Feature Writer: ppr128
Feature Title: SUBURBAN SUCCUBUS 3
Published: 30.07.2009
Story Codes: Erotic Horror, Magic, Paranormal, Incest
Synopsis: A son with a succubus fetish gets his hands on a tome that actually works, leading to some unintended results with his mother.
Author’s Notes: Hello, all. I am a big believer in the Tags system for stories, finding them to be of great assistance in locating stories relevant to my interests. Although I have done my best to apply them correctly to this story, there are some odd elements to it that made it difficult to correctly categorize. As such, the reader should be warned to expect the following: Mother/Son incest and Demonic Possession. I toyed with filing it under the Non-Consent/Reluctance tag (the mother is possessed and the son isn’t really into it) but was unsure of how well that would fit. In any case, I hope you enjoy…
About the story: We live in a world that is pretty strictly defined by scientific laws and rationalism, with the old notions of spirituality ignored at best and mocked openly at worst. But imagine, for a second, if magic were real. What if you could hypnotize your boss at will, making them give you a pay rise and requiring you to only work a fraction of the hours you usually did? What if you could give the jerk on the other end of the customer service line for your utilities a migraine for screwing up your account? Best of all, what if you could summon up a succubus, the very personification of lust and feminine sexuality, for a romp in the hay? That’d be pretty awesome, right? Yeah, well. I used to think that, too. I couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried. So what went wrong? Well, here’s the story…
Suburban Succubus
Chapter 3: Third Time’s the Charm
Having taken solace in my bedroom, I flung myself on my bed. As I did so, something seemed not quite right; I remembered the pile of books I had concealed beneath the duvet, and after flinging back the covers I discovered a fine patina of ash where they had once been. Evidently Liira had taken steps towards preventing me from trying anything with whatever information I had acquired that might have proven useful against her. Great. Rolling over, I stared up at the ceiling, reflecting on the nightmarish past day; meddling with the supernatural had proven to be a spectacularly bad idea. Not having slept but having spent so much time screwing my mother, I was both physically and emotionally wrecked. I more passed out than fell asleep, and when I opened my eyes again it was clearly Sunday morning.
Untangling myself from my bed-sheets, I dutifully performed the chore of stripping the bed and taking the sheets to the laundry, seeking solace in the familiarity of the mundane. My thoughts occupied revisiting my incestuous congress, I completely failed to notice my mother walking into the laundry behind me. She put her hand on my shoulder and got as far as “Good mor-” before I jumped like a scalded cat, startling her as well. As she jerked into a flight/fight response, the glass of orange juice she carried was launched into the air; thankfully, it did not shatter when it hit the floor. Unfortunately, the juice soaked right through my mother’s white nightclothes, having the same effect water does at a wet t-shirt competition. I blushed, embarrassed for her- although as recently as a few hours ago I had been treated to the sight of not just one breast through translucent material, but every part of my mother’s naked form. My mother made a graceful exit, asking me to clean up the mess on the floor whilst she changed; I dragged out one of my sheets, soaked up the juice with it, and then rinsed it clean in the sink.
When she returned, my mother was dressed … a little differently to her normal mode. On a Sunday, she did the housework- I was responsible for my room- and usually she would wear old clothes that could get grubby rather than newer, more valued attire. Typically, her ensemble would be a baggy, faded t-shirt of some kind and sweat pants; this being summer, she had instead opted for a sports bra and the shortest shorts she had, along with a g-string I could see poking out above her backside. Liira’s handiwork, I assumed, to remind me of our ongoing compact.
Mercifully, my contact with my mother wash short; she was only in the laundry to gather the mop, bucket, and cleaning products she needed, and all I was waiting on was the juice-soaked nightie so I could turn on the washing machine. My mission accomplished, I headed into the kitchen and boiled the kettle, crunching through half a bowl of cereal whilst I waited. I hadn’t been able to eat yesterday morning, and I’d slept most of the day away in exhaustion, so I tore into what was available, washing down what turned out to be three courses with my own glass of orange juice. Having cleared the mess away and washed up, I retreated to my bedroom, letting my scantily clad mother know that I had already cleaned the floor. Snagging a new set of manchester from the hallway closet, I made my bed and then tried to work out my next move.
