Incubus Pupa Ch. 12

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

"So, dinner then?" she asked.

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

I chuckled as she slapped my arm lightheartedly.

"Don't be crass. You keep talking like that and that's gonna come right off the menu," 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 cocked her head, acting speculative, "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 tapped her lip with a finger.

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

"C'mon, Casanova, get up," she chortled at my over-the-top theatrics, nudging 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.

"What do you want to listen to?" I asked, finding the home's central control panel on the wall. "Ia likes the big band stuff, but I'm not really in the mood for it. If you like it, I can leave it on, though."

"Nah, how 'bout something more modern," she responded, moving to start prepping the meal.

"You got it, Baby."

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. I browsed for a moment to select the audio controls, eventually picking a pop mix I'd been cultivating for a few years now. With the press of a few additional buttons, I prompted the system to transfer the playback to the kitchen speakers.

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

"Oh yeah?" her eyebrows rose.

"Absolutely! After dinner -- I'm super excited to try your cooking, by the way -- I thought we could explore the house. Then, we'll take 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."

"Uh-huh," I nodded seriously. "I'm dying to see that sexy little body of yours in a swimsuit. Whoop...that reminds me! Be right back!"

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

"Here. A little housewarming gift," I extended it to her. She tilted her head into one of those 'you shouldn't have' looks. "It's nothing big, I promise. It's probably more of a gift for me than you if I'm honest."

Christine placed a hand on her breastbone and gave me a warm look.

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 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," 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." She leaned in, put a hand to my cheek, and seared my lips with a sultry kiss. "Thank you, my sweet Adam.

"Now then," her demeanor changed in a flash, suddenly all business, "You let me get started on dinner, or we will never eat. Do me a favor and go unload the car, Honey." She patted my cheek.

"Yes, Dear," I affected a whipped husband.

We 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 hauling the surprising amount of random stuff she had in her car upstairs. As great as it was to live in a big house like this, I had to admit making umpteen-odd trips from the garage to the upper level was no trivial job. I wasn't sure exactly where she wanted her effects, so I just set them in one of the rooms that I thought would suit her. I could always move it all later if she chose a different one.

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 a beer from the fridge.

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

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 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 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 foam of a particularly tasty milkshake IPA from my upper lip.

"Call it a decade of practicing with demanding customers." 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 a 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 hope you like them. Maybe I went overboard a bit on the cuts, but you'll appreciate the difference when you sink your teeth into these babies."

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.

"This is 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 I came from a big family. Ever notice that Catholics swear upside and down that their 'natural family planning' method of birth control works, but so many of them have to drive around in those huge passenger vans because they have so many kids?" She laughed.

I chuckled, nodding.

"Well, evidently it's true for the Fayers too," 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 kids need to help. Cooking was my job. 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 of years, I found it to be an outlet. Eventually, I started getting more creative with it. 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 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 laughed together, "but that's not 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 the screwed-up face I gave her, explaining, "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 about never working a day in your life if you find a job you enjoy doing never had eleven mouths to feed."

My eyebrows dipped as I frowned, "I imagine it would be tough growing up in a family like that, but it also seems to have 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 most of the meal, and were sitting in companionable silence when I realized what I'd forgotten.

"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. It didn't matter much since we'd nearly finished already, but I guessed that some kind of red wine was probably best with a savory steak. 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 Sandy's bed, making me think of the now naked pussy that brought them to such a state.

Moments later, another text: 'Outgrew another one...' with a bunch of frowny faces.

Another text, this time a photo. The image was a little fuzzy, but I could tell it was some kind of clothing 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.

Wait, I might be an incubus, but life was more than sex. The beautiful woman upstairs and I were having a lovely evening. I had to get ahold of myself.

'Miss u too, hon. Gonna take you bra shopping and spoil you'

'Can't wait!!' was her reply, followed by a dozen heart emojis and smilies.

Refocusing on the reason I'd come down here, I continued scanning the racks for something that looked suitable. Soon enough, I stumbled across a Cabernet that was quite a bit newer than most of the others, so I withdrew it. When it came to alcohol, I figured older stuff was usually more expensive. Right?

After relocking the door, I returned to Christine, who had started clearing the table in my absence. I held up my acquisition.

"Wanna get a little reckless?"

