This story contains sexually explicit scenes. Read only if you are of age. I enjoy reading erotic stories, writing is fun too. If you want help in the process of writing, or you'd like to edit erotic stories, check out Desdmona's FishTank.
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Suddenly, I felt the cool night air; my blanket was being pulled off me. I sleepily reached for it, but it escaped my grasp. It wasn't at all like my wife to tease me this way. I looked down to the foot of the bed.
Well no wonder. It wasn't my wife, not even close. She, the woman who was definitely not my wife, just stood there. Right there at the foot of my bed. She was wearing jeans and a long white tank top. She had the most beguiling smile on her face.
This was all very strange. Yet, for some unexplained reason, not only did I want her to take her tank top off - it's like I knew that it was going to happen. Funny.
With practiced grace she crossed her arms over her chest and grabbed the lower half of her tank top. She slowly gathered the material in her hands. As the material bunched up, she exposed the top of her jeans, then her stomach, and more.
As she lifted her arms, it was clear that she worked out, the faint outline of her six-pack abs were proof enough. Ribs, sternum and the bottoms of her breasts came into view. When there was more of her breast below her crossed arms then above, gravity pulled them down in a most delightful manner. I quietly gasped as her nipples bounced a couple of times, my eyes following their movement.
I didn't even notice when she finished taking off her tank top. I did notice when she bent forward; her incredible breasts suspended, dark nipples lengthening noticeably. I loved the way her breasts shook as she shimmied her jeans down to the floor.
She wasn't wearing any underwear. Personally, I was delighted, and somewhat surprised to see that her pubic hair was more a 'five o'clock shadow.' With her headful of long black hair and her amazing eyebrows, I would have expected either more, or less, down below. Interestingly, I found her desultory depilatory practice disarmingly sexy. Somehow it made this all seem more spontaneous.
She climbed onto the bed, straddled my legs and crawled forward. I wanted her to crawl right up and sit on my face. I was desperate to taste her but she had other ideas. As soon as she was over my hard cock, she reached down, lined us up, and sat down; engulfing me within her hot wet cunt. She leaned forward, grabbed hold of the headboard above me and began to slowly move up and down.
She was so beautiful as she fucked me. And believe me when I tell you that she was definitely doing the fucking. I loved the way her breasts shook, and the way her hair moved as her head whipped side to side. I loved the way her eyes were glassy with lust and the wayt she chewed her bottom lip.
Her muscle control was extraordinary. She was able to rise up high enough that the tip of my cock was barely held within her and then she would slam down so hard onto my hips that bed shook. All too soon I felt the warning buzz of an imminent orgasm deep in my pelvis. Like I said, I loved the way she fucked me.
Wait a minute! "STOP!"
I struggled for control. This had to be a dream. Yes, I'm asleep having an erotic dream that's about to go wet. The last thing I needed was to wake up with my briefs filled with sticky semen. I was not interested in explaining to my wife why my underwear was getting more action than she was.
Hold on, that might give you the impression; like maybe my wife and I are having sexual problems between us. It's just that right now, through our mutual stubbornness, we are in a battle of wills about our sex life. The result of this battle is that our sex life has pretty much come to a halt.
Okay, first you have to realize that my wife is very conservative when the subject is sex. She is simply not interested in anything that might be construed as sexy, let alone erotic. I don't mean the physical act of sex. We have sex, or when we used to have sex, she enjoyed it, even though our bedroom activity is about as plain vanilla as it gets.
And 'YES, ' I've asked her if she would like something different. "Tell me what you want?" "Is there anything you'd like me to do differently?" What do I get for my efforts? "Oh, I like it just the way you usually do."
Right! Like she'd buy that answer it I turned it around regarding going to a restaurant. "Gee honey, why don't we go to the same place again and order the same thing." Or how about, "New shoes? You don't need new shoes, you have plenty that are just fine." No way, not a chance!
Of course, when she discovered that I've been reading erotic stories on the Internet, that didn't help the situation. She acts as if I've cheated on her.
The result has been some absolutely epic arguments. They dwarf any of the financial, child-rearing, political points of view, family relations, travel and vacation arguments we'd had throughout our marriage.
So within this perfect storm of miscommunication, I didn't need any more fuel on that particular fire. This is why I had to stop this wet dream - right now. If my wife found my underwear drenched in semen she'd insist I was thinking of some Internet porn-inspired "phantom" lover and we'd be right back in the thick of it, slogging through the arguments all over again. I was getting too old for that.
I began to breathe deeply and focus my mind on relaxing the muscles of ejaculation. The buzz began to subside. The efforts of my dream lover did not. She began to rotate her hips in a wildly sensual hula. I felt the buzz return.
I realized that I had no other choice; my only recourse was to wake myself up. I slowly opened my eyes. Well I thought I did. I mean I was clearly awake and in my own bed, but I was still looking at and feeling my dream-lover. At least I think I was, because a luminous fog-like form was still moving above me. My dream-lovers face was looking up toward the ceiling as if beseeching an unseen ally for assistance. My wife inhaled a particularly loud snore and the exhaled an incredibly long sigh. My dream-lover looked over at my wife's sleeping form and then down at me.
