Journal entry June 24th.
Thursday evening. Finally closed the deal on downtown duplex. Should realize an excellent commission. Holly's returning to the university on Sunday. Haven't found the right time or moment to talk with Karen about intimacy with Holly. Oh well. Wifey is cuddled and sound asleep. She's calm now after a hectic, week long business trip. Blah, blah, blah...
Close this for now. Bring me some nice dreams.
~~~
In a familiar dream setting. The dense jungle is steamy and humid. The lush vegetation wet with dew. Inside a grass hut, I am naked, wrists and ankles tethered with strips of rawhide onto a large, bamboo X frame. Mmm, nice dreams indeed! The entry, hide covered door flaps open and she enters. Her hazel-green eyes bore into my nakedness and my cock stirs.
"Well. What do we have here?" The succubus throatily asks. Her leopard skin bikini barely covers her charms. Reaching behind, she unties the strap, her pendulous breasts capped with turgid, mahogany nipples. Of its own volition, my prick surges upward.
I smell a fragrant, woody incense and gaze into hypnotic eyes. She is stunning and moves closer. She's inside my head, probing the pressure points of my sexuality and thoughts.
"You're hard. Love the shape of your cock. Would you like me to suck you? Feel my wet tongue licking your balls?"
"Oh yes. Please." I croak desperately. Her hand creeps under the tiny breechcloth, touching herself. I feel ethereal, ghostlike fingers pulling the skin of my erection. Stroking. She giggles. Teased to the limit, I strain against the binding, pushing my aching prick towards her.
"What do you expect under this covering? A shaved cunt? A bulging hardon to pleasure with your sissy mouth? I can visualize your fantasies. Desire for fellatio." The cloth is quickly gone, revealing pouty cuntal folds and a tuft of bright red hair. Fingers tip-toe through the curls and zero in on the mark.
"Oh-h-hh-hh-hh!" The succubus moans.
~~~
Pressed into the mattress, I writhe imitating a fucking motion and waken to the sighing.
"Oh-h-hh-hh-hh!" The moan is soft and distant but real. With urgency, I reach for my wife only to find rumpled, empty sheets. A glance at the pesky digital clock says 2:13. I quickly rise and walk along the deep carpeted hallway. Holly's bedroom door is open a foot or so. Another soft sigh emanates from within and I, of course, stealthily move inside.