Bored, I wandered over to my bedroom window, peering out into the world at large. Beneath me in the yard, my mother was hanging out the washing on the line. From where I stood, I could see down her deep cleavage; as though she had been waiting for just that moment, she leaned forwards, picked up a pillowcase, and raised it up to peg onto the line. The varied movements involved were apparently beyond the design of her bra, though, and as she reached up she spilled out of the bra, a wardrobe malfunction worthy of the best of the Hollywood set. She immediately turned bright red, looked around- but thankfully, not up- for observers, then dropped the pillowcase and returned her bosoms to their black spandex prison. Realising I’d again been caught up by the allure of seeing a woman naked and having that concern over-rule the revulsion I should be feeling over seeing my mother in a state of undress, I stepped quickly away from the window, firing up my lap-top to play a computer game and waste some time.
A few hours later, my digital reverie was disturbed when my mother knocked on the door to announce her presence, then opened it to tell me she’d made some sandwiches for lunch. The last thing I wanted to do was sit across the table from my mother and eat a meal with her whilst her breasts jiggled about in a failing bra, but there was no real way around it. Fortunately, I was famished and so was able to avoid both conversation and spending too long with her. As soon as was polite, I fled back to my bedroom, becoming wrapped up in hunting and slaying monsters so I could take their stuff and use it to hunt and slay other monsters. I lost track of time, and when I finally glanced to the digital clock on my nightstand, I saw that it was half past six; the sky outside was the deep red of a summer dusk. Not long now, I thought miserably. From down the hall I could hear my mother’s en suite shower start up, followed by gurgling water as she washed herself clean.
I walked to my bed, staring at the ceiling whilst I waited for full darkness to fall. Not twenty minutes later, my bedroom door opened; my mother walked in, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her mid-section, just high enough to cover the full curves of her breasts, and hanging just low enough to conceal the junction of her thighs. Beneath my mother’s water-slicked hair, though, it was clearly Liira in control, smirking smugly at my obvious discomfort.
She allowed the towel to fall away, exposing my mother’s lush body to me. Though she’d not been outdoors for long today, she’d somehow managed to acquire a slight tan, enough to highlight her creamy breasts, thighs, and sex. Kneeling at the end of my bed, she crawled up to me, her movements sensuously feline and designed to give me a good look at my mother’s supple form. Facing me, she straddled my lap, rivulets of water coursing from her hair across her breasts, down her stomach, and eventually onto my jeans, slowly soaking through. Without preamble, she grabbed my face and pulled me in for a kiss, her questing tongue lashing about inside my mouth as she unbuttoned my shirt, opening it to allow her hard nipples to rest against my chest. Her heat and weight at my groin conspired with my visceral response to her physical assault to stir my groin into life; shifting her weight, she sat up slightly, unbuttoning my jeans and freeing my penis before my erection became painful.
I had expected her to slide down my shaft again, but instead when she re-settled her weight on me it was with my cock jutting up between our bodies; she grabbed my hands, placed them on her bust, and kissed me again, deeply. I kneaded at her as I’d been taught, my penis throbbing against her stomach. With a final moan of pleasure, she leaned away, scooted back, and with a mischievous grin took my penis in both her hands and attacked it with her mouth. Unsurprisingly, Liira was a master of the blow job, combining squeezing and jacking at me with her hands with suction, tongue, and teeth; eventually, she abandoned the use of her hands and simply bobbed up and down on me, deep-throating my cock. The sensation was intense, and the sucking, gagging sounds my mother made as she worked at me heightened my arousal. Just as I reached the edge of orgasm, she stopped and sat up, a long, thin strand of saliva mixed with pre-come leaking from her lips, quickly slurped up in the manner of spaghetti. Winking, she said simply “My turn,” grabbed a pillow, and made herself comfortable.
