Demom's Angels by DiscipleN
Tracey Nians loaded the dishwasher carefully. It was old and cranky, and if you didn't know where the sweet spots were, dishes ended up dirtier. She couldn't entrust the chore to her thirteen year old, Howard, or her nine year old, Mina. Although, the daughter was more reliable than her son.
Cooking and cleaning hadn't gotten easier after her husband's death. Tasks reminding her of her love's absence required extra effort. Tears made the housework easier. Hadn't she had cried them long enough, according to conventional wisdom?
Tracy opened herself to a new relationship, but dates felt like adultery, and get togethers with friends and an extra friend felt like nothing at all. She pined for her one true love. Maybe she always would. So be it. There were dishes to wash. She poured the soup, closed the hatch, latched it, and spun the dial.
The machine gurgled to life as water galloped through an orifice choked with mineral deposits. The pump groaned and shuddered. The spray holes were harpies screeching dizzily from clunking blades.
She had become accustomed to it's sound, until she wasn't sure if Howard's mobile tunes were any more musical. Sometimes she thought it spoke to her in a forgotten language of primitives.
"You know, I had that same reaction." A 'help me Obi Wan Kenobi' sized, red scaled, winged demon stood in the center of an five cornered ashtray. He held over his shoulder, a double bladed axe large enough to chop cigar ends, on the kitchen bar table. The glass tray was older than her husband's, father, and grandfather, to each of whom it had served death sentences. Tracy washed her husband's killer by hand everyday as a pejorative lesson to her children.
She reared back at the sight of this schizophrenic mirage but kept her cool. Sometimes she heard clear, strange voices in her head, even in complete quiet. But the shrink who had helped her through her grief had reassured her, everyone heard phantasmal sounds every now and then. "I seem to be going a little mad today."
"I never used to get that, from victims- um, I mean summoners, until cognitive psychologists started playing with CAT scanners." The demon shook his head, disappointed. He bent to examine his toe claws. Looking up, he asked, "Aren't you a little scared? Demon here! Race to protect the kids! Bring out the holy symbols!" He tried. "No?"
Tracy shook her head.
"I guess it's a new world." He perked up and bowed. "For what bidding did you summon me here, oh great and powerful Master?"
The house mom told herself, play along or go more crazy. "I didn't call you."
"No?" He cocked a pointed ear. "There! My name, I heard it again." His ear pointed at the dishwasher. "Shitfuck!" He cursed and lifted his axe high before him. With an angry blow, he cleaved his face with it. His split head held the weapon while he shook his freed fists in rage. "Yam yoo, yen of yee office!" [translation: "Damn you, King of the Abyss!"]
The imp retrieved his axe. His face snapped back together hard enough to rattle his eyes. "I never did like the name King Cheney gave to me." He looked to the right and declared in a deep voice, "No one will ever guess that name! He told me." The creature looked to the left and yelled, "No one except a limping, fucking robot!" He looked at Tracy again. "Okay, I'm here. You might as well make a wish."
The average, in all respects, woman couldn't prevent her foot from stamping the floor while she rang with peals of laughter. She slapped the counter top until her hand hurt. "This is the best fucking madness!" Then she was out of breath and couldn't breathe against the spasms in her lungs.
"Careful, toots. Sip some water. Punch your stomach. That could get serious."
Tracy did sip some water. She kept a bottle nearby when she worked. She caught her breath and dared to continue this mad role playing. "I'm sorry, demon, um, dude." She could just make out his dangling genitals. "I wasn't trying to insult you. I just don't believe anything that's happening right now."
"Maybe you weren't trying to-" He crossed his arms around the haft of his axe and pouted tangentially.
"Besides," She cleared her throat, "Oh prince of wickedness, the one who deserves your wish is the one who summoned you." Convulsive snorting claimed her speech!
"Oh, shut up." The demon took a more serious look at the dishwasher. "It's true. I can't return until I've caused some mischie- err, WISH to be fulfilled."
"It's pretty obvious what this machine would wish for." Tracy collected her dignity.
The imp nodded. "I'll check the local part suppliers." He beat his wings and took to the air.
