"What's the problem, dear? I see you spared your young man the sight of your mother having a little fun," Mother added testily.
"'Having fun?' Mother, you were Feeding!"
"For Goddess's sake, Sabah, the man you're so protective of is your prey. He's more than SEEN a Feeding."
"Nothing like that, Mother. I Feed only when Rod and I make love, something you know nothing about!"
"I know more about 'love' than you do, child, enough to know it's a bloody illusion."
Sabah was about to snap back but something in Mother's voice told her that perhaps those were words of wounded love. Suddenly Sabah felt overwhelming sorrow and compassion for her mother. She ran to her mother and flung her arms around her neck. "Oh, Mamma, Mamma. I love you. Please, let's don't fight," she sobbed.
"Sabah, my darling. You're right. I'm sorry. I just don't want you to let him hurt you," Mother said tenderly, holding Sabah in her arms.
"He can't hurt me Mamma; he can't. He loves me."
"Sabah, Sabah. Goddess grant you are right!"
"You'll see, Mamma. You haven't met him."
"And I never will unless you let me show these gentlemen on their way and help me straighten up this apartment. We don't want Rod to get the 'wrong ideas,'" do we?" she grinned.
"You're hopeless, Mother," Sabah laughed. She looked at the two unconscious figures on the floor. "Will they be alright?"
"I only took a half Meal from each. They'll be molesting the stewardesses on the flight back to Aberdeen."
An hour after Saba and Rod's faux entrance, the two kilt-wearing men were gone and the furniture was back in place. The windows were opened to the spring breeze, which had carried away the smell of sex. When the elevator doors opened this time, the scene was different.
"Sabah, darling, welcome. And this must be Rod"
Mother had changed into something "more decent:" a floor length emerald green gown that clung to her shapely curves like a python devouring a gazelle. Matching heels added another 6 inches to her impressive height. Sabah eyed her mother warily, not wanting her to make TOO good an impression on Rod. The women hugged and kissed and Mother accepted a peck on the cheek from Rod.
For the first hour or so Rod was mainly out of the conversation between mother and daughter that leaped illogically -- to the mere masculine mind -- among diverse subjects and people spanning centuries. Still, he enjoyed the admiring glances that Sabah's mother cast his way from time to time. Sabah noted them as well and enjoyed them not at all.
Suddenly Mother turned on Rod with a little smirk. "So, Rod, what is it like being my daughter's sex toy?"
The question shocked Sabah. She looked at Rod with concern. She was even more shocked at Rod's reply.
"It's altogether wonderful, Mrs. Nour. Running the estate and Sabah's investment is a fascinating position. And of course there are 'fringe benefits.'" He winked.
Sabah almost laughed to see her mother blush. She clearly had not expected the self-confident reply.
"P p p position?" Mother sputtered as she imagined Rod on his knees with his face between her daughter's legs.
"Of course, Mrs. Nour. Do you think I spend all day every day in bed pleasuring your wonderfully insatiable daughter? I've quite a bit of experience in private banking, wealth management, that sort of thing, you know. It's not often a man my age gets the opportunity to take on such a challenging portfolio."
Mother looked at Rod like a creature from Mars. "Like many high-net-asset individuals," a little disappointed sigh escaped him, "Sabah was not making optimum use of her asset diversity, investing without any real long-term strategy. I fixed that. If you'd like to see, I've brought a few summary tables."
Before either flabbergasted woman could stop him, Rod had pulled a laptop from the valise he had with him and was off on a Power Point Presentation of a case study of how he had turned around Sabah's investment portfolio. Numbers and animated bar graphs flew on and off the screen. He must have been working on this for weeks to impress her mother, Sabah thought, not knowing whether to laugh or cry with joy. Mother was totally stupefied by his rapid fire delivery filled with talk about "options" and "stretches" "cross-currency risk management" "interest rate futures" and the like.
Somehow – mother and daughter did have a number of joint interests – Rod had learned a lot about Mother's investments and assured her he could do even better with them than he had with Sabah's. Sabah's jaw dropped when Rod produced a prospectuses, waivers, and powers of attorney to allow him to manage Mother's assets. She almost fell out of her chair when Mother meekly signed.
A server called them to lunch about then. Rod offered Mother his arm, escorted her to the table and held her chair. Sabah could see Mother was melting like butter in the Delhi sun. Rod was on a charm offensive and by Goddess, it was working! Mother was hanging on his words, giggling at his witticisms, and drinking more than she ought, Sabah thought.
