The Incubus' Wife
Chapter 2: Sweet, Old Daddy's Birthday

Copyright© 2015 by livobeornwulf

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2: Sweet, Old Daddy's Birthday - Sweet, young Emma Jenkins is the wife of an Incubus who feeds on sex solely.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Paranormal   Furry   Cheating   Revenge   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Snuff   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Sex Toys   Spitting   Tit-Fucking   Size   Hairy   Slow   Nudism   Royalty  

He glances at me silently and calmly. I can feel it that he wishes to state something to me. I have no small idea what this will be about. We are both undressed right here on our bed—I myself lying beneath him, and he is sprawled carelessly on top of me. I hold his face with my both two hands, and it is then that he questions me, "Have I made you orgasm yet, Emma? I want you to be truthful and open with me."

My response is upfront, direct rather. "You have triumphed to do just that, Mason. But I want you to bash me again one last time. Will you happily do it, my sweet love?"

It seems to make him thrilled and convinced with himself. He hurriedly presses himself down on me and ten mildly and leniently batters his lips against mine, slithering his hand up my legs so that he can make it to my vagina and pierce and jab his way inside with his skilled fingers. I pant and gulp down, tickled and satisfied with his deed and the way that he is eyeballing fixedly down at me.

I reach up for his lips, hauling and dragging myself upwards so that I can touch his pleasant lips with mine and more importantly sweep and graze them. He continues digging and stabbing his fingers deep into my vagina, and my hips beneath swing and rock in an excited-like rhythm as he does this. I sling my head high up into the air, seeking to breathe coolly and impassively but failing to do so.

My hands grasp the two margins of our giant, grand bed. I at last shove my head and hair behind me and then stare straightly at Mason. He peeks back at me mildly. I pull and break my legs apart so that my clitoris yawns intimately open. Even my dear vagina can be seen down there. She is all a brilliant pink and fast transforming to crimson as I become more aroused. First, Mason prods her cautiously and lightly with his finger, and then he positions himself between my legs while he carries his intact erect dick into his hand.

Taking his time steadily, he places the head of his erection into my clitoris and breathes out in pure thrill and exhilaration. He is killing me with massive, electrifying pleasure already. What have I done to deserve all this? While he slants and relaxes himself down on me, I let myself plummet down to the bed and imagine what delightful and beautiful trance I am going to plunge straight into this time around.

Mason whacks in and out of me, unhurriedly and in his own leisure and style. Spills of sweat start to stream down my forehead and face. Not only this. I can as well feel sweat slide its way down my back and even my legs. When I orgasm all of sudden without a slice of a warning, I see Mason who is right here before my eyes become hazy and fuzzy-like. It is all plain straightforward that my eyes are fooling me. But then I really am not that bothered or molested.

The sky is gradually blackening. Night is fast moving towards us. I stand here before the glass-shaped wall, goggling outside when in fact I am so lost and disappeared into secret thoughts of my own. When I wheel around, I find that Mason has completed up dressing. His father is toasting his fifty-eight birthday tonight at some hotel here in town, and we have a duty to make merry with him close to his cheery and loving side.

"We can go now, Emma. Are you okay anyway?" Mason asks me in a composed and impassive tone of voice. I am not all that good really. Last night, just after we had made love and he had immediately sunk his way into sleep, I had not actually slumbered until about four this morning. Why, you might be imagining? I was still bothered about what he had mentioned the preceding night. That if we should have our first baby, they were going to snatch it away from us and cook and grill it alive while we watched.

"I am okay, Mason," I tell him a lie and hastily go into a faked-up mood of gladness—trusting that this will be enough to soothe and still any queries that he might have in his mind concerning my not-long-past unease.

After he has stretched his hand towards me, I step towards him submissively and let him take and keep my hand in his. With this carried through, we both march our way out, talking about occasional stuff joyfully and freely. Mason is like my very own best man friend on the other hand. With him, I every time feel that I can disclose anything bothering me without ever agonizing about how he is going to respond to that. I love him and I also pin my faith on him like I do to no one else.

Outside, the air is a bit cold and bitter. This is what I specifically am wearing tonight: A lengthy, divine-looking dark dress with slits that reach as far as my mid thighs on both differing sides of my legs. As I am walking, the split dress hops and sways liberally, my thighs getting displayed to simple view every once little in a while. The shoes that I am clothing on my feet are mid-heeled with diamond lacings and garnishing on it. My long, smooth light brown hair is graced and appareled with glitters and a few sparkly beads and the like. I look like an angel that Mason has sneaked away with from heaven.

He is enchanting and bewitching my eyes in basic black. From his leather shoes up to his shirt that is shroud with his jacket, on to his tie and even his disguised underwear—he is completely and totally clad in sheer, artless-looking black.

I can't believe that a lavish six-doored Limousine is what shall be taking us to the hotel. The minute I see it parked in front of our house, my breath and ability to reason runs away from me. The chauffeur is waiting for us to turn up in the biting air, and as we come to near to finally meet him, he greets the two of us, starting with me and ending with Mason, and he furthermore bows his head down to us in veneration before he proceeds on to open the door so that we can watchfully mount our way inside. I am particularly heedful with my dress as I scale into the high-priced car. I don't want to have it get stuck and ripped up on anything. Such kind of a situation has happened to me before, and I dread that it might take place even this night.

Once we are settled down inside the car and it is finally moving away slowly and gracefully from our house, I look at Mason ensconced down besides me and twinkle auspiciously at him. He winks and smirks back at me, carrying on to switch himself closer to me and asking this of me, "Would you bother to feed me this moment, my sweet little Emma?"

Right here? Inside the Limousine? How come he asks this of me now? Before we withdrew from the house, I has asked him more than twice if he certainly would do without any bit of eating tonight, and he told me that he would be okay until somewhere after midnight, by which time we would be sleeping somewhere in this hotel.

"I believe that you are not joking, Mason, or are you really?" I express to him with a grim, unsmiling form of face.

He moves closer to me, grazing and caressing his hands on my thighs below while looking directly into my eyes. "I am sorry, Emma. I believed that I was strong enough to do for many hours without eating, but now it turns out that I am not as brilliantly thriving as I thought myself to be in the first place."

 
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