Incubus encounter

by Demonized

The sauna in the rental house you have for the weekend isn’t as private as you thought...

Succibi and incubi get a bad rap. Sure, they feed on the energy that comes with pleasure, but that’s not hurting anybody—quite the opposite, really. But some jealous lover kills a bedmate in a fit of pique one time, and just because a succubus happened to be there, now it’s all “draining essence” and “stealing souls.” What are they gonna do with souls, anyway? Taking care of a soul is a lot of work! And why kill your meal when you could go back for seconds later?

Most demons don’t bother with the human realm—there’s plenty of sex to be had in the demon realm, after all. Sometimes, though, one might come exploring if they’re feeling adventurous or looking for something exotic. And the people they meet never seem to mind...

Man I needed this break. Life has been stressful recently and I’ve been running myself ragged, so when I got a friend-of-a-friend offer to stay in a rental home for a weekend—for free!—how could I not? I didn’t believe it at first, but apparently it’s been sitting empty and ready for tenants for a few weeks now, and my friend thought I could use a break and got me the hookup. And I could use a break, so here I am!

The house isn’t huge or fancy, but it’s cozy, nestled in a quiet spot where I can relax, and I have it all to myself. The highlight has to be the steam sauna. I’ve used one before, but never in private. This one is pretty big, with a long wooden bench that could probably comfortably seat four or five people—plenty of room to stretch out. Sounds like a good way to start a relaxing vacation. I turn on the heat and go to get changed. Returning, I hang a towel outside the door, step inside, and lie down naked on the bench. As the warmth of the wood soaks into me, I close my eyes and let the tension melt away.

“Room for one more...?”

My eyes shoot open and I jump off the bench, covering myself with my hands. I start to yell, but only get as far as “What the f—” before I see him and am stunned to silence.

Just inside the door, unabashedly naked, is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He’s leaning up against the wall with one arm behind his head, relaxed, as if appearing naked and unannounced is the most normal thing in the world. His eyes are a brilliant amber, and a knowing smile plays across his lips. Ebony black hair frames his striking face, and the two small horns that curve up from—

Wait, horns? Yes—they’re small, but noticeable. Why... actually, I’ll worry about that later. Why is this person wearing horns? isn’t exactly high on the list of questions I have right now. His skin has a ruddy flush from the warmth of the room—though how long could he have been standing there?—and his eyes seem like they give off a soft glow. I take all this in in moments, but my brain hasn’t caught up enough for me to do more than gape.

I try get my thoughts together. A stranger somehow got into the house, but rather than looting the place or attacking me, he’s smiling like he knows about a surprise party I don’t. How is he making his eyes look like they’re glowing like that? And the horns look like, well, horn—it’s clearly not cheap plastic. It’s like a demon Halloween costume from the neck up.

My mind sticks on the word “demon.” For a moment I’m gripped by a wild certainty that that’s what I’m looking at, but... demons aren’t real...? Also, shouldn’t there be wings, or a tail, or shouldn’t the horns be huge, or... something? Or, maybe I’ve been in the sauna for too long and I’m hallucinating from heat stroke.

My thoughts must show on my face, because his smile changes to a smirk. “We usually take the form most pleasing to our companions,” he stops leaning on the wall and gestures at himself with a clawed hand—put that in the “demon” column—”but I like to be... up-front about what I am.” His voice is smooth and rich and sexy, filled with promises of desires fulfilled. The sweep of his hand guides my attention to the rest of his body.

He’s a little taller than me, muscular without being bulky, and he carries himself with a light, lithe grace. Wide, muscular shoulders sit above his strong arms. Even relaxed, the contours of his biceps stand out, and his forearms darken somewhat on the way to his clawed hands. Pecs jut from his broad chest above the hard, cut abs that run across his narrow waist. A v-shaped ridge runs down from his hips to frame his midsection and draws the eye down to his cock, resting heavy on his ample balls. His long legs are thick with muscle, and the skin darkens towards his large, clawed feet. There seems to be a musky sent about him, highlighting the “sex” part of his sex appeal. He’s right: Every part of him seems purpose-built to turn me on.

