[This is the conclusion of “Sabah” series. I know it has been a long time and reading "Sabah," "Sabah and Rod," and "Sabah at the Ball" first will make this story more comprehensible, but all you absolutely NEED to know is that Sabah (and Mother) are slightly supernatural females who can control men and live by feeding on their sexual energy.]
Rod had floated happily off to town to buy supplies. "I hope I didn't fuck him so well he can't drive," Sabah thought to herself with a smirk, the young man's thick jism still leaking from her. Rod didn't get off to as early a start as Sabah at first intended, but it was her own fault. When she came back to the bedroom with breakfast for them, – she had made love to him until far into the night and decided he deserved the extra rest – he had just looked too good there in her bed, his hard young body exhausted after a night of pleasuring her. She couldn't pass him up. Breakfast grew cold while she awakened him, first tasting herself on his cock, and then making love to him again, riding him, doing all the work, letting the release of his seed into her warm depths and her soft words send him back to dreamy sleep for another hour as she cuddled with him, holding his soft cock in her drenched and temporarily sated pussy.
Showering with him later on had been another mistake if getting Rod on his way quickly were her object. But anyone hearing Sabah's cries as Rod cupped her large soapy breasts and took his older lover vigorously from behind would be persuaded that his speedy departure was not Sabah's primary intent. And letting Rod help her put on her stockings had been nice, although it did contribute to more delay. His firm hands on her thighs made her so wet, she could hardly deny her pussy to his hungry lips and lapping tongue. And when, after several orgasms, she wanted him in her again, well, she could hardly call that an error.
After Rod at last left, Sabah strolled down to the mailbox almost a quarter mile from the house, confident that no one would see her buxom form, wearing only a thin housecoat and the satisfied grin of a well-fucked woman. She was Feeding regularly now and the sex had never been better. Feeling in top of the world, she was back at the house now, mellow from sex and sipping her Irish coffee at the dining table as she opened her morning mail. Bills and such she put aside for Rod.
The parchment envelope with gothic script caught her eye. Mother! Sabah chuckled to herself. For all of making herself out to be a modern woman, a middle-aged playgirl, Mother had never caught on to email and didn't really like the telephone, either. Although she lived only 60 miles away in downtown Washington, Sabah and her mother communicated almost exclusively by old fashioned letter. Sabah opened it eagerly, since it was the first she had received since hesitantly telling her mother about Rod.
Please forgive me for not having written sooner. To tell the truth, I have delayed writing because I know you will not be happy with what I have to say. I have received all your letters about this new male, "Rod.” He certainly sounds like a fine physical specimen and I congratulate you on having obtained him, even if your story of his "capture," as you put it, did sound like a B movie script. I fear you may be romanticizing. Neither can I fault you for having decided to "keep" him, given your decision, which I do not understand, to live in that remote backwater. [Come on, Mother, Sabah thought, 15 miles in the hills above Winchester in the Washington exurbia is hardly the end of the earth!] It certainly cannot be a good place to meet men. [True, but now, happily, the least of my concerns, Sabah sighed.]
What I do not understand, and cannot approve of, is this romantic attachment that you claim to feel for this young man. "In love" you say? Darling, you have been reading too many Harlequin Romances. Our kind does not love men. We NEED men to Feed on and of course we enjoy them for the sex. Naturally, you will want to take a certain amount of care of this male since you intend to continue using him for some time, but "falling in love" with a mortal man is just ridiculous!
I blushed in shame for you when I read:
«I spiraled upward as his tongue brought me closer and closer to orgasm. The fire in my loins consumed me. And when I exploded. I fell, not downward to Earth, but was upward, buoyed through a crystalline dome as ecstasy overcame me.»
Honey, you had an apparently very well-trained young man between your legs. That's what men do; they get us off. You came! What's love got to do with it?
I am sorry to say you are still acting like an adolescent, and a foolish one. This Charles that you kept before was another such mistake. I know you claimed he could satisfy you even in his 50's, but that's just silly. The ideal lover/prey is an experienced nineteen-year old, although I admit that's a bit of a contradiction. I've found the best combination of carnal skill and physical stamina is the mid twenties, like your Rod. By all means enjoy this male for a while, if he's as good as you say, but please stop talking nonsense about him being your love for life.
I do, however, have some more pleasant reasons for not having written; I've been busy, too; you may guess how. [Sabah rolled her eyes.] You know I bought this new condo down around 8th and F. It's close to the Metro, shops, and restaurants; it has a great view of the Capitol and is just steps away from the National Gallery. What I didn't realize is how close it is to the Capitol Center where a basketball team, the "Wizards," play. I have never been one to watch competitive athletic events, rather resenting the time men nowadays would spend watching television instead of attending to my carnal needs, if I would allow it.