The expression of shock on her face was clearly visible as she realized I was awake and looking right at her. I heard her voice within my head. "Close your eyes, go back to sleep."
I didn't, n o fucking way. She told me again and I refused her again. The worried expression on her face was replaced with one of real fear. "Close your eyes, you're not supposed to see me."
But I could see her, if fact, not only were her features becoming clearer, but and I could feel the increasing weight of her body. She shook her head and began to plead with me to close my eyes. "Please, you must! You have no idea what you're doing. This is not supposed to happen! Close you eyes, please!"
It was happening though. As our gazed remained locked, she became more real. The bed began to squeak and bounce with her efforts and she was forced to stop fucking me. I felt the enveloping heat of her cunt as she settled fully onto my hips. A woman, a gorgeous, beautiful woman was in my bed, astride my hips, with my cock buried deeply inside her. Damned if she didn't look like a young Catherine Zeta-Jones, you know, before she hooked up with that old guy.
Her shoulders slumped, her back bowed, and she exhaled a frustrated sigh. She gave me a look of disgust while slowly shaking her head. She released her cunt-hold on my cock, got off the bed and walked towards the bedroom door. She flicked her head for me to follow. It was only after we were safely in another room that she spoke.
"Do you have any idea what you've just done? Do you?" She was even more beautiful when she was angry. I reached out and touched her face, to see if she was real. She was and she didn't recoil, or even try to step away. She actually leaned into my hand.
"You look so hot." I let my hand slide down to her breast and diddled her nipple to hardness. It was a trip to see her eyes blaze with anger as her body responded like she was some kind of horny little slut. "What are you? Who are you?"
"I'm a succubus." She sighed and rolled her eyes, "I'm your succubus." She must have mistaken the sleepy expression on my face for confusion. "A succubus is a demon of the astral world. I have astral sex with men. Look it up in fucking Webster's if you want."
"Don't get all angry at me..."I was grappling with the whole situation when it struck me. She had said that she was "my" succubus. Mine. The furious fire in her eyes was frightening, but that didn't stop me from slipping my left hand between her legs. Damn she was wet as she writhed on my finger. You should have seen her expression - pissed!
"You have to do what I want, don't you?" She groaned when I added a second finger. "That's why you look the way you do, because it's what "I" like. You can't refuse me either, can you?" The look of utter despair was obvious. "Why haven't I seen you before?"
She looked down at my bandaged right hand. I'd recently been diagnosed with dominant (I'm right handed) Dupuytren's Contracture, a disease of the hand. Surgery had been just over a week ago. I didn't see the connection.
She looked at me with a world-weary exasperation. "What haven't you been doing for the last couple of weeks that you've been doing almost every freakin' day for, oh let's say, since you were thirteen?"
I blushed at the clear reference to my near daily masturbation habit. But since the hand surgery and because my right hand was covered in a bandage, I just couldn't seem to do it left-handed. I looked at her sheepishly.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this opportunity. I need semen, preferably slightly aged, three days to a week old would be nice. Finally, I have a shot at getting some and you wake up." She looked down at her nude corporeal form. "God. I am never going to hear the end of this."
I guess my look of utter cluelessness was question enough.
"Hello? It's not like the astral world runs on oil from the mid East. We need cum - nocturnal emissions. It's not like I can't just swing by the drive-in at McDonald's for some sperm."
I was feeling a little embarrassed. I tried to rally a defense. "What about when I shower? Obviously you know what I do..." I made a fist with my left hand and stroked it back and forth. "I mean I do that almost every day, you said so yourself."
"Do you think that I'm the only sex-entity on this whole fucking planet? We work in teams, I have the asleep dream shift. The awake shift is handled by your muse. Your fucking day muse is living the good life. She gets all the jizz from your daytime fantasies and your incessant whacking off. Then, when it's finally my turn, you fall into a dreamless sleep. Even when you do dream, it's hardly ever about sex. I'm stuck trying to live off your weird memories of childhood and those ridiculous super hero fantasies of yours."
I asked her about what happened tonight. She reluctantly told me that she hadn't noticed me waking. Normally she would've "moved on" in the moment just before waking. My wife's snore had distracted her and when she'd looked down at me, our eyes locked. That was when things began to go wrong, because I saw her ethereal form.
She told me that if only I had closed my eyes, or even blinked, she would have been able to go. The fact that I maintained eye contact forced her to take corporeal form. She looked like she did because that was the strongest female image in my mind. A form she said could not be released until sunrise. The last statement barely made it out of her mouth before she moaned in orgasm. I pulled my fingers out of her and smiled my best, "what a good boy am I" smile.
"My orgasms don't count. I need yours." I seemed to be a moment behind the curve, no matter what I did. A particularly loud snore and sigh erupted from my bedroom. My succubus looked longingly toward the sound. I asked her what that was all about. She tried to pass it off saying it was nothing of interest to me. I insisted on her telling me.