"What?" Tracy was genuinely surprised. "You don't just wave your magic axe, and-"
"Lady, what you gotta respect is how expensive wishes are! They don't pop out of fucking nowhere. Just opening a portal into the mortal realm, to answer that machine, extinguished more eternal souls than I'm allowed to say. The depths of despair and destruction aren't as full as some folk tell." He shook his naked butt in mid-air at Tracy and flapped away. "Careful, Toots! When I pass the barrier of this protective star I grow to full size." BLAM!
The air, where the nine foot demon instantly appeared, blasted the kitchen and dining area. He looked back with insane, black eyes. "Tall ceilings." He mused. "Nice! You got a good place here."
Tracy fell to her knees. It was all- She fainted.
She came to with a vision of a giant, red ass, bobbing to and fro, sticking out of the dishwasher. The damned thing had coarse, black pubes growing out of his ass cheeks, and it stank true to cliche. Sulphur.
The clanking, grinding, and pounding must have awakened her. "Almost done." His voice echoed from the metal appliance. A few minutes later, the ass backed out, but the demon's wings remained tucked tight against his back. His axe rested between the wall and the refrigerator. He rose to full height and ate the tools he had been using. "Nom, nom." GULP! "That ought to do it. You see the trick to getting a good seal on a replacement grommet is to use the right amount of high temperature, rubber cement." He reached for his axe.
Tracy looked around her, strangely worried about her dishes. They had all been neatly put away in their proper places. Her jaw hung open.
The demon hefted his axe over his shoulder again. "Sorry, this is was not a warranted repair. In fact, I may have broke this thing's warrantee, but considering it's age..." He shrugged.
Tracy struggled to her feet. It was easier than her struggle to believe any of this. "What do I owe you: my first born son, my soul, a diseased pig sacrifice?" She spoke satirically to deal with her psychosis.
"How about lunch? I don't get much 'up' time." The demon seemed to shrink a little when he said that. His foot long, dangling cock didn't.
"I've got some leftover pork roast. It only been a week or two in the fridge."
"Sounds delicious." The demon sat at the end of the dining table. He fit the chair where her husband sat, perfectly. "
Tracy whipped up some box mashed potatoes in a pan on the stove, and she microwaved the meat and some cauliflower.
"Wine?"
"Can't stand the stuff. Got a dark ale?"
There's a bottle of lager in the cupboard. I could pour it over ice.
"When in Rome..." The demon examined his finger claws.
She laid his ladened plate before him with one hand and placed napkin, fork, and knife with the other. "Go ahead and start. I just need to get the drinks."
The demon grabbed her wrist. "Foul bitch, from what disgusting crevice of a hog was this meat cut from?" His claws brought blood to her arm.
"OWWW!" She shook her arm free and held her own napkin against the scrapes. "Pork loin?"
"Oh. For a second I thought I smelled pig cum." He forked and knifed a chunk, then stabbed it into his mouth. Chewing, he said, "Dmlishus!"
Moving to get the wine and beer, Tracy asked herself why she didn't flee this nightmare? How could she stand this horror another second? She fetched bottles and poured liquids into glasses.
"Why? That would be shock." The demon stopped chewing to explain. He was really enjoying the cauliflower. Most people overcooked it. This was just right, and was that a hint of basil and pepper wafting from it? "You're having classic, post-traumatic stress reaction. My King just loves how stupid men always forget that, when they wonder why women often don't immediately press charges of rape. You'll be fine in a day or so." He cut some more pork roast. "It's not like I beat your legs open and stuffed my rampant cock into your innocent, tight cunt!"
From behind the table, where he sat, a red pole as thick as soup cans stirred to life. Its one evil looking eye surveyed the table before it. "Ooops! Now that's impolite timing for you!"
Tracy was returning with the glasses and stopped short when she saw the demon's jutting prick.
"Please excuse my unwarranted, physiological reaction." He draped his napkin over the head of his cock ineffectually. "Guess I'll be licking my fingers for the rest of the meal."
Dumbfounded, Tracy resumed her path to the table, and she placed the glasses down. Sitting, she picked up her fork and knife, but she continued to stare at the tented napkin.
"Did you want a quick fuck?" The demon tilted his horned head.
Tracy shook her head. "N-no." She wasn't at all aroused. She did wonder, what if she- She stopped that thought dead. This demon could read her mind.