Still, I was in a neighborhood bar a few weeks ago feeling both horny and in need of a Feeding. I "attracted" a hunky young man, intending to take him straight back to my apartment for a midnight snack of both kinds, but he had tickets to a basketball game at the Capitol Center and asked me to go with him. I could have made him forget everything, but on a lark I agreed. I thought it would be fun to let this twenty-year old stud walk in with a forty-something -- for all he knew -- woman on his arm.
I had on a short, tight red skirt, stockings and heels, a little trashy for a woman of my age and build, but you know what I was in the bar for. Of course our breasts have always been our biggest assets and I was showing off mine in a flimsy blouse. Believe me, the men in our immediate vicinity paid a lot more attention to your lusty mother than to the game. I could sense their thoughts «Damn, the hot old bitch isn’t wearing panties» «I’d like to fuck HER silly.» Their lust was so exciting I was tempted to take my stud back to the apartment immediately, but Sabah, those basketball players! I had never seen such males! So tall, so graceful, so BLACK! I was dripping.
You know, growing up back in Rome, I never saw many black men, just an Ethiopian slave now and then. My girlfriends and I were into fucking gladiators, and it was nice to sample studs from all over the empire, even if they never performed very will in the ring after a night with us. But all my girlish fantasies were focused on Gauls. Ah, honey, if you've never been carried off by a band of marauding Gauls, taken back to their dirty little Breton village, and ravished for weeks and weeks by a whole tribe of smelly, virile barbarians, you don't know what sex IS! I can still remember the big one; Oblix, I think his name was. And they had some kind of "magic potion" that let them keep fucking me non stop, over and over. The little one with the big mustache was the best. He was the only one who knew how to eat pussy. I was almost sorry to be rescued by the Roman army, except – well, you know how many men make up a Legion … but I digress.
I had to meet these men. I dumped the guy from the bar and made my way to the dressing room after the game. You wouldn't believe the number of women back there, tall and short, busty and flat, blondes, redheads, Latinas and Asians all trying to get close to these dark gods of masculinity. The aroma of several hundred aroused pussies was overpowering. When Jesse, the team captain emerged, I looked him straight in the eye. He started, flared his nostrils, and pushed his way straight toward me. I let him give me a sizzling kiss as he took me in his arms. I was the envy of scores of disappointed women as I walked away with the prize -- Jesse's arm tight around my waist, his hand already squeezing my ass. His teammates, on the other hand, looked worried by the slightly vacant look on Jesse's face.
Let me tell you, honey, this Jesse is big in EVERY way. I make no racial generalizations. Probably white basketball players who are 6'11" and weight 230 pounds have enormous cocks, too. Maybe someday I'll do a careful comparison. Right now I'm too busy enjoying letting this black giant and his teammates fuck me silly every night they're in town. Teammates? Well, of course. When I found he alone could not satisfy me, I brought in reinforcements.
I quickly learned not to Feed, even a little, during these sessions, having caused the team a couple of disastrous – interesting word -- "blowouts.” They just come over and take turns going at me; "pulling a train" I think they call it. Too-Tooooot! Even so there was still a fly in this ointment. The Wizards coach does not believe it's good for players to have sex for 48 hours before a game (even with their ordinary wives and girlfriends). Having sent five large men staggering out of my apartment with silly grins on their faces after a night of fun with me, I can see his point.
Now it's not that I can't go several days without a man in me, and I can always find a fan to feed on from time to time, but why deny myself? Especially since I discovered a way to have my fun AND help my new friends. Just before games, I fuck the opposing team. I saunter into the hotel where they are staying and saunter out the next morning leaving the starting – interesting word –"lineup" and coaching staff with a three-day testosterone deficit. You probably don't follow such things, but the Wizards are on top of their division and sports commentators are talking about their incredible "home court advantage.” C'est moi!
Which brings me back to the point of this letter. Jesse tells me that in a couple of weeks the "March Craziness," or something like that begins. They want me to go with them – Jesse knows what I do to the other teams -- but I refuse to go off to Utah or Kentucky or some such Goddess forsaken place out West. Consequently, I shall have some time on my hands. Perhaps this would be a good occasion for you to bring your young man to visit me.
Sabah shook her head. Mother was forever "discovering" new coteries of men, each one better than the last. Crusaders, Florentine artists, Cavaliers, Redcoats, the post-Terror Directory, Confederate officers, Doughboys, RAF pilots, French underground, Astronauts, Rock Bands!
Sabah also knew Mother would not understand what she felt for Rod; she didn't understand it herself. Rod was so far beyond a delightful source of the sexual energy she needed to survive, so much more than a wonderful lover. She had felt the attraction the first night when he had struggled, with a will more fierce than any she had ever encountered, not to defend himself against the desire she forced into his mind, but to be a gentleman, to do the right thing. She had spent days of almost round the clock sex attempting to break that will. His body was hers, but his will had not broken.
