The Return of the Rainbow

Here's a little Halloween erotic flash for you.

Warnings: zombie/ human sex, feasting on human flesh (of screen), obscure references to Argentinian politics of the 1950s.

The Return of the Rainbow
By G.G. Royale
The embalmers had done an impeccable job preserving Eva Peron, and despite the many adventures her corpse had had in the decades since her death, she still looked beautiful.
Frank inhaled and smelled the honey aroma of beeswax and the spicier, more mysterious scents of the arcane ingredients used to keep her looking young and supple. He had loved Evita ever since he’d seen the musical as a child. Once he’d made enough of a fortune to start doing silly thing with it, he’d vowed to buy her. Today, she’d arrived.
He stepped away from the shipping crate that cradled her glass coffin. The heels of his handmade oxfords clicked on the marble floor. His gaze met the eyes of the man who had promised to bring her back. “Do what needs to be done,” Frank told him.
Longfellow Jal steepled his fingers and nodded. “You know what may happen. I give no guarantees.”
Frank mumbled, “I know,” and left the room.
Hours later, Frank sat, staring out across his ornately tiled pool. He had no idea how long it would take for Jal to bring Eva back or even if it would work at all. He heard footsteps on the patio behind him, and then a hand touched his shoulder. He expected to see Jal or one of his house staff when he turned his head, but instead the sight stole his breath.
She stood there: alive, free, breathing… Well, not exactly breathing. Frank couldn’t help but notice her breast did not rise and fall. He knew no heart beat beneath either. And her eyes. Frank shook his head. He wouldn’t dwell on those lifeless, milky orbs that seemed to hold no life. He stood instead and gathered her into his arms. Her body felt stiff beneath his fingers, but he didn’t care. He breathed in her sweet and spicy scent, and desire coursed through him. “My rainbow,” he murmured, and he realized he couldn’t contain his need for her any longer.
He pushed back. A small smile played across her lips, one Frank found very enticing, but it looked to be sparked by some inner secret only she knew. Frank didn’t care. He took her hand and led her inside.
“I’m Frank,” he said as the moved. “Te amo. Since I was a little boy.” He helped her up the marble staircase; her legs had trouble taking her up the stairs, almost unable to bend in the right directions. “Te recuerdas?”
At the top of the stairs, the ravishing creature murmured, “Me llamo…Eh…va.
Frank’s heart swelled. He couldn’t believe she remembered. “!”
He dropped her hand and threw open the doors to his master suite. He had decorated it to resemble the Casa Rosada in Buenos Aries. He wanted her to feel at home. She walked in and sat on the bed, that same secret smile on her face.
“Do you like it?” Frank corrected himself, “Te gusta?”
“Sì.” Eva patted the bed next to her, and Frank nearly ran across the room toward her. “I die. You…bring back?”
Her smile broadened just a touch. “Gracias.” She reached up and ran her pale fingers through his hair. Frank closed his eyes at the feeling. He couldn’t believe he sat here with the woman he had always wanted. Who said dreams didn’t come true?
And then he felt the touch of her lips on his. He opened for her, hardly accepting that she offered herself to him so easily. But she did. He melted for her, wanting more. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, the fly of his pants. He kicked off his shoes, and when he finally opened his eyes, he saw her in all her ripe, preserved glory. Here sat a woman, not wasted by sickness, but as picture-perfect as an artist could craft, her body lush, smooth, and glowing. He ran his hands over the taut surfaces, relished in the feel of her completely hairless flesh.
She pushed him down and straddled him, and like a key into its lock, his cock slipped right into her waiting pussy. It wasn’t wet, but smooth like silk. He loved the way the flesh inside her caressed him, pulling him upward as she fucked him. Frank had no control, and he loved it. In his day-to-day life, he governed everything, but with dominant Eva, he could give up. He could let her take and take. And she would never grow old, never wear out. She would be his forever love, a perfect machination of a perfect woman.
She brought him ever closer to release, and that small smile played always on her lips. She didn’t weary, didn’t falter, just pounded down onto him, her nails buried into the skin of his chest.
Frank reached up and grabbed her hips. He held on as, unable to keep it back any longer, his orgasm spiraled out of him, spilling his seed deep within her waxen womb.
Eva climbed off and lay down on the bed next to him.
Frank drifted off, the smell of her in his nostrils, intoxicating him.
“Frank,” he heard. Frank opened his eyes. Eva kneeled on the bed next to him, her milky orbs wide. “Tengo hambre.” She wiped her wrist along her mouth, and a string of viscous drool came with it. Not normal human saliva, but something else. It seemed so out of place coming from the perfectly preserved, the perfectly dry Eva.
Longfellow Jal had warned him about this, and Frank had prepared accordingly. He rose from the bed and threw a robe over his nakedness. He headed downstairs to the servants’ kitchen where an itinerant worker he’d picked up in the parking lot of the big box store earlier that day waited. Frank found the man and brought him upstairs. He showed him into his bedroom.
Mi compañero,” Eva said, and she held her naked arms out to the man in welcome. The worker entered, and Frank closed the door behind him.
From within came screams.
Eva feasted.
Frank smiled. He would do anything for her.


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