If I'm really quiet, he will spread my legs with hands of shadows, and slide onto me, weighing nothing. He will push my knees apart, and point that illusive arrow at my pussy. At a speed surpassed by the earth's plates shifting he will lower himself toward my waiting hole. I know it is his cock sliding up and down along my slit. It can't be my fingers. It has to be his prick, ready to prick my little hole. And as if time is standing still, finally he enters me, sliding air, or light, or shadow into my waiting cunt. I hold my breath. I don't make a sound. I feel him moving centimeter by centimeter in and out of my aching twat. The slowness of it makes me want to scream, but I know if I do, I will scare him away, and he will vanish before I can even open my eyes. So I wait and wait and wait until he fills me up with that strength.
Soon he rides me with a rhythm only he can keep. I arch to him, and bend to accommodate his need because after all, it is my need too. He never lets me down. I always cum and cum and cum. I never expect it, but it always happens. And he cums and cums and cums too. Then we fall off into a sweet slumber together. If I stir too much, he leaves early, so I've learned to be still throughout the night and he will stay until right before the dawn. When I awaken, I know he has been there because my pussy is full of his seed.
So if you hear about someone being visited by an incubus, don't doubt it. My incubus is real. Is it you?
The End.
Bookstore Seduction
You are browsing at the bookstore. You feel rather bored, and are not pressed for time. You pass attractive men, strangers. Intriguing daydreams wander in and out of your imagination.
You are wearing a light colored sundress. You browse and select a book. It is interesting, and so you sit cross-legged on the floor, with your back against the book stacks, with the book resting on your lap.
Several minutes pass when you notice a tall man is browsing in the same aisle. He is broad shouldered. His demeanor is also unrushed and casual. As he slowly searches through the books along the aisle, he is moving gradually in your direction.
He moves closer, selecting a book now and then.
You glance briefly in his direction. His hair is light brown, a bit longer in the back. Day-old, well trimmed stubble. Inside you feel a tingle of chemical attraction to this complete stranger.
Every few minutes he moves closer. Soon he is next to you, browsing and reading. With him so close, you notice his pleasant scent. The hairs on the back of your neck seem to stiffen.
He seems completely comfortable, so you find yourself also at ease. You wonder if he finds you alluring, or, is he just pausing nearby to examine an interesting book?
He is so close. Just a few inches away. Nothing is said. You hear him sigh softly.
You look down to see how much of your cleavage is visible to him... you lean forward so he can see a bit more.
He shifts his weight on his leg and takes in a sudden breath. You hear him whisper something -- you are not sure what it was... Was he reading to himself? What did he whisper? Did it sound something like "oh my... lovely breasts." Or, was he reading to himself? You are not sure; is your imagination playing tricks?
Then he reaches for a book, one very close to you behind you in the stacks. His hand gently brushes against your shoulder as he removes it. The slight touch felt like a bit of electricity passed between you. Was it intentional, or accidental?
He stands nearby and reads for awhile, then he sits down almost directly across from you in the aisle, mirroring you as you both sit crossed-legged. You notice his muscular legs, but you try keep your eyes on the print before you, and, every so often, you turn a page.
Minutes pass by slowly, silently. But the silence is full of anticipation. He glances at your legs every so often from under his sun visor as he turns a page. More minutes pass. Silence. Other people come and go.
He quietly sighs. You sigh. You turn a page. He turns a page. The minutes tick. Anticipation grows, then ebbs. And grows again.
You glance at him, but his eyes are hidden below his visor. Is he admiring your legs? You decide to slowly and seductively caress the skin of your leg with a slow, light finger touch.
Does he react? He does. He notices. You hear him take in a slow, deep breath, and you see that he shift uncomfortably. You slightly rock your leg. He slightly rocks his. He turns a page; you turn a page. You refocus on your book; he does, too. Waxing and waning, arousal growing and ebbing. Communication without sound.
He whispers again, but you cannot make it out. He seems to be reading softly to himself. Or, is he whispering to you? What is he saying? Only a few words come across... and even those you are unsure about the meaning or intention.
Time passes in his presence, in such close proximity to him. Nothing said. Overtly innocent to others, but, covertly incendiary. There is a nonverbal sync, a palpable chemistry.
You shift your position so that your dress pulls up your over your knee. Now he can "accidentally" see a tantalizing glimpse of your smooth inner thighs. He shifts his position, again, uncomfortably. You are intrigued to see that he finds you alluring. He seems to try to focus on his reading.. You very lightly caress the skin of your leg while you read.
More minutes pass, and you turn a page, then another. Then you pull your knees up slightly, with your book in your lap. You pull down your dress modestly, but you know he can see under your dress.
He reacts. He is tenting. Your head lights turn on. He notices, and reacts.
You both pretend not to notice. But you do. After a while of tantalizing him, you change your position to cool him down.
This waxing and waning cycles for some time, yet no one else can see the nonverbal communication.
