Reunion

A light rain greeted Clover and me as we stepped out of the cab in front of our house. It was our first anniversary, and we had been drinking, so the cab ride home had afforded us both safe transport and a bit of kissing and touching in anticipation of the bedroom celebration that was sure to follow. The walk to from the curb started with Clover hanging on my arm, giggling; but in the final few steps before the arch in the tall stone wall surrounding our house, Clover’s attitude changed. She let go of my arm and walked ahead of me briskly and with determination.

“Hi Clover!” Came the familiar voice. “Hi James!” Alison added once I stepped through the arch.

It’s tempting to describe Alison as the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known: blond hair, green eyes that always manage to catch the light, a girl-next-door smile with a Girls Gone Wild body. That description, however, buries the lede: two bat-like wings sprouted from her back, and a serpentine tail dangled below the hem of her dress. Alison was a demon.

At present, she looked less glamorous than usual, bound to the wall by dozens of vines that live there. Her hair looked like it had been done up somehow earlier in the night, but between the rain and the vines it was an unflattering mess. Still, her spirits were high as she greeted us.

“I brought you a present,” she said, and gestured with her head toward the bottle of Champaign that had rolled to the base of the fountain. The vines didn’t allow her the freedom to point with her hands, it seemed.

“I knew it! I KNEW it!” Clover said excitedly. “The girls always tease me about spending so many hours each month renewing my protection spells. Well, this is why! You’re mine now, bitch! James, bring me my sickle!”

“Hang on just a second, honey - let’s not be hasty,” I told my wife. “Alison, what are you doing here?”

“Something big is going down,” Alison explained, seemingly unworried about her helplessness or the menace in Clover’s voice. “It will take a pretty, fertile witch to stop it, so I figured I would pay a visit to my friends Clover and James.”

“F ... friends???” Clover stuttered. “Lady, I’m going to cut you up into tiny pieces and scatter them over my compost heap!”

I tried to play peace-maker. “Alison, you can understand why we wouldn’t be happy to see you, right?”

“Oh, I knew that you might still hold a grudge...,” she said.

“Alison, you disemboweled me,” I replied flatly.

“Well, yeah, but I had a good reason for that,” Alison hedged. “Anyway, all’s well that ends well. You two are happily married and free from her family, and you’ve got to admit that that was all my doing.”

I could tell from Clover’s face that she couldn’t think up a counter-argument. Neither could I.

Alison resumed: “Just listen to what I have to tell you, and then if you want me to leave, I won’t bother you about it again.”

“All right,” Clover said suspiciously rationally. “We’ll hear you out, and then I’ll decide whether to help you, kill you, or send you away.”

“Okay, good,” Alison began. “You see...”

Clover cut her off. “But not right now. Whatever it is can wait. Right now, you’re going to stay here in the honeysuckle, and I’m going to go inside and make love to my husband.”

With that, Clover took my hand and lead me into the house. I shot Alison an apologetic look, and she gave me an understanding one in return.

I started toward the stairs, figuring Clover was eager to get to the bedroom, but she had other ideas. After opening the blinds, she pulled me right in front of the window where she removed my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. We kissed and removed each others’ clothing in deliberate view of my demon ex-girlfriend.

I had never seen this alpha-female side of Clover before. While not a prude, Clover had always been demure. Now, she was marking me as hers: she was showing Alison where she stood in the pack.

Clover’s body was fantastic, in a very particular way. While Alison’s body made you want to fuck her, Clover’s body made you want to impregnate her. Every single day since I met her, some animal part of my brain has screamed at me, “You must plant your seed in this woman.” Her hips were made for procreation: pleasantly wide and perfectly shaped - the gateway to a well-tuned womb. Her breasts, while not unusually large, were round and full and springy and unignorable. Inbetween, she had a narrow flat belly that’s hypnotic when she dances. Clover’s face was ... joyful. And her nearly-ginger blond hair was short and cute.

It didn’t take long, standing there naked, kissing her and touching her, to forget about our audience and focus solely on getter our bodies ready for the animal act we were about to perform. I tested her pussy with my hand: it was warm and wet. We smiled at each other, both giving the other the unspoken “go” signal.

Clover left my embrace and looked around the livingroom - at first I didn’t know why. Then she climbed on the thick sturdy handrail next to the stairs and flopped forward, grinding her crotch into it for my benefit.

“Come on, James - do me on the banister,” Clover said, looking at me with hungry eyes. The stairs, too, were visible through the window.