Succubus

The old woman fell to the floor and breathed her last. Elyssa stared at the body in disbelief, watching as it transformed into the beautiful but lifeless form of Lucia... then back again into the old hag, and finally deteriorated into desiccated remains. She now understood the terrible, ungodly need Lucia had for a man's cum. It was no less than her very source of life and beauty.

Elyssa thought of attending to the wound on her cheek. She looked in the vanity mirror, but much to her astonishment there was not even a scratch. Perhaps there was a logical explanation, but after having witnessed the inexplicable recent events, she didn't think so.

The new bride looked at her husband laying on the bed. She had an urge to go over to him and suck his cock, even though he was fast asleep. Out of love for Robert she restrained herself but feeling quite drained from her astonishing experience, Elyssa fell into a trance-like sleep beside him. As she drifted off she dreamed of Robert's metaphor on their journey through the Adirondacks... how in death, the leaves on the trees are most beautiful just before they wither and die.

Robert recovered and the Hobday's returned home, unable to tell anyone of the strange circumstances of the last week of their honeymoon. They did however, leave an anonymous note with the local constabulary containing information on the possibility of prisoners in a certain room of a particular inn.

... the gentlemen sit entranced by Hobday's story. One man in particular seems to object. "Well that was a remarkable fabrication. You have a most vivid imagination sir, and on such short notice! However, other than being quite entertaining, you don't really expect us to believe a word of it now, do you?"

"Gentlemen, I have no investment in either your acceptance or rejection of my tale. But, you see there is one final part to my story; one which may be the most incredulous of all."

Hobday pulls out his wallet and shows his audience a picture of his wife. "My good fellows, this is a recent photograph of Mrs. Hobday."

"Why that's absurd!" blurts out one of the unbelievers. "She looks as if she couldn't be more than in her late twenties."

"Indeed gentlemen, I can attest that my wife's chronological age is only two years less than mine. You see, in that one instance when Lucia scratched Elyssa's cheek, she transferred her very sickness to my wife. Mrs. Hobday must now feed on a man's semen once a day or she will age just like any other woman. I assure you, I happily accept and encourage my wife's vain desire to maintain her youthful vigor."

"Oh really now, you could easily have taken that picture years ago in hopes of perpetrating that ruse on the less educated people of the world."

"I'll tell you what, gentlemen... my wife is driving over to pick me up in ten minutes. Why don't you all come out to meet her?"

Smelling of booze and cigars, the old men laugh, agreeing to join their friend at the curb if for no other reason than to bid him adieu and to thank him for an entertaining evening. Their amusement is silenced however, when Mrs. Hobday gets out of the Bentley Sedanca Coupe and greets her husband.

"Hello sweetheart." Her eyes are hypnotic, her smile inviting.

"Hello dear. I'd like you to meet some friends of mine." Then smiling proudly and somewhat smugly, "Gentlemen, may I introduce to you, Mrs. Hobday."

Elyssa Hobday, now seventy years of age, presents as a thirty-year-old woman. Her shoulder-length hair is natural blonde, her face is without wrinkles, she is endowed with a slender but most feminine figure. Smiling sheepishly, the men tip their top hats. Mustering up a bit of whiskey induced courage, one man speaks.

"Hello Mrs. Hobday. Your husband has told us so much about you. He is a lucky man."

With polite demeanor Mrs. Hobday graciously addresses the gentlemen, "Thank you so much. It's nice to meet all of you. Please do drop by for... dinner, one evening. I have a fruit juice coctail I believe you would enjoy. It is a favorite of Mr. Hobday's."

The Bentley speeds off into the night. Enveloped in silence so thick you could cut it with a knife, the gentlemen return to the club and the refuge of their alcoholic libations.