Page 20 of Snatched By the Scarecrow

It isn’t necessarily muscular, but it appears strong and whole. I tentatively reach out to feel, and when he doesn’t stop me, my hands connect with where a human man's abs should be.

His body is solid like his touch, and the texture is somehow soft with the subtle scratch of straw—but it’s not uncomfortable. I shift my hands up to his pecs, the surface tighter and stronger than his stomach. I become entranced by the way his chest moves up and down with breath, and I place one hand over where his heart should be and my eyes saucer when I feel a slow and gentle thump.

I pull in a breath and meet his face. He’s so expressive, and even without typical human features. I can feel that he’s afraid I don’t like it. That I don’t like him.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.

“Am I real enough for you?”

A sharp pain of regret lances through my chest. By all accounts, Silas should not be real, but everything about him is. What’s happening between us, it’s realer than anything I’ve felt in my life. That means he’s a god. One that has been killing people for hundreds of years. Who killed all those people back at the bonfire—but he did that for me.

Heat blooms in my chest and spreads to my stomach. I forget about the fact I still haven’t come and decide I’m going to show him how real I think he is, just like he proved it to me with that wicked mouth of his.

I drop to my knees, the hard dirt unforgiving on my joints. I delight in the pain and the slight sting of the cuts he made on my thigh.

He stares down at me, and any sane person would most likely scream in fear at how terrifying he appears.

Silas has never looked more like a god than right now. Lording over me, tall and strong, his head tilted to the side, wide-brimmed hat casting a half-shadow over his face. The moon lights up the night sky, shining an eerie gray glow over the rustling stalks of corn.

I place my fingers at the waistband of his pants. He stays still, watching me, waiting for my next move. I tug down the cloth, and his cock bobs free. My inner walls flutter and it seems impossible, but another gush of wetness drips from my pussy.

“Silas,” I whisper his name in awe.

His head remains tilted, watching me while I take his shaft in my hand. He’s thick. So much so that it fills my entire fist when I grip it. And hot, so hot I know it’s going to burn me from the inside out.

That’s not the most interesting thing about it though—it’s how it feels. The engorged shaft is ridged, covered in a bumpy texture that’s almost like I’m holding the very crop that is growing around us. His unique cock throbs in my hand, the broad crown of it leaking out a viscous pre-cum that makes my mouth water without even tasting it.

I grip my fist around him tighter, the rigidity giving way a bit. I know without a doubt it’s going to feel absolutely unreal sheathed inside my pussy. I jack downward along his length, and Silas lets out a low and haunting groan.

I twist my fist back up and down again, going lower until my hand meets something that stops my movement. My mouth drops open when I see what’s there. It’s not his balls, it’s a thick swelling before it. Something knot-like and bulbus, that looks to be slowly growing larger.

Silas’s hand finds the bulge and squeezes it with his fist. “You’ll take my knot, eager one. And my seed.”

Knot. He has a knot. My pussy flutters hungrily. I’ve only heard of knots in erotic stories and seen some on alien-style dildos that boutique sex stores often sell mostly online, but I never thought I’d see or experience one in reality.

“I will,” I respond eagerly. “I want it all, Silas. I want to take everything you’ll give me.” I knead his cock to make a point, and seal my lips over the broad head of him.

His flavor explodes on my tongue. Smokey fall nights, the subtle hint of freshly tilled earth, and an undertone of mulling spices hits every tastebud. I moan wildly, wanting more of it. No… needing more of it.

I become starved for him, sucking his shaft between my lips, the texture of him in my mouth a sinful and addictive sensation. Soft, yet hard, smooth, yet not. He removes his hand and guides the one I had on his cock to his knot, giving me more of him to take down my throat.

“That’s it, my eager one. Show me how much you want me. How well this warm hole was built to take me.”

I squeeze his knot and relax my tongue, breathing through my nose. Considering my last partner didn’t have one, I haven’t sucked a cock in a while. But Silas is right—there’s a knowing inside me that I was built for him. Whatever is happening between us right now, was meant to happen.

He slides further into my mouth, the crown of his shaft hitting the back of my throat, but I don’t stop. I swallow to give him more pleasure, my eyes watering at the sheer girth. He’s stretching my lips wide, and my jaw aches from the strain. He gathers my hair in one of his hands, his other holding my chin so he has control of my movements now.

“You’re mine to take, aren’t you?” he asks.

I moan a yes in response, my voice humming around his turgid flesh.

“I’m going to fuck this mouth now. Be a sweet whore and take it.”

My lower belly lances with arousal, and I place my hands on his hips to hold on for what I know is about to happen. I breathe through my nose again, looking up at him as best I can. Silas pulls back his hips before snapping them forward. I choke on his cock but I don’t allow myself to pull away, digging my fingers into his body.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “I’ve wanted this.”

All I can do as moan as he fucks into my mouth, using it as he pleases. His grip on my hair and chin turn brutal, and the joints of my knees smart from the position I’m in.