1

I woke up feeling cold, and it took an instant to realize why; the blanket that was covering me was no longer on me anymore. I lay naked and spread-eagled on the bed—yet again.

It had been the same experience for me for the past several nights of this holiday season. I remembered that I went to bed fully dressed in a nightgown and panties—no bra, of course, for the sake of comfort—and did not remember undressing at all, but each morning I woke up nude. Thank God the rum kept me warm in the freezing mornings.

My aunt Polly entered the room with milk and biscuits for me. I jumped out of the bed and reached for my gown, which lay in a discarded state on the floor, as I heard her footsteps. It was almost seven in the morning already, and a 21-year-old big girl like me couldn't sleep that long. Even though I had been living with my aunt Polly ever since my parents divorced, I knew that I had my chores to attend to even if it was the holidays.

“Great Lord,” she said, “How do you manage with only such a flimsy nightgown on such a chilly morning? Put some warm clothes on, girl.  The cold will kill you”

I smiled and kissed her good morning. I seemed to know that it was not the climate or the milk that made me feel revitalized every morning, but something else.

Love it was... I was still warm and happy from within; it was different from my aunt’s love for me because it was sex. I did not exactly remember what had been happening to me. However, I was certain that I had been increasing in some kind of sexual activity night after night because each morning, I could feel the lasting titillation within me.

It was high time that I should have found out what was going on, because the things that had been happening since the last two weeks defied all logical explanations. Every morning I woke up and had absolutely no or little memory of the night before. Except for a tingling sensation in my mind and body, someone or something indeed made love to me. What I really needed to know was, was it my own imagination, hallucinations, intoxication, or something else? I was perhaps too innocent to explain.

“You have been drinking too much lately, Sheila,” Aunt chided me.

“But aunty, it was Christmas Eve”

“No, baby! You should not drink that much...” She pointed at the half-empty bottle of rum while she held my hair gathered in a ponytail with the other.

Wow! Half a bottle? That was beyond what I normally drank. I stared at the bottle blankly. Thank God it was the holidays, and hence Mommy forgave me for that. As she reached for a hairband for me, I stopped her.

“No, Auntie, I want to keep my hair down.”

I purposely decided to keep my hair down; they said I looked prettier and sexier with my dark brown hair down. I wanted to keep the sexy feeling on, especially when I wanted to know what would happen next-  that night.

She smiled, kissed me, and left. Too bad she was getting old and had arthritis.

I wondered if it would be like the same secret amorous nights I spent in oblivion or something more different and exciting when he came to me.

I looked at the clock; it was almost seven thirty in the morning. Get set, go! Bathroom, kitchen—the food needed to be cooked. I would spend the day at the house with Aunt, and later in the evening I would accompany her for the holiday shopping. Oh! Yes, Aunt Jessie, a friend of Aunt Polly, was coming to lunch that day. Phew, a long and busy day. Good! If I were occupied, the day wouldn’t seem long; otherwise, the waiting would be unbearable, and I had to know what lay beyond the sundown.

2

After a long day I could not help but feel the anticipation grow deep in me. By the time Aunt Polly retired for the night, I had butterflies in my stomach. I wanted to experience everything this time and consciously know what had been happening to me all these nights. I knew he would definitely come to me. There was a big mirror on the wall. I stood in front of it. I discarded every stitch of clothing I wore, and I spent a good time admiring myself.

Long hair, slender body, breasts that never failed to attract attention from men... I was beautiful. I looked at the clock; it was five minutes past eleven at night. Perhaps it was too early for my secret admirer to visit. I didn’t know why, but I seemed to be convinced by this thought.

So I slipped into my nightgown again… I would definitely undress, and this time it would be for him to see… and I turned on my laptop and slipped into a nightgown... nothing else but the double-breasted nightgown, and I poured two glasses of rum, one for me and one for him, the one intruding on me. I covered them with coasters... I was not touching them until he was here.

I searched the web while I was waiting for him. I needed to know more on the subject, so I searched using a single word—Incubus!

As I read through the true stories, eerie accounts, and fabricated tales, it became obvious to me that yes, I had already experienced most of the things that I was reading. I would be sexually pleasured for the entire night, and someone or something would make me forget everything that happened as soon as I woke up; but now I could remember a few bits and pieces of what I had been going through and realized that it was these moments at night that seemed to fill me up with an uncanny energy in the mornings.

Why did they say an incubus would drain a woman of energy? There was nothing sadistic in my encounters as far as I could remember. Damn, I was starting to feel sleepy. Too much strain on the eyes. It was Aunt Jessie’s endless blabbering that seemed to have drained me.

She was not a ghost but a wealthy acquaintance of my mother. She had the energy to talk the ears off. I sipped the rum I had poured and covered with coasters; it was a big sip that filled my mouth fully. And then, I froze.

Hey! I had wanted to wait for him before the drink... but yes, he was already there! I could sense his presence because now I felt I was being watched.