And then, suddenly, he yielded. He obeyed at the hint of her desire, not a command even, at knowing what would please her. It was easy to forget that she had power over him because she never had occasion to use it. She supposed that she could still prove her control by making him do something foolish – bark like a dog, perhaps – but why do that? Slowly she realized there was only one explanation for his uncoerced devotion: he had fallen in love with her. And with that revelation came another and more shocking one: she might be falling in love with him.
Without her instructing him to do so, Rod gradually assumed management of her properties. The income from her assets – gifts and bequests from countless former lovers -- even poorly invested -- far surpassed her needs. Rod put them into a foundation that protected them from taxes and made them yield a market return, enabling Sabah to increase her giving to local causes. How could her mother understand a man like that?
Sabah didn't know if her mother had ever been in love. Her cynicism about men suggested she had been -- unhappily. Perhaps it had even been with her father. Sabah had never quite gotten a clear story about who he was: a general of the Golden Horde? A Saracen pirate? A wazir in Harun al-Rashid's court? A Mogul prince? He must have been swarthy; Sabah did not get her dark complexion and coal-black eyes from her porcelain-skin mother. Mother had named her "Sabah," meaning "morning" in Arabic, suggesting a Middle Eastern conception. Sabah had given up trying to find out centuries ago.
As long as Sabah could remember, her mother had satisfied her needs by taking, draining, and discarding an endless succession of men. She never exactly mistreated them, but the tumultuous, submissive sex left some of them psychologically bruised, craving sexual domination few ordinary women are able to supply. Sabah was more than a little apprehensive about taking Rod to meet Mother. But there was little doubt that her mother's suggestion was a veiled command. And Mother was still Mother!
"I'm home sweetheart!" sang out Rod's lovely baritone. Sabah's heart skipped. For the moment her concerns evaporated. She heard the thud of heavy bundles. Rod came in smelling – to her heightened senses – of leather and burlap, animal feed, and his own sweaty masculine essence. His face broke into a broad contented smile when he saw her. She grinned as she saw his nostrils flare slightly when he noticed the way her flimsy garment half concealed, half displayed her ample hips and large round breasts. The strong, intelligent, handsome man before her was totally in love AND in lust with her. The latter she could create at will; the former was a blessing beyond her power to command.
She almost ran to his arms. No power of hers made him enfold her close against his hard young body and kiss her as he did. She felt his erection through the rough work clothes. She pressed herself against it and her breasts to his chest, letting her perfume fill his head, feeling his heartbeat accelerate. He would be hungry after a long morning's work. A hearty stew was simmering. It was a bit of an imposition not to give him lunch immediately, but she didn't think he'd really mind a delay. She felt both heat and wetness in her pussy. "I need you, my darling. Take me to bed," she whispered.
Only minutes later her joyous cries startled their nearest neighbors, a family of chipmunks in the woodpile.
Sabah tried to discourage Rod's enthusiasm at the prospect of meeting Mother, telling him Mother was "different.” That didn't help. She didn't know how he would react to Mother and thought it best if he were subdued at their meeting. She made sure he was exhausted as well as sated the morning of their trip from near all night sex. The air was chilly but the sky was dark spring blue as Sabah bundled her sex-dazed man into her car for the drive into Washington. Traffic on I-66 was light enough to appreciate the redbud and dogwood, but the sights could not take the edge of nervousness from Saba as she approached the city. She knew what would. Gratefully she pulled up her skirt and allowed her aroused sex to draw his eyes and then his mouth to her temple, only occasionally bringing her to orgasm.
The lobby of Mother's building was impressive. A doorman tried to insist she announce herself, but Sabah just smiled and sent waves of lust splashing through his mind, erasing all other thoughts. Mother's apartment was the penthouse. Sabah didn't bother to ring; she sensed the code and sent the elevator to the top floor, the door opening directly into Mother's apartment.
"Deep Sleep" she ordered almost by reflex and all Rod's senses shut down. Sabah hoped he absorbed nothing of the scene unfolding before her shocked eyes.
Mother, who was still unaware of Sabah and Rod's arrival, was, giggling, being chased around and over the sofas and poofs of the enormous living room. She was dressed for the chase and even more for the eventual capture: a short wrapper that barely covered her large ass and mons, a translucent blouse, now fully unbuttoned, with no bra, high-top black stockings and matching six-inch heels.
Behind her, roaring with frustration were two burly red heads wearing kilts and nothing beneath them. "We'll hae ye yet, ye saucy lassie!" shouted one.
Grab 'er poonts! They're big enough!" grunted the other making a lunge for the elusive woman.
