A Succubus For Christmas

by M. E. Hydra

  A wet dream. How embarrassing.

  He looked around for June, blushing at the thought of her seeing this. She wasn't on her side of the bed, or even in the room at all. Bright sunlight was cutting in through the cracks in the curtains.

  How late was it? He thought, looking for the clock.

  Eleven-thirty? Had he really slept in that late?

  No wonder June wasn't around. She'd already be at work after dropping Carol off at school first.

  Cursing his laziness, Gordon stumbled into the bathroom and cleaned himself off. He had a busy day ahead of him. He didn't want to degenerate into one of those out of work bums that spent their whole lives on the sofa in front of the TV.

  June had left a note for him on the fridge downstairs.

  'Can you pop over to the supermarket later. I'm cooking chilli tonight and we're out of rice.

  XXX.'

  She was so good to him, Gordon thought. He'd offered to help around the house, do the housework, cook some meals, that kind of thing. She wouldn't have any of it.

  “Don't take it too badly dear, but I've tasted some of the things you've cooked,” she'd joked.

  That was fine with Gordon; she was a far better cook than him. It made him feel a little inadequate though, like a spare part no-one had a use for.

  You need to get back in work, he thought to himself.

  That was easier said than done. An hour of fruitless browsing later and Gordon was thoroughly demoralised. The jobs market was dire. To make it worse the jobs he did see looked to have been posted by people with very little idea of what IT was. So many of the descriptions were asking for experience in more technologies and languages than any sensible company would ever need, and then attaching a salary that would have insulted a shop assistant. He even found an advert asking for five years experience with the latest Microsoft operating system even though it had only hit the market a year and a half ago.

  Gordon had taken this career path because he wanted to use his brain. He'd have been better off taking lessons in advanced bullshitting.

  Depressed, he'd gone to the news sites for a break, then the game sites, and then finally back to Arachne's Web.

  She was stunning. He studied a picture of her standing in front of a plain stone wall in another revealing costume. Her outfit consisted of nothing but black elastic webs covering her body in a series of complicated spirals. It looked like a costume for an X-rated superheroine. Maybe that was the theme. She posed with her arms above her head, her wrists touching and her hands pointing left and right in a defiant comic book stance.

  Her eyes and lips gave it away though.

  “Come get me,” they pouted. “I won't fight.”

  He studied the perfect angles of her face, his hand absent-mindedly crawling down to his crotch. She was so gorgeous.

  The phone rang, jerking Gordon from his reverie. It was June.

  “Hi dear,” she said. “Did you get the rice? We've got a surprise guest for dinner tonight. You'll never guess who I bumped into at lunch.”

  Surprise guest?

  Rice!

  Gordon looked at the clock and was horrified. Four o'clock! Where had the day gone? He still needed to go to the supermarket. He exchanged pleasantries with his wife before hanging up and rushing out to the car.

  * * * *

  June returned from work with Carol and a woman Gordon didn't recognise. This must be the surprise guest. She was attractive and shared some similarities with his wife. They both had the same honey-blonde hair, although the visitor had allowed hers to grow out a little. They also had similar slim figures, but the new girl was maybe a few inches taller.

  “Look who I bumped into over lunch,” June said, smiling enthusiastically.

  She didn't introduce the other woman. Gordon wondered if that meant he was supposed to recognise her from somewhere. The other girl recognised him and looked a little hurt and disappointed when she didn't see any recognition back from him.

  “I don't think he remembers who I am,” the woman said, turning to June with a smile.

  “Gordon, this is Jane, Jane Kenney from university. Remember. The girl you couldn't walk behind without your tongue hanging down around your ankles,” June said.

  “Oh,” Gordon said.

  Still nothing. Surely her name should have provoked some emotion. It sounded familiar, but only in the vague sense of someone he might have known a long time ago.

  “Oh?” his wife laughed. “I think we've just woken someone up from a nap on the sofa. His mind's still dozing. I hope you remembered to get that rice.”

  It was odd, Gordon thought as they sat down together to eat his wife's delicious chilli. He could remember university, he could remember the name Jane, but he couldn't remember her.

  “Jane's over from England,” June explained. “Her company is about to close their UK offices so she's over here to see if she'd be happy relocating to the States.”

  “You made the right decision to leave Britain,” Jane said. “It's crap there now. Everything's so expensive.”

  “I had a strong incentive to leave,” Gordon said, sharing a smile with his wife.

  “The quiet ones always end up being the best catches. I had to go through a lot of useless dicks before I learnt that one,” Jane laughed.

  “I don't feel like such a prize catch these days,” Gordon said. “You might want to check the expiry date on this fish.”

  “Jane might be able to help with that,” June said.

  “What, with finding out whether I've gone rotten or not,” Gordon joked.

  “No, silly,” June said, slapping him on the arm. “She might be able to find you a job.”

  “I can't promise anything,” Jane said, “but when the economy picks up the company will need to replace the IT staff that aren't willing to relocate. I can put in a good word for you.”

