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.”

I rack my brains on it for a tiny while. I can’t let him starve from hunger and thirst for sex—just like I wouldn’t let myself die from longing for food. The only way that Incubus feed is by having sexual intercourse, and so I will let him have sex with me right here inside this lush car.

“Fine, Mason,” I notify him. “I will let you have your meal then.”

I seat myself in a comfortable and enjoyable position, one where I am easily able to wrench my legs apart for him to fuck me easily without much of a bit trouble. Once I am finished with splitting my legs farther apart, he shifts himself before me and places his hand down to yank my panties away. Surprisingly, making use of his supernatural ability, claws, like that of a bear, materialize from his fingers and tear and slash my underwear savagely. This is enough to show me how seriously famished for sex he verily is. Following this, I watch those menacing-like claws vanish away back into his fingers.

I quickly loose the fly of his trousers and fetch his dick out. He leans himself down on me as I stick it into my vagina carefully. I push my face upwards, staring at the roof of the now racing car, and as his dick slithers gently and sweetly into me, I wheeze and gulp out loudly.

Deliriously, calmly but insanely, I hit and slap his uncovered butt. I have yanked his trousers slightly beneath his buttocks, and as he is bashing inside and outside of me, I am rubbing and patting his silky smooth butts behind him there. He sounds pleased and overjoyed in the way that he is groaning out. Not vehemently and piercingly enough, but a bit noisy and loud-mouthed.

I am not looking forward to this. He thumps into me solidly this particular first time, and I don’t know how it exactly comes to happen, but all I know is that the head of his dick knocks somewhere inside my vagina where this bulk of bliss and delectation gets unshackled and unfettered out. I feel like I am reeling and swimming and spinning in the air for the coming thirty seconds. My head gets blasted up in a session of orgasm that I even don’t know where I exactly am right now on Earth and for what motive.

When Mason gazes down at me, his eyes flare and widen in sexual fulfillment and glee. He places his hand behind me on my back, so that he can grip and compress me to himself firmly and more resolutely. With the way that he is pinching me now, I am so frightened that I will not be able to inhale or exhale in the long run, but believe me or not, I can plainly –beyond question if you like—breathe with much simplicity and leisure.

He shoves me up and thrusts me further upwards. My breasts wiggle and jiggle helplessly along with my hips. I look straight into his eyes, and he gawks right back into mine. My breath meets and clashes with his; my lips as well find and confront his. We are both kissing and fucking each other wildly inside the fast moving car, boosting our speediness and might as the vehicle steps up its velocity, and braking our quickness and energy when it decelerates its pace. I won’t break off from doing this thing until he is happy and gratified.

His hand sneaks slowly into my hair and pulls and holds it staunchly. I stare into his eyes while I pant in and out restlessly, blowing up into another series of an orgasm when he scatters and sploshes semen into my vagina. I slink my hands to his bums immediately and seize and snatch them as hard as I can get myself to do. I want all of his cum trickling straight into me and not a little brook of it flowing down my legs.

With my eyes closed, I enter another run of orgasm, and as I am wriggling and writhing about in ecstasy, he quits bashing into me and hurriedly pulls his dick out of me—a symbol that he is now filled and satisfied? I breathe out vigorously and as noisily while he seats himself down besides me. “Are you satisfied now, Mason?” I ask him vociferously.

“Kind of; but not one hundred per cent, my love; we are arriving at the hotel any moment now. I wouldn’t want the two of us to get discovered like this. It will be an embarrassment which I cannot manage to put up with. Clean up our mess, will you please, my dear Emma?”

There are driblets of his semen dropping down my legs which are hitting and soiling the seat beneath. Using my handkerchief, which I fish out of my handbag, I hurriedly scour them away while the car comes to an eventual halt and Mason on the other hand speedily hauls his trousers up to dress his naked bums and dick and then fastens tightly his zip to finish with.

I feel remorseful about everything nevertheless. Were we really supposed to be doing this here inside the tearing car? I don’t agree so.

At fifty-eight, Mason’s dad, Trevor Cox, is as wonderfully handsome and in perfect good shape as when I last saw him three months ago. His pretty wife, Nora Barnes Cox, who is human in every way feasible just like me, looks enchanting and amiable like a queen that she pleasantly is. Nevertheless, she is not queen to the Incubus living here in Las Vegas or anywhere else in the world. Trevor has got a woman rival as highly wealthy and influential as he is, and although she is not closely related to him or his bloodline, she is the Queen of the Succubus. In the world of these sex-feeding demons, women get ruled by women, and men get tyrannized by their fellow men.

Daisy Brooks is the Queen of the Scarab Empire. She is exceedingly beautiful and clad in charming black and only forty-three years of age. I don’t hate her. But I dislike her first of three daughters. Paige Brooks. She is the Succubus whom Mason was madly in love with before he met me at Wotton University. With her admirable and captivating black hair and graceful looks, she is up until now pursuing him, sleeping and fucking him all night long in some bed on some unknown place behind my back when I am least conscious of it. Paige Brooks is the princess Succubus whom Mason is cheating on me on with. I don’t know how to stop them precisely. But I’m not walking out on him for solely this; unless he gives me a very good reason to do this.

“You didn’t notify me that my bitter rivals were going to be here,” I hold Mason responsible for letting me learn about this unpleasant surprise. I feel like I should make a U-turn right away and go back straight home. In any case, I will not do this for two exact reasons. One, I don’t wish to get on nasty terms with Trevor. He must possibly be in some kind of way undergoing the very unpleasant feelings that I am meeting right now. Two, if I walk away, Paige will easily win Mason to her bed tonight. She will find it quite easy to entice and have sex with him when I am not around. I must contest with her tonight.

“Mason, I really want you to be honest with me. Tell me the truth. Did you have any scheme of taking that bitch into your bed? Did you genuinely?”