"And he fucks, too?" Mother hissed while Rod had excused himself after lunch.
"Like a dream, Mother and he's a genius with him tongue," Sabah replied under her breath, savoring her mother's obvious infatuation with her man.
After lunch the visit continued, but Rod was much more in the center of it. If anything, it was Sabah who felt a bit left out as Mother and Rod bantered. Sabah was amazed at how much Rod knew of art history, Mother's passion, having "known" many of the great painters of the Renaissance and Early Classical periods. Several times Mother came close to giving away her "inside" knowledge. No one else alive today knew first "hand" the size of Tintoretto's cock or could be certain that Leonardo was bi not gay.
Light was fading and Sabah was eager to return home. She didn't like to drive the last few miles in the Blue Ridge foothills after dark. And she had a zillion things to talk to Rod about after today. I was clear Rod had won Mother over. Mother didn't just approve of Rod, she doted on him. Sabah had several nasty ideas about how to celebrate his accomplishment. Sabah had just returned from a toilet break when Mother delivered her bombshell.
"I suppose you need to be getting on the road, Honey. This has been such a wonderful visit. You must come again."
"Oh, we will, Mother. We will!"
"Well, that's what I need to talk to you about. Privately." She looked at Rod. "Deep Sleep" Mother ordered.
Sabah was surprised to see Rod shut down just as with her. "You didn't make his trigger giver-specific," Mother explained.
"What is the meaning of this, Mother?" Sabah asked apprehensively.
"Darling, I was totally wrong about this man. He IS wonderful and I understand your attraction to him." Sabah relaxed. "And he is sooo clever. He says that it may take a while to get my finances in order. And there is an old tax liability that needs urgent attention, a bit tricky." Sabah un-relaxed. "I really need him to stay here for a few weeks to get some things straightened out."
"You want to fuck him, don't you?"
"Darling, that's not what I meant. It just that ..."
"You want to fuck my man, don't you, Mother?"
"Yes" she admitted. "He has everything. Looks, intelligence and I can tell he really likes making a woman happy. You'll have my blessing ...."
"So, you'll give us your blessing if I lend you Rod to fuck?" Sabah spoke evenly, coldly, making it sound as mercenary as possible.
"Don't say it like that, Sabah. He's perfect. I want him. I haven't met a man like him since ... your father!" Mother began to cry.
"You won't Feed?"
"Oh, Sabah, Sabah! Thank you, Thank you!"
It wasn't the sex Sabah missed so much. She stayed busy. She exercised a lot. She ran down three sets of heavy duty batteries for her vibrator. The orgasms were hard and momentarily satisfying. Her pussy was too dumb to know that hard plastic is not the same as a hard prick, Rod's prick. But SHE knew. She missed feeling strong arms around her after she'd climaxed, soft lips on her breasts, fingers other than her own making squishy noises in her cunt, falling asleep with her head on his chest, waking up beside a man who adored her. A week turned to two and three weeks seemed like an eternity.
Sabah didn't want to believe her mother would keep Rod, yet the niggling fear was there. Her mother was ruled by passions and her powers still exceeded Sabah's. Mother could make Rod forget her. Would she? Could she live without him? This was the day she would find out.
It was almost dark when Sabah heard the sounds of an unfamiliar car, still miles distant, approaching. Her heart sang when she perceived Rod was in it. Long minutes later she watched as a Washington DC taxi pulled into the driveway. She saw Rod get out unsteadily. She knew the driver would have no memory of this strange fare, though she was sure Mother had paid him generously for the service. Rod almost stumbled into the large house with little consciousness of where he was. Imagining what Mother had put him through for these weeks, Sabah held back her urge to throw herself on him, and led him to bed – alone. As she undressed him, putting him to sleep with a quick hand job, she found the letter.
A few months ago I wrote you a terrible letter. I called you a foolish adolescent. I said I could not understand or approve of your relation with Rod. I sneered at the word "love." I was wrong on every count. It was I who was foolish and you who are wise. I thought I understood your attraction to Rod when you visited me. Yes, I envied you for his intelligence and good looks and stamina and skill and willingness in pleasuring a woman. I looked forward to enjoying him while he "worked on my finances." Again I was wrong. He was completely happy to be doing a favor for your mother and his charm did not diminish, but that was it. He was unseducible. I flashed him and I drugged him. When he was unconscious I could get his penis hard enough to perform sex upon him. I could not get him to fuck me. I cried in frustration and envy of you.
