Feature Writer: ppr128
Feature Title: SUBURBAN SUCCUBUS 7
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 7: In the cold light of day
The next time I awoke, it was morning. Birds chirped their dawn greetings to all and sundry, raising an impressive racket for their smile size. I blearily opened my eyes, rubbed the sleep from them, and regarded my bedmate, acutely aware of my morning wood jamming into my mother’s side. She was wearing a small, satisfied smile after my night of excess with both her and Liira, and had evidently been awake for some time before me. Now that she was awake, she threw back the covers, a double-edge sword. The upshot was that it revealed her body, sleek and perfect, to my roving eyes. The downside was the abrupt exposure to cold air that threatened to deflate my throbbing hardness despite the silken, forbidden flesh it was pressed against.
My mother swung easily out of her- our, I reminded myself- bed, disdaining the notion of covering up in front of her son. “Up and at ’em,” she laughed as I groaned, having been robbed of the warmth of her embrace and the bedclothes. She wrinkled her nose at our dishevelled state, noting for the first time the evident marks of our union on our bodies and the bed. In the past, Liira had merely concealed the stains where our juices had flowed, marring the bed-sheets, along with the sticky, crusted mess that oozed from my mother’s slit and coated her creamy thighs. “I need a shower.” She regarded me for a moment; I resisted the urge to shrink under her intense gaze. “Well, no. We need a shower.” She flounced to her en suite, hips swaying, breasts bobbing in the counterpoint to her movements. Having reached the door, she turned back to face me, put her back to the wood frame around the entry to her bathroom. She arched her back, jutting her glorious alabaster bust underneath my heated gaze, lifting her arms above her head to grip the lintel. With a knowing smile, she lewdly parted her thighs, revealing her sex. She raised an eyebrow.
“Well? What are you waiting for, big boy?”
At that invitation, I virtually leapt out of the bed, flinging myself towards my mother. She giggled at my enthusiasm, pressing the back of one hand to her mouth to hide her grin, eyes sparkling with amusement but beginning to grow smoky with need. I lifted her over my shoulder in an easy fireman’s carry, eliciting a gale of laughter as I lightly spanked her upturned backside while I took us into the shower. Not willing to wait another second, I immediately held her up against the wall. As my mother twined her legs around my hips, helping support her weight, the shock of the cold tiles elicited a gasp as they chilled her through, raising goosebumps and hardening her pointed nipples. I kissed her hungrily, desperately, communicating my forbidden lust through the medium of touch. Having pressed her head up against the wall, my mother could not escape my lips; she was forced to turn her head to one side to break the passionate kiss, mewling discontentedly even as she did so. Pushing me back, she met my eyes, whispering as if the low volume of her voice would somehow mitigate the incestuous nature of our embrace.
“I’m ready. I need it. Do it, my son-” I interrupted her, poking my cock at her, desperate to spear into her. She stifled a laugh at my predicament, letting out a low moan of pleasure as I finally got my angle right and slipped into the confines of her slick channel. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back against the wall I held her against, enjoying the moment. “Oh, yes, that’s it.” She locked her gaze with mine, evidently taking pleasure in the responses she could get from me. She husked out her final command. “Do it, you stud. Fuck mummy.”
I eagerly complied, rocking my penis in and out of her, making sure my grip was strong and secure. She worked her hips, arching her back off the chill tiles in an attempt to escape them and increase the friction within her clinging, tight depths. We were both so turned on it took very little time for us to reach our peak, the sound of her hoarse, choked cry as she writhed blissfully on me spurring my own eruption. I held her there as we came down from our shared high, revelling in a tender moment after a relatively brutal coupling. We kissed, slowly, sweetly, until my cock finally slipped free from my mother. My arms screaming from having supported my mother’s weight for so long, I gratefully let her down. She smiled, radiant, up at me, before hugging me and delivering a more chaste kiss to one of my cheeks by way of thanks for what we’d just shared. Before she could escape, I locked my arms around her, clasping the perfect curve of one buttock in each hand and drawing her in tight. I kissed her again, our tongues battling for supremacy, whilst my penis lurched, slapping my mother’s stomach and threatening to surge back into full hardness. Again she giggled, breaking away from my grasp. “Haven’t you had enough yet?”
