she was grinding her hips against him, her body starving for his cock.

  It was the quickest he ever came for her. Yet, she continued to shock him. Before he could stop cumming inside of her, she jumped off of him and made his final squirts go into her mouth. Rarely had Olivia performed oral on him and never with such a ravenous and messy appetite.

  It was also the first time she came back for seconds. Usually the goal was to make the moment last. Now, it was a test of endurance to see how long he could last. Each night she demanded more and more from his body while her own stamina was everlasting. She made him fuck her in every known position. If he tired, she would take up the role of dominant partner. When he had nothing left to give, his body limp and out of juice, then she demanded he pleasure her in other ways. Nick could still remember the first time Olivia forced him to eat her pussy with his cum stool drooling from it.

  These nights of ravenous sex made him feel dirty and disgusting. He felt no better than some porn star performing in some of the worst and raunchiest works of porn ever recorded to VHS. Sometimes he was half-thankful for the nights Olivia didn't come home.

  Her not coming home was why he was standing here now at the threshold of Rose's abode. For three days now, his wife had not come home. He knew she was here, police and phone calls confirmed it. Nor was this the first time he had to resort to extreme measures to find out why his wife hadn't come home.

  It was always the same reason: Rose. Her friendship with his wife had become something more than just a friendship. Olivia always told him the same lies that they would just drink, talk, and admire Rose's art. It never explained her wild hunger for sex or her newfound lack of modesty. Nor did it explain why she only came home just for sex. She would disappear again as soon as the next evening arose or before Nick could recover enough to have any meaningful conversation with her.

  Nick knocked on the front door while furiously calling out for his wif
e. The old wooden door was massive and intimidating. Even it extruded a menacing sensuality of pagan hedonism. It was not a simple door but an arched portal into a gallery of debauchery some would like to call art.

  The doorway opened for him because it was neither locked nor latched. It simply gave way to his angry fisting of its wooden exterior. As it swung open with a loud creak, it allowed him to peer into the familiar dark and crooked hallways.

  They were completely empty of sound or presence. He shouted down the corridors for both Rose and his wife but the halls only echoed with his distressed cries.

  Was nobody here? Nick couldn't understand it. They must be here. This was the only place they would go. There was only the nightclub and this place. The gallery was dark and the halls empty, his wife and that woman must be hiding in a hidden chamber. After all, the place was much larger than it appeared from the outside. There must be rooms that he didn't know about. Therefore, he disregarded privacy and property and began to search the halls still calling out for his beloved.

  He couldn't find a light switch, so he had to deal with the dark and gloomy corridors. They were just as twisted and weird as always, but the dark gloom somehow made them different. He couldn't figure out why, but the angles and the way the wooden boards and beams were put together made him feel like he was walking through a forest. It had a similar vibe as the forest that surrounded this place. Fitting, he supposed, but it only gave him a greater reason to reject this place.

  Nick turned a corner; he stopped dead and almost fell over. The painting in front of him acted like an imposing figure. A large canvas depicted a zoomed in view of a naked vagina; it was the centerfold of the piece. The title was 'The Origin of the World,' from artist Gustave Courbet, a famous and highly controversial artist of his day.