Click to read the story
A single life in one’s forties, in a city like Taipei, is often built on precision and iron self-control. I lived in a high-rise luxury apartment in one of the city’s prime districts. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched a neon-drenched urban jungle, while inside, every day was a tightrope of discipline. To fight the slow creep of age, I had spent years grinding through brutal weight training. Under the crushing weight of every bench press and squat, my muscles had hardened into sharp, powerful lines—the kind that radiated the quiet confidence and raw strength of a mature man. I prided myself on staying sharp, always in control of my surroundings and my desires. But on this particular late night, that carefully constructed control began to crack under the combined assault of whiskey and pulsing city lights.
It was a long-overdue reunion with two close friends I’d known for over a decade—fellow warriors of the business world. At eleven that night we met at The Public House, a classic British-style bistro tucked away in a quiet corner of Da’an District. Regulars called it Gongguan. The moment I pushed open the heavy wooden door, rich vintage atmosphere and lazy jazz washed over me. Dark red leather booths, polished brass rails, and soft golden lighting created the perfect cocoon for the night. We settled into a semi-private corner booth and started with single malt, moving on to the bartender’s special blends. Conversation flowed easily—global politics, mid-life crises, the women who had drifted in and out of our lives. After several rounds, time disappeared. When I finally glanced at my watch, it was already three in the morning. My head was swimming in heavy, pleasant dizziness, and the alcohol had stoked a slow-burning heat deep in my body. I excused myself from the table and headed toward the restroom to splash cold water on my face and clear my head.
While I was leaving my seat, something far darker was unfolding in a silent alley not far from the bar. A young office worker, still buzzed from overtime drinks, staggered home through the shadows. A middle-aged woman who looked like a streetwalker suddenly stepped out, murmuring to him in a soft, hypnotic voice. His eyes went glassy and vacant. He followed her willingly, lost in a hallucination of a luxurious five-star hotel suite filled with incense and silk. The man lay on the bed with a stupid grin, completely unaware that death had arrived. The woman stripped him with practiced, voluptuous movements, then dropped between his legs. She jerked and sucked him with ferocious hunger until he came hard. The moment his seed spilled, something unnatural took hold. Her face twisted, lips splitting wide to reveal rows of razor-sharp, mucus-slick feline fangs. With a wet, brutal sound, those fangs sank deep into his carotid artery.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, filling the cold air with thick, steaming metallic stench. The woman’s gentle mask shattered. She snarled like a beast and clamped her mouth over the wound, drinking greedily, savoring the terror and pain in every hot gulp. The man convulsed silently, eyes bulging, paralyzed by venom. When his body finally went limp, she sneered, and five-inch, ice-cold claws slid from her fingertips with a metallic click. One savage swipe ripped his chest open. She tore out his still-beating heart, sucked the last spurts of blood from the aorta, and bit into the warm organ with wet, satisfied crunches. Blood and shredded meat dripped from her chin onto the filthy ground. Yet even as she feasted, her features rapidly softened. Sallow skin turned smooth and pink, her face becoming that of a beautiful young woman once more. She licked the last traces of blood from her lips, eyes already scanning for her next victim.
The hallway lights were dim, old English fox-hunting prints lining the walls. Just as I reached the restroom door, a soft body collided straight into my chest. A delicate cry escaped her lips, and an intoxicating scent—night-blooming cereus mixed with wild musk—flooded my senses. My instincts kicked in; I instinctively wrapped a strong arm around her slender waist. She felt impossibly soft, like boneless silk. When I looked down, I met a face so delicate it seemed almost unreal. She wore an oversized vintage black trench coat that hinted at exquisite curves beneath. What caught me most off guard were the pair of fluffy, lifelike dark-brown cat ears perched on her head. My first thought: some girl who’d just come from a cosplay event and had one too many drinks.
