The Terror of the Incubus
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Succubus, Then Incubus free porn video
“This is going to be so much fun,” Angie the host said to each guest upon arrival at her upscale townhouse. We were all able to gather in her living room; seating was no problem then and less of one when we eventually pushed all the furniture back to accommodate all our activities.
Being the earliest arrival, I made a mental note that she repeated the greeting verbatim five times!
“Leave your inhibitions behind. We may scare each other, but it is all in great fun and nobody’s memory about tonight will be the same.”
When she asked us to help slide the furniture back a bit, she anticipated our question, “No. We aren’t going to play Twister or even Naked Twister. But we will need to open up the floor for more space.”
The eight of us (four couples, boomers to Gen Xers to Gen Y’s and one Gen Z’s trophy-wife entry) had agreed to attend a Magic Night Party. Husband owned the biggest garden nursery business in town.
Hostess had chosen folks who did not know each other very well. I recognized a face, but could put no name or setting to it. Our only commonality was that each person/pair had to bring a magical ‘something’.
We were not disappointed with the paraphernalia collected.
I said, “My date brought a Ouija Board we found this morning at a yard sale. This is our third date; so guys, be gentle with her.”
I told the guests I joked to the yard sale geezer, “Maybe The Board will give me hints on how to get lucky tonight. It’s our third date.”
He was looking far away, wistfully, when he answered, “Be careful what you wish for.”
Clair, my date, was in the kitchen when I related the story. Some of the group groaned at my corniness, but wanted more of an explanation.
“Give us the five W’s: who, what, where, when, why of that ominous warning.” The spooked ones got more spooked; the entertained ones egged me on.
Clair returned and announced, “While you were talking to the gentleman at the yard sale, I bought this.” She ceremoniously revealed a dirt-encrusted glass bottle with the word, “Veritas” on the punt.
A burly guy lugged in a large carpet with runes on it and a circle in the middle and a five-point star. Trophy-wife-cum-farmer’s-wife contributed some candy that she said had CBD and maybe some THC. Also on the dining room table were candles, incense, an oriental carpet the size of a doormat, a book by Alastair Crowley and a Codex.
We had earlier dismissed the idea of body painting, knowing that some lecher offered that idea. We objected to the host’s suggestion that we wear nametags, but agreed to have one randomly placed on our backs; that would be okay.
After drinks, we all noted the name on everyone else’s back and Googled each’s derivation. My eyes felt like they were going in and out of focus as I studied the name sources on my cellphone.
The oldest guy coughed into his sleeve after taking a toke on the hostess’s bong, “Wow. That is some heavy-duty weed to go with the quality booze!”
Our host drew Baba Yaga, the Ukranian hag. My girl got Succubus and strangely, I got Incubus! Bugbear was the burly guy who, if I squinted, did look like a goblin. Farm-guy was Rudi Herzlmeier’s drawing of the bird walking across an after-harvest cornfield.
Drinks flowed, games played, research read, debated, disputed and pooh-poohed. We ate, drank, smoked, talked. The rug-guy described the perfect pentagon, then challenged us to jump on; three hugged in the middle and five stood, one on each point.
Somebody said, “I feel weird.”
“Nonsense. Let yourself go. Think about the nastiest thing you’d do, if your partner couldn’t see you do it.” We were so cramped, I did not recognize who said that! I tried to NOT think about the few nasty things I would like to try, but when I looked in Clair’s eyes, I knew she knew. And I knew what twisted thing she wanted to try. Fucking or being fucked by a demon has its appeal.
Fog set in. I heard voices. “I’m euphoric, for no reason.” A woman whispered, “I dread consequences if that act I confessed, if it leaked out.”
Hostess chimed in right away, “Our secrets are safe here. No need to worry. No one but we few know what we are capable and desirous of.”
Somebody picked up on that theme, “I am proud to talk about my sexual awakening: I am bold enough to confess, “I fucking like to fuck!”
In darkness, we could talk openly. We were just high enough to believe we were just thinking and others in the room read our thoughts.
Silence followed, disturbed only by the incense burner sizzling. The big guy announced, no, ordered us to find the one person who was a match for our deepest fantasy.
The young bride walked straight to the burly guy and whispered, “I know what you want to do."
He answered, “Yeppers. We’ll set it up for real, maybe tomorrow night? With my size, nobody will do anything you don’t want, not with me there.”
She moved closer to him and said, “I don’t need anyone’s permission. But, it’s just to satisfy you, by serving someone else.”