You are intrigued by the idea of teasing this attractive stranger. You adjust your top to make sure too much cleavage isn't showing. You modestly pull down your dress, only to accidentally allow him to see your inner thighs again. Heating him up, then feigning modesty, and cooling him down. Only to repeat it again. And again.
He tries to hide his arousal with his book. You try to hide your arousal by covering your breasts -- your nipples are pressing out against the fabric of your top... clearly visible now...
Finally, it seems as if he can take it no longer.
"This print is so small," he whispers.
Was he talking to you, or to himself?
"I can barely make this out."
"What's that?" you ask.
"Oh, this print. It is so small. I can barely read it."
He comes over next to you and whispers: "Would you mind reading a bit of this aloud to me?"
You are taken aback, and say nothing for moment. Then you muster a response.
"Oh... sure."
"I can barely make this out..."
"Oh, small print?" you stammer. "Sure... let's see..." You can feel your heartbeat in your chest.
It is a large book, and he places it over your lap.
"Oh, might you start reading here?" he says, pointing to the paragraphs with the small print.
You begin reading it aloud to him. He has moved close to you. In fact, his knee is touching yours.
You begin reading aloud.
"Oh, maybe you should whisper," he says, "so we don't disturb others..."
"Oh, yes, of course..."
You read quietly in a whisper. And he is so close. Your voice is a bit breathy at times, but you try to control its tempo and tone.
He helps turn the page. As he does, the back of his hand brushes across your nipple.
"Oh..." you whisper involuntarily.
"Here you go," he points to the text on the page.
You continue reading to him in a low whisper.
You read a few sections aloud. Your voice is getting breathy and choppy at times, and you pause every so often. You continue to read in a whisper. But, under the book, you notice that his finger is touching the skin of your knee, just under your dress...
You stop reading.
"shhh... whisper..." he says. Others are nearby, b
ut don't notice.
"oh..." you pause.
"shhhh... please keep reading..."
You do. but your voice is getting breathy and unsteady. You have to pause occasionally. No one else can see... it is a large book covering your lap.
You feel his touch, tracing lightly on your skin, under the book. your voice is unsteady, breathy, and you have to pause occasionally... It gives away your faux protestations...
"Please... oh, no."
You read a few sections aloud. Your voice choppy at times, and you pause to take in a breath every so often. You continue to read, as best you can, in a halting whisper. But, under the book, you notice that his finger is touching the skin of your knee, just under your dress...
You stop reading.
"Shhh... whisper..." he says. Others are nearby, but don't notice.
"Oh..." you pause.
"Shhhh... please keep reading..."
You do. No one else can see... it is a large book covering your lap.
You feel his touch, tracing lightly on your skin, under the book. your voice is unsteady, and you have to pause occasionally... Your voice betrays your arousal, contrary to your faux protestations...
"Please... oh, no."
Finally, his finger is exploring under the seam of your panties. Warmth and wetness. You feel his finger circle your clit, lightly... slowly.
Your mouth is dry... it is hard now to breathe normally.
He presses down, harder.
"Oh! oh!"
"Shhhh...." he says.
With his other hand, he tursn the page, rubbing against your hard nipple.
You continue reading aloud, in a breathy, in an entirely out of rhythm whisper.
Others are nearby. can they tell?
"Oh, please. Please stop..."
"Read here..."
"Oh, stop, please..."
Your protestations grow more shallow and weak.
"Close your eyes for a moment." he says.
You do.
You feel his lips on yours.
Lightly at first. Then a deeper kiss.
You cannot get enough air... you have to pull back to catch your breath.
He allows you to calm a bit, to regain your composure, but your face has reddened. And, a red blush appears on your neck and chest
You read again, but the words are coming out staccato, only one at at time...
You feel your clit tingle and pulse as his finger rests motionless on it for a long while.
Pulsating... Breathing... Whispering Trying not to let others see what is happening...
You lean forward to let him see your erect nipple.
He circles your clit, slow then fast. Lightly then with more pressure.
faster
harder
in circles over it
faster
breathing deep.
"oh! oh... oooh!"
"shhhuuuu...:
Your entire body quakes with deep, spreading spasms... but you cannot make a sound.
You try to remain still.
"Follow me" he whispers.
You do.
It is an upscale lavishly appointed independent bookstore. You follow him into a unisex restroom, and he shuts the door behind you. No one else has noticed.
We are alone.
"You have such a lovely face" I say as we stand before the large, ornate mirror. "Lovely... so lovely."
I'm behind you, and I trace my fingers across your neck and jawline.
"Beautiful facial structure... checkbones... lips... nose..."
You feel my fingers explore the nape of your neck, your chest, the valley at the top of your cleavage.
"So lovely, " I whisper. "And your breasts...."
Slowly I unfasten the buttons of at the top of your sundress.
As we both look in the mirror I slowly pull back your top and expose one breast.
"Shuuuu.... we must be quiet..."
Your nipple is erect in the reflection in the mirror.
"Lovely... so beautiful..." I whisper next to your ear.
We both look in the mirror as my finger circles your nipple, lightly...
With my other hand, I reach down and around you, under your dress. Again, you feel my finger on your clit.