I returned her smile, overplaying my evident appraisal of her naked form. I gestured at the body I had sprung from, awash with sweat and seeded by my own ejaculate within. Looking at her as though she was crazy, I took one of her breasts in my hand, saying “Enough of this? There’s no such thing. Just not enough. And that’s what I’ll always have.” She sighed contentedly, toying with the idea of another bout of lovemaking. Eventually she shook off the arousal that threatened to overcome her, reaching behind me and turning on a tap. Cold water cascaded over both of us, instantly extinguishing our shared desire. I eyed her with mock anger, eliciting a knowing smile; she pressed me back against the wall behind me, treating me to a taste of the cold tiles and jamming the hard taps into the small of my back. She made it all worth it, though, by letting me cup her breasts and planting another seductive, open-mouthed kiss on my mouth. Having carefully arranged us out of the shower head’s spray, she blindly groped at the taps, running the hot water first and adjusting it to a more pleasant temperature.
We stood there, locked in our incestuous embrace, hands roaming over forbidden flesh uninhibited whilst we soaked in the warmth. Eventually, I reached up behind her, picking up the soap and washcloth, and began to scrub my mother clean, beginning with her back and working my way down her glorious body. She returned the favour once I was finished; by the time she reached my groin, I was again erect. Smiling up at me, she dropped to her knees on the cold, hard tiles of the shower floor, took me into her mouth, and cleaned first one leg and then the other with soap. Having finished, I was afraid she would end what she was doing and leave me hanging; instead, she slid the soap and cloth into a corner of the shower where the spray would not erode the soap. Her hands free, she redoubled her efforts, attacking me furiously. Throughout the night of passion I’d shared with my mother, then Liira sealing our deal with her unique stamp, followed by the sex we’d had against the shower wall, I had very little left to give. Nevertheless, my mother made a show of it in the manner of a porn starlet, opening her mouth to show me what I had given her before swallowing it down. As she stood, she kept her mouth open, drinking in water and sluicing her mouth out before she kissed me again.
At that, the water began to run cold, so we made haste to get out of the shower. The rest of the day we spent together, renting out movies one or the other had wanted to see and curled up beneath an itchy blanket naked, our hands roaming over each other’s bodies. Whenever the experience became too much, we would pause the movie and make love there and then, alternating between top and bottom each time. Though delicious, the experience was exhausting; my mother fell into a deep slumber from which she could not be roused not long after the sun fell. I carried her up to her room, checked with Liira that she was well satisfied, and then curled up beside my mother, my arms wrapped securely around her sleeping form. Within moments, I joined her in dreamland, a wistful smile on my lips.
Time passed in a similar manner; some nights, some days we would spend coupling like animals in heat; other days, we would have gentle, slow sex. Rarely, we would simply cuddle up, the warm presence of each other’s body enough to sate our longing. A month passed in the blink of an eye.
It was a Monday, and with University on an inter-semester break, I had little to do other than laze around the house. My mother had been careful not to wake me, perhaps concerned (rightfully so) that I would attempt to make her late to work the way I had successfully done a few times in the past weeks.
I was jarred into wakefulness by the ringing of the phone, a cordless one placed in nearly every room of the house. Yawning, I reached over to answer to it, noting diffidently that it was half past twelve. The voice that came over the line was that of my mother, telling me that she had forgotten her handbag, and in it was her PDA that held a number she had been unable to find any other way. I immediately offered to bring it down to her; she thanked me profusely and then hung up. I rose, showered, and returned to what had once been my bedroom to dress, choosing some smart casual clothes would let me blend in more easily at her place of business.
I stopped on my way in to grab some sandwiches for my mother; since she had sounded so harried on the phone, I figured she had not had time for a break. When I arrived at her office- I had yet to visit her new building, to say nothing of her new place within the company- I had to convince the security guard at the front desk that I was her son and was legitimately here to see my mother. The guard spoke quietly into his phone, telling me I could go up and giving me my mother’s floor address. As I made my way through the cubicle farm towards the office that oversaw the worker bees, a woman who sat at the secretary desk outside my mother’s office told me my mother was in a meeting. I took a seat, waiting to be allowed in.