I realized that I was not alone in the room. It was an unseen presence, and I was certain of it.

Someone was scanning every inch of my body. I felt a deep urge to jump into bed and drift into oblivion... He wanted me to sleep while he wanted to do me. But no, I thought.

I wanted to stay awake, I wanted to remember. I thought, and he heard that…

My eyes grew wide when I saw the other glass of rum that I poured for him was now uncovered already. I downed the rum, which was still in my mouth, and those butterflies in my stomach came alive... I started to feel a telepathic connection with him, which gradually grew stronger. He seemed to be convinced that I would not be afraid... I would not back away.

I wanted to remain conscious, unlike the other nights ... He had already accepted my offering of the rum and my body. I took another shot, this time from the glass I poured for him, at last the wait was over; he came to me and leaned my head in front and sighed deeply.

3

My hair fell loose, framing my face, and he slid his fingers through it—finally. He never got the chance before. I always kept my hair tied up at night, always slipped away into sleep before he touched me. Not tonight. Tonight I was wide awake, and I wanted him.

Waiting was over. His hands moved down to my shoulders, gentle and slow, easing the tension away. He wanted me to feel good, to let go. I tipped my head back. His fingers drifted down through my hair, tracing the lines of my body until he reached my hips. He was loving every moment. So was I.

He kept trying to get inside my head, to know what I wanted, what I was thinking. Honestly, I couldn’t refuse him. The lights needed dimming, and we needed more drinks. I stood up to flip the switch, and he slipped behind me, arms at my waist, his head warm against my shoulder. I barely felt his weight, just a soft, furry touch. As I leaned over to pour the drinks, I felt his chest pressed to my hips—and something hard and thick nudging against me. No question about it, it was his cock.

He liked my skin, loved the feel of it.

Suddenly, he tugged at my nightgown. My left breast slipped free into the low light. I could hear him breathing, hot and hungry, wanting to see me naked. I let the gown slide off, pooling around my feet. He guided me to the mirror and waited, wanting me to see myself. And I did—my skin glowing in the dimness, eyes bright, wild. He wanted to watch me drink, big mouthfuls, like he was daring me to be someone bolder. That was what he was thinking. He was deep in this, in me, in my head. We were in sync, not just bodies, but minds. It was telepathy.

I couldn’t see him in the mirror, only myself—naked, alive. But I knew he was behind me, close. I pressed back into him, grinding just a little, feeling his heat and the scratch of his hair. Then, out of nowhere, I felt hungry. Was it the rum? Or was this something he started? I’d just eaten, but the hunger wasn’t for food—it was for him. I realized—he was hungry, not me. He was in me, around me, almost like he’d taken over. I felt what he felt. We were perfectly in tune.

If I ate, he’d feel satisfied. There were leftovers—chicken wings, legs, waiting in the fridge. So I went to the kitchen to heat them up. The window was open, letting in a sharp draft.

Cold air gave me goosebumps. He wrapped himself around me, everywhere at once. How did he do that? I had no idea. But his warmth and that soft, furry touch stayed with me as I locked the window and drew the curtains shut.

4

Beep! Beep! Beep! The microwave snapped me out of the trance I’d slipped into, his arms still echoing around me. The food was finally warm. I grabbed four wings and two drumsticks—way more than I’d usually eat, but honestly, he had a hold on me. Just one plate, no silverware. I could feel what he wanted: squat in front of the mirror, plate between my knees, eat with my hands. No dainty manners, no pretending. Just me, messy and wild, exactly how he craved it.

I didn’t mind following along. That’s how he spoke to me, through these urges. I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a total mess—he’d been running his fingers through it the whole time I was in the kitchen, and it showed. My mouth started watering. I tore into the chicken wings, barely chewing, stuffing myself just the way he liked. I felt him behind me, palms roaming up and down my thighs, shins, shoulders, under my arms. He fondled me as I ate, and that’s what I wanted: to be touched while I was still fully awake, fully there.

He cupped my breasts. Then he wanted me to go for that big piece, the one that needed two hands. I grabbed it, holding on tight, devouring it in huge greedy bites. I glanced at the mirror again and didn’t recognize myself. My eyes were wild, hungry. I looked like someone else—a girl burning up with want and hunger, seeing myself through his eyes. Gravy smeared the corners of my mouth, bits of meat stuck to my lips. I smiled—his smile, really. Somehow, I could feel him licking the mess off, still not satisfied. Anything I ate, he seemed to taste too.

I took a swig of rum, not bothering to swallow the chicken in my mouth first. Bliss washed over me as I let him enjoy it through me. Suddenly, he moved in front of me, grabbed my hair with both hands, tilted my face up, and licked the sides of my mouth again. Then, something new: he started suckling at my lips, gently coaxing my mouth open with his tongue and sliding it inside. Warm, wet, electric. He let me savor it. He wanted more rum, so I took another deep sip, and he slid his tongue in again. Chicken, rum, my own taste—all of it seemed to drive him crazy. His hands roamed everywhere, devouring me in every way. I was getting tipsy, and, yeah, more and more turned on.