"Only your superficial thoughts. Usually, I don't let on like I have today. It's been a great advantage over some of the fools that called my name. Now they swear with it, in cesspits I dug for them."
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. Tracy sensed that this demon was lingering for a better reason than a warmed up meal.
"Yes." He looked into her eyes. "That would be about the fate of your husband."
Tracy jumped up from her chair and hurled her glass at the demon. "Fuck you!"
He caught the glass in one hand. He crushed it so that every broken shard pierced the palm of his hand. He slammed it down on the table. Just before it struck, a long parchment appeared beneath it. When he lifted his bloodied hand, a black palm print rested beneath paragraphs of demonic runes. "Your receipt." He used his other hand to push the signed document across the table to Tracy, while the cut hand regenerated.
"Wh-what about my husband?" Tracy trembled.
"It's all in the contract. His time of atonement is nearly up. For your hospitality and bravery and blah, blah, blah, I've advanced his release to greener pastures by a month."
"Atonement?" Tracy's anger returned. "Mister, my husband was the finest, most moral man I have ever known."
"Still, nobody's perfect." The demon frowned. "I've been tempted to make him pay another year of suffering. How could he have been so wicked to have severed your great love together because of a fucking addiction to cigarettes!!"
Tracy knew she was beaten. Somewhere, inside, she too hated him for that. Her eyes dripped with reincarnated sorrow.
"Look, Toots. I like you. No," He spit, "I don't mean in a 'let's ride the red express train currently expressing from my crotch' way. I mean, well, thanks. You've been a good sport. Now that you've got your receipt, I'll be on my way." Standing, he mumbled, "Must remember that pepper and basil trick with the cauliflower."
"What?" Tracy sniffed. She missed her husband terribly.
"Say, why don't we part on better terms. How about a wish on the house?"
"I'm not foolish enough to wish to be with my husband. I have our children to tend. Although," Tracy admitted, "I would gladly suffer beside him, in whatever foul pit you boiled for him. Save the wish for your next fool."
"Of course. How about a little wish, something just for you: flowers? nitrous oxide? a fresh coat of paint for the house?"
"Well, maybe."
"What little thing has been troubling you the most, lately?"
She thought it, she might as well say it. "I get lonely."
"Horny, is what I heard."
Tracy huffed, exasperated. "Both, then."
"Choose." A small gleam appeared in the demon's black eyes.
"Hngh, I do have the kids, and some good friends. My boss is rather nice too."
"But you can't suck golf balls through garden hoses for them." The smile that appeared on his face was thin and flat.
"You're really helping." She snarked. Her tears were drying.
"I know the perfect thing to bring a little extra love, into your life."
"You're not going to get me raped, are you?"
"I wouldn't cheat you like that."
"Okay."
"Okay what? You have to say it."
"I wish for a little extra sex."
Bingo! The demon grew back to full height. The napkin fell off of his fully erect prick. He swept up the parchment from the table and held it before her. "Sign."
Tracy rolled her eyes. Ink wasn't going to be good enough. With a fingernail, she peeled off the scab that had formed on her wrist. She dipped a finger in the fresh oozing blood and drew an 'X'. It took over a minute to swipe enough blood from the small scrape.
The demon turned the contract back to him, to examine her mark. He rolled it up and slid it into a pocket that appeared on his right breast. His smile was full and joyful. "Granted." He held his arms out to her.
"Now what?"
"I have to have sex with you, to do the magic."
"Really?" Tracy was instantly annoyed.
"Nah!" He laughed. "I'm just fucking with you. But I do have to touch your pubis. You don't even have to take off your clothes. Permission to touch?"
The woman looked agonizingly at the ceiling. "Permission granted." She groaned. Stupid university rules in the wild!
He reached down to her groin and tapped once, between where her thighs met. "Little more sex!" He commanded.
That was it, apparently. He withdrew his hand, hoisted his axe over his shoulder, and shrank, receding into where his belly button would have been if he'd had one. "Have a great time with it!"
"It?" Tracy considered- "Hey!" She shouted with a fright. "You didn't turn me into a nymphomaniac, did you?"
