Succubus - A 750 Word Story

Janine woke with a start in the dark. She blinked. She stared up at the cabin ceiling. Her naked body was covered in perspiration and cum. Her long blonde hair was drenched. She was on fire again. Janine lay there in the dark as the yacht gently pitched in the restless roiling tropical sea. Janine turned to her right and stretched out. She watched the sleeping soundless lump which was her husband, Paul. Her spouse was dead to this world. He had only fallen asleep a few hours before. Janine wanted to reach out, exhale in his face and softly run her fingertips over the intricate web of scratches she had left on his overheated skin. She wanted to lean in and carefully kiss the bite marks and bruises where she had sunk her teeth in during orgasm.

With great care and feline grace, the beautiful and sinewy, Janine left her damp bed. She tippy toed out of the moving cabin as it rolled on the dark moody Caribbean sea. She didn't want to wake her husband. Paul was done. Janine had left him a scratched and bitten mess. She had all his semen. She had spent hours coaxing his fluids out of his overworked body with her pussy, her ass, her lips and her hands. His cries had drifted out to sea in the night.

The warm air struck and shocked Janine as she stepped out onto the deck of the yacht. She carefully walked to the end of the vessel. She gazed across the black moving ocean at the shadowy hull of the yacht anchored nearby. She softly smiled. She stepped down to the edge. The breeze momentarily died and the sea was temporarily still as Janine dived off the end of the boat and into the dark water below.

Janine was a strong swimmer. She was at the heights of her physical power. The journey from the yacht she and Paul were sharing together to the yacht anchored nearby was an easy journey for a woman like Janine. She swam there in freestyle form. As the nearby boat grew before her eyes, she thought of the man onboard. He was an older man. He was probably twice her age. He was on his vessel by himself. He was all alone. He would satisfy Janine since her exhausted husband momentarily couldn't. Janine had seen him watching her as Paul and she ate dinner together on deck. Janine had smiled and waved at him. He had waved back. He was horny and he wanted her. She could smell his hunger.

With deft silent movements, Janine pulled herself up onto the stern of the yacht. Water streamed down her golden skin and her light hair was slick. She climbed onboard. She briefly turned and scanned the direction she had come from. The yacht she and Paul were sharing was a grey lifeless shell gently pitching in the dark in the distance. Her husband truly was dead to this world or so she thought.

She stalked the older horny man in his silent yacht. She walked naked, wet and dripping through the night mottled downstairs corridor. Her muscles rippled. The moonlight danced on her curves. She found his cabin at the far end of the hall. She reached out. She took the door handle in her hand and turned it. She pushed the door open. He wasn't sleeping despite the late hour. He was lying there on his back. He was naked and wore a large hard-on. Did he somehow know she would come, she wondered. Did he somehow know she would make her way to him, she thought.

"What the...," he managed to get out, before Janine sprinted in and with a whine and then a screech launched herself at him, "oh my God!"

*

As if by some miracle or some instinctual power, Paul came awake with a start in the dark. He turned on his side and ran his arm out, but his hand slid straight across the bed. Janine wasn't there. He went in search of his beautiful wife. He looked high and low. He went here and there. He couldn't find her. He stood there on the deck and called her name repeatedly. The only response he received was the distant sound of a man and woman's cries of orgasm. Paul knew those female cries and where they were coming from. His bride was feasting on another man, draining him and no doubt tearing him apart.