Practical Milf Keeping

Thanks to Todger 65 for the edit.

Gragonog The Ravisher stared at the tangle of flesh before him. His tusked face wore a confused expression, uncharacteristic for him. The pile of flesh was located within, what he had thought was, a carefully constructed pentagram.

The tangle of limbs and flesh wriggled and wraggled, scrambling like an epileptic spider. Gragonog hated spiders.

He turned to his companion, Grak The Scourge, and glared. Grak smiled nervously and shrugged. Gragonog shifted his glare towards Krog The Devourer. Krog didn't glare back, he had no face, but his mouth said, "Hey! Don't look at me! He's the one who misplaced the hieroglyph!"

The tangle separated into two bodies. Gragonog was not happy. He turned once again to Grak.

"These-are-not-succubi-Grak!"

"Hey! I did the spell the way the book said!"

"What book did you use?" asked Krog.

"The Succubi Address List, see?" Grak took the book from one of his under tentacles, shook the mucus off and handed it to Gragonog.

"This does not look like a grimoire, Grak," the tusked abomination growled, "And these . . . things look very mortal."

"Well, at least they're female," Grak said hesitantly.

The two bodies were indeed female and dressed in strange, undemonic, clothing. They looked at the three demons in shock, then terror, and made strange mewling noises like a swarm of imps getting their wings pulled off.

Hey Terri, come see these strange rocks!

Wow Sandy! I think they're Druid standing stones. This hiking trip wasn't a bust after all!

Yeah! And this place isn't on the map. You know what this means?! We discovered it! We're going to be famous!

God! Wait 'til the guys at home hear . . . wait! I feel funny. Are those stones glowing? What's happening to the ground? Eek!

The females tried to scramble out of the circle.

"Whoa there!" Krog said. He grabbed the females with his tentacles. "Can someone give me some help here? These little buggers will infest the house."

"Just a second Krog," Grak said, "I'm looking them up . . . hmmph! Milfs."

"Milfs?" Krog asked, "What in the heaven are milfs?"

The females were wriggling and making annoying shrieks. Krog wrapped several more tentacles around them.

"Numnutz's fuck-up," Gragonog snarled. "Some species of mortal female of certain maturity, apparently of breeding age but no longer in their first bloom of youth," Gragonog glared at Grak, "You used a cow rather than cat glyph you idiot!"

Grak shuffled his hooves nervously. "Well, I only had a third grade education," he mumbled, looking at the floor.

"Fuck education! A shit-for-brains tardo imp could tell the difference betwe . . . Krog! Shut those bitches up!"

Krog stuffed tentacles in both milfs' mouths. "Hey guys! I think I put my dick-tacles in these things."

"Well take them out; you don't know where they been," Gragonog growled.

"Grag, we're demons. You think it matters fuckall where these creatures came from?"

"Mortals are beneath us, Krog. Now we've got a big party happening and the last thing we need are a pair of 'snort' milfs dirtying up the place, getting into the food . . ."

"Hey! Maybe we can eat them! I heard mortals can be pretty tasty," Grak suggested.

"These little things? They look barely enough to feed an imp. Hey! My dick-tacles feel good. Awww! Look at them; they're trying to bite them off. Isn't that cute?"

"Grak! Use that book, get rid of these . . . milfs, and get us some succubi."

Grak leafed through the book, "Where is it? Where is it?! Fuck! Lost my place! Wait . . . here!" He read a few glyphs, "Bless! We have a problem. The spell's on a timer. We're stuck with them awhile."

Gragonog flared his prodigious nostrils, "Stuck fuck weed? You mean to say we're stuck with these vermin for . . . what's the time length?"

"Mumble."

"What did you say, dick hole?"

"Twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-fucking-four hours! Fucking great! And where do you expect we're going to keep . . . what the fuck's wrong now?!"

"Mumble (again)."

"Speak up, shit stain!"

"It's twenty-four mortal hours."

"Cough! Cough! Twenty-four . . . twenty-four mortal hours?! You dumb fuck, God-blessed glob of putrid semen! You know the fucking time discrepancy between the mortal world and Hell! We're stuck with these cockroaches for a century or more! Who's going to torment them, hmm? And you know these mortals. They get old and crumble to dust inside a half century. Who's going to clean that up, huh? I'm not."

"Mumble, mumble . . ."

"What's that? Hmm? Oh, so you're dyslexic now, on top of that shit-for-brains third grade education? Boy, I swear I don't know why I let you hang aro . . . Krog! What the fuck are you doing?"

"Stripping their coverings off. If we're stuck with 'em and we're going to eat 'em or whatever, may as well get rid of the indigestibles."

