Incubus
Date: 03.02.2010
Keywords: Incubus,
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Pencils in hand and dragging in another friend, Cheryl, I set up shop in his room as soon as he opened his door. I threw a burgundy velvet blanket on his bed and asked Cheryl to undress and recline there. Cheryl looks very different from Jenny. Cheryl is tall, slender and leggy with warm, brown eyes. I was anticipating that the burgundy would look spectacular against her glossy, chestnut hair and golden skin.
Cheryl is also an exhibitionist, so she had no problems with going buff. After giving Trent what I felt was an intimidating glare and warning, I started to sketch out the outline for the drawing. Again, it wasn't long before I was concentrating more on the drawing than I was on Cheryl. And again, it wasn't long before I was hearing Cheryl purr deep in her throat.
Cheryl's long legs were up in the air, her ankles resting on Trent's shoulders as he pushed inside her. I could see the muscles in his ass clenching as he thrust deep. His eyes were black and glowing and staring directly at me. I was angry. I was so incredibly angry. But at the same time, I felt my nipples pucker into hard little points and a sudden moisture between my legs. I realized then that I wasn't really angry that he was fucking my friend. I was angry because he wasn't fucking me. I was angry because he tormented me constantly with this erotic image, but refused to give me any satisfaction. I was so damn tired of this game.
But I stayed. I stayed until Cheryl groaned her release and then clumsily stumbled around the room gathering her clothing. I stayed until she left and Trent pulled his jeans back on. I stayed until he started towards me, his odd black eyes looking strangely sad. Then I left. If he would have touched me, I would have either castrated him with my bare hands or collapsed into a sobbing mess on the floor.
The next day in class I realized I hadn't seen Jenny since the first episode. She was back in class that day. Her normally rosy face was pale and she had faint blue smudges under her eyes. She said she'd been out with some kind of flu and was finally feeling better. Neither of us mentioned what had happened in Trent's room. In fact, Jenny didn't seem embarrassed about it at all. It was as if it never happened.
On a whim, I walked the few blocks it took to get to Cheryl's apartment. Cheryl's roommate, Kelly, answered the door. She said Cheryl was really really sick and she hoped I could talk her into going to the hospital. Cheryl looked horrible. Her normally shiny bob hung limp and dull around her face. Her skin was so pale you could count the tiny blue veins under her skin. It looked as though she had dropped 20 pounds in a day. No matter how hard Kelly and I tried, Cheryl refused to go to the hospital. She assured us that she would be fine in a few days.
And she was. About a week later, just like Jenny, Cheryl was still weak and paler than usual, but she was back in class and seemed better. Something was adding up all wrong. I knew Trent was to blame. I tracked down a few of the girls I had watched him with in the last couple of months and, sure enough, they all had had a horrible bout with "the flu" right after being with Trent.
I decided to go straight to the source. Luckily, Trent was alone the evening I finally worked up the courage to confront him. Although if he had been with someone, I think I would have dragged the little whore out the room by her hair if I had to. I was finally going to get to the bottom of this.
I didn't bother knocking. I just walked in his room, ready to face whatever might be inside. He was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor playing his guitar. His eyes were blue, he looked calm and serene. I was neither.
I let all my accusations, anger, and hurt feelings pour out on him. I blamed him for Jenny and Cheryl's illness and for doing the same thing to the other girls. I threatened to call campus security. I told him that I'd found him out and I was going to stop him. I even went so far as to call him a vampire.
Incubus, he corrected me. That gave me pause. I wasn't actually expecting an honest answer from the man who would never tell me anything about himself. I asked him what the hell an incubus is. His eyes went black. An incubus, he explained, is a creature that feeds on sexual energy. They don't have to be actively involved, they can feed off the sexual activities of others in the same room, but it is that much more fun to be an active participant. He can also pretty much seduce anyone, male or female, in a short amount of time without really trying. That had to be a handy trait when your main source of nutrition is sexual energy. The only negative side effect was the flu-like symptoms that the "food" had for about a week after their encounter. Luckily there was no permanent damage done.