“You’re... an incubus.”

“I am. And tonight, I’m all yours.” The words send a shiver down my spine.

Slowly, he beings to approach. He moves carefully, as if he doesn’t want me to startle and bolt. I edge away, keeping the distance between us. He doesn’t try to stop me, but doesn’t stop, either. “We can do whatever you’d like.” Step. “Find a quiet spot and cuddle, perhaps?” Step. “Or maybe you’d prefer something more... active.” Step. I bump into the back wall of the sauna and he starts to close the distance, inch by inch. My body begins to tingle as he nears, as if his very presence is charging the air around us. Every movement he makes is somehow enticing.

He stops just within arm’s length, not quite crowding me, and offers a hand. “Let me give you pleasure.”

My eyes dart to the door. The incubus is next to the bench. I might be able to slip by him and escape. On the other hand, if he was going to attack me, it probably would have happened by now. Also, he’s the sexiest creature I’ve ever seen, and I can’t deny being turned on.

I look back to the demon’s eyes. He says, “Tell me your heart’s desire.”

The incubus’ gaze seems to pin me to the wall. It feels like he’s gazing into my soul, which... maybe he is. I stare back, captivated by his amber eyes, letting the tingling sensation of his nearness wash over me. The steam catches the light from his eyes’ soft glow, making them all the more striking. They’re... beautiful. This creature, demon or no, is beautiful, and hot, and sexy, and... and what does he want with me? I mean, I don’t expect to stack up to a sex demon, but I’m not exactly as in shape as I’d like to be. He could get whoever he wants, so... why me?

I break his gaze without taking his hand, glancing down at myself and then away, and grimace a little at the comparison. When I look back up, the demon’s lowered his hand, but he continues to search my eyes. He’s silent for a moment, then speaks like a doctor reporting a terminal illness. “Hmm... I think I see the problem. I know that look. Fortunately,” an edge of mischief creeps into his voice, “I also know just what to do about it.” He takes a final step towards me and leans down so we’re eye to eye. In a husky whisper, he says, “Let me show you.”

Slowly, he closes the gap between us and gives me a gentile kiss. As soon as his lips touch mine, the tingling I’ve been feeling blooms into a hum of pleasure, spreading out from the point of contact until my entire body glows with it. Somehow it’s both exhilarating and relaxing at once, a slow burn of desire.

Straightening, he puts his palms flat against my chest and begins to rub and squeeze and massage. Energy seems to pour from his powerful hands and into my chest, and I gape in wonder as it loses fat, hardens, then begins pushing out. When he’s done, I have my own set of jutting pecs, slabs of muscle with a cleft between them.

Pulling his hands back, he brings his clawed fingers to my nipples, brushing and pinching and rubbing, switching between hard claws and soft fingertips. Each touch seems to increase my sensitivity, making me more vulnerable to his further contact, but his movements are made with patience, designed to increase my pleasure without making my need spike up. He switches to making slow, deliberate circles around each areola, and they grow slightly to fit his fingers.

As he works, I decide to give some of what I’m getting, reaching out for his chest to beginning my own brushing and pinching and circling. He raises an eyebrow, surprised but not displeased. I try to mimic the movements of his deft, experienced hands and earn a soft “Mmm...” for my efforts. He slows, showing every detail of every gesture against my new pecs, giving me a clear example to work from, and I try to master the movements. His efforts are turning me way on, but without increasing my urgency. I’m rock hard—and I must be doing something right, because now so is the incubus—but I feel like I could keep going like this for hours.

After a time he pulls his hands back and smiles at me, resting his palms on the base of my neck. “I knew you were one of the good ones.” He works his energy into me, moving his hands along my broadening shoulders, corded muscle growing beneath his touch. I lay my hands flat on his chest and grip his pecs, doing some massaging of my own while I rub my palms over his nipples. He lets out another soft moan as his hands reach my delts, giving a little extra attention to rounding out my shoulders. Then he reaches down to take my hands and says, “I need these.”