"Oh, you EVIL men," drawled Mother in a little-girl drawl not at all her own. "Would you take adVANtage of a respectable LAdy?"
"Nay, but we'll take more than 'advantage' of a well used tart like ye!" growled the taller man.
Mother squealed in insincere fright as she maneuvered to be caught between the two of them. "No, no! You mustn't touch my breasts like THAT, so familiar," she panted as the stocky one began pawing at her boobs. Sabah didn't realize Mother liked playing rough like this but she must, as there was no way a man could touch her in any way she did not desire. "You ANimal! Stop! Don't you dare put your filthy hand in my …" Sabah winced but supposed Mother's gasps of pleasure as the second man rammed one then two, three and four fingers into her cunt, were real if perhaps exaggerated to egg them on.
"The bitch is randy as hell; her pussy's flowing down there like the Tay."
"Ay, she is. Her nips are s'hard ye could rip out an eyeball! Let's fuck 'er like the horny slut she is."
"Oh, no!" Mother gasped theatrically. "You're too big, and thick and long, and hard for my poor little … Mmphg!"
"Just needed something to stop her lying mouth," said the first. "Ay but she's a natural; cocksucker."
"Ten inches of good Highland haggis'll teach the bitch to tease!" grunted the other as he rammed his prick without difficulty into Mother who was bending over accommodatingly. "Holy shit, the bitch's pussy grabbed me like a … Oh, OH OHHHHHH.” His roar of ecstasy joined the moans of his partner. Eyes glazed, he began thrusting frenetically into Mother who grunted encouragement as she returned thrust for thrust. A manicured hand gripped the ass of the man in her lipstick-lined mouth, subtly setting an accelerating rhythm, as the other man fucked her mouth mindlessly. Sabah watched as the age-old story drew to its inevitable climax. Suddenly the men were shaking as both began spewing uncontrollably into the orgasming woman, their loins and brains on fire with an entirely supernatural lust! Both men went rigid except for a twitching in their hips that gradually slowed and stopped when they dropped to the floor unconscious.
Mother licked the last traces of semen from her lips and had dropped back onto a sofa, sighing contentedly, when she noticed Sabah scowling at her from the doorway with the immobilized Rod at her side. "Oh, hello, dear," she said a little breathlessly.
"Mother how could you …?" Sabah gasped.
Mother smiled weakly. "Did I say Tuesday morning? Silly me. Sorry, darling I just lost track of the day. I ran into Duncan and Malcolm here last night at this marvelous new Scottish Pub over on Capitol Hill. Well, I hadn't Fed since the Pistons – what an appropriate name! -- were in town for their last series and with Jesse and the team away, I hadn't even had sex in over two days! These out-of-town gentlemen were looking for some action -- and I provided it. You'll have to admit they did look scrumptious!" Mother grinned with satisfaction.
"What's the problem, dear? I see you spared your young man the sight of your mother having a little fun," Mother added testily.
"'Having fun?' Mother, you were Feeding!"
"For Goddess's sake, Sabah, the man you're so protective of is your prey. He's more than SEEN a Feeding."
"Nothing like that, Mother. I Feed only when Rod and I make love, something you know nothing about!"
"I know more about 'love' than you do, child, enough to know it's a bloody illusion."
Sabah was about to snap back but something in Mother's voice told her that perhaps those were words of wounded love. Suddenly Sabah felt overwhelming sorrow and compassion for her mother. She ran to her mother and flung her arms around her neck. "Oh, Mamma, Mamma. I love you. Please, let's don't fight," she sobbed.
"Sabah, my darling. You're right. I'm sorry. I just don't want you to let him hurt you," Mother said tenderly, holding Sabah in her arms.
"He can't hurt me Mamma; he can't. He loves me."
"Sabah, Sabah. Goddess grant you are right!"
"You'll see, Mamma. You haven't met him."
"And I never will unless you let me show these gentlemen on their way and help me straighten up this apartment. We don't want Rod to get the 'wrong ideas,'" do we?" she grinned.
"You're hopeless, Mother," Sabah laughed. She looked at the two unconscious figures on the floor. "Will they be alright?"
"I only took a half Feeding from each. They'll be molesting the stewardesses on the flight back to Aberdeen."
An hour after Saba and Rod's faux entrance, the two kilt-wearing men were gone and the furniture was back in place. The windows were opened to the spring breeze, which had carried away most of the smell of sex. When the elevator doors opened this time, the scene was different.
"Sabah, darling, welcome. And this must be Rod"
Mother had changed into something "more decent:" a floor length emerald green gown that clung to her shapely curves like a python devouring a gazelle. Matching heels added another 6 inches to her impressive height. Sabah eyed her mother warily, not wanting her to make TOO good an impression on Rod. The women hugged and kissed and Mother accepted a peck on the cheek from Rod.