The demon started laughing. His baritone voice pitched higher as he shrank towards nothingness. "No more than your children." He squeaked and vanished.
Tracy looked all around. She searched her entire house before retreating to her bedroom and standing before her dressing mirror. Hastily, she took off her clothes and looked. It was the same. Nothing had changed. Her modest thatch and double petaled pussy was as beautiful as ever, for the average looking woman she considered herself.
With a sigh of relief she fell back to her bed. She closed her eyes and thanked providence. It had been one heck of a day.
--- 2 ---
"Mom. What's that?" Howard's voice woke her.
"Huh?" Tracy answered, eyes closed. She flung her lids open! "Howard!" She bolted up and met his eyes. In the instant before his expression changed into fear, she had seen bewilderment.
His hand was still pointing. He pulled it back.
Tracy looked down. It was her pussy. Howard had never seen her pussy before. It was an innocent question.
"Oh, Honey, I'm sorry. You surprised me."
"I'll go to my room." He turned away.
"I left the door open, didn't I?"
"Um, yeah." He took a step.
"You saw Mommy naked. It's okay. I've seen you naked too many times. It's only fair."
He stopped. "Can I- can I see?"
"Really?" The mom blurted before she could stop herself. Might as well answer questions. "I mean, okay. But stand there when you look." She maintained her pose, neither hiding nor revealing more.
He turned back around. His expression was innocent curiosity.
"You know girls, um, women have vaginas." He had seen her breasts on occasion. She didn't wear a bra very often around the house. Sometimes things slipped out, and sometimes she changed tops quickly in less than private places.
"Yeah, Mommy. It's real interesting."
"Interesting" was his current favorite word. Even Mina had picked up on it. She mimicked most of his passing habits.
"It has outer lips and inner lips. At the top is where my penis like thing is. Men and women actually have similar parts, but nature has put them to different uses."
"I don't see how you could pee out of that." He leaned down a little.
"You're right, Howie. My pee hole is separate from my clitoris. My tiny, itsy-bitsy penis bud is called the clitoris."
"And there's a bigger hole in there, where babies come from."
"Hey, you remembered. Full points, Sport!"
Her son blushed. He kept looking.
What Tracy saw was a growing bulge in his pants.
"I think that's enough." Tracy reached for her skirt and blouse.
"Wow, Mommy. You're growing too!"
Tracy looked back between her legs. Her clitoris was visibly inflating. Terror stabbed her heart. "Go on, now. Out!" She had to bite her teeth together to keep herself from yelling at her son.
Howard raced away. He closed the door behind him.
"You fucking demon..." She stared at her clitoris as it pushed out through the top of her pussy lips. It was half an inch long before it stopped growing. Alone, Tracy noticed that she was feeling a bit randy. "...oh."
If a half-inch clit was the result of her, she had specified a little more sex, then maybe she wasn't going to run raping around the neighborhood.
Peeking guiltily around her room, she reached down and touched her enlarged clit. That felt nice. It felt pretty darn good, actually. That settled it. She got up, locked her door, climbed under her bed's sheets, and gave herself a good finger frigging. Tracy didn't take long to cum.
"Hmmm!" It had been good. Not the best. That would always be with her husband, but damn, she felt like she didn't need men if could make herself cum like that every time. Just the sight of her "little" enlargement was pretty hot.
That would pass, she knew. Familiarity breeds, if not contempt, at least boredom. To prevent losing its hot newness quickly, she cleared her thoughts of masturbating another eight times, got up, and showered with a full smile.
She was still smiling, making and serving and eating dinner. "How was your day, Mina?"
"I got to play with a new toy!" The nine year-old beamed.
"At school?"
"Yes, Mommy!"
"What kind of toy."
"A big, red fuck!"
Tracy dropped her spoon.
"She means firetruck, Mom." Howard saved his mother's life. "I saw it when I picked her up."
His mother knew that Howard knew what 'fuck' meant. She owed her son for that save.
"Did you share the firetruck?"
"Uh-huh, but I got to play with it most." She beamed again.
Finishing dessert led to digestion time in front of the internet screen in the living room. They watched streamed shows and a short film about the last herds of antelope and bison on the great plains.
"They're dancing!" Mina laughed when she saw two buffalo mating.