“Ouch… that hurt,” she murmured, tilting her head up. Her unusually large eyes gleamed with an eerie green light under the low lamps, pupils narrowed to dangerous vertical slits. Her voice carried a strange, vibrating frequency that sent tingles racing across my scalp. She breathed warm orchid-scented air against my neck and melted against my broad, muscled chest. A small hand in delicate lace rested on my shoulder. Looking up at me with playful seduction, she whispered, “You bumped into me so hard… I’m a little dizzy. Can you help me over to the side and let me rest for a bit?”
I gentlemanly guided her to the long sofa outside the restroom and sat down beside her. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Where does it hurt?”
She lowered her head for a long moment, then looked up with hazy, seductive eyes. “I drank too much. My whole body feels awful… everything hurts. Will you take me outside for some air?”
My sharp instincts told me she was playing a game, but the alcohol and the thrill of the unknown made me curious. *What kind of little game are you trying to play with this old man?* I thought with a private smirk.
We passed my friends in the lobby. I gave them a quick wink; they grinned, raised their glasses, and let us go without a word.
I walked her out to the quiet alley beside the bar. Suddenly she pressed closer, warm breath brushing my ear. “Mister… it’s too noisy in there. I know a quiet, atmospheric place. Want to come play with me?” The moment those words left her lips, something in my brain clicked. Alcohol and surging hormones drowned the last shred of caution. The promise in her eyes was too tempting to resist. I smiled, voice low and confident. “Sure. Where do you want to play?”
The instant I agreed, the air around us seemed to ripple with invisible distortion. I blinked, and the next thing I knew I was driving this little temptress to the secret spot she had in mind.
The upscale motel suite was pure American vintage—soft neon accents, a massive bed, and walls adorned with tasteful art. The air smelled of fine leather and expensive perfume. Everything felt exactly as luxurious as I had imagined. I shrugged off my suit jacket, revealing the tight shirt stretched across my rock-hard chest and abs. Meanwhile, the girl slowly let her black trench coat slide to the floor. My breath caught. Beneath it she wore only deep-red lace lingerie that barely contained her full, creamy breasts, pushing them into an inviting cleavage. Her waist was impossibly narrow, her long legs smooth as ivory. A matching lace choker and wristbands accentuated her delicate skin, and a fluffy dark-brown cat tail swayed realistically behind her. Combined with those innocent-yet-filthy eyes, she was the perfect piece of forbidden fantasy.
She moved like a real cat—light, fluid, predatory. With a graceful sway she straddled my powerful thighs and crushed her soft lips to mine. Her tongue was wickedly agile, teasing and exploring every inch of my mouth. I gripped her silky waist with my large, veined hands and kissed her back just as hungrily, still watching her every move. *Roleplay, huh? Let’s play.* A moment later she pulled back, eyes gleaming with mischief. She slid down my body, kneeling between my legs with boneless grace. Small hands made quick work of my belt. When my thick, throbbing length sprang free, her pupils dilated with raw, animal hunger.
What followed was pure, mind-melting skill. Her soft cherry lips stretched wide around my heavy shaft, creating a tight, vacuum-tight seal. Her tongue danced like living silk, swirling and flicking against the sensitive head while she took me impossibly deep into her throat. The wet heat, the perfect suction, the way she swallowed every inch without gagging—it was devastating. I groaned, fighting the urge to lose control. She was trying to break me with that lethal mouth.
The relentless deep-throating and swirling tongue drove pleasure through me in crashing waves. Years of iron discipline and gym-forged stamina let me hold back. I reached down, caressed her neck and shoulders, then suddenly gripped her and flipped our positions. I pinned her beneath me, turning the tables. If she wanted to play, I was going to play rough.
Tonight would be a raw contest of strength and endurance.
I spread her long legs wide, hooking her ankles over my shoulders in the most dominant position possible. My powerful hips drove forward, slamming my thick length into her impossibly tight core with a wet, obscene sound. She gasped sharply—the resistance told me she was a virgin. I didn’t slow down. I fucked her like a machine, pounding deep and hard, the heavy slap of flesh echoing through the room as I dragged thick strands of her slick arousal out with every thrust.