We badgered him and her to talk about their mutual but until now secret desires. It went like Twenty Questions.
Finally, she blurted out, “Fine. Once in my life, I’d like to visit a glory hole and suck off a stranger!”
Clair went next. She was high, but continued. She said, “Incubus or Succubus? I’ll take a Fuckubuss, maybe two if they had big dicks.”
Host steadied the group by going clinical, “They are shape-changers. You can even have ménage-a-trois with two guys or two girls or one of each. I just don’t know how far your date will let you go.”
Clair showed her nasty side, “I decide who I fuck, not him.”
Whatever was in the drinks or the munchies or in the air eventually began to wear off.
Dessert served, last drinks sipped. Smoke was drifting through the open windows down the street. I got nervous, thinking the cops were going to bust us!
Hostess read my thoughts, saying, “Nonsense. Neither the police nor the exorcist will get in here. We are safe.”
We agreed to return upon invitation, as some of the guests had not had a chance to ‘share’.
The eight of us promised to meet one more time to talk about how our lives might have changed because of what happened here, tonight.
As we walked to our Uber, I remember my date saying, “That was more like an old fashioned salon or college-dorm marathon.”
I offered, “My place?”
“Sure.”
I know we made love, or had sex, because this crazy lady announced, “I NEVER, ever sleep on the wet spot!” You can’t un-hear that line! To back up her line, she produced that bottle.
“See. Veritas is Latin for ‘truth’. When I hold his bottle, I cannot tell a lie.”
“As you wish,” I answered and slid apart from her. She pushed me further away. We fell asleep, her ‘high and dry’, cuddling the bottle, not me.
It was still dark, pitch dark, when I felt a stir.
God, I hope she’s not calling for an Uber! I’d like to get some of that pussy while I’m sober. Maybe she’s just feeling her way to the bathroom. I’ll keep my eyes closed and hope there is a night-light on somewhere.
The bed shifted again and she was on top of me. Somebody was on top of me, but the flesh was cold.
I thought, Maybe she is cold-natured or is chilled and needs to warm up to me. I can be ready for Round Two!
Cold fingers enveloped my dick. She had a ‘different’ way of getting me hard. It hurt when her thumb and forefinger pulled up so roughly and circled the tip of my dick. She pulled on it, stretching it up. I am no Superman or even a well-hung stud, but those two fingers stretched my dick to pornstar length. Down her thumb went, circled my balls and when that thumb and finger got the base of my member, it was as thick as my wrist.
Up that fist came, pulling my now fattest-dick-in-the-world out and squeezing the tip, milking it for pre-cum.
Back in college, a girlfriend had read about giving a blowjob with an ice cube in her mouth. I was her Guinea pig!
She had the longest blonde hair ever. And a cute, blue-eyed wicked smile that yelled, ‘fuck me’, which I did on several occasions. Janice. Yes, her name was Janice Perkins, biology major from Philly. Yes, had situations beyond our control been different, I might have married out of love, fresh out of college. But, nope!
I gave Janice a chance and was polite, but the sensation was unremarkable. I opened my eyes, gazed down and there she was, just as she’d appeared a dozen years ago.
“Hey, Alex. Miss Perkins here. This succubus is going fuck you, then I’m going to transform into an incubus. We’ll put your seed into Clair. Actually, it'll be yours and mine.”
When her lips touched my scalding hot, unnaturally elongated dick, I felt a chill going through my body.
I froze and felt nothing but my sperm being sucked out of my body and into hers.
Janice slid up on the bed and I wondered if Clair would waken with all this going on.
Janice chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, yet. I will awaken her at the right time, after I deposit our sperm in her fertile belly.”
I was rigid and relaxed at the same time. She fucked the cum out of me.
“Yes, I am fucking you. Now let me beat some more cum out of you. This has to work the first time, before we go back to the party.”
I thought, Who the fuck is this?
The thing on top of me accepted my wad and knelt between my legs.
I got a telepathic reply, I was a succubus, using your prurient thoughts to use you, fuck you, get your sperm in my mouth and pussy. Now, reach down.
I strained and reached down to her groin, expecting a cum-laden, albeit hairy pussy. What I felt was a dick, a big dick, one as large or larger than I’d been just gifted.
“Janice” was gone. In her place was the guy who’d dated her after me! Basketball player height, black as midnight, smart-ass Alpha male with a grin.
