So I wasn’t the only one turned on by this. In my pocket, my hand pressed my dick flush against my body and I had to bite my lower lip to stifle the moan that wanted to escape.
“How about one of these?” Rist purred in my ear.
He had stopped on a panel of dark images—jagged gravestones like crooked teeth, bats rose below full moons, black cats arched and hissing. Twin holes mimicking fang bites dripping with blood. Vultures in cemetery trees, and ghosts holding decaying banners on which were written sayings likeDeath Before Dishonorand Only the Good Die Young
I turned the panel before Rist could. “I want something a little more real,” I told him.
With a breathy chuckle, he asked, “You don’t think this stuff is real?”