"Adam, I don't know..." she looked apprehensive, "if you had to go downstairs for that, I'm guessing it's expensive. Are you sure Ianthe would be okay with us drinking it?"

"Ianthe will absolutely be okay with it. She shares everything she owns with me; anything in this house is fair game. As for how expensive it is, that's another story... But hey," I shrugged, "YOLO, right? Like you said, tonight's a special occasion."

I popped the cork out with one of those fancy single-action screws I found in the drawer.

Christine giggled, her nervousness turning into excitement now that we were committed.

One thing I also remembered hearing was that you were supposed to let a bottle sit for a few minutes before drinking it, so I sat it down and retrieved two wine glasses that looked big enough to contain an entire Big Gulp.

"Well, you sure know how to show a lady a good time..."

I bowed my head. "Thank yo-"

"-at someone else's expense."

"Wha...hey!" I spluttered. "Now, I not so sure... I might just have to drink this whole thing by myself if you're gonna be that way about it." I acted put out.

Her eyes twinkled in the light of the chandelier. "Oh, c'mon, I'm messing with you!"

Shooting back a sidelong glance, my eyes narrowed to slits.

"But in all seriousness," she said soberly, "what's the deal with that anyway? Is she, like, your sugar momma or something?"

That one gave me pause. It was one thing if Ia wanted to defer to me in front of my other bonds, but I wasn't going to get into the details of how our relationship worked without her permission.

"Well..."

Christine quickly intuited my reservation, "It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I can tell she's one of those submissive types, or whatever. It wasn't hard to figure out -- I heard her call you 'master' earlier."

"Something like that..." I said noncommittally, "Come on, let's go check out the new place." I poured a glass for each of us and handed her one.

For the next twenty minutes, we 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed at all the various features as we made a circuit of the house. We carried our wine glasses with us as we went, careful not to spill any of the crimson liquid on the rich cream-colored carpets. Poking our heads in the countless doorways we came across on our tour, we found many of the rooms to be empty -- a situation I was confident that Sandy would be only too happy to help us out with. Just learning which light switches did what in this place would take me years, I mused.

Making our way upstairs, I showed Christine where I'd put her things, and she confirmed that she liked the room I'd chosen for her very much, but would reserve final judgment until she saw it in the light of day. Naturally, this led to a topic of conversation I wasn't really keen on, but that I conceded had to be broached at some point.

"Speaking of sleeping arrangements," Christine began uncertainly, "where will you be at night?"

I looked at her, still mulling the whole thing over for myself after a similar chat with Ianthe. The idea of Christine and Ianthe both sleeping in the master with me was quite appealing, and it certainly would work physically given the size of the bed, but they'd only just met. Even the thought of the two of them living in the same house as barely more than strangers seemed...off-putting. Earlier, when I'd discussed the matter with Ianthe, I'd somehow pictured them as more comfortable with one another than what I saw when they met a couple hours ago. I needed to help them get to know one another better. Maybe set up some kind of bonding experience or something, bringing Sandy in as well -- and ideally Ella too if I could convince her -- to start building their friendships.

"I'm still working that out. I had a mind to sleep in the master bedroom, but I don't want to leave you alone in here."

"Can...I sleep with you there then? In the master bedroom?" She clarified.

"Do you think you'd be comfortable doing that?" I asked, adding, "I couldn't kick Ianthe out of her own bed."

"Of course not, but I see your point. It does seem a little weird. I mean, Ianthe seems like an amazing woman -- all worldly and...experienced -- but as I said earlier, I admit I'm a little intimidated by her. Still, if she's okay with it, I'd much rather sleep with you and her than all alone. I'll just stay on one side of you, and she can stay on the other. It'll almost be like we're sleeping in separate beds."

"Good point," I said, considering her way of looking at it. "That won't work forever though, if Sandy comes to stay here too. But I guess we can worry about all that another time. Okay, the truth is that I did discuss this with Ianthe earlier, and she had the same opinion you do, so yeah, we'll all sleep in the master bedroom tonight. I would have told you her thoughts on the matter, but I wanted you to come to the decision independently without feeling coerced."

"Yes!" Christine fist-pumped once more, "Mmmmm..." closing her eyes and spinning around like a little girl dreaming of spending a romantic night with prince charming, "Finally! I won't have to hug the blanket you use when you come over to fall asleep anymore!"