For the first hour or so Rod was mainly out of the conversation between mother and daughter that leaped illogically -- to the mere masculine mind -- among diverse subjects and people spanning centuries. Still, he enjoyed the admiring glances that Sabah's mother cast his way from time to time. Sabah noted them as well and enjoyed them not at all.
Suddenly Mother turned on Rod with a little smirk. "So, Rod, what is it like being my daughter's sex toy?"
The question shocked Sabah. She looked at Rod with concern. She was even more shocked at Rod's reply.
"It's altogether wonderful, Mrs. Nour. Running the estate and Sabah's investment is a fascinating position. And of course there are 'fringe benefits.'" He winked.
Sabah almost laughed to see her mother blush. She clearly had not expected the self-confident reply.
"P p p position?" Mother sputtered as she imagined Rod on his knees with his face between her daughter's legs.
"Of course, Mrs. Nour. Do you think I spend all day every day in bed pleasuring your wonderfully insatiable daughter? I've quite a bit of experience in private banking, wealth management, that sort of thing, you know. It's not often a man my age gets the opportunity to take on such a challenging portfolio."
Mother looked at Rod like a creature from Mars. "Like many high-net-asset individuals," a little disappointed sigh escaped him, "Sabah was not making optimum use of her asset diversity, investing without any real long-term strategy. I fixed that. If you'd like to see, I've brought a few summary tables."
Before either flabbergasted woman could stop him, Rod had pulled a laptop from the valise he had with him and was off on a Power Point Presentation of a case study of how he had turned around Sabah's investment portfolio. Numbers and animated bar graphs flew on and off the screen. He must have been working on this for weeks to impress her mother, Sabah thought, not knowing whether to laugh or cry with joy. Mother was totally stupefied by his rapid fire delivery filled with talk about "options" and "stretches" "cross-currency risk management" "interest rate futures" and “Black–Scholes pricing algorithm.”
Somehow – mother and daughter did have a number of joint interests – Rod had learned a lot about Mother's investments and assured her he could do even better with them than he had with Sabah's. Sabah's jaw dropped when Rod produced a prospectuses, waivers, and powers of attorney to allow him to manage Mother's assets. She almost fell out of her chair when Mother meekly signed.
A server called them to lunch about then. Rod offered Mother his arm, escorted her to the table and held her chair. Sabah could see Mother was melting like butter in the Delhi sun. Rod was on a charm offensive and by Goddess, it was working! Mother was hanging on his words, giggling at his witticisms like a schoolgirl, and drinking more than she ought, Sabah thought.
"And he fucks, too?" Mother hissed while Rod had excused himself after lunch.
"Like a dream, Mother and he's a genius with him tongue," Sabah replied under her breath, savoring her mother's obvious infatuation with her man.
After lunch the visit continued, but Rod was much more in the center of it. If anything, it was Sabah who felt a bit left out as Mother and Rod bantered. Sabah was amazed at how much Rod knew of art history, Mother's passion, having "known" many of the great painters of the Renaissance and Early Classical periods. Several times Mother came close to giving away her "inside" knowledge. No one else alive today knew first "hand" the size of Tintoretto's cock or could testify from experience that Leonardo was bi not gay.
Light was fading and Sabah was eager to return home. She didn't like to drive the last few miles in the Blue Ridge foothills after dark. And she had a zillion things to talk to Rod about after today. I was clear Rod had won Mother over. Mother didn't just approve of Rod, she doted on him. Sabah had several nasty ideas about how to celebrate his accomplishment. Sabah had just returned from a toilet break when Mother delivered her bombshell.
"I suppose you need to be getting on the road, Honey. This has been such a wonderful visit. You must come again."
"Oh, we will, Mother. We will!"
"Well, that's what I need to talk to you about. Privately.” She looked at Rod. "Deep Sleep" Mother ordered.
Sabah was surprised to see Rod shut down just as with her. "You didn't make his trigger giver-specific," Mother explained.
"What is the meaning of this, Mother?" Sabah asked apprehensively.
"Darling, I was totally wrong about this man. He IS wonderful and I understand your attraction to him.” Sabah relaxed. "And he is sooo clever. He says that it may take a while to get my finances in order. And there is an old tax liability that needs urgent attention, a bit tricky.” Sabah un-relaxed. "I really need him to stay here for a few weeks to get some things straightened out."
"You want to fuck him, don't you?"
"Darling, that's not what I meant. It just that …"
"You want to fuck my man, don't you, Mother?"
"Yes" she admitted. "He has everything. Looks, intelligence and I can tell he really likes making a woman happy. You'll have my blessing …."
"So, you'll give us your blessing if I lend you Rod to fuck for a few weeks?" Sabah spoke evenly, coldly, making it sound as mercenary as possible.
