Bill is a dreamer. He spends all his times dreaming about all the women he desires: Cynthia, Rochelle, Juanita, and Hikaru.

When Bill witnesses his dreams coming to life as a Succuba dominates Cynthia and transforms her from a good, Christian girl into a nymphomaniac, Bill vows to find out what’s going on. With the submissive Rochelle’s help, he attempts to unravel what’s going on. But Daevia the Succuba is going to stand idly by and let Bill ruin all her plans.

My Fallen Angel is a supernatural erotic thriller full of hot sex and exciting action. Join Bill and his women as they battle the supernatural and defend their college campus from Daevia’s predations.

Chapter One:

Juanita sat on her bed in her college dorm, sobbing onto the mussed sheets. She was alone, her roommate, Rochelle, had already left for classes. As had the man Juanita had sinned with last night. And again this morning. The proof was staining her thighs, forming a wet spot on her bed, and her pussy still ached from the vigor of their morning tryst.

Once again, she had given into her lusts. She was supposed to be better than this. She dreamed of being a preacher, attending Parkland Lutheran University to study theology. But what preacher gives into her lusts? And with a man she had only met the night before? How can I tend to a flock, if I can’t even control my own passions?

“Why am I so weak?” she prayed, looking up to the heavens. “Why can’t I resist sinning?”

Light blossomed. A man appeared before her, blue-white wings extended, his body burnished bronze. Juanita gasped; he was so handsome, a perfect specimen. Her eyes traveled his naked, muscular frame and widened at the size of his cock dangling from a thatch of golden hair. Desire burned between her thighs for this being.

He was an Angel sent from Heaven to answer her prayers.

“You are weak because you have yet to find the man your heart yearns for.”

“Who are you?” Juanita gasped, pulling the sheets up to hide her nakedness, new shame flushing through her.

“I am the Archangel Uriel, and I have a task for you.”

“What?” she eagerly asked, ecstasy gleaming in her eyes and joy bursting in her chest. I have been chosen. My faith is rewarded.

“I need your oath of obedience.”

“I swear I’ll obey you, Uriel,” she gasped without hesitation. An Angel asked her, how could she say no? He was a Heavenly being and whatever he asked would only be for the greater good.

“No matter what I ask of you?”

Her heart thudded and her answer came without hesitation: “I do, Uriel. I’ll obey you without question or hesitation!”

Something settled about her neck, clinking like metal, a great weight almost strangling her as it tightened about her throat. She reached for it, trying to feel what bound her neck, but there was nothing about her—her fingers found only her smooth skin. And then the weight vanished.

“Good,” he smiled. He held out his hand, light coalescing, shaping into a silver dagger. “Keep this safe until it’s needed.”

“I will,” she breathed. “What is my task?”

The Angel’s smile was perfect. “To save the world.”

~~ ~~~~~ ~~

Bill dreamed…

It was one of the few things he was good at. Ever since he had discovered there was a difference between men and women, those wonderful, feminine creatures had filled his dreams. Some would make brief, guest appearances, while others would show up time and time again.

Two of his favorites filled his dreams today. One was demure Cynthia, his beautiful co-worker whom Bill had had the biggest crush on since he had met her, stared up at him, her blue eyes shining with desire. A vivacious strawberry-blonde woman knelt next to Cynthia, pressing against the shy girl’s body, and reaching out to stroke his cock.

Pleasure burned through him as the redhead stroked him, her grip firm and skillful.

A third woman pressed her body against his back, her breast soft pillows topped with hard nipples. Her arms wrapped around him as she nuzzled his neck. Her bronze hands stood out against his white, flat stomach as she caressed him with fire.

“Suck his cock,” purred the redhead, holding it up to Cynthia’s lips.

Bill didn’t know the redhead’s name, but he had seen her around his college campus more than a few times since his Freshman year. He had always loved how she dressed in tight, low-riding jeans that showed off her thongs, and low-cut halter tops that left little of her lovely tits to the imagination. She was a frequent guest in his dreams, showing up as often as Cynthia, Juanita from his Religious Iconography class last semester, and the cute, Japanese coed that volunteered at the university’s library.

“You’ll love it, Cynthia.” The redhead’s hand slid slowly up Bill’s cock, drawing out a single drop of clear precum; he shuddered as she thumbed his tip.