  That was some good news at least, Gordon thought.

  He still couldn't remember her. He smiled along as they spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about the old days back at Bristol University. He was hoping his memories would click back into place, but they never did. The woman left exactly as she'd arrived: a stranger Gordon had met for the first time this evening.

  That name was familiar to him though. He was sure he remembered a Jane from university, and it was the name of a girl he'd fancied a lot.

  Later he cast his mind back to university, roaming through old halls as he tried to remember her face. A swish of black hair came to mind.

  Black hair? But hadn't he always preferred blondes?

  Yes, there she was, standing at the bar with her back to him, midnight-black hair cascading halfway down her back. This was the girl he'd seen in class, the one that caused his heart to quicken every time he glanced at her. He thought about going up to her, maybe offering to buy her a drink, but he lost courage at the last moment and chickened out.

  If this was Jane then who was the girl who'd visited them this evening?

  * * * *

  Gordon was dreaming again.

  He was sitting on a chair with his hands tied firmly behind his back. The chair stood in the centre of a plain room with thick stone walls. The walls, floor and ceiling were festooned with layer upon layer of white cobwebs.

  Arachne danced before him at the far end of the room. Ornate golden candelabra threw flickering shadows over her twirling body . She wore the same spiral web bodystocking he'd seen her wearing in her pictures. It hugged the curves of her body so tightly and revealed so much of her pale white skin she might as well have been naked.

  Gordon could tell this was a dream. As graceful as she seemed, there was something alien in the way she moved. Her motions had an odd jerky quality, like watching a film with every fifth frame removed. It unsettled Gordon so he tried to ignore it and instead focused on her long limber legs, the luscious swell of her ass and those lovely full breasts.

  A couple of light footfalls and she stood in front of him. Her costume made it look like s
he was covered from head to toe in black spiderwebs. Not covered entirely; the crotch was open and Gordon caught himself staring at the hairless folds of her sex.

  “Hello again, little fly,” Arachne said.

  She bent down until her sumptuous red lips hovered millimetres from his own. Beyond them was the deep lush canyon of her cleavage. She placed a hand under his chin and raised his head until he was staring directly into her bright green eyes.

  “Some cruel thing has tied you all up,” Arachne whispered, her other hand running across his shoulder and down his flexed arm. “I can see that's made you frustrated.”

  Yes, very frustrated...ooh, Gordon thought as her hand encircled his erection and lightly stroked up and down.

  He ached to free his hands. He wanted to caress the ripe fruit of her breasts, to put his arms around her and embrace her warm body. There was no give in the rope around his wrists at all. He couldn't loosen them no matter how hard he struggled. His bonds felt like they were glued to his flesh.

  “Really frustrated,” Arachne said, her fingers stepping up his throbbing shaft with light touches. “What shall we do about it?”

  “Fuck me,” Gordon pleaded. His cock throbbed with the need to be buried in the secret folds he saw between her legs. It craved sensation.

  “Is this what you want?” Arachne asked, spreading her labia with her fingers and revealing the pink treasures behind. Her moist flesh glistened in the candlelight.

  “Yes,” Gordon begged. His cock was fully erect and bright red. It ached with a dull throb.

  Arachne stepped close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from her body. She straddled his body and her nipples brushed against his chest. She rubbed her groin against his erection, letting his cock run through the moist groove of her sex. It was enough to arouse him further but not enough to satisfy him.

  She rubbed against him, letting his cock slip closer, closer, but not close enough to slip into her moist pussy. She stepped back, her green eyes sparkling. She reached down and inserted a finger between the fleshy folds of her sex.

  Gordon watched on in helpless frustration as she teased him.

  “Do you want to be where my finger is?” Arachne asked, her lips puffed up in a coquettish pout.

  “Yes,” Gordon pleaded. His cock was burning. He needed to quench it in her wet pussy.

  “I want you too,” Arachne said. She gripped her costume and tore the webbing off her body as if it was no more substantial than the cobwebs it resembled.

  Gordon didn't get much of a chance to admire the pale curves of her naked body before she straddled him again and this time guided his tormented cock up into the warm sheath of her vagina.

  Gordon sighed his contentment as he felt her moist, silky smooth skin glide down his shaft. So tight. He felt her warmth pressing down all around him. She slid all the way down on him until her ass rested on his thighs. She was a tall girl; Gordon's face was level with her breasts as she sat in his lap. She didn't hesitate in pressing the soft cushions of her boobs against his face.

  She started to push up and down in his lap. Gordon's cries of pleasure were smothered in her cleavage as his cock slid up and down a moist, slippery tunnel.

  Arachne put her hands on his shoulders and leant back. Her hips traced a full arc as she thrust them over Gordon's cock again and again. Back and forth he slipped inside her, each thrust pumping him up to higher and higher levels of bliss.

  “Is this better, little fly?” Arachne asked. Little beads of perspiration formed on her pale skin as she thrust her body up and down.

