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Is this only about sex? I think not.

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kindlady



Joined: 14 Feb 2005
Posts: 4
Location: Mid-Atlantic US
Is this only about sex? I think not.  Reply with quote  

From a book that shall remain nameless for the time being (still kinda rough):


The next morning he woke up extremely irritable. He barked at the kids until they were ready for school, then was completely silent on the drive over. He found himself grinding his teeth for no apparent reason. He got back and had another cup of coffee and read the paper. He mowed the lawn, but couldn’t concentrate on his wargames, so he took no pleasure in it. Then when he got back inside and took out a cold Gatorade to chug, he noticed pain in his jaw. He tried not to worry, it was probably nothing – but he always worried anyway, so that didn’t work. He put the bottle up to his jaw for a second, and when he felt it move noticed that he was still grinding his teeth. He needed to relax. What he needed was a warm bath and a book. Maybe even a cigar.

A half an hour later his hairy arms were hooked over the sides of the tub and he felt very relaxed. He was dozing when he heard little tapping sounds at the window. It sounded like someone was throwing pebbles at it -- how clichéd. As he approached the frosted glass window, he saw a blurry black figure and heard “Jim, open the goddamn door!” He threw on his robe and complied.

She was small and stacked, with a black bustier, garter, spike-heeled boots and platinum Shirley Temple curls. The red cape made her look a little imposing. She raised an eyebrow and said, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Of course!” He swept his arm formally inside as she stalked past. She glanced briefly at the mirror covering one wall of the foyer, and scrunched her hair a little on the top to give it more lift. He stared some more, shocked by the contrast of her pale, soft-looking skin with the black patent leather dominatrix gear. “How about some coffee? You have an espresso machine; right?”

“Sure.” He proceeded to the miniscule kitchen, and gestured to the vinyl-covered chrome kitchen chairs. ‘Have a seat; be ready in a minute.”

“Jim, I’m here because I know what you want, and I know how to give it to you. When you’ve got that coffee going, we can talk. Make that a decaf double with extra froth and a shot of chocolate syrup, if you’ve got it.”

She took a Palm Pilot from somewhere; he couldn’t imagine where, and stylus flew over screen as he frothed her cup. She snapped the lid closed and the Palm Pilot disappeared. “Sugar?” he offered. “Please.” She took 4 packets together by the tops, shook them and ripped all four tops off at once. She took the spoon he offered and stirred, froth sloshing over the top. She took a gulp of the steaming coffee.

“Let’s get down to business. You know why I’m here; right?” she said, setting down her mug and licking foam off her lips.

He thought frantically, then realized that since it was obvious he was in some kind of dream – and she was incredibly hot – he didn’t have to worry. “You’re a dream, right?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. A dream. That’s the ticket.” She laughed. “No, seriously.”

“Uh, you grant wishes?”

“No; but another nice try. Well, actually I guess you could say that I grant wishes, if having a good fuck is your wish.” She pulled a cigarette from between her breasts and lit it by holding against the inside of her thigh. She drew on it heavily, then turned her face away from him and blew out a perfect smoke heart. “Aaaahhh. That’s good. No, I’m here to see that you get some great sex. Hey, didja hear the one about the old man who had a girl pop out of a birthday cake at his party? She said, ‘I’m here to give you some super sex!’ So he says, ‘I’ll take the soup!’” She slammed her hand against her thigh and bent over laughing.

He frowned.

The apparition sighed. “Jim, you want Darlene, am I right?’

He thought about what to say. Those breasts popped into his mind. But then Kathryn’s breasts appeared superimposed over them,. Her nipples hung a few inches lower than Darlene’s.

“Well, yes and no, I suppose.”

She cocked her head. ‘Why not? The standard reason?”

“Yes.” He thought about being frank with her. She wasn’t real anyway; what’s the worst that could happen? But since she was supernatural, probably she already knew. “I love Kathryn. I would never do anything to hurt her. We’ve stuck together through all kinds of trouble. We’re soul mates. I couldn’t live without her.”