“I shouldn’t,” Cynthia whispered. Even in Bill’s dream, she was a good girl, but since this was where his perverted subconsciousness ruled, his desires shaped Cynthia to be the woman he wanted—slutty. Her tongue licked out, swiping across his cock’s tip; more shudders swept through him.

“See, it’s not so bad.” The redhead licked at Cynthia’s neck, while her hands played with the sweet woman’s small breasts, little apples topped with dusky nipples. “Just open wide, and suck his cock. Let your slut out. I know you want to.”

A flush rolled across Cynthia’s tan face. She played lacrosse, and her face and forearms had a nice tan that slowly faded back to her pale, white complexion. “I shouldn’t. It’s so sinful.”

The redhead grasped a lock of Cynthia’s blonde hair—a lighter shade than Bill’s sandy blond hair—straight and lovely, and pulled the coed’s lips right to his hard, throbbing cock. The tip brushed her lips, and she opened wide. “That’s good, Mistress,” whispered the redhead. “Suck it, Master’ll like that.”

Bill groaned, savoring Cynthia’s sucking mouth—she felt like wet heaven and pleasure roared through him. The redhead leaned under her, and sucked his balls into her lips. The mysterious woman with the bronze skin tightened her grip about his body. He could feel her round breasts pressing against his back and heard a swishing noise, like the flap of wings. Her lips brushed his neck, cool against his burning flesh, kissing up to his ear.

“You want them both, don’t you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I guess,” Bill muttered.

He never had the courage to approach the redhead in real life. She was too confident and beautiful. What would she see in a loser like me? Bill was lean, not broad-shouldered like the jocks, his body more compact like a runner’s, and his hair was always a mess. Bill had nothing to offer to the gorgeous redhead. And Cynthia, well, she had turned him down more times then Bill could count.

“They’ll be yours one day,” cooed the mysterious woman, her lips brushing his ear. Her voice wasn’t familiar, and had a ringing, bell-like quality to it. “Just have faith.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder and their lips met; she tasted like the sweetest honey. “You’ll have both of them one day, and those other two you’re always dreaming after.”

“Umm, I can see why you chose him,” purred a sultry voice.

A fourth woman had joined Bill’s dream, as curvy as any centerfold model. Her skin was pale, and made her deep, red hair, almost the color of blood, stood out like a neon sign at night. Her breasts were amazing, large, round, perky, a silver chain piercing both her nipples, dangling down between her breasts. She was dressed like some sort of dominatrix: leather bustier that cupped those magnificent mounds, a black garter belt holding up thigh-high fishnets, stiletto heels, and elbow-length, leather gloves. For a moment, black wings flapped behind her.

The bronze woman’s arms tightened around Bill, wings flapping and a gentle breeze buffeted Bill, ruffling his mused, sandy-blonde hair. “He’s mine, Succuba. I have already claimed him.”

The dominatrix laughed, as deadly as a cougar. Her vulpine mouth twisted into a hungry smile. “Have him. He’s too soiled for me. The lust that brims in his mind…” Her hand lashed out, grabbing a fistful of Cynthia’s hair, and yanked the girl off Bill’s cock. “She’s more my style. Pure and innocent, don’t you think, Seraph?”

“Bill!” Cynthia shrieked, the dominatrix hauling her back. “Bill! Bill! Bill!”

“Bill! Wake up, Bill!”

Someone was prodding Bill’s arm.

“Bill!” A finger jabbed his arm hard. He groaned.

“Cynthia,” he muttered, opening his eyes. Cynthia was staring down at him, an exasperated look on her beautiful face.

“Wake up!” she hissed.

Frustration filled him as he came fully awake. Damn, I was looking forward to watching the dominatrix force Cynthia to pleasure her. He sighed. Why did my dreams always have to end at the good parts?

“Ms. Katsaros is back,” the blonde whispered. “Get up before you get in trouble again.”

He smiled up at Cynthia. “You’re the best. Let me thank you.”

She raised an eyebrow, asking, “Would that be dinner and a movie?”

“Sure. We’ll have fun.”

A faint tinge of red colored her cheeks. “I know what ‘fun’ means, Bill. I’m not that type of gal.”

He stood up, dusting off his pants. He was in the back room of the University Bookstore, and was using a small pile of textbooks as an impromptu, if uncomfortable, pillow. It was right next to the heating vent, and the warmth helped to zonk him out. He was supposed to be sorting the new shipment, but why should he do all that work when he could have a nice, perverted dream instead?

“You make it sound so dirty,” he protested. “I promise to be a complete gentleman.”

