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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Sabah's Mother
Homer Vargas (vargas111@yahoo.com)

***

This is a continuation of the 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. (MF, Fdom, humor, Rom, 
fantasy, preg)

***

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 envelope with a 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.


Dearest Sabah,

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 suspect you may be
romanticizing even then. 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 making him yours
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 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; I made sure the men in our immediate
vicinity paid a lot more attention to your mother than
to the game. I could sense their thoughts about the
"hot old bitch with no panties." 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. All
my girlfriends 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 me. 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, 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 having 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.

Love,


Mother


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
her 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 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 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 that 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 voice 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 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
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 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. 

Sabah glared.

"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 Meal 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 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 the like.

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, 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 be certain 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?" 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.


Dearest Sabah,

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 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.

Your very chastened,

Mother,


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 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 needed 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 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.


Sabah darling!

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 him. 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, Cortαzar, Garcνa Mαrquez, 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 fuck. 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 what 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,
Portia. 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
deserved to father the baby he wanted to put in me.

I was sobbing. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you. 
I don't deserve a man like you, 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 was 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. 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 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 her knocked up …

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.

The End
Vargas111@yahoo.com


My stories can be read on:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Vargas
http://www.asstr.org/~Vargas/stories.html
http://www.mcstories.com
http://www.eroticstories.com
http://storiesonline.net
http://www.literotica.com

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 54