Incubus

"Oh yes," she whispers, then cries: "Fuck me! Fuck me!"

And suddenly she realizes she can move, as if a spell is broken. Suddenly her arms obey her and her legs have strength and immediately she thrusts her hips up at him and reaches for his hair. His hair is rough, like long fur or beach grass, and she looks into his wild eyes and pulls his face down to hers and kisses him desperately, her own small tongue battling with his as his cock pistons in and out of her. She sets her feet on the mattress and begins to fuck him back, sliding that tight ring of muscle along his cock, showing him what she can do and thrilling to his moans of pleasure as she rolls her hips against him.

She's never been like this in her life—never been so wild and free of inhibitions, so much of a sexual animal, but now it's like some mask has fallen away, like she's left some old Leah standing on the beach or walking in the woods and she's someone entirely new. And when he pulls his cock out and says, "Come now, precious one! On your knees!" she neither hesitates nor wonders at her eagerness. He's her beast and she's his bitch and what he wants, she wants. She quickly turns over and gets on her knees, ass in the air like an animal in heat.

He lifts her nightgown and slides it down her back, then pushes her down till she's on her elbows in a position of obscene acceptance. Leah doesn't fight. She feels him move behind her and she parts her legs so he can see what she knows he wants to see—her pussy, shamelessly exposed from behind like an animal's, her labia shining with eagerness to be mounted. She even flexes in lewd invitation and hears him growl like a bear in response.

Yes, she thinks.Like this. Like we're animals. Like we belong to this world.

We are animals. We do belong to this world.

She looks back over her shoulder and sees him looming behind her—huge shoulders, massive head, moonlight gleaming on sweat-soaked ebony skin, his eyes like fire in that shadowy, menacing face.

And this time he enters her like fire, like a thunderbolt, thrusting deep, taking all of her at once. Leah grunts as he grabs her hips and starts to fuck her, making the bed rock and creak in his violence. She reaches out for the headboard and pushes against it with her thin arms to withstand the force of his blows and her breasts slosh back and forth as she lets him take whatever he wants, plundering her body, filling her with cock, churning her insides to foam.

She has a vision of the fish, the things that move in the dark, the life in the earth and beneath the soil, the stars in the sky, the moon. Pleasure boils up in her like something rich and obscene, filthy and fertile, and then his hand is between her legs, milking her clit, delving into her pussy, pulling her nipples like she's not even human anymore, and her body fills with a gigantic humming roar, an orgasmic roar that comes from the toes on her feet and the ends of her hair and from inside and outside and she hears him snarl and howl like an animal and his cock jerks inside her and then he pulls her off and spins her around and suddenly his prick is in her mouth and she's choking on his thick ribbons of come that pulse and bubble past her lips even as she gags out her own cries of release, the strands of semen webbing her lips and dripping down her cheeks, falling on her breasts and spilling onto the sheets.

She's dizzy with pleasure and lust and a deep sense of fulfillment truer and more profound than anything she's ever known, and all she can do is lie there crookedly on the bed, half on her side, as this incubus spills gout after gout of his filthy discharge into her overflowing mouth, himself wracked by spasms of release that knot his stomach and clench his massive thighs and make his dick jerk and strain like something desperate to reach her, dying like a fish out of water.

*****

When she awoke the next day it was already late, late enough for the earliest trick-or-treaters to be already out and yelling excitedly in the street. The day was overcast and it had rained, and the rain had beaten the leaves from the trees. The trees seemed naked now and seemed thankful for it. The world had changed, had become calmer somehow.

The bed was a mess, a pillow on the floor. The candles had all burned out, the cups of water stood on the floor where she'd left them. The bodice of her nightgown was open, and she found the lace on the floor right next to the bed. She looked down at her breasts but saw no marks, but she still felt his hands and mouth on them, where he'd touched her and bitten her in his passion. She passed her hand over her face but her face was clean. But what had she expected?

She remembered everything.

She remembered afterwards asking him, "Do you have to go?" and he'd answered, "Yes, but I can come back. You just have to call me. You remember how to call me."

At the time she thought she did, but now in the daylight, she wasn't so sure.

She got up from the bed and went to the window overlooking the front street and the sea. She was sore between her legs and she needed to shower. Down below she saw groups of kids in costumes running back and forth with their bags while their parents stood in the street talking and keeping an eye on things and holding the younger ones' hands. Out on the sea she saw another ship, this one headed into port, and she wondered whether the two ships saw each other during the night.

There was a maple leaf stuck to the window—a perfect leaf—red around the edges, fading through orange and yellow to a spot of still-living green in the center. The leaf caught her attention, almost startling her. It seemed so personal the way it was pasted there, flat against the glass, stuck there by the rain. She looked at it closely—the delicate veination, the way the colors faded one into another, the graceful curve of the stem and the clean break at the end. It moved her to think of all the billions of leaves just this perfect that went unnoticed by any eye every fall, year after year, century after century—all this beauty that went totally unnoticed.

It was like those feelings that went unnoticed, the feelings she'd imagined were consigned to the spirit world where they lived on forever.

She looked at the leaf again and was struck by how mow much it resembled a hand pressed up against the glass, the five lobes like five fingers, offered to her in greeting. Slowly, she raised her hand and pressed her palm against the glass, matching the leaf from her side.

And suddenly she thought she remembered how to call him.