“Just like you were a complete gentleman with Tammy?” Her eyebrows arched and her voice had a frosty tone.

He coughed; he had had a nice romp with Tammy, a former employee, in the backroom almost two months ago and Cynthia would never let it drop. “Geez, it was just some fun. She kissed me first, anyways.”

“And that’s why I won’t date you,” she declared. “You’re too worldly, Bill.”

“I’ll come to church with you.”

She hesitated, frowning at him. “You’d still pressure me. I’m saving myself, you know that. It would just end badly.”

“You don’t know that. I could wait, for you.” It was a lie. He figured if he could just get his foot in the door, he could pry her fingers off her virginity. She was a great gal, sweet, kind, patient, and warm. Being pretty was just a bonus. “I fell for you the moment I saw you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. You fell heads over heels in love with me right into Tammy’s embrace, huh?”

Irritation flashed through him. “If you won’t date me, then you can’t act like a jealous girlfriend, Cynthia.”

“Sorry,” she flushed.

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Come on, give me a chance. Be my girlfriend for real. Then you can get as jealous as you want.”

“I told you, it’ll end badly.” She squeezed his hand back and warmth rolled through him. “You’re a great guy, but you’re just too worldly for me. I need a guy more my experience level.”

“You mean, none?”

She nodded.

“I’m not that experienced.”

“But you wish you were.” Her eyebrows arched. “You’re a pervert. You may be a great guy, but let’s be honest, Bill. I’m looking for a guy that’s…normal.”

“That guy doesn’t exist. We’re all perverts. I’m just honest about it.”

“I have faith my guy is out there.”

Have faith… A chill ran through him—déjà vu.

“I could change for you.”

Her smile was sad. “You can only change for yourself, Bill.”

“I mean it, Cynthia.” Probably. “You’re the one for me. I dream about you all the time.”

Her eyes flashed down and he was acutely aware of his hard-on tenting his jeans. “Yes. I think I know just the sort of dreams you’ve been having about me.”

“I can’t help it if I have dreams like that. You can’t control your dreams, Cynthia.”

She chewed on her lower lip, then opened her mouth, then snapped it and shook her head. “Listen, my shifts done. I have lacrosse practice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later,” he muttered, letting go of her hand and watching her blonde tresses disappear into the store.

Why does life have to be so complicated? Why can’t it be like my dreams? Bill knew she had a crush on him, though he didn’t understand how she could love a scruffy loser like him. But he could see her feelings in her eyes, and the way she always looked out for him. She was just scared; too wrapped up in her bible-belt upbringing to take a chance and have a little fun, and who knows, it could always lead to something more.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“What was that?” a woman barked.

He jumped, turning to see Ms. Katsaros glaring at him, hands on her hips. She was a tall, Greek woman, with glossy-black hair that fell in a wonderful curtain about her olive face. She wore a lavender pantsuit and flowery blouse that fit her perfectly, hugging her curves. Bill wanted to get down on his knees and worship her. She had a made a few appearances in his dreams. Not as often as the main four, but she put her time in.

“Nothing,” he muttered.

She eyed him, then looked at the boxes. “I want the shipment unpacked before your shift’s done, Bill.”

“Yes, Ms. Katsaros,” he nodded, flinching beneath her flinty stare.

“I don’t know why I put up with your laziness,” she continued. “I don’t pay you to sleep in my storeroom.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her glare was fierce and he flinched before it. “You get your butt moving, buster, and unpack my shipment, or you can find yourself another job! Get yourself together, Bill. How do you expect to get a real job once you graduate from college with this kind of attitude?”

“I—”

“Employers want a hard worker, not some lazy ass with, what, a History degree?”

“Art History.”

She snorted. “Even more useless. It’s why Cynthia won’t date you. She can tell you’re not worth the effort. The girl may think the moon of you, but she’s smart enough not to throw her future away.”

“Hey, that’s—”

“Women want a man, not a spineless slacker hiding in a storeroom. They want someone that takes their responsibilities seriously. You’re a sweet guy, but that’s not enough in the real world. Take the world by the balls and make something of yourself.” Her dark eyes bored into his. “And you can start by unpacking my shipment!”

She strode off, her ass writhing wonderfully beneath her tight pants. He wanted to seize her and just press her against the wall and show her what a real man was like. Of course, he didn’t have the balls. She’d just freak out and have him arrested for sexual assault or something.

