Thursday, January 14, 2010

My Succubus

Succubus - In medieval legend, a 'succubus' (plural succubi; from Latin succubare, "to lie under") is a female demon which comes to men, especially monks, in their dreams to seduce them and have sexual intercourse with them, drawing energy from the men to sustain themselves, often until the point of exhaustion or death. This legend was an explanation for the phenomena of wet dreams and sleep paralysis. Lilith and the Lilin ( Jewish), Belili ( Sumerian) and Rusalka ( Slavic) were succubi.

She was cute and had a lithe figure. Her movements were sensuous and yet she was quite demure – even shy. Lilly was my best friend’s kid sister who was tom boy cute clad in ruined jeans and tee shirts, her hair sticking out the back of a baseball hat in a long glorious ponytail. Lilly was ever the nuisance always following you around, tagging along like annoying little sisters do when their big brothers were around.

Then one day I realized she wasn’t a tom boy or a little girl anymore. Something changed. There were curves and a subtle feminine power that had awakened. I suddenly become interested. To my surprise I realized that she was interested in me. I had never thought of her in “that way” and assumed that she was too young to have entertained any such fantasy about me. Her mother confirms that not to be the case and warns me to be sweet and good to Lily, her hand caressing the side of my face in a matronly expression of affection.

This was no kid sister crush either. Her thousand watt smile weakened my knees and her dark, rich eyes sparkled with erotic mischief when ever our eyes met. Nature can be cruel. Transforming a cute little girl into a beautiful and sensuous young woman that you believed you should treat as if she was your own sister was the epitome of this cruelty. But, she was only doing the job evolution and human biology dictated, arousing men and enticing them to copulate with her to perpetuate the species. The heart wants what the heart wants as the old cliché goes. Lily might quip the “hard want what the hard want.”

It was my senior year at Northwestern University and Scott had invited me to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with his family in the tiny town of Rock Island, a little town in Illinois just across the Mississippi from Davenport, Iowa. My parents and brother had died in a house fire when I was 18 and a freshman in college. Scott and his family had adopted me and I spent most of my holidays and vacation time with them when I wasn’t working.

Leaving Wednesday after finals Scott and I figured that we could drive the 184 miles from Evanston to Rock Island in just under 3 hours. Lily was the first to greet us as I drove my battered Honda Civic “Wag-o-van” into their driveway. She ran from the door and threw herself at Scott who wrapped her in his arms and twirled her about. She may have been only 2 years younger than us, but she seemed much younger as she squealed and giggled in her brothers playful arms.

Lily pushed herself off of Scott’s chest and landed flat on her feet planting herself like an accomplished gymnast, which she was. She had been a gymnast since she was 10 years old and her body was hard, lean and lithe from years of intense conditioning.

“I stuck that landing,” Lily grinned. She flashed her big smile and batted her long eyelashes. Lily considered her natural eye lashes one of her best features. Most girls would kill to have such beautiful and natural lashes, or so she told me over the summer when I had visited. We had been laying in the grass on a blanket her head resting against my solar plexus.

That was the first time I felt lust stirring in me at just being close to her. Later that night I masturbated in the shower ashamed that her face was all I could see. I couldn’t get her out of my head. My heart pounding and my pulse quickening as my intense need overcame me and I could barely stifle the loud moan as I experienced the relief of my release. I was afraid someone might have heard me. The next day I could barely look Lily in the eye. The sly look in her eyes betrayed that she knew what I had been up to the night before. When no one was looking she stood up on her tip toes and planted a soft kiss on my forehead and patted my butt. Her eyes twinkling merrily as she sauntered out of the room.

“Judges?” She asked

“The distinguished judge from the Soviet Union gives an 8.9,” Scott said. Lilly curtsied mockingly at her brother. She then turned her dark eyes on me.

“The American judge gives the lovely and lithe gymnast a perfect 10,” I responded.
Lilly bounced up and down on her feet clapping her hands. Had I really called her lithe and lovely? She was, but did I want Scott and her to know that? Scott shot a weird glance at me. Was that a warning? Lily was his sister after all.

“Why thank you Mr. American Judge,” Lily said with mock coquettishness. She placed her hand on my chest and kissed me softly on the side of my mouth, her warm soft lips lingering a tad longer than would be considered sisterly affection. My groin stirred.