Trent went on to explain that he could also touch without physically touching. A woman could close her eyes and get the fuck of her life while he watched from twenty feet away. By this time I had sunk into the red wing-back chair, then remembering what had happened in that chair, I sprang back to my feet. I felt invisible hands grasp my upper arms and pull me towards him. He set the guitar aside and the hands pulled me down into his lap. He wrapped his physical arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder.
He whispered in my ear that he would not feed from me. I was more than food and he wanted me to stay in his life. He said he liked having me be a part of the feeding process and hoped that I would continue my voyeurism. Not exactly the most romantic thing a girl could ever hope to hear, but I was still enthralled. I was really just completely beside myself that he was actually touching me. I could feel his cock hardening beneath me and even after hearing that he was some kind of demon, I was really hoping he would act on it.
He didn't. He held me for a long time, slowly rocking us back and forth, whispering in my ear in a language I didn't understand or recognize. I fell asleep in his arms and had the most incredibly erotic dreams I've ever had.
Trent and I fell back into our normal routine. If you can call watching the man you're completely obsessed with have sex with other women, "normal." The best times for me were when I had him alone at lunch. He began teaching me to play his guitar. I wasn't any good at all, but he never lost his patience with me. The very best was when he had to wrap his arms around me to show me where to place my fingers on the strings. If his hands brushed my breasts a time or two in the process, who was I to complain?
I had one last art project to do to complete my mid-semester project. I knew I couldn't stand to watch him with another of my friends. Also, it made me feel a little like bringing a cow to the slaughterhouse. I was handing him his meal on a silver platter.
I arrived at his door in the early evening, when I knew he was out stalking his prey or getting a date, whatever you like to call it. His door was unlocked as he usually left it when he only stepped out for a bit. I set up my supplies, pulled his desk chair to the middle of the room and removed all of my clothes. I had positioned everything so that I could easily see myself in the mirror on his closet door.
I don't know if his seduction skills had failed that night or if he somehow knew I was waiting in his room, but he arrived empty handed. I didn't even look up when he come into the room and closed the door. I concentrated on my reflection in the mirror and the masterpiece I was creating.
I'm not vain about my looks, nor am I ashamed. I've got healthy self-esteem. However, Trent had the ability to make me feel like the ugliest duckling. It wasn't anything he said or even the way he acted around me. It was the fact that the girls he was with, while some were prettier than me and others uglier, were not me. And I wanted more than anything for it to be me.
He didn't move from the doorway. I continued to sketch with my pastels and ignore him. A good hour had passed before I was finished and he was still in the doorway when I put the final strokes on the page.
I sat still in the chair for a moment after I was done. I was trying to decide what I wanted to do. I could walk across the room and attempt to seduce this creature that was a master of seduction. He'd made it clear he didn't want that from me. He'd made it clear what my role in his bedroom activities was. And if I tried to put the moves on him and he rejected me, I'd completely fall apart at his feet.
Deciding to keep my pride intact and not make a fool of myself, I started collecting my supplies. I felt his hands slide down my back and over my hips. He was still across the room. I ignored him and pulled my jeans on. The hands moved up this time over my shoulders and along the sides of my breasts.
Back up the invisible hands came, lifting my breasts, thumbs raking over the tips. I couldn't stop the low, needy sounds that came from my throat.
My body seemed out of my control as I somehow assisted the hands in removing my jeans again. The hands moved lower, pressing through the curls and delicate skin there to push inside me. My knees buckled, but before I fell, Trent was there in the flesh to catch me.
He kissed me. It was gentle, teasing, his tongue tracing my lips before dipping inside. I realized two things in that moment: I'd never seen him kiss any other girl and his eyes were blue. Then I lost all coherent thought.
It felt like his fingers were everywhere. On my face, on my thighs, on my breasts and deep inside me. I couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what wasn't. And somehow his tongue was in my mouth and against my clit at the same time.
My entire body was quaking with a never ending stream of orgasms. I was seeing planets and stars, hell, whole constellations. Then it was just Trent, the real Trent, cradling me in his arms, stroking my hair and murmuring to me in that strange language.
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Keywords: Incubus,