That should have been it, but when her daughter laughed, her words transformed what Tracy saw, just another creature sex snippet, into a more erotic frame. She felt her groin twitch. Something was happening in her panties.
Tracy was accustomed to feeling aroused when her clitoris hardened, but her new, magic clit magnified the sensation. She was definitely feeling more aroused than normal. She knew in her heart, she wouldn't go crazy with lust, but her heightened horniness was difficult to accept and ignore. "Mommy's going to her room. When the movie ends, go do your homework."
Howard watched his mother leave, a little concerned for her. This wasn't their normal routine. Mina felt it as well, but it didn't bother her like it had her brother. The last thing he was going to do was barge into his mother's room again. He told his sister, "I'm going to start my homework now." He got up.
Mina felt alone instantly. She looked around at the empty living room. She had played by herself before, but this time something wasn't right, and she wanted her Mommy. She got up, film working towards a sad conclusion, and knocked on her Mommy's door.
"Ohhhh, gods!" Tracy dug her fingers into her skirt and panties. She played with her new half inch of full sensitivity with abandon. She'd had a small orgasm already. She was working up to a peak. Her fingers rubbed and pulled on her engorged clit. She started heaving with pleasure, when her door opened and Mina shuffled in.
She'd heard her mommy's cries. Maybe she needed her. She was shy to approach her mom. She was doing something between her legs. It looked like a bad thing. Her mom's face was all scrunched up like in pain. "Mommy?"
"Oh, Mina, Mommy's really fucking herself, right now." Tracy said, lost in the orgasm that blinded all reason.
"Ooo, can I play with the fuck too?" Mina jumped on the bed and reached where her mother's hands were. It couldn't have been a very big fuck if it fit in her mommy's underpants.
Her dazzling cum faded, and Tracy yelped, "Mina, NO!" How had the little girl got beside her so quickly? Fighting the continuing delight she had wanted to enjoy, she pulled her hands out of her dress and caught her daughter's arm gently. "Mina, Mommy's sorry. I should have locked my door."
"But I want to play with the fuck."
"I'll get you a better fuck another time." Were the only words that came to her. She made a mental note to buy a firetruck the next day. Tracy got up and walked her daughter to the door. "Now, do your homework."
Locking the door and returning to sit before her dressing table, she looked into the mirror. "You are one fucked mother." Did she hear a baritone gust of laughter, or was it just another auditory hallucination?
She worked at her part-time job the next day. She sold cosmetics and hair products at a strip mall. Her gorgeous, black boss, Vanice, called Tracy her token white girl. She was a great boss who gave her lots of slack when the kids needed her. Vanice told her she wished her boss had given her slack before she bought the store from him. She had two older girls. "I used to put birth control pills in their sack lunches."
Tracy's children met her there, for her last hour of work. "Hi Ms. Rubens." Mina greeted.
"Hello, Howie, Mina." Vanice had married a good looking, latino man, until she caught him screwing a mannequin. "If a man don't know good pussy from styrofoam, I got no use for him." She'd told Tracy on her first day of work.
"Hon, I'll pay your last hour. There ain't any business I can't handle today." Outwardly, that was a rare gesture, but the big, beautiful woman had been eyeing the wig supplier unloading his truck. Vanice wanted to close shop early today.
"Thanks." Tracy took off her apron and folded it neatly behind the counter. "Let's go."
"If you forgot anything, don't come back til tomorrow." Vanice warned her.
Tracy led her kids to the bus stop. It arrived on time and without a crowd. They stepped in past the driver.
"I want to play with a fire truck!" Mina squealed.
"I told her, Mom." Howard explained.
"I owe you twice, now, Howe." She rarely used the nick he liked. He hated, "Howie."
Howard looked forward, out of the bus. Mina sat next to her mom. She pushed her hand under her mommy's waistband. Looking up at her mother's surprised face, she smiled. "Play!"
Tracy should have immediately grabbed her daughter's hand. Instead, after all the recent weirdness, feeling like she was on some secret camera show. She scanned the faces in the bus. No one seemed to notice them. In those few seconds, her daughter's fingers groped for a firetruck. Her hand probed in her skirt but on top of her panties. For a little girl, she was smart enough to remember where her mommy's hands had wriggled the night before.