She tried to resist at first, but my gym-hardened body turned into unbreakable restraints. I flipped her onto all fours, yanked her round ass high, and drove back in from behind. The new angle ground perfectly against her most sensitive spot. She cried out like a cat in heat, body rocking violently as I slammed into her again and again, her sweet nectar soaking the sheets.
But I wasn’t done. I growled, lifted her entire body off the bed, and fucked her mid-air—her legs locked around my waist, arms clinging to my neck. My powerful quads and glutes powered every brutal upward thrust, gravity helping me bury myself to the hilt each time. The weightless, helpless pleasure broke her completely. Her eyes rolled back, saliva dripped from her open mouth, and she could only moan and tremble as I used her like a living toy.
I switched again, laying her on her back with one leg stretched straight and the other folded high against her chest. The twisted angle made her even tighter. I fucked her sideways like a jackhammer, sweat pouring down my muscled torso, our ragged breathing and the wet smack of skin filling the room. She was falling apart, completely lost in the storm.
Finally I pulled her up to straddle me. She was limp, barely able to hold herself upright against my chest. I gripped her perfect ass and drove upward in long, powerful strokes, hammering straight into her cervix. Her inner walls began to spasm wildly. At the exact moment I buried myself to the root, I roared and unleashed everything—thick, scalding ropes of release flooding deep into her untouched womb in heavy, pulsing jets. The release was so intense it felt like something inside her shattered.
It was the most satisfying, mind-blowing fuck of my life. I collapsed onto the bed, savoring the afterglow.
The room fell into heavy silence, broken only by our ragged breathing. I reached for tissues, gently cleaning the mixture of seed, blood, and her fluid passion from between her thighs, then wiped myself. I pulled her soft body into my arms, feeling her tremble against my chest. A wave of tender possessiveness washed over me. I smiled and playfully stroked the fluffy cat ears on her head. They felt strangely warm… almost alive. The wild scent in the air grew thicker. I murmured against her ear, “Baby, you were incredible tonight… Let me take you for some late-night supper later, okay?”
She didn’t answer. I thought she had simply passed out from exhaustion. Then, without warning, her body temperature plummeted to ice. A low, guttural growl—nothing human—ripped from her throat. Her head snapped up. The sweet, delicate face twisted into something demonic, eyes flooding with evil green light, vertical pupils blown wide. Her lips split grotesquely, revealing mucus-slick, razor fangs. Before I could react, she lunged and sank those fangs deep into my left arm.
Pain exploded, followed instantly by paralyzing numbness that raced through my veins like liquid ice. My arm went completely dead. She leaped away, landing lightly on the far side of the bed. Her tail bristled like a bottlebrush, and she hissed at me with pure murderous rage. Terror unlike anything I had ever felt stabbed into my soul—
“Fuck!” I jerked upright with a shout, body convulsing. The luxurious motel, the messy bed, the lace lingerie, and the monstrous cat demon all shattered like glass and vanished. Vintage jazz and the loud laughter of drinkers filled my ears. I was slumped over the solid wooden table in The Public House, drenched in cold sweat, heart hammering. My two friends were roaring with laughter, clapping me on the shoulder. “Bro, you’re ridiculous! Passed out cold at three-thirty—we couldn’t wake you up!”
I gasped for air, soaked in sweat. When I tried to lift my left arm to wipe my face, it was completely numb. I looked down and let out a bitter, relieved laugh. No cat demon. No bite. I had simply drunk myself into oblivion and fallen asleep on the table. My heavy left arm had been pinned under my own body against the hard edge of the table for half an hour, cutting off circulation. As feeling slowly prickled back in with pins and needles, I took the water my friend offered and looked around at the warm, familiar lights of the bar. I let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.🔥 After Hours Only ─Candy.ai