"Don't say it like that, Sabah. He's perfect. I want him. I haven't met a man like him since … your father!" Mother began to cry.
"You won't Feed?"
"Oh, Sabah, Sabah! Thank you, Thank you!"
It wasn't the sex Sabah missed so much. She stayed busy. She exercised a lot. She ran down three sets of heavy duty batteries for her vibrator. The orgasms were hard and momentarily satisfying. Her pussy was too dumb to know that hard plastic is not the same as a hard prick, Rod's prick. But SHE knew. She missed feeling strong arms around her after she'd climaxed, soft lips on her breasts, fingers other than her own making squishy noises in her cunt, falling asleep with her head on his chest, waking up beside a man who adored her. A week turned to two and three weeks seemed like an eternity.
Sabah didn't want to believe her mother would keep Rod, yet the niggling fear was there. Her mother was ruled by passions and her powers still exceeded Sabah's. Mother could make Rod forget her. Would she? Could she live without him? This was the day she would find out.
It was almost dark when Sabah heard the sounds of an unfamiliar car, still miles distant, approaching. Her heart sang when she perceived Rod was in it. Long minutes later she watched as a Washington DC taxi pulled into the driveway. She saw Rod get out unsteadily. She knew the driver would have no memory of this strange fare, though she was sure Mother had paid him generously for the service. Rod almost stumbled into the large house with little consciousness of where he was. Imagining what Mother had put him through for these weeks, Sabah held back her urge to throw herself on him, and led him to bed – alone. As she undressed him, putting him to sleep with a quick hand job, she found the letter.
A few months ago I wrote you a terrible letter. I called you a foolish adolescent. I said I could not understand or approve of your relation with Rod. I sneered at the word "love.” I was wrong on every count. It was I who was foolish and you who are wise. I thought I understood your attraction to Rod when you visited me. Yes, I envied you for his intelligence and good looks and stamina and skill and willingness in pleasuring a woman. I looked forward to enjoying him while he "worked on my finances.” Again I was wrong. He was completely happy to be doing a favor for your mother and his charm did not diminish, but that was it. He was unseducible. I flashed him and I drugged him. When he was unconscious I could get his penis hard enough to perform sex upon him. I could not get him to fuck me. I cried in frustration and envy of you.
At last I hit on a solution and was able to have sex – Goddess what sex – with him, but the stratagem took away all the joy. Since he would not fuck ME, I made him believe I was YOU, visiting for a night. Thus his fierce will, his loyalty to you, was subverted. In that state he would fuck me and eat me and cuddle me, but my heart ached as he kissed me tenderly and told me how much he loved YOU. I didn't know or had forgotten that a man could love a woman as Rod does you. He is yours, darling, in spirit, heart, mind, and only therefore, in body.
You have my blessing in whatever you and he may decide, though what need you have of my blessing I do not know. You and Rod are already blessed by your love. And I was blessed by having seen and felt it as through a very clear but impenetrable glass. Perhaps now I, too, can again believe in love. Jesse has been TELLING me he loves me, but I paid no attention. I do not know if it's true, but now I know it is possible.
Sabah re-read the letter, crying almost as much the second time as the first. She knew how hard it was for Mother to admit she was wrong and had been wrong, quite literally, for centuries. She cried for Mother's wasted years, she cried for the renewal of hope, and she cried with joy for herself and gratitude for Rod.
Red eyed, she went to her bed – their bed – where Rod lay sleeping. Not wanting to know what had happened between him and Mother, she probed his mind only enough to feel it slowly relaxing, as if having been coiled into a tight protective ball. Mother had tried, really tried to get Rod make love to her and even with her greater powers, had failed. No only did this say something powerful about Rod, it confirmed that Sabah power had not made him love her either. Rod was her slave only in superficial things; in his depths, he was free and in his freedom, he gave himself to her.
She lay down beside the beautiful young man and gathered him to herself. Slowly she felt his body respond to hers. He was asleep or unconscious, but his body knew her and wanted her. Goddess how she wanted him! She was horny and needed the pleasure she could take from him. With effort, she adjusted his hardened cock so that it snuggled against her own warm sex. Tempted, she resisted slipping it in. Instead, she laid her head on his left arm as his right cuddled her and slept. There would be time enough tomorrow morning.
Sabah spent the next few days happily welcoming Rod home. Although he had been enjoyed her "visits" while he was at Mother's, Rod gladly let Sabah welcome him. Sabah didn't know whether to laugh or cry one morning, while eating her, Rod innocently mentioned how different she tasted during her visits but she decided not to ask him which he preferred.
It was Rod who suggested that Sabah might need to Feed. She knew he was right, but had been hesitant. With her feelings toward Rod confirmed and amplified by Mother's letter, it hardly seemed right to Feed. Even rejuvenated by her spend during cunnilingus – Rod was physiologically younger today than when she first "took" him – Feeding was the transfer of part of his Life Force. Could she still do that? He pressed and she demurred.