Tracy was reaching for her daughter's hand when it sank down between her thighs and stroked her relaxed clitoris. Perplexed, Mina's smile fell off her face! Firetruck?
"Mina!" Tracy gasped. It was either laughter or hollering or gasping. One innocent stroke sent blood streaming to her sensuous center.
"There's no fire truck there, Honey." Tracy gave a light tug on her daughter's arm. Mina giggled, thinking her mom was being playful. She stuck out her tongue and wiggled another finger against Tracy's panties.
The mother of two lost track of he surroundings. Her senses turned inward, to the bulge of her clit. It's unfolding volume returned her daughter's touch, plucking a ripple of pleasure with it. Mina's confusion changed once again, from contrarian delight to surprise. What was pushing against her small digits? It felt almost as large as one of them. A incredulous 'O' formed on the little girl's lips.
Tracy was caught in a similar confusion. How could two innocent touches have such effect on her? She opened her mouth to tell the child, "No!", but the word stuck in her lungs. She was holding her breath. What would her daughter do next?
Mina carefully studied her mom. Was she in trouble? Maybe she shouldn't have her hand inside her mommy's dress on a bus. Her mother looked like she was about to say something, staring at her, not in a bad way but not in a good way. She looked to her brother for help.
Howard glanced back when her mother had first gasp his sister's name. He wisely turned his body between his mom and sister and anyone looking. But he too was frozen, wondering how his sister had managed to immobilize Mom. He stared where Mina's hand entered his mother's dress, not noticing the pleading look on his sister's face.
Mina was a little girl alone to deal with a strange new situation. She could withdraw or carry on. Mina was not a meek little girl. She smiled at her mom's unspoken rebuke and wriggled both fingers against the bud blooming behind a cotton cover. What was this semi-firm thing in Mommy's pants?
"Unnngghh." Tracy whimpered involuntarily. Thoughts vacated her mind at the eruption of fresh and stronger pleasure. Her pussy oozed with natural lubrication. Her field of vision narrowed to two dots, each focused on her daughter's face. When Mina smiled playfully, Tracy found herself unable to fight what was clearly the most innocent groping ever groped. Joy soared from her daughter's exploring fingers. Tracy caught her breath when her lungs ran out of air.
Her mom's desperate gasp startled Mina. Maybe this wasn't a good thing. To Mina, her mother sounded pained. When she felt her mother's panty become wet, the little girl feared the worst. Had she made her mother pee?
All Mina wanted was to find a toy. Looking guilty, the girl pulled her hand out of her mother's skirt. Its flexible band snapped to its proper place, but it was inspiration that jolted her, connecting a word to what had happened. She whispered, "Fuck?"
The waistband snapped Tracy to awareness. She understood her daughter's question, and shame enveloped her. The mother blushed profusely.
"I'll tell you later, Honey." Tracy put her arm around her daughter's shoulders and hugged her to her side. She caught Howie staring at them. There would be a lot of explaining to do at the Nians' house tonight.
--- 3 ---
All that evening, Howie looked at his mother as if she were some alien creature, a a very interesting creature.
Uncomfortable in her children's presence, Tracy performed her chores, children supporting with theirs dutifully. Then she showered and changed while Mina and Howard logged into their schoolwork. She began supper and tidied up after their chores, enlisting the aid of her children when she reached their room. They had big questions but didn't dare to ask.
Supper was eaten slowly. Each family member tried conversations about the day and the weather and their neighborhood and school and work, but all died quickly.
Nobody wanted dessert.
Tracy put her fists into her lap and looked across the table. "Mommy wasn't feeling right, after work."
"Did I hurt you, Mommy?" Mina interrupted.
"I told you that wasn't a firetruck, Jellyhead." Howard used an insult he hadn't said since grade school.
"Oh, go poo, you poopy boy!" Mina squealed.
"Mina! Howie!" Tracy was more curt than loud. The table quieted. "I wasn't sick, and no, Mina, you didn't hurt me. It was something I didn't expect."
"It felt good, didn't it Mom?" Howard's eyes shone. Was the boy hiding an erection beneath the tabletop? His glazed gaze indicated it.