"Grumph! Well, burn those things. I don't want 'em attracting imps and you, dickfuck, get some fucking succubi or I'll rip your fucking cock off, chop it up, and make a fucking bean dip out of it."

"Mumble, mumble, we should just use the imps."

"You say something jerkwad?"

"Nothing."

Gragonog glared at Grak, who fumbled through the book, trying to unstick the mucus drenched pages, then turned to Krog. "Now what are you doing?"

"Sticking my other dicks into their holes. May as well 'til we get some succubi. Maybe I'll eat them later."

The two milfs moaned, their eyes wide with pain, despair, outrage, and whatever mixed emotions tormented mortals were wont to express.

Gragonog sniffed. He'd elicit louder screams. He was The Ravisher after all. He remembered an idiot witch who'd summoned him, once (some petty revenge against a sorority). She did just about everything wrong: bad glyphs, misshaped pentagram, no binding contract. He'd plowed through her, the sorority, and a couple of frat boys, just like that slimegirl at Dantefest '98. Took the witch back with him for her trouble. Now she was some shit demon's cock-sleeve for anal in the seventh circle. "But that was a party," he chuckled, then put his fierce face back on.

"Well, if you're going to make use of them, I may as well join in. Unplug a couple will ya?"

"Which one?" Krog asked.

"The ass and pussy of the lighter-haired one. You!" he scowled at Grak, "Keep looking, jack off! You don't get some of this until I see some succubi!"

"Mumble, grumble."

Gragonog busied himself with the mortal's pussy and bung. He admitted, with some grudge, he loved the feel of mortal flesh around his cocks. He went hilts deep; difficult for the milf obviously, he was big after all.

The milf squealed around one cock and squirmed on the other. Gragonog hoped the milf wouldn't pop, not that he cared but an exploded mortal shortens the fun, and a proper ravisher demon makes things last.

"You know, these two mortals look like good representatives of their species," Krog remarked.

"Rumph!" Gragonog snorted. He hated to admit Krog had a point. The ass on the lighter-haired one was certainly well-shaped. The two mortals sported reasonably large but proportionate breasts. Their bodies carried muscle tone. "Exercisers," he grunted contemptuously, "Means they'll last longer than most."

Both milfs sported brown hair, shoulder length. The shared one's hair was lighter than her companion. The other's hair was tinted with red highlights.

The milfs' mouths ululated around the cocks, like the serial killer the boys cooked at the barbecue in '86 (an appropriate punishment, him being a cannibal and all).

"Careful with the cum, Grag," Krog said, "These mortals pop easily."

"You don't need to remind me. I'm not cleaning up milf guts if they do. This is Grak's fuck-up. He'll do it."

"Grumble."

"Yes you will. It'll teach you to find the right address next time. Speaking of which, you find anything?"

"These look good," Grak showed him the list.

"The Sisters of The Priapi? Aren't those the succubi with dicks? I don't want succubi with dicks, fuck for brains. Get me pussy or I'll make you the entertainment."

"Grumb . . ."

"Say something. I dare you . . . good."

"What's wrong with dick succubi?" Krog asked, "I thought you swung both ways."

"It's either/or for me Krog, not both on one package. It's grotesque. Hey! I think this one came."

"She did? Let me see," Krog peered over the mortal's ass. "Yep, that's mortal cum alright. Let's look at her face," he withdrew his dick-tacle from her mouth. Krog, for all his lack of a face, was surprisingly good at reading others.

The milf coughed, heaved, and made slobbering sounds like a three-year-old imp.

"Hmmm, mortification, humiliation, fear, outrage, and just a tiny bit of lust? Interesting eyes this one. Kind of gray. Hey Grag, you think this one might be related to the Graeae?"

"Those old hags? They always kept their legs closed. 'Sides, what mortal could get near 'em? Without getting eaten, I mean?"

"One did."

"Yeah, but he got lucky, and he was half god anyway. Nah, lots of mortals got gray eyes."

"The other mortal's got the same look, maybe a bit more lust. Think she has some nasty kinks under that flesh?"

"Of course. They're mortal. All of 'em have kinks. We're demons, remember? We squeeze 'em out and fuck 'em in the ass with 'em."

"Got a point. 'Like the other one's hazel eyes; 'minds me of a Pict. 'Been a while since I had Pict meat."

"They're extinct Krog."

"Yeah, I know. I ate the last one. Oh! This one came too. Ha! She's a squirter."

"That's a lot of cum."

"I've decided I like milfs," Krog laughed.