In the end, Rod got his way, he seduced her! Finding excuses to deny her sex for a few days, he then surprised her with a magnificent dinner, flowers, and wine. Giggling and tipsy when led off to bed that night, Sabah was near crazy for sex. And the teasing had only begun. First he ate her to more orgasms that she could count before mounting her. Still he persisted, fucking her just too gently or too slow to let her have the final climax she craved. She began to plead, imploring him to fuck her harder, begging him for release.
At last he relented, or seemed to, rolling onto his back to allow Sabah to control their coupling. Sabah was insane with lust and would have plunged her pussy down on his prick and been over the edge in seconds. But he was holding her away. His strong hands around her waist held her pussy tantalizing inches from the head of his cock. Sabah shrieked with frustration as Rod smiled up at her.
"Feed" he commanded.
Apparently he had figured her out. Feeding did occur during intense sex. Sabah could control herself to some extent, but it was a bit like holding your breath. Wound up as she was, it was almost certain she would Feed with her next orgasm. She screamed in frustration as he dropped her with a plop, impaling her on himself. The conflict was intense: she didn't want to Feed, but she did want to orgasm. She tried to fuck him just vigorously enough to get the relief she needed without letting him climax at the same time. She might have succeeded. Until …
"That won't do, Sabah. Take me! Fuck your horny pussy on my cock. You know you want it, you she devil. Make me spew my life, my cum inside you. Fuck me, you demon bitch!"
She was both horrified and excited that he was talking dirty to her. "No Rod, don't say that. I love you!" she pleaded, but her body responded to his words. Without wanting to, she was riding him harder, struggling to contain the orgasm that was boiling up from her loins -- and his.
"Make me come, you witch. Make me spill my seed in your ravenous maw. Come, Sabah! Feed!"
The Force within Sabah could no longer be contained. The blind instinct reached out to the nearest sexually excited male to snatch away its Life Energy. Its power could overwhelm any male, no matter how strong his ethereal defenses. In Rod it found no resistance. Like an immaterial proboscis it entered, drank, and withdrew, paradoxically taking only what it needed, leaving Rod's Energy pool hardly diminished.
The physical counterpart of this invisible transaction was Sabah's wail of defeat as an orgasm unlike the others tore through her body and mind. Rod bucked as her pussy muscles involuntarily grasped him to suck the sperm from his balls. Wasted effort. Rod roared as a geyser of hot come boiled up from his prick filling his sexy lover's pussy, mingling with her own gushing juices. She continued to hump weakly and then collapsed on his chest sobbing, "Rod, Rod! I'm so sorry, Rod" but she did nothing to disturb the softening prick that held his seed in her. He enfolded her tenderly until her sob died away and her breathing became soft and regular. Only then did he sleep, too.
Sabah's care for Rod as he recuperated from a Feeding was always tender and loving, but this time, more so. Sleep was the best tonic and for the next few days she suffused his food and drink with soporific herbs to keep him in a drowsy horny nether world. Frequent, gentle sex kept him docile and lethargic as his body and spirit recovered. When she noticed him become restless, she drew his lips to her breasts. "Not yet, baby," she whispered as he nursed and her hand, slickened with her own juices, brought him to orgasm putting him to sleep in her arms. And she nourished him as well with unending draughts of her orgasmic spend as he lay drowsily between her legs, worshiping her sex. She thrilled that allowing him to pleasure her with his mouth was therapy for him. It was almost too wonderful to be true.
Less than two weeks later Rod was back to normal, if not better. His strong, trim body radiated masculine vitality and he was back to giving Sabah the hard, vigorous sex she loved. Rod soon caught up with the accumulated administration of Sabah's estate and she resumed her charitable activities. They had all the ingredients of happiness: health, work, love.
Sabah knew they lacked only one thing. She trembled and decided.
A few weeks later the second letter from Mother arrived.
I can't believe everything that has happened since I wrote. Love does exist: It is big, black, and goes by the name Jesse!
How I had been enjoying this man! He is an amazing fuck: a donkey cock and a marathoner's stamina. He regularly turned me inside out. I loved having a younger man (younger than my apparent age, that is) fucking me silly and babbling how he loved me and wanted me. Only after Rod's visit did I start paying attention.