"Good sick?" Mina tilted her head at the concept.
Tracy gulped. She hated to lie to her children, but this was as personal as personal things got. "Howard, that's impolite speculation. You'd shame yourself if you asked anyone else."
His head dipped in disappointment.
Tracy turned to Mina. "You were just curious, Honey. I know that. If you have a question, ask it."
Her young daughter shot a peek at Howie. He seemed to be looking at his feet, or something below the table. "Uh, Mommy?"
"Yes, Hon?"
"What was that thing inside your dress?"
Tracy knew. "Well," she coughed. "You mean that thing you felt which appeared and hardened."
Mina nodded respectfully.
Howard slouched in his chair.
"Um. That's your mommy's clitoris. It, um, is a little part of a woman's body. Nothing exotic. You have one too." To stop the obvious, next question, Tracy quickly added, "Like breasts, yours will be more noticeable when you're bigger."
"Gosh." The idea seemed incredible.
Howard's head had ducked down below. His chair scooted softly.
"How do you use it, Mommy? What's it for?"
"It's -," She exhaled loudly. Her skin felt flush. "legacy tissue. No. That's not the right word." Compatible? Comparable? Commiserant? Collaborative? Convenient? "Co- well, it's like what a boy or man has, a penis, but because women have vaginas, we don't need penises. It's something left over from when we were very little and boy and girl didn't mean anything." Whew! Not bad, Tracy thought.
"Oh." Clearly disappointed. "Then why-"
"Ohhh!" Tracy shouted. A hand reached between her pant legs. "Howard!"
Howard giggled when he heard his mother's yelp. His hand worked quickly into her thighs and tagged the spot that compelled him. He tried wriggling his fingers like he imagined Mina had on the bus.
That's not right. Tracy thought. The boy's attempt missed its mark. "Howard Nian, you get out from under the table, right now!"
Howard dared to reach again, but his mother scooted her chair away depriving him of success.
"I can still spank you." Tracy looked under the table, covering her crotch with her hands. She didn't dare think what she might have avoided. Her face was still red from explaining girl parts. And there was some -- swelling. "Get out of there."
Mina giggled.
"You're not helping." Tracy turned to her daughter.
"But you said it wasn't important." Had her mother lied? She had certainly reacted with concern when Howard had tried to touch it. "You can touch mine, Howie." Mina's legs dangled from her chair. She widened her loins. Her knee length skirt parted.
"Mina!"
"But, Mommy!"
Howard clawed out from under the table, stood, and snickered at his sister. "You're too young."
"Poopy Howie!" She stuck out her tongue.
"Both of you!" Tracy was exasperated. She stood.
The children quieted. They couldn't get rid of their smiles, though. Howard's eyes didn't dim even one candle worth of shine. He looked like a dog who'd had a bone snatched away.
She quelled an urge to laugh."Out of the kitchen, you two." Tracy put her hand on a counter and leaned. She watched them depart into the living room. Her brain reminded her that the swelling in her clit had not reduced. She wanted to escape to her bed and calm it again.
A little more sex? Sex was more challenging than ever before! Another part of her brain admonished her, "Consort with demons,... blah, blah, blah, ...wishes meant foolishness."
It could be much worse. She retorted silently. Her kids wouldn't fear their body parts when they grew up. That was for certain. But would they respect hers?
She heard a voice in her dreams, that night. "Are you respecting them?"
"I know that voice." She dreamed.
"Yeah, demons can talk in dreams at a fraction of the cost." Her wish granter explained. "A few skin flaying lashes from those most deserving is the price of a long distance telephone call on weekends."
At least it wasn't the internet, where you couldn't be sure if you actually hung up. "Telecommunication companies don't charge that way any more." Her actual eyes rolled in her sleep.
"Well, aren't we modern," The demon sniffed. "Except-"
"Except what?"
"Except for the joys of self-pleasure." A red blur appeared in Tracy's mind.
"Hey, I had a nice masturbation before I fell asleep." She wanted to thank him for the amazing orgasm she had achieved, but that might encourage him.
The blur sharpened somewhat. "Really? You call that little 'pop' an orgasm?" The sound of a finger squeaking into an ear followed. A vague humanoid outline formed. A slightly smaller, long for its width, outline appeared before it. You might have well eaten a handful of chocolates for the equivalent amount of pleasure. I don't think you really understand the gift I've given to you."