Gragonog grudgingly admitted again Krog had a point, but refused to say it out loud. He still preferred succubi but these milf creatures were surprisingly responsive. He could almost swear (a big deal considering he was a demon) this milf was grinding her ass against his groin, rather than the other way around. Probably 'cause they're older and more experienced. Better than virgins at least.

Gragonog couldn't understand the big deal about virgins. Sure, they had more energy, and some were highly enthusiastic, but their lack of experience made things boring pretty quick. On the other hand, mortal whores could be just as boring 'cause they were too experienced. Sex for them became so routine, like one of those assembly line innovations the mortals invented, they lost their creativity.

Escorts and courtesans were better but still . . . Yeah, these milfs are just right. Young enough to feel fresh but not enough experience to be jaded. Of course, they couldn't compare to succubi, literal creatures of sex, passion, and lust but Gragonog thought, "They'll do well until numnutz there figures out the address list."

"Mumble, found it!"

"You found a succubi, cunt licker?" Gragonog snarled.

"An address, mumble."

"Well get on it, Grak," Krog grunted, "Let's get the party started."

Grak mumbled a few incantations, made some gesticulations, stroked his cock, mumbled something about accepting charges, and pop! Two succubi apparated in the circle. The sight of which brought forth a moan and a snarl from Gragonog. "Grak! You piece of semen-drenched, shit-sucking cherub!"

****

Now, as an aside, not all succubi are like ones depicted in art. Yes, some have tails, some have horns, some have cloven hooves, a few have the deep red skin, and some even have dicks.

However, succubi with the more eccentric body parts tend to, actually, do less business than the more human-looking ones. Mortals do have their prejudices, something entrepreneurial demons have exploited for generations, and fucking bat-winged, cloven-hoofed, dick-endowed women is off-putting for many. If one thinks about it, seduction and corruption are supposed to be subtle, after all. What's so subtle about someone who looks like a freak show from an episode of Tales From The Darkside?

The best, high-end succubi look as close to human as possible. Yes, there are mortals who are into the freaks but they're on the fringe anyway, and not considered as good a get as, say, some clean cut virgin Mormon geek who manages to score a black magic book, and thinks he's just summoning an expensive high-end prostitute.

It's not to say the high-ends looked completely human, just close. The two summoned were a case in point. In regards to body measurements, shape, etc these two would make a Penthouse model slit her wrists.

Big 'uns somewhere past the F range; asses so firm, round, and juicy they screamed, "Put your cock between these globes fuckface so we can turn you into an obsessive anal fetisher in five cums!" Hairless pussies so wide they could suck in a horse cock, a bull's balls, and leave room for the rest (actually, it was centaurs. These two weren't into bestiality. Even some succubi have standards). Taut-muscled torsos shaming Olympic athletes; long limbed drink-of-water legs and arms, and faces to make Sports Illustrated models stroke out with envy.

It's roughly as close these two could get to human without a glamour spell. The rest, the exceedingly pink skin, fiery red eyes, pointed ears, fangs, and razor-sharp nails, plus their eight foot height marked them as members of homo demonica.

The two succubi were near identical, except one had deep red hair with large cascading curls to her shoulders. The other's hair was jet black, styled in a Louise Brooks bob.

The succubi were drop dead gorgeous by all standards but, instead of the expected demonic lust Gragonog would normally feel, the only emotions were rage at shithead Grak, and overwhelming dread (a very big deal. He was the disher out of dread after all).

Dread, though, was an apt feeling in Gragonog's case. The reason? The succubi: Bevemorda, Bellora. His ex-wife and mother-in-law. "Fuck me."

"In your worst nightmares pencil dick. Where's my check? You're two months behind," Bevemorda, The Blood-Haired Bitch, sneered.

Krog, currently switching out his dick-tacles in the mortals, smiled. "Hey Bev, Mrs. Soul-Fucker."

Bellora Night-Hair, The Soul-Fucker, noticed Krog and smiled. "Krog, how are you? Oh! Are those mortals?"

"Yep, we got 'em when Grak made a fuck-up with the grimoire."

"How cute," Bevemorda smirked, "So what the heaven are we doing here?"

"Yeah semen cup. What the heaven are they doing here?"

"Hey, I got the address right this time. How was I supposed to know your ex moved there?"

Grak was a bit more defiant this time. Gragonog thought he detected a twitch on his lips. The fucker! I'll flay his cock and force fuck him to an acid demon!

"So we're here by fucking mistake? Figures with Grak."

"Oh don't be so cross Bev. Grak tries his best, don't you Grak?" Bellora smiled at Grak.

