Incubus Pupa Ch. 12 Pt. 01

"Nnnnnngghhh, your cock...is tearing me...in half! Gggggnnnhhhh!!"

Another wash of Vitae spilled out of her as she soundlessly came on my cock, shivering as waves of bliss rolled over her. The contractions squeezed some of our combined fluids from her cunt, making vulgar squelching noises as they rained on the couch.

Picking up even more speed, I really gave it to her. I let go of my inhibitions and started plowing that incredible ass with abandon. The endorphins flooding her brain had loosened up her muscles, and I felt her passage easing slightly. Each time I lanced into her I came just a little bit closer to hilting myself.

Eventually, the feeling of her tenacious passage overcame me, and before I even knew it, I was climaxing. My balls spasmed, desperately unloading their baby-making cargo. Hot jets of spunk flew from my impossibly erect cock, pasting her insides. I pulled on her hips and buried myself within her. The sight of the thick root of my cock stretching her tiny aperture beyond what I would have figured to be a healthy dilation point spurred my orgasm to new heights.

Soon enough, my intense high morphed into a more sedate level of pleasure, and I relaxed on top of her. Christine mumbled something unintelligible.

I took that as a resounding success, undoing my mental manipulation of her life pattern to bring her back to normal. Pulling my softening dick from within her, I eased it out carefully, letting her adjust as I withdrew. She sighed deeply.

Rolling us over to lay on our sides, I spooned her, letting her rest her head upon the inside of my bent arm. Many moments passed while we simply laid together on the messy couch. All the while I comforted her undoubtedly sore backside with the careful application of Vitae through our bond. I wanted her to be able to sit down sometime this century, after all.

Before long, our sticky fluids cooled and induced us to get up. Sharing secret smiles, we cleaned up and dressed, each communicating without words what the experience meant to us.

"So, how bout dinner then?" she asked, perking up.

"Definitely! Nothing works up an appetite like a good ass fucking!"

I chuckled as she slapped me my arm lightheartedly.

"Don't be crass. You keep talking like that and that'll be the last time we do that!" she warned with a finger.

My eyes widened, and I gravely said, "Baby, don't even joke about that. Would you let a blind man see a single sunset? You can't cut me off now that I've tasted perfection!" I got down on my knees and pretended to kiss her feet. "Take it back! I beg you!"

Christine's soft brown curls bounced as she laughed out loud. "Hmm, I dunno. I think I like you down there begging... It's kinda nice to be on the receiving end of this for once," she considered.

"Mwah, mwah, mwah." I laid more pretend kisses on her feet.

"C'mon, Casanova, get up," she nudged me with a leg, "Let's get to it. I'm hungry."

I chuckled as I rose from the floor, and we made our way to the kitchen.

Sinatra's 'Fly Me to the Moon' came into full swing over the house speakers. I'd only just noticed that Ia's mix had continued to play in the other room.

"This is alright," I waved a hand, indicating the music, "but how about something a little more...us?"

I found the home's central control panel on the kitchen wall. The large touchscreen showed a diagram of the house with icons indicating many of the features that could be interacted with, as well as several other functions. Picking a playlist that was a bit more modern, I prompted the system to transfer the audio to the kitchen speakers.

"Okay!" I clapped hands together, "Tonight, my lovely, you're in for a treat."

"Oh yeah?" her eyebrows rose.

"Absolutely! That in there?" I pointed to the living room we just christened, "That was just the prelude. First, you get to shop for your new bedroom so I can bring your stuff in while you make dinner -- I'm super excited to try your cooking, by the way," I said as an aside. "Then, drinks by the fire pit on the patio. Finally," my eyebrows waggled as I rubbed hands together in anticipation, "hot tubbing time."

Her smile transformed into a smirk. "Ooooo, this does sound fun."

"Bet 'cher ass," I nodded seriously. "I'm dying to see that sexy little body of yours in a swimsuit. And I've got just the thing. Hold that thought!"

Jogging to the study, I withdrew a slim gift-wrapped box from the desk and returned.