At last I hit on a solution and was able to have sex – Goddess what sex – with him, but the stratagem took away all the joy. Since he would not fuck ME, I made him believe I was YOU, visiting for a night. Thus his fierce will, his loyalty to you, was subverted. In that state he would fuck me and eat me and cuddle me, but my heart ached as he kissed me tenderly and told me how much he loved YOU. I didn't know or had forgotten that a man could love a woman as Rod does you. He is yours, darling, in spirit, heart, mind, and only therefore, in body.
You have my blessing in whatever you and he may decide, though what need you have of my blessing I do not know. You and Rod are blessed by your love. And I was blessed by having seen and felt it as through a very clear but impenetrable glass. Perhaps now I, too, can again believe in love. Jesse has been TELLING me he loves me, but I paid no attention. I do not know if it's true, but now I know it is possible.
Your very chastened,
Sabah re-read the letter, crying almost as much the second time as the first. She knew how hard it was for Mother to admit she was wrong and had been wrong, quite literally, for centuries. She cried for Mother's wasted years, she cried for the renewal of hope, and she cried with joy for herself and gratitude for Rod.
Red eyed, she went to her bed – their bed – where Rod lay sleeping. Not wanting to know what had happened between him and Mother, she probed his mind only enough to feel it slowly relaxing, as if having been coiled into a tight protective ball. Mother had tried, really tried to get Rod make love to her and even with her greater powers, had failed. No only did this say something powerful about Rod, it confirmed that Sabah had not made him love her either. Rod was her slave only in superficial things; in his depths, he was free and in his freedom, he gave himself to her.
She lay down beside the beautiful young man and gathered him to herself. Slowly she felt his body respond to hers. He was asleep or unconscious, but his body knew her and wanted her. Goddess how she wanted him! She was horny and needed the pleasure she could take from him. With effort, she adjusted his hardened cock so that it snuggled against her own warm sex. Tempted, she resisted slipping it in. Instead, she laid her head on his left arm as his right cuddled her and slept. There would be time enough tomorrow morning.
Sabah spent the next few days happily welcoming Rod home. Although he had been enjoyed her "visits" while he was at Mother's, Rod gladly let Sabah welcome him. Sabah didn't know whether to laugh or cry one morning, while eating her, Rod innocently mentioned how different she tasted during her visits but she decided not to ask him which he preferred.
It was Rod who suggested that Sabah needed to Feed. She knew he was right, but had been hesitant. With her feelings toward Rod confirmed and amplified by Mother's letter, it hardly seemed right to Feed. Even rejuvenated by her spend during cunnilingus – Rod was physiologically younger today than when she first "took" him – Feeding was the transfer of part of his Life Force. Could she still do that? He pressed and she demurred.
In the end, Rod got his way, he seduced her! Finding excuses to deny her sex for a few days, he then surprised her with a magnificent dinner, flowers, and wine. Giggling and tipsy when led off to bed that night, Sabah was near crazy for sex. And the teasing had only begun. First he ate her to more orgasms that she could count before mounting her. Still he persisted, fucking her just too gently or too slow to let her have the final climax she craved. She began to plead, imploring him to fuck her harder, begging him for release.
At last he relented, or seemed to, rolling onto his back to allow Sabah to control their coupling. Sabah was insane with lust and would have plunged her pussy down on his prick and been over the edge in seconds. But he was holding her away. His strong hands around her waist held her pussy tantalizing inches from the head of his cock. Sabah shrieked with frustration as Rod smiled up at her.
"Feed" he commanded.
Apparently he had figured her out. Feeding did occur during intense sex. Sabah could control herself to some extent, but it was a bit like holding your breath. Wound up as she was, it was almost certain she would Feed with her next orgasm. She screamed in frustration as he dropped her with a plop, impaling her on himself. The conflict was intense: she didn't want to Feed, but she did want to orgasm. She tried to fuck him just vigorously enough to get the relief she needed without letting him climax at the same time. She might have succeeded. Until ...
"That won't do, Sabah. Take me! Fuck your horny pussy on my cock. You know you want it, you she devil. Make me spew my life, my cum inside you. Fuck me, you demon bitch!"