He puts my palms together and clasps his hands around mine, squeezing a little as my hands grow within his grip. Then he draws them apart again and starts working his way up my forearms. As he moves to my triceps, I return one hand to massaging his pec and use the other to slowly run my fingers up his abs, tracing their contours or feeling the hard muscle beneath. His eyes close and I earn another sound of pleasure. I can feel his breathing quickening through his abs, which turns me on even more. I keep caressing him, switching hands to work on his other pec, as his hands come around to squeeze my rounding biceps—just a little more roughly than before.

He opens his eyes as his hands reach my shoulders again, and his gaze is intense. “You’ve got me all worked up.” The hunger in his voice sends a thrill through me. I let my hands drop as he moves closer and leans in to lick the ridge of my ear. “Well...” he whispers. His breath in my ear gives me goosebumps. “Turnabout is fair play.”

With that, he presses his hard, muscular body into mine and kisses me deeply. Desire seeps into me everywhere our skin touches, and between the kiss and the press of him, I feel like I’m buzzing all over. My dick is pinned between us, wedged against his, but he’s holding me too tightly for either of us to make adjustments. His fingers rove over back, touching me in ways and places I never thought would feel good, as my lats and traps harden and my waist narrows. His new urgency makes need boil up within me, but not for release—for him. To touch more of his skin, to press into him, to feel more of this buzzing pleasure. I abandon myself to it, hungrily exploring every muscle and contour of his back. I can barely stop kissing him for long enough to breathe. He reaches down to grab my ass and I reach for his, then moan into his mouth as he kneads and caresses my cheeks into a perfect bubble butt, round and firm with muscle. As we try to pull ourselves closer together, he thrusts his hips slightly, grinding our erections against each other.

Finally, he breaks the kiss and we try to catch our breath. He licks my other ear and says, “Now we’re even.”

“That was amazing,” I say, and take a moment to look at myself. Even the places he hasn’t focused on yet are looking more fit and trim. I’m still buzzing with pleasure all over and I’m still rock hard, but somehow I still don’t feel like I need release right now. “How have I not cum yet?”

The incubus pretends to be shocked. “You think I would be so careless?” Then the trademark smirk returns. “Any good incubus knows how to push their partner’s endurance...” He leans down to slowly lick across a nipple, then crouches to work on my legs. His hands run down one, then back up and down the other, back and forth. He massages the muscle of my quads, thighs, and calves, rubbing the length of each leg all the way to my growing feet.

Looking down, I have a good chance to check out his horns. They’re as black as his hair and about as shiny, curving up and back. In a dark room or with the right hair hairstyle, you could probably miss them—though I guess he could probably hide them if he can change his appearance. Small ridges run across each horn. Curious, I reach out and run my finger along one from base to point—pulling a full-bodied moan from the incubus, who leans into my touch. “Caught me off guard with that. Huge erogenous zone for a sex demon, horns.” Perfect. I set to work, running my hands up and back along one horn or the other or both, sometimes using the back of my nails to change the feel.

He finishes with my legs and feet, but stays crouched. After a few seconds it dawns on me that he’s just enjoying the trail of my fingers. When I realize that what I’m doing feels good enough for this incubus, this master of pleasure, to bring everything else to a stop and just enjoy it, I’m filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. As I make contact for the next stroke, that satisfaction surges up and floods through my fingertips. I can feel it pouring into the demon, but it never seems to diminish. A moment later it’s over, and the incubus lets out a contented sigh.

As he stands up, he says, “Oh, I like you.” Before I can ask, he explains. “We feed on pleasure, but not all pleasure has to do with sex. Your happiness with my happiness was a fine meal all on its own. Still, though...” he smiles and makes a show of looking me up and down. “I intend to finish what I started.”

He reaches out and starts dancing his hands over my midsection, tracing and pressing and massaging my abs and obliques. As ridges of muscle form under his clawed fingertips, I reach out a hand to cup his balls while he works. They’re warm and heavy, filling my hand. I gently squeeze and tug, earning satisfied noises from my incubus.