"Here." I thrust it at her. She tilted her head into one of those fake disappointed 'you shouldn't have' looks. "It's nothing, really. Just thought you might get some use out of it. It's probably more of a gift for me than you if I'm honest."

Christine placed a hand on her breastbone. "Well, aren't you thoughtful..."

Tearing it open, she took expectant little glances at me. The top half of the thin box was pulled off of the bottom, revealing what -- at a glance -- appeared to be nothing more than a small black and red pile of synthetic fabrics.

"Is this?"

"It's a swimsuit. I saw it online and had to get it for you. Just wait till you see," I said with a confident smirk, "this thing was made for you."

"Well..." a sultry grin crept onto her face, "as long as you don't expect me to be wearing it when I get out of the tub."

Little minx. Thankfully all that business about withholding certain sexual services seemed to be firmly in the rearview mirror.

I took her upstairs, turning on all the lights to display the impressiveness of the house. Christine showed the appropriate level of appreciation, which was to say that she essentially dragged her jaw around on the floor as we moved from room to room.

A few of the more impressive rooms with large closets and grand en suite bathrooms drew her interest, but I was merely using those as a context for the one I had earmarked for her in my own mind.

We entered the room, which -- similar to my curly-haired lover -- was unassuming in size and style, but had a richness of character that made it more than the sum of its parts.

"I think you'll find this one interesting. It's not the biggest, but it's situated in the southeast corner of the house, so it has windows on two sides, both of which let in the bright morning light. It's nice and sunny. When I saw the room earlier today, I thought of you immediately."

Christine circled it, inspecting the airy drapes and classic white furniture.

I continued, "No pressure though, it's completely your call. Did you want to see some of the other ones again?"

She looked back at me with glistening eyes, "Adam, no, it's perfect. I'm not really sure how, but you know me well."

Somewhat haltingly, she went on, "Will you...be able to stay here with me? I had thought we'd be sleeping together...at least some of the time, that is."

"We will, Baby. For sure, we will. Technically, the master bedroom is mine, and I share it with Ia," forestalling her dejected look, I plowed on, "but that doesn't mean that only Ia and I will share a bed, or even that I'll sleep in the master every night. Consider this bedroom as a place for you to keep your things. And a place for solitude, if you feel the need for it. I want things to be fair among each of you, so I floated the idea of taking turns. But Ia told me she'd be more comfortable sharing than having to split the nights with others. I didn't want to assume your choice in the matter."

"Oh, ok," she chirped, brightening, "And I agree! That is, that I don't mind sharing. With her. Ia's so worldly. I'm sure I could learn a lot from her."

"Great. I'll start grabbing your things."

We made our way back downstairs, and spent the next thirty minutes or so at our respective chores. I didn't know what Christine had in store for dinner, but a heavenly aroma issued from the kitchen. Each time I passed through I caught her in some preparatory task that made it obvious she knew what she was doing.

Finally, I'd finished moving the surprising amount of random stuff out of her car and hauled it upstairs. As great as it was to live in a house like this, I had to admit making the umpteen-odd trips from the garage to her new bedroom was no trivial job.

I came back to the kitchen to check up on Christine.

Tapping her fingers to the rhythm of OMI's Cheerleader as she floated among a half-dozen prep stations, I watched enrapt while Christine effortlessly wielded tools of the culinary trade I didn't even recognize.

"Anything I can help with?" I offered, grabbing another beer from the fridge.

"You sit," she spun, pointing a large knife at me, "I've got this."

"Yes, Ma'am." Raising my hands in submission, I sat down on a barstool and pulled up to the island in the center of the room. Her skill was damned impressive, but mostly I leered at her succulent ass as she bobbed and swayed with the upbeat tempo. Sue me, she was hot, and she was mine. You'd better believe I had designs on having that sweet little thing at least once more before the night was through.

Besides her tight body, the domesticated vibe I was getting from her was really pleasing my inner patriarch. The little vixen knew she had an audience, too, and was putting on a bit of a show for me. I strongly suspected cooks didn't normally swivel and sway quite that much to prepare meals...

"These knives are amazing!" she gushed, "I feel like some kind of super chef with these things. The chopping is so much faster. And this Viking range heats so fast! Uggghhhh," her 'this chocolate is divine' groan made me smile, "I am going to love cooking here."

