It's my Steemit Birthday tomorrow

A full year ago, I saw a post on Facebook from one of the authors I follow - @markrmorrisjr (Mark Morris) - and I thought: This looks interesting... it also looks a little too good to be true, but it looks interesting anyway.

This post is for everyone who shares this glorious Unbirthday with me (that's just about everyone).

Steemit has surpassed Facebook and Twitter for my first point of call on the internet, and rightly so. This platform is far and away superior to that place.

I've dragged a few people over here too and some of them are doing great, money coming in and everything! Others are just enjoying the scenery for the moment but I'm sure will dive in when it suits them.

One year on (tomorrow) and I decided to look back on the first blog I ever published here, on my 'home' site now.

What a MESS!

I had NO clue what I was doing (still don't have much of a clue, but you know...) - no formatting, only one paltry picture... oh no. This will NOT do!

I wrote this story almost in one go. One Saturday evening, nothing much doing. It was almost as though Dusty came to sit with me and narrated her story for me.

I've written six more stories in the Dusty series and I'm learning more about mythology and legendary creatures in order to add to the collection.

I know I've published this before, but forgive me my indulgence on the eve of my first Steemit Birthday.

So, as unconventional as an Unbirthday is, here's a gift for everyone. The full short story (around 10,000 words) for you to download and enjoy.

From me, to you. Happy Steemit Unbirthday!

Or, on the 365-1 chance its your actual Steemit birthday Happy Steemit Birthday to you!

Dusty the Demon Hunter's first story - Dream Lover

I think it's a good story... and I have some new followers now...

At the risk of invoking the cheetah-bot's wrath, I'll have a go at re-vamping my story.

He approached her from behind – as he had done every night since he started to visit her.

He came closer to her slowly so that the tiny hairs on her neck bristled with his nearness before he touched her, and her body shuddered deliciously.

She was tense with excitement, and shaking even as he got close enough to touch her with the tips of his fingers. The first touch from him was electric and her skin tingled wherever his feather-light touch stroked.

His lips brushed her neck and she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on his broad shoulder. His arms snaked around her and folded her into his embrace. His lips were replaced by his teeth on her tender and sensitive neck and again she shuddered, the nips were gentle yet insistent.

His breathing was becoming laboured as his passion rose to match hers and he pressed himself against her. She could feel his excitement and her mouth opened to allow her panting breath an escape route. He stopped nibbling but held his teeth close to her neck and his tongue flicked out between them to tease her earlobe and he listened to her. She was impatient for him to restart his seduction but he knew that he was in complete control and he made her wait.

His hand went up to her throat and with his fingernails he gently traced from her chin down... the tension was excruciating and almost beyond her endurance. She wanted to take his hands and place one on her breast and the other between her legs but she seemed unable to control her limbs. Her hands and arms were immobile and a fleeting thought crossed her mind, “Oh no, not again!”

With that thought embedded in her mind and her body unwilling to respond to her commands, his caresses and strokes were perceived differently and they became more invasive and she still could do nothing. Her mind was screaming her protest but her body, her treacherous and lustful body was urging him on!

As he laid her down she closed her eyes because she did not wish to see the person that was pleasuring her and yet violating her night after night in her dreams. She knew that he was aware that she was protesting inside her mind. He knew that her free will was locked away in the dream-state. He knew and he took full advantage of her instincts to mate and he laughed. It was a sinister and dark laugh and she cringed from it.

As he lowered his body onto her, she gasped for his flesh was ice cold, almost painfully so. She could not move her arms to stop him but it seemed that her legs were under no such restrictions; they wrapped themselves around him. He was the consummate expert in seduction and he controlled himself perfectly. He continued to work his magic upon her and she had no choice in the matter as she was compelled to wrap her suddenly movable arms around his neck to pull her up close to his body.

The cold of his skin was still disturbing to her inner mind, she thought that he would have warmed up a little, but no, he was still unnaturally cold and she was still so very hot and she wanted his coldness to douse the fire between her legs and yet she didn’t!
She hung onto him with arms and legs squeezing his body until her muscles ached. Her head hung down back toward her pillow but still she did not let go, her arms couldn’t let go, they were not hers to command yet.

She was still aching for more of him and she did not want it to end. Her mating instinct had swamped her free will and it was all but silent as her legs pulled her yet closer to his deathly-cold body, her arms crushing her breasts into his chest and her fingers entwining themselves in his hair. The difference in temperature between the two was making condensation on her perspiring body and where they were touching, flesh to flesh began to feel slimy and clammy.

As he approached his own end, his body began to change. His skin became coarser, as did his hair. She felt as though she had hold of hanks of horse tail rather than the silky smooth hair of her lover.

His skin became scaled and the part of her that was based in reality was repulsed but the dreaming part was striving for more before he released her and left.

She was unsatisfied, she felt dirty and defiled even as her body was shuddering with ecstasy. Her body was over the throes of passion as she felt the beginning of his. Her arms became weakened and she flopped back onto the bed. Her legs weakened a moment after but he maintained the connection between them as he did indeed let loose his final shout of passion. She shuddered anew as he grunted his pleasure, and she was more determined than ever to keep her eyes closed tight against the vision of horror that she knew her dream lover had turned into.

She turned her head as he planted a kiss on her cheek, his lips were no longer inviting and warm, they were scabbed and cold. He laughed at her grimace and then she knew that he had gone.

Her bed was saturated with sweat and something cold and sticky that was the residue of the night’s exertions.
She was repulsed and disgusted and she stripped her bed for the third time that week.

After a fifty minute shower that left her feeling scrubbed but not cleansed, she phoned her best friend, Dusty.

“I can’t take it anymore, I’m exhausted. I’ve rung work to say I’m ill three times this week already and they are starting to ask questions. I can’t tell them I’m having nightmares, not at my age, but what can I do?”

“I’m coming over; I think this is something I have to see for myself.”

“Don’t be daft, there’s nothing to see...”

“Have you washed the sheets from your bed?”

“What? No, not yet, how did you know about the sheets?”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, get the kettle on.”