I had been treating him like a fuck toy, but I came to realize he is much more. Jesse had finished a degree cum laude in Literature from Brown when he was drafted by the Wizards. He's actually read Moore and Bunyan, Fielding and Thackeray, Byron and Shelly, Flaubert and Zola, while I've only fucked them. Along with great sex, he's tutoring me in Twentieth Century masters: Conrad, Hess, James, Malreau, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, and Eco. He is especially partial to magical realism: Carpentier, Cortázar, García Márquez, Vargas Llosa and Rushdie. I'd just assumed all he wanted to do was take me to clubs, flaunt his sexy older girlfriend for a few hours to make the other guys jealous, and take me home to me like a caribou. Giving him his head, we've spent more time in the Kennedy Center and the Corcoran than on U Street. I've learned I cum just as hard with his head under my evening gown as a miniskirt.
I was taking him more seriously, but not totally. One evening he came in with tickets to something cultural I had forgotten about only to find me tarted up to go dancing. He was annoyed and asked what I was doing dressed up like a cheap whore. (A high priced whore, but he had a point.) I just laughed and said why bother, he'd just wind up stripping me and fucking me whatever we did.
"Is that all I'm good for, Portia? To fuck? To eat your pussy? To let you suck my cock like an ice cream cone and drink my cum like lemonade? You want to fuck? OK, let's FUCK!"
I realized I'd hurt him, but it was too late. Like a wounded animal he charged, picked up all 150 pounds of me with one arm and carried me screaming to the bedroom. I couldn't believe he would hurt me, but he was so enraged I was really afraid. Afraid, and tremendously turned on. I landed hard on the bed. "If you want to look like a slut, I'll fuck you like one!" he roared.
I gasped as he ripped off my frilly blouse and popped the buttons on my little skirt. He made short work of my demi-bra and panties. "Keep the stocking and heels, bitch; they'll be right in character," he snarled.
"AAAAAH" I screamed in fear and pure ecstasy as he rammed his cock into me. I was wet, but it felt thicker and harder than I'd ever felt it. In just a few hard strokes I lost it. I started braying for him to fuck me, to fuck his worthless white whore, to split me with his fuck-ax. I was seconds away from the biggest orgasms of my life.
And then he stopped, or rather he slowed to an excruciatingly slow in-out movement. He wouldn't let me come down or get off. I looked pleadingly up at his cold eyes and hard face. "Is this all you want, Portia? A big black cock deep in your horny pussy? A cock you orgasm on again and again, screaming and bucking until you pass out?"
I was insane with the need to cum, as if I was being roasted alive over flames of lust. Then he stopped completely. "Well that is exactly what you cannot have."
"No, no, Jesse, baby. I want you, I need you!"
"Me, Portia, or the ten inches of me that's between your legs?"
"You, Jesse, you!"
"You haven't acted like it, Portia. You've treated me like a sex object. How flattering is it to be your warm, hard, muscle-powered dildo, your trophy stud? Good to show everyone that you're still sexy enough to snag a young black buck to keep you well fucked! I'm more than that, Portia, or I'm nothing. I love you, woman. I want to be with you, cherish you, hold you, protect you … marry you. I want you to live with me and be the mother of my babies. If all YOU want is a thick slab of meat, an interracial boy-toy, find yourself another Nigger to fuck!"
"No Jesse! Don't say that horrible word. I love you Jesse, darling, I love you!" Just the presence of his hard black cock in my pussy was still playing a symphony with my nerves and reflexes and emotions. I did want to climax, but I wanted more. I wanted it all. The orgasm I craved was but the voice of something deep within me saying this was the male who loved me, whom I dare not lose. I he wanted babies, well, he deserved that too.
I was sobbing. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I don't deserve a man like you, Jessie, but I want you. I will be the lover, the wife and the mother you want me to be. Keep me pregnant as long as you want. I'm yours if you will take me. Please, Jesse!"
"Yes, Portia, yes, yes, yes.” Jesse was crying the same tears of joy as I, but now he was fucking me again. No, he began making love to me. I felt the difference. He was making my whole body sing, not just my pussy. I could feel the orgasm approach. Carried along by emotion but very deliberately too, I let down one of my eggs.
Whether it happened that night or not is academic. I let our lovemaking keep my pussy awash with his semen for days afterward. I don't need a doctor or a kit to tell me. Life, life planted in me by Jesse, is growing. The baby is a little boy, mortal like Jesse, not a daughter, like one of us. I an only starting to show, but I do know I am in love with this little life, as with his father, and that is another blessing I owe to Rod and to you, my darling, my only – for now -- daughter.
Sabah was astonished. She cried but she had to laugh, too. Her mother, the mature party girl, pregnant and domesticated. Well time would tell how domesticated she was. It was hard to imagine Mother staying home and keeping house. Jesse might have his work cut out. Now, if he DID keep Mother knocked up for a few decades …
Sabah was happy for Mother and certainly understood what could happen when love and sex got mixed up. She looked down at the small card in her hand and was tempted to call Mother with her news, but decided that Rod should know first.
A few nights after she had Fed, she, too, had released an egg. As it was her first, she would bear a daughter.
A new cycle was beginning.
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