Lily spun on her heels and floated back inside the house. Scott looked at me with more bemusement than you might expect an overprotective big brother to have.

“What?” I said perhaps a little too defensively.

“Bro, I think my sister wants you.”


“Uh huh,” He said slapping me in the back, “She wants to jump your bones dude.”

“Dude!” I protested, “This is your sister…”

“But, she ain’t yours,” Scott grinned, “I’d rather her be with you then with you then anyone else she could pick up at the hippy college of hers.”

In other words let’s keep it in the family.

Still I felt dirty.


And maybe a little in love...


Why not, I had known her for 3 years. That was 2 years and 12 months longer than I knew my first college girlfriend before sleeping with her.

My sleep that night was heavy and restless.

I found myself lying on a stone altar in a copse of hoary trees, gnarled with hidden secrets written in shadows of blood and fire. I was naked and my body was stretched in a wide X, my spread arms and legs tied with a coarse rope to stakes pounded into the hard ground. I struggled against my captivity. Unable to budge I relaxed.

There was chanting and rhythmic movements all around me. The deep beat of pagan drums thrilled my heart and filled me with excitement despite my fear. I heard the bleating of a frightened goat. I felt panic rising in me like black, oily bile. My blood was turning to ice water. I turned my head.

Two naked young women lifted up the goat while as an aged crone slit its throat. Its dying bleat carried away in the gurgling blood pouring out. Another young woman collected the blood in rough hewn bowl of wood. A wave of nausea convulsed my stomach. My throat was dry and prickly and I started to hack.

Strong unseen hands slid underneath my shoulders propping me up as far as my restraints would allow. The old crone offered me water lifting a wooden bowl to my lips.

I gagged.

It was warm blood.

I turned my head and spit out the warm, sticky coppery flavored fluid. The crone chuckled quietly, but with no trace of warmth in her amusement.

“It is a great honor to drink of the blood of Cernunnos boy,” She said her ancient eyes filled with a yellow light and steel.

She proffered the bowl to me again. I clamped my mouth shut tight and turned my head away from her.

“Very well, then,” she said.

The hands that were supporting me now pushed me flat against the stone of the altar, cracking my skull in the process. My vision blurred a little. Suddenly there were hands, soft feminine and sticky rubbing my body. I felt warm sticky blood being drizzled over me matting my body hair. A glop of blood covered my groin. I felt still another set of hands expertly massaging the blood soaking my manhood, gently stroking me bringing me to arousal despite my horror.

Suddenly the massaging and stroking stopped. The old crone mounted the altar and stood over me. Her yellow eyes filled with lust and ancient power. She dropped her robe revealing an ancient withered body. She lowered herself on to my stomach and leaned forward. Her breath was foul and smelled like dead and rotting things. She placed her lips against my ear and whispered something to me and biting my ear lobe she nearly drew blood as she slowly slid back.

Her dry weathered hand grasped me and guided me into her as she slid back on me. Her vulva felt dry and scaly and I screamed loud as she rocked back and forth to the rhythm of the drums. My cock started to throb and my testicles tightened warning me that I was about to come. This seemed so unnatural

I clamped my eyes shut tight and screamed…

I screamed and I screamed

I screamed myself hoarse

Something cold poked me across my thigh

I opened my eyes to find Lily sitting on a chair beside my bed poking me with her cold bare feet.
Her brow was furrowed and her eyes filled with concern.

“You okay?” she asked. Her earlier flirting replaced with sisterly worry.

I shivered despite the warmth of the room. My body was drenched in sour sweat.

“I just had a nightmare,” I explained, “A really, weird nightmare.”

“I wondered,” she replied, “You were moaning in your sleep and thrashing. At first I thought you were having one of those kinds of dreams.”

“What kind of dream?”

“You know,” she said, the earlier flirtatiousness returning. “A sex dream – by the sounds you were making you sounded like you were right on the brink.”

I shuddered. The image of the old crone raping me floated in the semi darkness in front of me. Lilly crawled on the bed next to me and placed her head on my chest, her left arm draped over me with her palm pressed lightly against the side of my face. The warmth of her body calmed me immediately and I fell into a dark, dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

To Be Continued...

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