"I'm getting the feeling I'm going to love you cooking here too. You sure look like you know your way around a kitchen." I praised, sucking the thick foam of a particularly tasty milkshake IPA from my lips.

"Call it a decade of practice with a demanding audience." She responded, pulling a steaming tray of asparagus out of the oven. The delicious scent had my salivary glands working overtime. "It'll just be a couple more minutes, the béarnaise is almost done," she tapped a spoon on the side of the saucepan, "be right back."

Grabbing a pair of tongs and serving plate, she pirouetted over to me and gave me a peck on the cheek, heading to the patio door to apparently tend whatever was on the grill.

"Sounds good Baby. No rush!" I called after her. I'd never heard of...whatever she called it, but where I came from if you weren't doing the cooking, you ate what you were served and shut up about it, so I wasn't about to question.

Noticing that she had already set a perfectly formal table for two in the kitchenette -- complete with linen napkins and multiple forks, I smiled in wonder. This woman was a marvel. Come to think of it, I didn't even know where the linens were kept...

Moments later, she emerged from the patio with two of the thickest, juiciest steaks I'd ever seen. Each lay in a pool of deep red liquid on the plate.

She noticed that I'd gone on point like a bird dog, chuckling at me. "It's a special occasion! I thought we should celebrate. I really hope you like them. Maybe I went overboard a bit on the cuts, but you'll appreciate the difference when you taste."

Stirring the saucepan, she pronounced the meal complete, and after taking off her apron, began serving it.

"Oh ho, Baby, you are a dream come true!" I commended, "This smells like heaven!"

The spread looked so good I didn't know where to start, but Christine had a ready answer, serving each dish in order as apparent to her as it was inscrutable to me.

She started things off with a delightfully tangy Caesar salad and warm crusty rolls, moving on to crab cakes with bits of parsley and crunchy things inside that she infused with a zest of lemon juice from fresh cut wedges. Finally, the main course featured a choice cut of Filet Mignon and baked peppered asparagus drizzled with olive oil.

"It's all so amazing Christine!" I praised, cutting into the cooked-to-perfection steak while my salivary glands rapidly filled up my mouth, "You are a culinary Goddess." The steak fell apart as I cut it -- I hardly even needed the knife.

Her head tilted. "Awww, aren't you nice to say so? This is nothing, really. Here, try some of the sauce with your steak."

I dipped another oh-so-tender morsel into the little dollop of yellow sauce she had ladled onto my plate, putting it in my mouth. The creamy, buttery notes complemented the mouthwatering savory flavor of the juicy steak perfectly as it almost literally melted in my mouth. My eyes rolled into my head and I groaned in taste bud nirvana.

This was almost as good as sex. Almost.

"What did you mean when you said 'a decade of practice'?" I could barely focus on my words, appreciating the crispy tips of slightly bitter stalky greens I forked into my mouth.

"My parents are Catholic, and didn't believe in birth control, so of course I came from a big family. I always found it hilarious that the Catholics swear upside and down that their 'natural family planning' method of birth control works when so many of them have to drive around in those huge passenger vans because they have so many kids." She laughed. "After all, what's the saying? 'The proof is in the pudding'?

"Anyway, that's the Fayers," her tone was resigned, but she spoke fondly. "Five brothers and three sisters. Mom, Dad, and the nine of us." She smiled at my shocked expression. "Mom didn't have much time with such a big house to manage, of course, and Dad was working two jobs to put food on the table, so we all had to pitch in."

"Wow," I said, trying to imagine what it would be like to grow up with so many siblings.

"It's just the way it is with families that big: the parents don't have enough hands to raise the little ones themselves, so the older ones need to help. Cooking was my thing. At first, I hated it, but everyone else was even worse at it than I was, and Mom helped me improve when she had the time. After a couple years, I found it to be an outlet. Eventually, I started taking more risks. Got more creative. It worked out okay, I guess." She shrugged. "The family seemed to think so, at any rate."

"Christine, this is legitimately the best meal I've had in my life, and I am not exaggerating. Have you ever thought about becoming a chef?"

