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Dorian
Dust
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2017
After the great rebellion in Heaven. Michael cast Lucifer and his minions into the eternal fire. Some Angels, however, chose no side in the conflict and did not participate in the ensuing war. These Angels were banished to earth rather than Hell . The became known as the “Watchers” and later the “Grigori”. There undoing was their fatal attraction to human women. They seduced and lay with them, using their powers to make themselves irresistable to any woman inclined to sexual experimentation…
Here is a story idea I would like to develop. If you are interested in writing for the trophy wife, then PM me and we can proceed. I don't have a list of O/O because the narrative will dictate, I hope. We can edit on the fly if something is a complete turn off for you. Thanks
The Grigori —The Watchers
For it was on account of these three things [fornication, uncleanness, and injustice – see Jubilees 7:20] that the flood was on the earth, since (it was) due to fornication that the Watchers had illicit intercourse – apart from the mandate of their authority – with women.
Once Pandor, once Galen, once Darit, once a legion of names long forgotten by all but himself: Thomas lurked in the recesses of the cathedral, cloaked by a fluted pillar and its veiling shadow. The oaken pew abutted the marble column and he leaned against it—waiting—watching. That was his nature, his calling, his mission: a Watcher, a Grigori.
The blaring horns and din of the street barely penetrated his musings, until eleven thirty when the faithful began to trickle then flood into the St. Michael’s. They plopped, knelt, sat in the pews around him till Thomas found himself within a crowd of worshippers. One child directly in front of him scolded her doll for not behaving in church and Thomas recived a flash image of her as a twenty-three year old sprawled over an unmade bed with a needle sticking out of her arm.
A splendid skirt-covered ass pulled his attention to the woman standing in the next pew forward. Her heels accentuated the sloping, taught buttocks and Thomas felt a growl forming deep within his chest. Women had been his obsession, his vulnerablility, his downfall for eons and he felt the ever so familiar stirring as he ogled the chiseled ass before him. The gentleman beside her reached an arm across her lower back and pulled her into him and turned to smile at her. He was at least twenty years her senior–a trophy wife, blonde, young, stunning.
Thomas sensed her tightening at his touch, her withdrawl even though she leaned her head into his shoulder and smiled up at him. Thomas received a deluge of images—her legs wrapped round a lover’s back as she thrust her hips hungrily into him demanding, harder, faster; her lips wrapped around a massive black cock; her hands pulling on two rampant cocks with a third looking wantonly over her shoulder. Her time was spent acquiring a string of salacious lovers and tristes. Her days a continual quest for sexual satisfaction. She laced her fingers into her husband’s hand and sang out the responses to the service. Thomas loved her from that moment onward.
He would follow the couple out of the cathedral and begin his seduction. She had never encountered one of the Grigori, he thought with satisfaction…
Here is a story idea I would like to develop. If you are interested in writing for the trophy wife, then PM me and we can proceed. I don't have a list of O/O because the narrative will dictate, I hope. We can edit on the fly if something is a complete turn off for you. Thanks
The Grigori —The Watchers
For it was on account of these three things [fornication, uncleanness, and injustice – see Jubilees 7:20] that the flood was on the earth, since (it was) due to fornication that the Watchers had illicit intercourse – apart from the mandate of their authority – with women.
Once Pandor, once Galen, once Darit, once a legion of names long forgotten by all but himself: Thomas lurked in the recesses of the cathedral, cloaked by a fluted pillar and its veiling shadow. The oaken pew abutted the marble column and he leaned against it—waiting—watching. That was his nature, his calling, his mission: a Watcher, a Grigori.
The blaring horns and din of the street barely penetrated his musings, until eleven thirty when the faithful began to trickle then flood into the St. Michael’s. They plopped, knelt, sat in the pews around him till Thomas found himself within a crowd of worshippers. One child directly in front of him scolded her doll for not behaving in church and Thomas recived a flash image of her as a twenty-three year old sprawled over an unmade bed with a needle sticking out of her arm.
A splendid skirt-covered ass pulled his attention to the woman standing in the next pew forward. Her heels accentuated the sloping, taught buttocks and Thomas felt a growl forming deep within his chest. Women had been his obsession, his vulnerablility, his downfall for eons and he felt the ever so familiar stirring as he ogled the chiseled ass before him. The gentleman beside her reached an arm across her lower back and pulled her into him and turned to smile at her. He was at least twenty years her senior–a trophy wife, blonde, young, stunning.
Thomas sensed her tightening at his touch, her withdrawl even though she leaned her head into his shoulder and smiled up at him. Thomas received a deluge of images—her legs wrapped round a lover’s back as she thrust her hips hungrily into him demanding, harder, faster; her lips wrapped around a massive black cock; her hands pulling on two rampant cocks with a third looking wantonly over her shoulder. Her time was spent acquiring a string of salacious lovers and tristes. Her days a continual quest for sexual satisfaction. She laced her fingers into her husband’s hand and sang out the responses to the service. Thomas loved her from that moment onward.
He would follow the couple out of the cathedral and begin his seduction. She had never encountered one of the Grigori, he thought with satisfaction…