"oh... no, please! We mustn't. Not here... Someone might come."
"Shuuu....."
After a while you can take this no longer.
I sense it and pull down your panties from behind.
You lean forward, steadying yourself with your hands on the hard granite sink. You wait with anticipation.
You can see yourself yourself in the mirror.
You see your own shocked expression as you feel me enter you from behind... penetrating deeply in one full stroke. Filling you. I pause, both of us throbbing. Then, I thrust fast. Then stop. You wait with anticipation...
"Oh, please..."
I thrust again.
You can see your breasts jiggle with my thrusts.
"Oh! oh!"
"Shhh...."
I squeeze your nipple with one hand, and massage your clit with the other.
The contractions start again... and spread over your body. You see your face redden in the mirror.
"Ohhhh!" you exclaim too loudly.
"Shhhh shhh...."
I am hard and deep inside of you.
"Ah... oh... ooohhh!"
You feel my contractions, and the warm fluid fill you inside...
A long pause to catch our breath.
"Shhh...," I whisper. "Close your eyes." I kiss you again. Our tongues intertwine and explore greedily.
I slowly brush your hair back, and wipe away the sweat from your forehead.
"Again," I whisper... "we will meet again. Meet me here again in one week, at the same time."
Then I leave, quietly closing the door.
You study yourself in the mirror... your face is reddened and flushed glistening beads of sweat, hair disorganized, chest still heaving with deep breaths.
You close your eyes. You are alone.
"Oh... ohhh" you whisper to yourself quietly. "Oh my."
You wonder: How did this happen?
There is silence... no voice to counter your protestations. In the mirror your nipples are still erect. Your lips are red and moist, there is a slight, unintentional upturn at the corners.
"One week," he said. One week.
The End.
The Business Trip
It was 3pm on a Monday. A burning email from my client quickly turns to a conference call just before I have to leave the office to pick up my kids and be home for dinner when my wife gets home. The call quickly turns into a need for me to get on the next plane to Dallas to put out this "fire". I can't believe it. I think to myself "For once, I would like to start the week without fuckin' crisis. Is that too much to ask?". The price we pay for success I suppose. In this town, this is the norm rather than the exception. About a year ago, my lovely wife Anne and myself came to the realization that if our relationship was going to last, we would have to make time in our busy schedules for "us". Time to ourselves without the kids. Sex night. Forget date night. Sex Night.
Anne and I have always been very open with each other. She's my wife and my best friend. I can tell her anything. Honesty is the policy in our house for sure. Our household is not unlike most. She runs the roost. Dishonesty is the quickest way to find yourself over her knee. I am no exception. She and I came to an agreement a long time ago, that even though I was likely to make more money, she was far better at running the household and making the rules. So, once I'm home. She's in charge. This means breaking the rules means I get a spanking too.
Breaking the news to Anne about this unexpected business trip was no easy feat. She was pretty stewed about it but there was nothing I could do. She would have to pick the kids up for a few days until I got home. Our standard protocol for this type of thing is honesty. She knows that when I am away from home with no rules, there is the likelihood that I
would have something to confess when I got home. Which is why our Sex Night often begins with confession and spankings. No doubt, this trip to Dallas sucked...long days dealing with this client...back to the hotel for shitty food before bed. I was exhausted and missing Sex Night. Upon landing at the airport, I grab my bag and haul ass to my car at the economy lot in Timbuktu. I get a text from Anne.
"Come home NOW."
Butterflies in my stomach. She knows I'm back. I'm looking forward to being home but nervously anticipating what is in store for me when I get home. Much to my surprise, she has re-arranged her schedule for our Sex Night. She is in desperate need of dick but not before my confession. I pull up to the house. The shades are drawn and looks as if nobody is home. I walk in the front foyer seeing her in all her glory. Standing there dressed in her favorite black RHT nylons, garter belt, sexy black pumps and matching bra and panties. A string of pearls cascades down to just above her breasts. I can just barely see her naked chest under the sheer material of her bra. She knows how much I love it when she dresses. I drop my bag with a grin. She's sipping a glass of Merlot and turns with her back to me. I see her lovely ass jiggle through her sheer panties. Her heels clack on the hardwood floor as she walks into the living room. Her legs are to die for. I follow like a lost puppy. Watching her every move. As I make my way to the living room, she sits on the edge of the couch crossing her legs.
"Are you surprised?" She says.
"Yes dear", I said
"Good. I know how you like surprises." she says with a rather stern look.
"Judging from the way I'm dressed, I suppose you think we are going to have sex" she says with a grin.
"Yes dear", I said.
As she looks down at her glass, rubbing the rim with her finger, she says "There is the possibility of us having sex tonight honey. But you will need to confess to me everything you did while you were away. Is that clear?"
"Yes honey. I promise."
"Good. I thought so." she says with a smile.
"Now. Tell me. Tell me what you did in your hotel room all by yourself last night."
"Well. Um." I say reluctantly.
"Yes. Come on. You can tell me. Be honest" she says with a grin.
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