"Mumble," Grak couldn't look Bellora in the face. His ongoing crush on Bellora was no secret. She enjoyed The Scourge's attention. She was the Soul-Fucker and keeping worms like Grak around her finger was one of her specialties. Still, succubi are summoned for a reason.

"You brought us here to fuck I take it? And are those two mortals included?"

"Not really," Krog said, "We're just using them to kill time."

"Looks like you're killing them," Bevemorda noted, "They don't look too well."

Indeed, the mortals were choking on demon cum. Bevemorda did think these two were fine examples of the breed. A shame to waste a couple of good bitches. "Take those cocks out of them, you two. I want a closer look."

"Hey! You don't live here anymore! You can't tell me what to do!"

"You're two months behind on alimony, jack-off," Bev purred with poisoned honey, "And Daddy's nobility, so I own your ass. Unplug, now."

"Grrr!" Gragonog pulled out. Bev had him by the balls and he knew it. I should've brought in Yogsoggoth or The Goat (That Walks). Those Old Ones, they know how to control their women.

The mortals collapsed in a cum-drenched, quivering heap, choking and gasping.

"Oh do help me out Mother. These idiots put too much spunk in them."

The succubi picked up the mortals and gave them two hard thumps on their backs.

"Be careful. Those are milfs," said Grak.

"Milfs?" asked Bel.

"Milfs? Hmmm," Bev looked at her mother. "Mature female mortals of a certain age. Not quite young but not quite middle-aged either. They've usually settled down, married, and raised mortal pups who haven't quite left home yet. Considered to be sexually attractive to younger males . . . or females depending on their sexual orientation or curiosity."

"The fuck?" Gragonog glared at his ex. The others cocked figurative eyebrows.

"I have a practical milf-keeping manual," Bev explained.

"A what-ical what-what?" Krog asked.

"A Guide to Practical Milf-Keeping. I got a copy from Suras."

"That fucking ink (slang for incubus. Not thought of highly due to getting all the chicks)?" Gragonog snarled, "Fancies himself an intellectual, 'sneer'."

"He's got brains almost as big as his cock," Bev sneered back, "Not like most. Some sex-starved amateur summoned him a while back. Screwed up like Grak here. He grabbed her and, for good measure, some young male mortal spying on her for some reason. Probably 'cause she was naked. Anyway, he took them to his house, interrogated them, found there was a vogue for this subspecies, decided to write a book about it. He keeps them as his fuck pets; let's 'em screw each other for study."

"Snort! Fucking brain."

"Who out dicks you in every way dear ex. So, Mother, let's take a look."

Bev held up the gray-eyed woman, "Not by the scruff of the neck, Mother. Under the shoulders. Like this, see?"

"Oh, my dear, I've handled a lot more mortals than you. I'm just not concerned with their health."

"It's no fun if you break them, Mother," said Bev. She gave the semi-conscious mortal a couple of slaps with her tongue (very long and forked; another succubus feature), "What is your name, mortal?"

The mortal milf blinked twice, coughed, and gasped, "Terri!"

"And your name little worm?" Bellora asked her mortal.

"Sandra!"

"Ooo, isn't that lovely. Short for Cassandra, I believe. I knew a Cassandra once. Excellent seer. Couldn't get anyone to believe her though."

The milfs began to make twittering noises and moans, apparently, as Bev understood, pleas for release. Do I detect some half-heartedness among the begging . . . perhaps?

"They're not too convincing Mother."

"Of course not, dear. It's a hidden nature many mortals carry. A session or two with a few demons will bring it out every time."

"Snort! Hidden nature," Gragonog spat, "What do our kind give a fuck about 'hidden nature'? Flesh is flesh; we fuck these bitches just the same."

"It's all in the technique dearie. You can squeeze a lot more from these two with a bit more finesse."

Bellora flipped the milf upside down and spread her legs. The milf shrieked, briefly, and goggled, open-mouthed at the succubus.

"Now with this, you can draw a lot more cum from these two." Bellora licked her tongue along the milf's slit. The milf shrieked and gasped.

"See? She's wet already," Bellora licked again, tickling her forked tongue along the milf's clit.

"She looks mortified, Mother."

"Of course they do, dear. It's a mask they all wear. You must really try this. Mortal cum and energy are so delicious." Bellora plunged her tongue inward and bore down.

"I know, Mother, but . . ." Bevemorda stopped. Her mother wasn't listening. She flipped her milf over. "Yeah, I got to admit her pussy looks delish. It's just piece-of-shit's sperm is in it, and I hated its taste when we were married." She sighed," Well, I guess I'll have to suck it out to get to the candy. Fucker's seed probably pregged her already."