"I do. It's bigger and more sensitive. I'm glad it didn't end up like yours." The great red demon's phallus materialized a second before the demon. As if he was moving closer.
"Functionally, you are correct, but mentally you've only scratched the surface." He guffawed. His image's focus wavered with his laughter. His great prick waggled at her.
"Mentally? What did you do to my mind?"
"Nothing, well, nothing directly." He seemed very close now, suddenly. His sulfurous aftershave stung Tracy's dream nostrils. "The more you play with yourself, the more receptive you'll be to its pleasures."
"Are you saying I'm going to become that cliche porn trope who falls under the spell of her attackers simply by having her tits and cunt rubbed?"
"Your words. I say path to enlightenment." His features sharpened a little too much. His outline was like a knife edge of contrast against the background of white clouds filling Tracy's dream. His prick bobbled, dipping down and cutting up through her bush.
"Let me guess, not in the usual, celestial, direction." As she had when the demon appeared to her in the flesh, she felt no fear of his great cock.
"Heaven, hell, are merely words. The mind is a terrible thing to waste on religion." The demon fisted his cock and pushed it down, aiming it at Tracy's crotch.
"Do you really need to do that?" She felt the red, tennis ball sized head press between her thighs."
"I'm not doing it." He smiled. His prickhead disappeared between her legs. It pressed against her labia.
Music swelled from silence. Hot, saxophone jazz roiled the air around her. Her cunt swelled and her clit erected in defiance of, no welcoming the impossible invader. Tracy felt drool spilling from her mouth. The demon dick danced against her clit, electrifying it. Tracy shouted the sound that her dishwasher had made. "Fuck me!" Her sentence ended.
It was dark. There was drool on her cheek, seeping into her pillow. Something, or some things were pressing into her cunt, but all she could do was hunch her pelvis against them. Her mind couldn't resolve the sudden change of experience into a cogent thought. The intruder between her legs felt much smaller than it had in her dream. It poked and prodded, but it didn't seem able to penetrate her. It was driving her mad. "Take off my damn panties." She gasped, absent of interest in who or what was invading her cunt.
A tiny squeak responded. Then, "Sorry, Mommy." The smallest hands in the house fled her loins and reached for her panty's waistband.
Tracy breathed heavily. It was her youngest. What was her name? Did it matter? The wonderful orgasm she had given to herself before sleeping felt less than adequate now. A sense of greatness drowned her expectations. She shifted her weight to help the child's effort. When her panties passed down her knees, she spread them. "Hurry, Honey. Mother needs you."
A small body shuffled across the bed. Two hands reached between their mother's thighs. They contacted her bulging clit, and Tracy shuddered. Her masturbation was incomparable!
"Like this, Mommy?" Mina asked quietly. Her mother's pleasure was obvious, even in the dark. Her fingers fumbled and felt and stroked and tickled. Her hands bumped and pressed and wriggled.
"Inside! Inside!" Tracy repeated, spitting drool. She lay full upon her back, knees wide, her daughter crawled between with arms reaching. They mauled her vulva and clit. Shooting stars crossed Tracy's senses. "Ohhh, I'm going tooo..."
They burst. All the stars in the night sky burst and flooded the bedroom with brightness.
"OH, WOW!!" Mina shouted at the sight of her mother convulsing from joy. More than a little light in the grown woman's head beamed out of her eyes. They projected fireworks on the ceiling.
Mina stopped pawing her mother's groin and stared up. Neither of them noticed how long the show lasted.
When Tracy could collect her thoughts again, she was alone in her bedroom. Afterimages of fiery blossoms hung between her and the ceiling. She sat up and looked around her. The sheet and pad under her vagina were soaked. Her first thought was, I'm so very thirsty.
Tracy walked down the hall, surprised her legs could move. She entered the bathroom and drank two cups from the spigot. Returning, she passed the children's room.
Tracy thought she heard her son doubt, "Her eyes? You were dreaming squirt."
Submitted January 20, 2018 at 02:58PM by DiscipleN http://ift.tt/2mUzN7A sexystories