For some reason, he traced his fingers over my anus, then reached up from behind, tapping my vagina softly, almost like he was checking for something.

5

He was indeed inspecting something… He wanted to gauge the level of arousal in me… I burped out loud. No manners and no etiquette. and I felt his hunger was completely satisfied. With that, for a split second our minds disconnected. The rum was making me high, and strangely, I had no feeling of overeating. It felt cold and wet in between my legs. I ran my finger over my vagina; erotic juices were already flowing. I started to grow more and more excited. I started to sense his thoughts again; I could now see a blurry figure in front of me. It was him. He gently tapped my vagina again, and I knew that instant he found me ready for intercourse with him. Okay, so that’s what he was inspecting.

It would be something new for him too, unlike making love to my flaccid sleeping body. He lifted me in the air.

I saw it all in the reflection; I floated across till he laid me down on my bed. All I had been seeing was a blurry figure of a hairy man till now, but it started to grow more prominent. He gently spread my legs wide apart and crouched in between them. I realized he would do me now, and he wanted to torture me. With pleasure. With that I felt him grab my breasts with his long hands; in an instant he plunged his head. He slid his long tongue inside my vagina. It was as good as a penile penetration; I arched up with excitement. He kept twirling and bending his tongue inside, and he would pull it in and out, simulating the rocking motion. I lay motionless in the beginning. enjoying.

He kept going on and on. A climax was gradually building inside me, and I started to twist and turn, and finally I had an exploding orgasm. He did not stop at that; he continued pleasuring me. It was gradually becoming unbearable, but I did not want to give up. I struggled hard to endure another immense orgasm.

He gently pulled his tongue out as I lay limp on my back gasping for breath. I could hear him licking and smacking his lips. He seemed to enjoy the taste of what he did to me and watching me, and as I started to stir, he guided his arms below my armpits and lifted my limp body up as if I were a ragged doll.

All I could do was sway my head from side to side. He turned me around. adjusted my body in a kneeling position with my back towards him. He again gathered my hair in a ponytail and tightened his grip, putting a strain on my scalp. Then he slowly pushed my head down while letting my hair pass through his grip. till my head rested on the bed. So here I was lying face down, legs folded at the knees with my hips raised and my anus fully exposed to him. I knew what he would do, and I wanted him to do so.

I gathered up my hair, which was streaming down my back, and tossed it over so that more skin of my back was exposed to him in the dim light. He was delighted to see my back glistening with sweat. I felt something harder than his tongue violating me in the anus. I squealed in pain. immense pain, but it appeared to humor him. He started to sodomize me. My entire body rocked back and forth with the motions he made. It was so painful and yet so pleasurable that I did not tell him to stop, or was it him that did not want to stop? After what seemed to be an eternity, he finally withdrew from my anus. He took his time to watch me shiver in pain and passion for some time.

6

Then he lay on top of me. This time I could feel his weight, like that of a stockily built man. muscular and hairy all over his body. He started foreplay for long enough, and he did it skillfully enough to rekindle the desire in me again. Again, I felt something harder penetrating my vagina. I knew what it was and what lay ahead.

He wanted to give all that he had been holding back till now. He would come and do me every night, but he had been saving the best for last. It was true. He started to rock at an incredible rate. I started to scream, but no sound came out. All my energies were already enduring the unbearable pleasure of the intercourse.

I started to writhe and struggle under his weight, steaming with passion and pleasure and inundated with his vigor.

He made me climax multiple times before I passed out. Perhaps it was not long when I came to. I was still impaled, pinned under the weight, and was still being cuddled and smooched by him. He was doing it with all his existence and the capacity of his lust for me for some reason.

Then a melancholy dawned on me; I realized that he would have to leave. and might not be back for a long time. I asked him why. All he said were the words, ‘satisfied by a woman, for now.’ I started to feel tears streaking across my cheek… but I muttered, “Thanks for graduating me from a virgin to a fully bloomed woman…”

I could feel the blood oozing out of my vagina as my hymen tore. I could hear him ask, ‘Will you come with me?’

For some reason these words scared the hell out of me… and my heart skipped a beat. And then immediately he withdrew from me. That’s all I could remember.

I woke up earlier than usual, naked again. The feeling was the same; I felt stronger and more rejuvenated, but this time I remembered everything. I was also feeling sad. He might come back. They came and went. No one knew why.

I combed my hair and put on my gown. I started to quickly clean the room because my aunt would be in my room with milk and biscuits for me. There were food droppings and spilled rum everywhere. I finished cleaning with the memories of the night before still lingering in me.

I was pulled away from my reverie when I heard my aunt enter the room with milk and biscuits and say, “Baby, you look radiant as a bride. I don’t know why. Maybe I should help you and look up a match!”

I could not help but smile, carrying a titillating feeling. How could I tell her about the match I made with the Incubus?

The End