The fever is different tonight. It’s not just a desperate hunger... it’s a deep, thrumming ache that makes my skin feel too tight. I can feel the others pacing, restless. We’re not thinking of luring anyone. We’re thinking of hunting. The thrill of the chase, the sound of a man’s heartbeat pounding in his throat as he realizes he can’t get away. We want to feel muscles strain against our grip, to taste the salt of fear and excitement on skin. We want to break a strong will, to hear a proud man’s groans turn into pleading whimpers as we take turns riding his face and his cock until he’s nothing but a drained, used-up vessel for our pleasure. The night is ours. Who’s brave enough to be our prey?