None of my past girlfriends had ever been much for fellatio, to say nothing of cunnilingus. As I knelt between my mother’s outstretched legs and stared down at the flowering wetness of her sexual organs, my mind flitted back to the failure my first attempt at missionary-position sex with my mother. With Liira’s demonstration of what could- and would- happen to my mother if I displeased her, sexually or otherwise, an equally fresh memory, I gambled on admitting that fact and throwing myself on whatever mercy she had. “Liira, I … um … haven’t really done this before. Ever, I mean. Could you…” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely. She took the cue. “Teach you how to please a woman with your mouth? Of course.”
She beckoned me forward, so I leaned in, my still-hard penis seeping as I did so. Taking my head firmly in her hands, Liira carefully positioned my mouth in front of my mother’s sex. Heat wafted up, carrying the strong scent of her sexual arousal. Her pheromones and the sight of the visibly wet gash before me short-circuited my brain; my cock lurched, smacking me in the stomach. “The key, mortal, is in not being over-eager. The mouth and tongue must be applied correctly. In time I shall teach you how to use your teeth, but for today we shall attend only to the basics. First, a long lick up your mother’s cunt.”
I complied immediately with her direction, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her before she continued, “and now press your lips against me, as though you would kiss the lips that brought you into this world.” Hesitantly at first, but harder as my confidence grew, I did so. Her hands slightly repositioned me so that the emphasis of the kiss was towards the top of my mother’s vagina, concentrating on the hard nubbin of her clitoris. “Now, lick at my clitoris, as a cat licks up milk.” With short, strong strokes of my tongue, I swirled across her pleasure centre, setting her to squirming as she ground down onto my mouth. She gasped. “Good, good, yes … and now long and slow up and down the outer lips … that’s it … and slip your tongue inside, poke it about … just like that!”
My mother shuddered. I was under no illusions as to my level of skill; Liira was clearly instructing me in whatever method would generate the fastest and most powerful responses. Continuing, she ordered me to lave up and down my mother’s petals, interspersing it with short bursts working my tongue inside her vagina or licking at her clitoris. It took a while, but eventually her breath quickened and she latched onto my head, grinding my mother’s pussy into my face as she exploded into orgasm. Despite the obviously perverse nature of what I was doing, I continued working at her with my mouth, fearing any possible retribution if I did not do exactly what Liira wanted of me. Finally, she pushed me away from my mother’s gloriously forbidden sex. She sat up, both of us gasping for breath, her after her furious orgasm and me after being in so awkward a position for so long. Liira crawled into my lap, crushing my penis between our bodies as she leaned forward and slowly, sensuously licked my mother’s juices from my face, savouring the sweet taste of the heady mix of her lubricant and the fluids ejaculated from her g-spot. Finally, my face cleaned, she leaned back, thrusting my mother’s chest out and affording me a prime view of her heaving breasts.
She ruffled her fingers through my hair, a grotesque mockery of a gesture my mother so often used to communicate her affection for me. The shift in her position bought her slick opening against the underside of my cock, parting her outer lips. Liira grinned at me. “Well done, my Summoner, my son. A performance like that deserves a reward.” She tapped her jaw, pantomiming idle thought whilst her other hand wrapped around my hard shaft, moving up and down it in agonisingly slow strokes. Her eyes opened wide; “Aha- I have it! I shall allow you to choose the next position! So tell me, son, how would you like to mate with your mother next?”
As before, the cunning bitch was using my inability to think whilst I was so terribly aroused to make me complicit in my own damnation. I feigned difficulty in coming to a decision, a task that was made easier by the fact I was staring at my mother’s breasts whilst she provided me manual stimulation and dribbled her vaginal secretions onto my crotch. My mind racing through and discounting the various taboo possibilities, I realised that my bedroom contained only one mirror, on the back of my open door and next to my chest-of-drawers. If I chose to take my mother from behind, at least I would not be forced to look at her face whilst Liira worked her body to an orgasm or watch my mother’s breasts jiggle around with every thrust I made into her. My mind made up, I mumbled something indistinct. Liira cocked her head to one side, pretending not to have been able to make out what I said. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and repeated myself. “From behind.”