I smile to myself. My incubus.

As he starts tracing out ridges from my hips down to my dick around my now-washboard abs, I bring my free hand to his cock. I lightly trace the contours of his length or run my fingers around his head, then wrap my hand around his girth to slowly pump him. “Careful, or we’re going to make a mess”, he warns. I continue anyway, wondering if this kind of heft is in my own immediate future.

Freeing himself from my grip, he steps back slightly and takes in my new form, smiling at his handiwork. I realize that we’re now at eye level with each other—he must have added some height amidst the other adjustments. Moving back in, he leans to my ear and whispers, “I saved the best for last.” His tongue runs over my earlobe before he kisses his way down my neck, across my collar bone, and down my pec before finally taking a nipple into his mouth. As he licks and nips and grazes the one, his hand comes up to brush and circle and tease the other, pinning me to the wall again. At the same time, his other hand takes hold of my sac and begins to knead and caress my balls. I moan under his assault. When his energy flows into my sack a moment later, I arch into him.

He takes his time, growing my balls slowly, drawing out my ecstasy. I can feel myself fill more and more of his hand with every squeeze, every gentile tug. He moves his mouth to the other nipple and switches hands, continuing to fondle and caress until my nuts are a full, heavy handful. Then he brings both hands to my chest and couches down, using his mouth to check his work. He switches between licking and sucking my sack and taking each ball into his mouth, as if he wants to be sure he got the size just right. I never knew how good it could feel.

After he’s finally satisfied, he licks his way up and down my cock, sometimes swirling his tongue around my head or licking from sack to tip. When he slides his mouth around me, he moves to hold me by the hips. A moment later, I find out why. His energy rushes into my cock, and I stagger under the crash of pleasure it brings, bracing myself against the wall behind me. With each bob and suck, I can feel myself get more and more engorged, gaining length and girth until I fill his mouth. He doesn’t seem to mind.

When he’s done growing me, he and pulls off and goes back to licking my shaft, giving me a moment to get my feet back under me. I check out my new dick and see that my thought before was right—I’m a match for him. It’s huge, long with girth to match. He envelops me again, humming around me, using his tongue like magic. His hands, no longer needing to hold me up, roam every part of my body he can reach—abs, pecs, balls, nipples, butt, legs. It feels like he’s touching me everywhere at once.

I moan and writhe in ecstasy under his ministrations. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, but just when I think I’m going to go over, he changes something about his technique. Rather than letting me cool down, though, this somehow pushes me to new heights of pleasure without actually making me blow my load. Again and again he shatters my threshold, switching his focus to a new place or changing how he’s touching me just when I’m about to hit the point of no return. It’s not long before he has me so full of pleasure and desire and need that I can’t even form words anymore.

Finally, after what feels like hours, he launches me over the edge. As he feels me tense, he hugs his arms around me, holding me up while pulling me in to the hilt. The orgasm that crashes through me is unlike anything I’ve felt in my life, as if all those almost-orgasms are happening one after another. I explode into my demon’s mouth. It seems to go on and on, pulse after pulse, second after second. He moans as he’s rocked by his own orgasm and drinks my seed like its the sweetest nectar. Just when I think it’s ending, the energy from my release surges forward and floods through my dick into the demon, pushing me over the edge again. When I finally, finally come down, I’m expecting to feel completely spent, but somehow I’m energized. Sweaty and panting, but ready for more.

My incubus stands, wiping off his own aftermath. “Now, that was a good meal. And I’m not talking about this“—he gestures to my dick—”though,” he smirks, “that, too.”

“Now...” he moves next to me and leans against my side, draping an arm over my shoulder. His body is warm and inviting, but doesn’t start me tingling this time. I relax into the contours of his side, enjoying the press of him. “How about that cuddling? Unless...” his hand snakes down to gently tease my nipple, “you’d rather more sex? After all, I told you I was all yours tonight, and the night is young...”

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