After about ten minutes, the door opened, and her co-worker came out, babbling something about estimates. My mother dismissed him with a curt nod, then welcomed me with an open, dazzling smile, ushering me in to her office. “I’ve bought your stuff, M-mfff.” She kissed me, the door closed. I heard the snib fall into place, locking her door securely. She eyed me off; I looked around desperately, making sure that the blinds were drawn and that nobody outside her office could see her delivering a passionate kiss to her son. I rubbed at my lips, my face stunned. “Not that I mind, but what was that?”
She followed my gaze, then set my fears to rest. “Not to worry, son. Nobody can see in here. Which is why I called you down, actually.” Nonplussed, I held up her bag, the all-important PDA tucked away inside. My mother rolled her eyes, sighing impatiently. “Please. Come on. When have I ever forgotten anything related to my job before? What could I have possibly called my little boy down here for?”
I backed up into my mother’s desk, knocking over some of the knick-knacks she had used to personalise her office. “Here?” I hissed. “Mum, are you crazy?” She snickered, then added- too loudly, for the benefit of any eavesdroppers- “That’s right. Thanks for bringing it down. And there are some sandwiches, too- I haven’t had my lunch yet. Want to stay for a while?”
She sauntered forwards, her hips weaving seductively. In spite of myself, despite the situation, my groin stirred into life; my mother advanced until she was rubbing against me and grabbing my hardening prick through my dark slacks. She whispered coyly into my ear “Your big head might say no, but the little one is making the right decision here.”
Surrendering, I drew her into an embrace, planting a gentle kiss on her ruby lips. She pulled back. “Why so gentle, lover boy?” I stammered, trying to keep my voice low. “I don’t want to wreck your make-up.” I cleared my throat, continuing “Don’t want your co-workers to have a clue.” She giggled, stepped back, and pulled open a cupboard; inside was a long mirror, a change of clothes, and a small make-up kit. She closed it behind her, posed dramatically, and then began to undo her blouse.
My instincts overcame my better senses, and I closed in on my mother, reaching through her open blouse to attack her breasts. Her hands caressed me, sliding down to undo my belt and drop my trousers and then my briefs. I returned the favour, slipping the skirt from her and then her panties, leaving a rumpled mess on the floor. Again she broke away, taking up position in front of her desk, leaning over it to support herself whilst spreading her legs. She wriggled her backside at me; a clearer invitation could hardly have been devised; I shuffled over, my pants bunched around my ankles and acting like a hobble.
As I entered her, she gasped, stifling the moans and soft mewls she would ordinarily make. I decided to make it hard for her, angling my thrusts to strike where I knew she was most sensitive, my hands expertly working at her clitoris. Shuddering, biting down on her lower lip, and emitting a long, lowing moan, she came. Having bought my mother to orgasm, I attended to my own needs, using her mercilessly until I delivered my seed within her. Smiling shakily, her make-up running slightly with the sweat we’d worked up and the tears that she must have shed after biting down too hard- she had to lick a fleck of blood away as she turned- my mother dropped to her knees, laving at my deflating cock to clean me of our juices. That accomplished, she mopped at her sopping gash with her discarded panties. Wordlessly, she walked to her array of spare clothes, pulled out a sanitary pad and pressed it to herself, and drew out a new pair of panties. I zipped up, grabbed my mother’s skirt, and helped her re-dress; as she touched up her make-up, I curled my arms around her, holding her in a loose embrace. Just before she took care of her lipstick, she turned her head for a last, steamy kiss, wiping my face clean of the red, waxy stuff she’s left there before.
We sat down and ate, hurrying to complete the task within the few minutes we had left of her hour-long break, making idle conversation between bites. Eventually, the meal was gone; I unlocked my mother’s door slipped out, waved goodbye and told her I’d see her when she got home.
My mother’s secretary eyed me speculatively as I beamed, still suffused following my afternoon delight. She smirked, put a hand up to one side of her face to cup her mouth, and stage whispered “Her son. Right.” She winked. “Your secret is safe with me.”
She smiled; I fled.
THE END OF CHAPTER SEVEN