Bill had always been a coward, too afraid to even ask a woman out beside Cynthia, and she was safe—she wouldn’t say yes. Even his fling with Tammy had all been her doing. He had never quite understood what had happened; he had been napping in the storeroom, as usual, dreaming one of his perverted dreams—he couldn’t remember about whom, though he thought Tammy and Juanita may have been involved—when she had woken him up with a kiss, her lithe body writhing atop him.

Afterward, she had been embarrassed about the entire incident and quit her job. “I just had a dissociative moment,” she had said. “Something came over me. Just forget about, okay. It was my mistake.”

Bill was pretty sure it was his fault and she was just letting him down to spare his feelings. That had been his first time with a woman, and he clearly didn’t satisfy her. He had tried a few times to have a repeat performance with Tammy, but that had earned him a slap in the face and a talk with campus security about boundaries.

His mind drifted back to his dreams, and he fantasized about the dominatrix forcing cute Cynthia down to her knees. Her black, leather-gloved hand clenched a fistful of Cynthia’s golden hair and pulled the struggling coed’s lips right to her pussy. The dominatrix’s red eyes squeezed shut, a purr issuing from her throat as Cynthia pleasured her.

Something about the fantasy didn’t sit well with Bill. It felt wrong. Lesdom was a favorite fetish of his, and he would be lying if he had never spanked it to Cynthia, or one of the other girls in his dreams, being dominated by another woman. But there was something so off about that dominatrix—inhuman.

His fantasy continued, the redhead’s mouth was sucking his cock, and the mysterious, bronzed-skin woman clutched him tight from behind, her lips sucking at his earlobe as she whispered sadly, “She’ll turn Cynthia into a slut,” the mysterious woman whispered. “If you don’t stop her, she’ll transform Cynthia into a wanton woman hungry for any cunt or cock her cute, little lips can taste.”

“What?” Bill gasped, the redhead’s mouth sliding up and down his cock, so warm and wet.

The dominatrix moaned, her breasts heaving as Cynthia worked her mouth on her pussy, filling the air with a wet, obscene noise. Cynthia seemed to love the dominatrix’s pussy, moaning as she worshiped the woman’s cunt, her face buried as deep into the dominatrix’s flesh as possible. It was so close to his fantasy, and yet it disturbed him.

“You need to make Cynthia yours before the Succuba claims her.”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“Yes, she does. You have made her want you. Your dreams have shaped all four of those women, you just have to have the courage to make them yours fully. She’s scared, so you need to overcome her fear and show Cynthia how much you truly love her. Then she’ll be yours and safe from the Succuba.”

“She’ll only reject me again.”

“I believe in you, Bill.”

“Me, too,” added the redhead, jerking his cock while she looked up at him. “You have it in you to make all of us yours, Master.” Her mouth swallowed his cock again, sucking hard.

Bill groaned, his hips shifting, pressing his shaft deeper into her mouth as her hands played with his balls. He was moments away from cumming. His eyes flashed over to the dominatrix as she writhed on Cynthia’s lips. He couldn’t peel his gaze away from those large breasts, both nipples connected by pierced rings and a silver chain. He wanted to grab that chain and pull the dominatrix to him, force her to her knees, and shove his cock into—

“You better be finished!” barked Ms. Katsaros.

His eyes snapped opened. Even when I daydream, I never get to the good part! He looked down at the boxes; they were empty. After three years working at the University Bookstore, the unoriginal name Ms. Katsaros had come up with for her business, he knew the storeroom like the back of his hand, and this wasn’t the first time he had unpacked the boxes while lost in a daydream.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she nodded in satisfaction. It was why he still had a job; no one else had ever figured out the chaos of her storeroom. “You can go home, Bill.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“I better not catch you sleeping back here again.”

He wanted to retort, “But you didn’t catch me.” Instead, he swallowed his words and muttered a “won’t happen again.”

“You’re a good, young man. You just need to get your life together. Then the women will be all over you.” She leaned in. “The bad boys are fun, but it’s the guy with his shit together, seizing life by the balls, and succeeding in his career, that women really want. It’s what Cynthia wants. She talks about saving herself for marriage, but she just hasn’t found the right guy yet. You could be that guy, and I bet she’d give it up to you.” His boss patted his cheek. “At the very least, you’ll have a more successful life.”

Her advice didn’t make him feel better. Why couldn’t he be the bad boy? Why did he have to be the one the chick settles for after she’s had her fun? Fuck that! I should shove Ms. Katsaros up against the wall, and—

I’d get arrested for assault.