  “Yes. Yes,” Gordon moaned, his body rocking back against the chair with each thrust.

  “Do you love me?” Arachne asked.

  “Yes,” Gordon cried.

  “Love me above all others?”

  “Yes!” Gordon yelled as his balls finally bubbled over and he shot a stream of hot cum into her pulsing sex.

  * * * *

  Gordon woke with a start. The bedroom was dark around him. Before his eyes could adjust the room was filled with blinding light as his wife switched on the bedside lamp.

  “Are you okay dear?” she asked.

  “Just a bad dream,” Gordon replied.

  His cock was rock hard and straining against the confines of his underwear. He was about to...oh, no, already too late. He couldn't stop it. A warm wet patch grew on the front of his underwear as he ejaculated with steady pulses.

  She mustn't see, he thought, his cheeks burning with shame.

  He jumped out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, walking awkwardly as he tried to hide his massive erection.

  “Are you sure you're okay?” June asked.

  “Yes, just need the bathroom,” Gordon gasped, sliding into the en-suite and gratefully closing the door behind him.

  The damp patch filled the front of his boxer shorts. The sticky fabric clung to his oozing cock. This was probably a hilarious sight for anyone other than him. Gordon felt only embarrassment. Imagine, soiling himself like this, like a callow teenager just passing puberty.

  He turned on the fan to hide the noise as he sat on the toilet and cleaned himself off as best he could.

  What's wrong with me?

  * * * *

  Gordon woke up late again. The clock read twelve as he stumbled over to the computer, still in his nightclothes and fired up the internet.

  He went straight to Arachne's web.

  Who was she?

  No new pictures had been added, but he studied the old pictures with the same fervour as if he'd found them for the first time.

  What was it about her that had him fixated on her? Why was he dreaming about her?

  Those green eyes and teasing lips smiled enigmatically, as if they knew the answer but weren't about to impart it.

  Gordon searched the site, looking for any contact information. There must be some business information somewhere: phone number, name, details of a modelling agency. Why else would the site be here? It had to be making money for someone.

  He went through all the pages. Nothing.

  He typed the name into google and added terms he hoped would point him in the right direction.

  “+ arachne.” Nothing useful.

  “+ model agency.” Nothing.

  “+ site owner.” Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

  Gordon kicked back in his chair in frustration.

  Arachne continued to pout at him from the screen. Her hands, covered in long black gloves, were mussing up her hair. There was a knowing gleam in her green eyes, almost as if she was teasing him on purpose.

  Who are you?

  He had to know.

  Gordon looked up at the clock and his heart stuttered in his chest as he realised it was four o'clock.

  There was a word for his behaviour here.

  Obsession.

  No. It was only curiosity. That was all.

  Obsession.

  The word twisted in his gut like a shard of polar ice.

  He stared at the lush curves of her body as she posed against a wall covered in white cobwebs. Her black gloved hands were cupped under her ripe breasts. They held them as if presenting a dish fit for a gourmand.

  If only he could call her, hear her voice, then maybe he'd see her as a real person. Not a fantasy figure, just another person with their own mundane worries and concerns. Maybe then all the dreams would go away. Maybe then he wouldn't be so...he didn't even want to think the word–

  obsessed

  –about her.

  As the sun dipped towards the horizon it threw long shadows across the utility room. Gordon turned sharply. The shadows across the far wall suddenly resembled those thrown by the legs of an enormous spider. It was just his imagination though. The source was an old cherry tree outside the window.

  Obsessed.

  * * * *

  That evening June had a surprise for him. After they'd put Carol to bed and he'd spent another fruitless hour scanning the jobs listings he returned to the bedroom to fin
d his wife waiting up for him, in sexy negligee. She lay on her side on the bed and wore a come hither smile on her lips. The room was lit by a circle of scented candles placed around the bed.

  “What's the special occasion?” Gordon asked.

  He hadn't seen his wife in that negligee for years. He hadn't realised she still had it.

  “I've been a very bad wife,” June said. “I've neglected the needs of the man I love most in all the world. I saw your little accident last night,” she added. “It made me realise I've not been giving you as much attention as I should.”

  “It was a little embarrassing,” Gordon said, sitting on the side of the bed and taking off his clothes. “Like being a gormless teenager all over again.”

  “I know the best fix for that,” his wife said, sitting up and running a hand over his shoulders.

  “I do too,” Gordon said.

  He turned to kiss his wife and they both collapsed on the bed together. He held her in his arms, relishing her warmth. They kissed and cuddled, hands exploring the familiar contours of each other's bodies. He pulled down her panties and rubbed his palm against the moist flesh beneath. He moved up and softly pushed his cock into his wife's willing sex. He thrust against her, hearing her sigh and feeling her rock her hips up to meet him.

  They quickened their pace until the mattress began to squeak and then they slowed down, giggling like newlyweds, not wanting to wake Carol in the next room. Gordon rose above her and thrust in and out with long slow strokes.