“From behind?” She writhed atop me, grinding her damp opening into my crotch. “Anal, do you mean?” I shuddered. I’ve never understood the fascination others have with anal sex, and whenever I watched porn I found it an immense turn-off. Most distressing to me was the fact that some of the most otherwise attractive porn starlets- Eva Black, Laura Lion, and so on- specialised in it. I hastened to correct myself before Liira decided to have me violate my mother that way. “No. Not there. In…” I trailed off, not wanting to complete the sentence. She pouted at me. “In where, darling?”
“In the normal place.” She regarded me slyly, waiting for me to say what she wanted to hear. I sighed, attempted to stop my revulsion from showing too clearly, and managed “in your vagina.” Liira raised an eyebrow, licking her lips. “Interesting. And yet, incorrect. I do not have a vagina, being a non-corporeal entity. So whose vagina do you wish to use?” My head swam. I didn’t want to go there, but I was more worried about what Liira might do if I refused to play along. “My mother’s,” I said weakly. “Your mother’s what?” she teased, obviously enjoying my discomfort.
I looked down out of habit, embarrassed. Whilst ordinarily that would have resulted in me staring at the floor, it instead directed my gaze at my rock-hard cock, pressed against my mother’s groin, with her magnificent breasts occupying the upper half of my view. I jerked my eyes back to her face, saying “My mother’s vagina.” Liira smirked. “Say it, child. Tell me what you want.”
I capitulated. “I want to use my mother’s vagina from behind.” She smiled, happy with what she’d been able to reduce me to. “Doggy style, in the vernacular, yes? So … delicious. Evocative. Animalistic.” The look she gave me was smouldering; despite myself, my cock lurched at the thought of the forthcoming incestuous union, thumping against my mother’s stomach and leaving a trace of my seeping pre-come there. Liira giggled, then drew herself up, spinning around and dropping onto all fours on the bed, facing the door. As I moved behind her, I caught the scent of rotten eggs- sulphur, brimstone, I thought to myself- and the door swung shut, blown closed by an invisible wind. I could see Liira’s superior expression reflected in my mirror; evidently she had been able to discern my motives and was not about to let me forget who was in control and what body I was using for our shared pleasure.
“This time, mortal, I want you to use this frame hard and fast, but without causing it pain. Only pleasure, only pleasure. Rest your hands on your mother’s back. Massage my shoulders.” As I complied, she moaned; my mother’s shoulders were tense, partially from the stress of supporting the weight of her upper body on her outstretched arms, and partly from the accumulated stress of day-to-day living. As I leaned closer to work at her stiffened muscles, my penis throbbed, sliding across my mother’s Mount of Venus and against the silky, hairless skin of her pubis. The last expression I saw on Liira’s face before she stared at the bed, my mother’s visage shrouded by a veil of her drying hair, was one of amusement. I swallowed, trying to bring some relief to my parched throat.
One of her hands shifted up to my mother’s left breast, tweaking first one nipple and then the other before reaching down between my mother’s legs, taking my penis in hand. She pushed me away slightly, aligned me correctly with my mother’s opening, and rubbed my glans up against her dewy lips a few times to lubricate it and prepare me for entry. Settling my cock so that the tip was barely inside her, Liira brushed my mother’s hair out of her face and stared at me through the mirror. “Now, mortal. Take a hold of your mother’s shoulders, and pull her back onto you.”
I did so slowly, reluctantly, my penis gradually slipping into my mother’s slick channel. This time, Liira elected not to work at me with her masterful control of her vaginal sheath. Although she did clamp down on my penis, it was simply the force applied by any ordinary coupling of a man and a woman- though what I was doing to my mother could hardly be categorised as normal in any case. Eventually, I bottomed out in my mother, my stomach pressed against her upturned buttocks, kneeling so that my thighs and my trunk were almost a straight line.