He slumped out of the backroom, like a dog slinking off, his tail tucked between his legs.

But he didn’t slink home.

Cynthia’s lacrosse practice would just be finishing.

The September sun was warm as he stepped out onto Garfield Street. His college, Parkland Lutheran University, lay just a few blocks down the road. A picturesque collection of red-brick buildings amid the dirty, fading houses and business of Parkland, Washington, a suburb south of Tacoma. He jogged down the street, crossed two intersections—C Street and Park Avenue—and entered the campus. Students bustled about, and his eyes were drawn to all the cute coeds, many who were still wearing shorts and skirts, flashing beautiful thighs, and scanty tops showing off their delightful flesh.

Bill reached Gordon Gym, and hesitated. He wanted to go to the nearby field, where Cynthia was practicing, and listen to his dream’s advice and make her his girlfriend. He wanted to seize her by the shoulders, look into her eyes and say, “You’re my girl. I love you and I’m tired of taking no for an answer. I can see how much you love me, so just stop being afraid and lets give it a chance. I don’t want to have any regrets. Do you?”

And then she’ll just say no again.

His enthusiasm faded, gnawed away by fear. He slipped in to the gym through a side door, heading for the supply closet. Every free afternoon he was in here after Cynthia’s lacrosse practice. Last semester, he had a comparative sports class, an easy PE credit, and had discovered something amazing. Some pervert, a guy after Bill’s own heart, had drilled a few peepholes through the back wall of a supply closet into the women’s locker room. Now he couldn’t help himself. Every afternoon he was here, watching Cynthia and her teammates soaping their nubile bodies.

He felt like a creep.

But he wanted her so much, and if she wouldn’t date him, he couldn’t resist this outlet for his desires. He walked with purpose as he entered the gym, pulling out the key—he had been the TA for Coach Kalleberg during that PE class, and had the key made last semester after discovering the peepholes—and unlocked the supply closet. He moved through the dark room, not affording to turn the lights on and risk getting caught. It was cramped and impossible to see, so he went by feel, tripping over loose sports equipment and bumping into shelves.

At the back wall, he moved a piece of plywood leaning against the wall and three beams of light shone through, brilliant shafts in the darkness. They were spaced a few feet a part, giving a good view of the showers and some of the lockers. As long as it was dark in here, no one should be able to see the holes from the locker room. Bill figured that’s what the plywood was for.

Women laughed and talked. He bent down—whoever had drilled the holes was shorter than him—and unzipped his pants. Three coeds were stripping out of their lacrosse uniforms: maroon shorts and light-gray T-shirts. Rosa’s round pair of dusky breasts came into sight, topped with dark nipples. His cock hardened, his hand stroking it slowly.

Another pair of breasts, ebony and round, bounced into view as the gorgeous, African-American Reggie walked back to the shower. “I want to wash your tits,” he muttered as his hand pumped faster on his cock, picturing those chocolate breasts in his hand, squeezing them and sucking on her sweet nipples. “I’d get them so clean.”

More and more girls joined, bringing the total up to eight. A feast of youthful flesh, all gorgeous, with toned, athletic bodies. And so different. Large breasts, small breasts, some that were conical, and some that were heavy. Curvy asses, flat asses, shaved pussies, thick bushes, landing strips, and neatly trimmed triangles. A beautiful rainbow of feminine delights. His hand stroked faster.

Then Cynthia appeared. “Ugh, that took longer than I thought,” she said, peeling off her gray T-shirt. Her sports bra, not that she really needed one with her little tits, was black; she deftly unfastened it, her dusky nipples exposed to his gaze. He breathed faster, pounding his cock.

The other girls were drying off, getting dressed. “Did it? Sorry.” Cassie answered, shrugging into a loose, blue top, her dyed-green hair damp from her shower.

“It’s okay,” Cynthia answered, bending down to peel off her maroon sweat pants—she never wore the shorts, too immodest—and her panty-covered ass wiggled in Bill’s direction.

“Oh, Cynthia,” he groaned, his hand slapping against his groin as he jerked faster, his orgasm building. “I want to love you so bad! Look at that ass.” Her panties slipped down. It was a perfect rear, the cheeks nicely round, and he caught flashes of her golden curls between her thighs. “I’d worship your ass.”

“That’s nice of you,” a woman whispered behind him.

Fear spiked inside him. He was caught. I’m in so much trouble.

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