She was both horrified and excited that he was talking dirty to her. "No Rod, don't say that. I love you!" she pleaded, but her body responded to his words. Without wanting to, she was riding him harder, struggling to contain the orgasm that was boiling up from her loins -- and his.
"Make me come, you witch. Make me spill my seed in your ravenous maw. Come, Sabah! Feed!"
The Force within Sabah could no longer be contained. The blind instinct reached out to the nearest sexually excited male to snatch away its Life Energy. Its power could overwhelm any male, no matter how strong his ethereal defenses. In Rod it found no resistance. Like an immaterial proboscis it entered, drank, and withdrew, paradoxically taking only what it needed, leaving Rod's Energy pool hardly diminished.
The physical counterpart of this invisible transaction was Sabah's wail of defeat as an orgasm unlike the others tore through her body and mind. Rod bucked as her pussy muscles involuntarily grasped him to suck the sperm from his balls. Wasted effort. Rod roared as a geyser of hot come boiled up from his prick filling his sexy lover's pussy, mingling with her own gushing juices. She continued to hump weakly and then collapsed on his chest sobbing, "Rod, Rod! I'm so sorry, Rod" but she did nothing to disturb the softening prick that held his seed in her. He enfolded her tenderly until her sob died away and her breathing became soft and regular. Only then did he sleep, too.
Sabah's care for Rod as he recuperated from a Feeding was always tender and loving, but this time, more so. Sleep was the best tonic and for the next few days she suffused his food and drink with soporific herbs to keep him in a drowsy horny nether world. Frequent, gentle sex kept him docile and lethargic as his body and spirit recovered. When she noticed him become restless, she drew his lips to her breasts. "Not yet, baby," she whispered as he nursed and her hand, slickened with her own juices, brought him to orgasm putting him to sleep in her arms. And she nourished him with unending draughts of her orgasmic spend as he lay drowsily between her legs, worshiping her sex. She thrilled that allowing him to pleasure her with his mouth was therapy for him. It was almost too wonderful to be true.
Less than two weeks later Rod was back to normal, if not better. His strong, trim body radiated masculine vitality and he was back to giving Sabah the hard, vigorous sex she loved. Rod soon caught up with the accumulated administration of Sabah's estate and she resumed her charitable activities. They had all the ingredients of happiness: health, work, love.
Sabah knew they lacked only one thing. She trembled and decided.
A few weeks later the second letter from Mother arrived.
I can't believe everything that has happened since I wrote. Love does exist: It is big, black, and goes by the name Jesse! How I had been enjoying him. He is an amazing fuck: a donkey cock and a marathoner's stamina. He regularly turned me inside out. I loved having a younger man (younger than my apparent age, that is) fucking me silly and babbling how he loved me and wanted me. Only after Rod's visit did I start paying attention.
I had been treating him like a fuck toy, but I came to realize he is much more. Jesse had finished a degree cum laude in Literature from Brown when he was drafted by the Wizards. He's actually read Moore and Bunyan, Fielding and Thackeray, Byron and Shelly, Flaubert and Zola, while I've only fucked them. Along with great sex, he's tutoring me in Twentieth Century masters: Conrad, Hess, James, Malreau, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, and Eco. He is especially partial to magical realism: Carpentier, Cortázar, García Márquez, Vargas Llosa and Rushdie. I'd just assumed all he wanted to do was take me to clubs, flaunt his sexy older girlfriend for a few hours to make the other guys jealous, and take me home to fuck. Giving him his head, we've spent more time in the Kennedy Center and the Corcoran than on U Street. I've learned I cum just as hard with his head under my evening gown as a miniskirt.
I was taking him more seriously, but not totally. One evening he came in with tickets to something cultural I had forgotten about only to find me tarted up to go dancing. He was annoyed and asked what I was doing dressed up like a cheap whore. (A high priced whore, but he had a point.) I just laughed and said why bother, he'd just wind up stripping me and fucking me whatever we did.
"Is that all I'm good for, Portia? To fuck? To eat your pussy? To let you suck my cock like an ice cream cone and drink my cum like lemonade? You want to fuck? OK, let's FUCK!"
I realized I'd hurt him, but it was too late. Like a wounded animal he charged, picked up all 150 pounds of me with one arm and carried me screaming to the bedroom. I couldn't believe he would hurt me, but he was so enraged I was really afraid. Afraid, and tremendously turned on. I landed hard on the bed. "If you want to look like a slut, I'll fuck you like one!" he roared.