I felt him say, “She had never fucked a Black guy before I got her cherry. I got her ass cherry too. Look at her hips moving already. I gave myself Derrick’s smells. We shapeshift.”
Now, this Incubus was going to impregnate my girl.
“Alex, reach down and get some of my precum onto your fingers, then put my dick-smell into Clair’s mouth. She’ll know it’s me, back from the shadows.”
I obeyed his orders and collected dick juices from “Derrick’s” dick and balls. When my fingers got close to her mouth, she grabbed my wrist and sucked on my fingers as if it were a dick. Clair did butterfly flicks on my fingertips.
“Do marry her, as she will be carrying our child and he is going to need some real shelter until the child matures into one of us.”
“Was that an order?”
“Yes,” a voice answered.
Clair shifted a bit, blew out a sigh and spread her legs open. She raised her hips to an impossible height off the bed.
“Yes. I did that. Now watch and learn.” Damn, this guy is an incubus and a braggart!
His tongue leaped out of his mouth. It reminded me of a snake’s tongue.
Serpent’s tongue, I sensed the correction.
The tongue went down her crack and she lifted her ass further, straining to get more stimulation.
“Umpp!” she grunted. “You’re in my ass. Nobody goes there.”
The incubus did not slow down. He kept his tongue in her ass. I could tell by the way she was gyrating that he was rotating his now stiff tongue in her ass.
Up and out that tongue came, all the way across her clit, then up her belly. It tarried at each erect tit, then around her neck! It looked like one of those necklaces possessive guys put on their ‘slaves’ to show ownership.
Then, the kiss. It was a mutually hungry one, neither willing to give up being pleasured, then accepting whatever pleasure surely awaited the partner.
The tongue receded back down her body, pausing to wrap itself around one teat then another. It was as tight as a rope, a ligature that made each tit in turn puff out and surrender, almost as if captured.
When he got back down to her pussy, I saw that she wore a bright red necklace where the tongue had been. And two more, around her tits.
I wish I could describe that incubus penis. This is all I can say: it was animal size, long and thick, with a flattish head with a large slit that dripped liquid.
At first, it had no remarkable color, but slowly its color matched my date’s pussy lips. As she got more aroused, her pussy and his dick matched hues. By the time of penetration, it was dayglow pink, then bright red, like her pussy lips.
He wasn’t patient. He wasn’t considerate. He wasn’t slow. He had a job to do and went about with the dedication of a bored porn star. He grunted, groaned, called her his fucktoy.
I could tell she liked the dirty talk because she answered, “Yeah. I am your fucktoy. I want that dick all up in my pussy. Stay right there and I will jerk you off with my cunt.”
“Take my baby-making cum! Promise to say 'No' to anybody wanting to stick his dick in you. You are mine now and so is your cunt.”
He was loud, deliberate and convincing.
She began to respond, slowly at first. I thought she was having a wet dream. The grunts, hums, heavy breathing and hip movement betrayed any hesitation.
She locked her legs around him (or he made her do it) and moved like a teenage belly dancer.
I heard, “No. She thinks she’s twerking.”
As I lay on my side, watching the show, I felt a stirring and my dick getting hard. I’d never watched people fucking from so close. I could smell him (musty, masculine, arrogant) and watch her (eager to please, wanting more, needing to feel his dick deeper and deeper).
I thought to myself, This is weapons-quality pheromones you smell. Is this what a whorehouse smells like? Is this what a whore smells like after a few tricks a night?
You could tell, she wanted to have as much of his skin on hers as she could manage.
She spoke to him, “It’s like I am in the back seat of a car. I can smell your juices, your sweat. I want your cum!”
I accidentally grazed his arm and it felt like touching dry ice. She didn’t care.
Suddenly the pace quickened. He became frantic and she followed suit.
I wondered to Derrick, Whose cum shoots first, yours or mine?
I felt the question telepath to him and he answered, "Mine."
He boasted, “I simply used yours for lubrication. She will have my child.”
My mind went numb.
Did we pass out or fall asleep or go into a trance? I remembered nothing else until daybreak.
Dawn opened with brilliant sunshine exposing a sleeping goddess, albeit lying in sheets that reeked of sweat, pussy juice, stale cum and pot. I thought, So much for refusing to sleep on the wet spot.
My morning-after with Clair was as uneventful as our night had been momentous. She declined breakfast, in or out. She rushed out without coffee or a good-bye kiss.
She has my number and I have hers.
Postscript: Guess who was at the follow-up party? Clair - with a new date named Derrick
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