"You flatter me. Honestly, I'm not that good. I mean, sure, I wanted to impress you a little bit -- yessss," she fist-pumped, "but I'm not gonna lie; this is probably the easiest 'slam dunk' meal I know of. It's really not hard to get USDA Prime Filet right.

"Besides, you'd be surprised how competitive careers in the culinary arts are. I dunno, I could probably cut it as a line cook at Applebees," we chuckled together, "but that's not really what I'm looking for."

"Well, I know you told me you go to school at the community college. What are you studying?"

"Accounting."

She chuffed at my screwed up face. "Look, you don't grow up in a family like mine and end up as a dreamer. Life is hard, and we all need something reliable that's going to pay the bills. Careers in the arts are unpredictable at best. Whoever believed that old quote by Twain: 'find a job you enjoy doing, and you'll never work a day in your life' never had eleven mouths to feed."

My eyebrows dipped with my frown, "It sounds like you've had things tough, but it also seems that it's made you strong."

"Oh, I don't think so, but thanks for saying so." She popped another bite of steak into her mouth.

We'd finished the meal, and were sitting in companionable silence when I smacked my forehead.

"Oh, God! I completely forgot! I'll be right back."

Rushing to the basement, I came to a locked door with a small panel next to it. It was illuminated red and had a keypad off to the side. I pressed my thumb to it and waited for a second, hearing it chime as the panel turned green and a deep metallic 'clunk' issued from the door.

Entering the room, I flipped a switch and the room lit up in a warm glow. A vast array of wines were housed in diamond-shaped cubbies, spanning the three walls that faced me. The quiet hum of the humidity control was the only sound that seemed able to fight off the almost oppressive silence.

Stupid! Why hadn't I thought to come down here before that amazing meal? Guess I was still learning how to live 'high on the hog', as my Dad liked to say. Which one should I select though? I thought I remembered hearing that certain wines paired well with certain foods. Though it didn't matter much since we'd basically finished already, I guessed that some kind of red wine was probably best with a savory steak. But I also didn't want to be completely reckless in my pick. For all I knew, there may have been bottles in here worth more than my car.

Before I could continue, my cellphone chimed. Unlocking it, I found a message from Sandy.

'Thinking about u Sexy' came the text, but what followed a second later had my cock lurching for action: a photo of a pair of lacy pink panties, the entire crotch of which was absolutely soaked. They lay on the recognizable comforter of Christine's bed, making me think of the now naked pussy that brought them to such a state.

Moments later, another text: 'Tired of outgrowing these'

Another photo. Less clear this time, but obviously some kind of garment tag. What did that say? Oh fuck... "Size: DDD"

My cock jumped like it had been zapped with a sex ray. I wanted her here with me. Now. Wanted to bend both her and Christine over the bed and fuck until we were raw, one after the other. Drill bliss into my mates until they couldn't see straight.

Wait, I might be an incubus, but life was more than sex. The beautiful woman upstairs and I were having a lovely evening. Get ahold of yourself, man.

Still, I hated leaving my women wanting. Delving inside, I found a possibility, but my connection with Sandy didn't have sufficient bandwidth to make it a reality. But maybe I could... Pushing a spike of Vitae into the conduit that linked us, I slammed my ethereal implement against the channel's walls in an advancing star pattern like a Spirograph, gradually widening it. I'd learned that the little mechanical visualizations helped assist my brain translate to my Fae what I wanted to achieve. Eventually, I knew, the complex magical manipulations would be as simple as thinking.

At last, it was large enough for what I intended. Summoning to mind the necessary pattern, I fractured my consciousness yet again, this time projecting a good half of it into the portal. The experience was surreal. For the first time, I'd separated a part of me that could actually experience thought. Dimly, I perceived walls of wine bottles in front of my earthly form as it stood like a statue in the cellar, but quickly found a method to tune out the otherness of it, focusing solely on the me that spiraled through the link. It made sense: my brain hadn't developed to process two parallel streams of sensory input. Yet something in my Fae told me that it could if I made the effort. Mental note: try working on that later.