Lesbian Succubus Diary: 5. Through the Looking Glass

Dear Diary,

Denise has been talking about sex all week, asking me about orgies, who I have sex with and how. While I’m happy that she’s still talking to me at all, I’m starting to sound, even to myself, like a complete slut.

‘You still owe me a kiss,’ I said today. It was lunchtime, fish and chips as usual. Denise was wearing a red dress with black buttons all down the front, and all I could think about was undoing those buttons one by one, then making love to her, discovering her with my lips. That I hadn’t fed since the orgy last Saturday didn’t help.

Denise blushed. She didn’t look away, just studied me for a minute. ‘I’m sorry I walked out on you,’ she said. ‘I panicked – I thought you were only using me for sex.’

‘Do you still think that?’

‘I think if you were really using me for sex, you would have lied. But you were being so strange, saying you loved me but wouldn’t be faithful. Who says things like that?’

‘I didn’t want to start the relationship on a lie.’

‘I’ve been trying to convince myself all week that it would stupid to fall in love with you, that you’ll just break my heart. I’ve been telling myself all week that even if I did go out with you I could never satisfy you sexually, that I’d soon be worrying about you running off with another woman. I’ve been telling myself that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad you seeing other people because maybe I could too. There’s this guy who works upstairs who’s pretty cute.’


‘Isn’t he married? Anyway, no. Mike. At which point, I really started getting stressed, because on the one hand I’m annoyed with your talk of infidelity and on the other… I can’t stop thinking about sex. It’s like you’ve done something to me. I want you. I want Mike. Hell, I’ll have John – and his wife too, for that matter.’

‘Are you sure it’s not you using me for sex?’

Denise laughed, but looked suddenly depressed. ‘I think there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m becoming a nymphomaniac.’

‘Or maybe you’ve finally discovered that sex can be fun, it doesn’t have to be tied up in a neat romantic bundle.’

‘Maybe,’ she sighed.

‘So how about us? Are you willing to give us a go? Romantic fidelity, unrestricted sex?’

She looked at me for a few seconds. ‘Maybe,’ she said, with a hint of a smile.

‘Shall I pick you up tomorrow night?’

‘What’s wrong with tonight?’ Her blue eyes glittered with seductive mischief.

‘Tonight’s good for me. What time?’

‘Straight after work. Do you live alone?’



I had to laugh. ‘Have you any idea how much you’re turning me on?’

I wanted to kiss her there and then. I wanted to follow her when she went to the bathroom mid-afternoon. I wanted to push her against the wall as soon as we were outside. I wanted to tear her dress off the moment we got in my car. Somehow, silently, we had agreed to wait until there was no one to see us, until we were completely free. How is it that a reminder about a kiss turned so swiftly to such impatient hunger for sex?

The door to my flat wasn’t even closed yet and our lips were locked, our tongues duelling, my hands hitching up her dress so that I could grab her bare cheeks and dig my nails in. Her perfume drove me wild, the taste of her skin addictive. I licked her ears, burying my nose in her blonde curls. I bit her neck, wanting to mark her, and she laughed, returning the favour.

‘I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,’ she said. ‘I could eat you all up.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’ I started undoing her buttons, but she snorted and ripped the dress open, sending several buttons flying. Underneath was a damn sexy stocking-and-garter set, lacy black, with matching bra.

‘Where’s the bedroom?’ she demanded.

I just pointed, somewhat in awe of her new dominant personality. She grabbed my hand and pulled me impatiently into the bedroom. She didn’t give me a chance to strip her, to tease away her lingerie the way I wanted to. There was something almost desperate about the way she tore the garments off. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘I can’t wait any longer. I feel like I’m starving!’

Baffled by her strangeness, but never one to deny pleasure, I pushed her down onto the bed, and knelt between her legs. There is only one true pleasure in life, and that’s the joy of giving joy. I bent to place my lips to hers, and made love to her with my mouth. My tongue worshipped her most sensual folds, my lips kissed and sucked her tender nub, I drank the liquid pleasure that flowed copiously from her sacred spring.

And as her aura vibrated with pure sexual ecstasy, I couldn’t resist taking a breath of that wondrous energy. I was so hungry as it was, and Denise’s aura was so bright and rich, that the struggle to deny myself that taste of her was beyond me.

‘What the fuck?’ she screamed, and scrambled away from me. ‘What the fuck did you just do?’

I stared at her, completely baffled. ‘Nothing.’

‘You fucking took something from me,’ she yelled. She frowned in confusion. ‘It felt like you took… something.’ Her voice trailed off.

She shouldn’t have felt anything!

Slowly the pieces fit together – her dreams, her nymphomania, her desperate desire for sex, her sensing my feeding from her aura.

I stood up and walked to the mirror. ‘Come here, Denise,’ I said, holding my hand out to her.

Looking a little afraid, she slid off the bed and came close, hesitating before taking my hand. I pulled her until she was between the mirror and me, so that we looked into each other’s reflected eyes. ‘Which side of the mirror are you on?’ I whispered into her ear.

‘I don’t understand.’ She felt suddenly very tense in my arms.

‘Don’t try to. Just listen to your instincts. Which side are you on?’

‘This side,’ she whispered back. She seemed on the edge of tears.

‘Close your eyes, Denise,’ I said, and she did. ‘Now imagine yourself on the other side…’

I started counting down from ten. Before I reached three, she vanished from my arms, without even a breath of wind. I looked at her reflection, still wrapped in my reflected arms, and then I joined her there, on the other side.

About Frank

A Sci-Fi & Fantasy author and lyrical poet with a mild obsession for vampires, succubi, goddesses and Supergirl.
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