The whole time the apparition was nodding. “Uh-huh, uh-huh. OK. Yeah, I see.”

She put the lit cigarette back between her breasts with no apparent ill effects, only a wisp of smoke rising up from her cleavage. “What if I were to tell you there was a way to do this without ever getting caught? Then would you do it?”

His pecker stirred. He shifted in his seat. “What do you mean? How?”

“Jim, as a succubus, i.e. a female demon, it is my job to have sex with men while they are sleeping. Usually I do the duty myself, but I can easily enable Darlene to take my place. So you be having sex with her in a purely supernatural and undetectable way in the safety of your sleep, without the need for condoms and such.” She nodded in a self-satisfied way.

“What?” Now he was fully hard and sweating. “It would be her instead of you? In my sleep? Where would we be? I mean, where would our bodies be?” His questions came out in a frantic rush. He felt like he had just been given the ball on a fourth quarter 4th and 2 but couldn’t tell which end zone was his, and was naked to boot.

“Do you want a sample?” Before he could respond, she disappeared. There was the sound of a knock at the door, but it somehow sounded like a whip cracking. He opened it to find Darlene in her bikini, a measuring cup in front of her breasts.

“Hi, neighbor,” she purred. “Sorry about all the fuss. I guess I was just PMSing.” She looked completely normal, nice even. He could just never imagine her using that tone of voice. Usually when he imagined sex with her, she was dressed more like the succubus. “Can I borrow a cup of sugar, sugar?”

Well, I can’t get much harder than this, he thought. Darlene looked down and smiled at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Or maybe you’d like to invite me in?”

He turned woodenly to get the container of sugar from the shelf. When he turned back around, she was topless and gliding toward him. She grabbed his hands and mashed them into her breasts. Then she pressed him up against the counter and tilted her head back.

What could he do? He clearly had no choice.

But as soon as he bent for her neck, she pulled back. He saw she was wearing the dominatrix outfit he had always pictured her in.

“No, no, no. You’ve been a bad boy, Jim. You come over here and get what’s coming to you.” She cracked the whip and he fell obediently to his knees with relief. Thank God! It was just a dream.

He enjoyed the next few minutes. The whip he probably could have done without, but it did seem to go with her character. They never left the kitchen, and that seemed appropriate. The cheap, stained linoleum and harsh lighting made it seem more realistic. When it was over he was left on the floor panting, aching and somehow still hard. It felt so real. Maybe he was sleeping wrong on his dick or something and he would wake up with pins and needles.

Then a white hand gripped him. ‘Oh, I see. Not done yet? Well, we can take care of that!’

After a while the ache turned into pain, and he wasn’t sure he was enjoying it any longer. He was laying prone with his cheek pressed against the floor when he heard the whip crack. He rolled onto his side, then got on his hands and knees. He picked himself up and walked crookedly to his robe, then put it on and answered the door. It was Darlene, in jeans and her work shirt, omnipresent cigarette clamped between her lips.

“Your dog barfed on my gnome again. You better take care of her or I will.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

He felt faint. He tilted his head quizzically. “Weren’t you just – Weren’t we – “ he looked back to the kitchen and saw a corner of the whip curled around a chair leg.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Foster? Oh, and by the way – move your fucking car or I swear I will run into it.”

She flicked her cigarette onto his steps without grinding it out, and jogged down the steps to her truck.
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If I weren't so damn sleep I would think of something really witty and pertinent, but I have to have instant gratification, so rather than wait and think something up tomorrow I'm posting this now.

Post Mon Feb 14, 2005 9:29 pm   View user's profile Send private message
Boota



Joined: 09 Apr 2004
Posts: 830
Location: Kokomo, Indiana
 Reply with quote  

That was pretty cool! A visit from the Sex Fairy.
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"We went together like Kennedys and head wounds."--Lenny Kapowski

Post Tue Feb 15, 2005 4:08 pm   View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
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