Still looking directly into my eyes, Liira inched forwards, revealing my cock millimetre by glistening millimetre, halting when the flared head of my penis threatened to slip out of her, its girth spreading my mother’s delicate inner lips wide. Then, suddenly, she slammed my mother’s body backwards into me, engulfing my cock in an instant. She repeated the process; an agonisingly slow and undeniably sensuous withdrawal followed by a counterpoint that buried me deep within my mother once more. I realised I was doing nothing, aside from watching her reveal and conceal my cock within my mother’s gripping, dripping sex. My hands had somehow slipped from her shoulders to her hips, so I hastened to return them to my mother’s shoulders, leaning forwards as I did so.
Liira tittered, combining the slight vibration of her laugh with the insane stimulation provided by my mother’s channel. She instructed me to cradle my mother’s breast in my hands, claiming that she disliked the feeling of them swaying back and forth with her movements. I took the soft swell of her in each hand, leaning in closer still so that my head was behind hers. She continued her maddening pace, eventually deciding to reverse the process by launching herself forwards until my swollen glans was barely inside her and then sliding back onto me at a glacial pace. My mother’s breathing coarsened, becoming hoarse with the stimulation provided by our incestuous coupling.
Liira gradually picked up the pace, until eventually she was cannoning back and forth on my rigid staff. Despite having been given a blowjob and being engaged in what, were it not my mother beneath me, would have been a world-class fuck, I was still no closer to a release of my own. Liira jagged back and forth, mixing it up every now and then with a wriggle of my mother’s hips to vary the pressure my penis provided within her tightly gripping depths. I felt her vagina begin to flutter around me, a sure sign of impending orgasm. As she reached a crescendo, Liira reached up, pulled my face close to hers, turned to the side, and forced me into another of her patented French kisses, attempting to do with her mouth to my tongue what my mother’s vagina was doing to my steely rod.
Having reached her second orgasm for the night, Liira fell abruptly away from me. I stayed where I was, using my arms to support myself whilst she rolled over beneath me, looking up at me with a self-satisfied expression on my mother’s face. Her features changed suddenly, and she scurried out from under my body, standing by the bed. I looked up at her in askance; Liira merely smirked and told me to wait where I was.
Worn out, I lay back on the bed, my still hard penis jutting out at a right angle, some sort of Eiffel Tower-like monument to incestuous lust. I stared at the ceiling whilst I waited for whatever new nightmare Liira was cooking up to be sprung on me. Sadly, my reprieve did not last as long as I had hoped; Liira flounced back into my room wearing one of my mother’s old hall-o’ween costumes, that of a Britney Speares-esque naughty schoolgirl. Her hair in damp pigtails, some alterations had been made to the costume; the starched shirt had been replaced with a thin, expensive silk one designed to be worn with a camisole. Instead, my mother’s breasts were held in a red satin push-up bra, in full view because Liira had seen fit to button up only the lower half of the shirt, tucking it in to the skirt to emphasis the cleavage on display.
The skirt, originally having fallen to my mother’s knees, had been taken up and turned into a miniskirt by the simple expedient of folding the waistline over itself, rolling the material Liira had deemed unnecessary up and out of the way. The skirt barely had enough length to conceal the red satin bikini briefs matching the bra; the long white socks that extended up my mother’s thighs and a pair of clunky black leather pumps completed the outfit.
The effect, if I’m totally honest, was spellbinding. Although the idea of leering at my mother still tripped some of the DO NOT WANT buttons in my hindbrain, my higher cognitive centres were being vetoed by my more base instincts. Liira had carefully and successfully tailored her attire to show off my mother’s ample charms and outstanding physique.
She strutted over to my computer desk, sitting on one corner and raising one leg onto the wheeled chair I sat on- and so often jacked off on, looking at a variety of web sites. Liira spun it to one side so she could fully, lewdly display the moistening crotch of the shiny red panties beneath my mother’s skirt.
“Oh, my, sir,” she drawled, imitating the bobble-headed accent of a mindless Valley Girl. “It looks like I’ve been caught doing something naughty. Whatever shall we do?”
My jaw just about hit the floor. If I’d been a cartoon character, it would have- and my tongue would have rolled out like a comical red carpet. My penis throbbed. She had me in the palm of her hand…
THE END OF CHAPTER THREE