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Sweet Dreams

By on October 28, 2012
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Sweet Dreams Agrath 1
Agrat got back to her car, sat behind the wheel of her chariot (in Hummer H2 guise) and sadly tapped her perfectly manicured blood-red fingernails on the steering wheel. “Now what?” she asked herself (and those 18 messengers of destruction who were bickering with each other in the backseat) as she checked her complexion in the rear-view mirror. She’d never grow strong enough to challenge Lilith as Demon Queen if she kept feeding off these weaklings. That’s what porn has done to this generation, she thought. Even fulfilling their greatest fantasies isn’t fun anymore.  It’s all “been there, done that, next…”

She looked over at the refurbished art-deco condo next to where she’d parked. What she needed was a real man. Not these bisexual South Beach punks. She saw a light go out in one of the large fourth floor ocean-view windows and, out of sheer boredom and indecisiveness, she decided to take a peek.

Hovering by the window in mid-air she could barely make out the form of someone who smelled deliciously male under the covers of the futon in the center of the room. She shrugged her shoulders and melted her body through the glass.

She sat on the edge of his bed and watched him sleep for a bit. Then she lay down next to him and tried to imagine what the boring lives of normal people were like. Sleeping and waking, kissing and fucking the same person, day-in, day-out… it couldn’t possibly be more boring than her life was now. Maybe there was power in it. Maybe that’s why people stayed. But people strayed too. That’s what she was all about. Agrat bat Mahlat was every man’s wet dream. Of her four succubus sisters, she was known as “the dancing roof-demon,” and despite her messengers of mass destruction, she was by no means the most dangerous of her sisters. Lately, being a succubus wasn’t all it was cut out to be.

Oh well, she shrugged. Might as well get this over with. And she straddled the prone form of her latest victim, who looked strangely angelic in his repose. She breathed hot seductive desires at his earlobe. He didn’t twitch. She licked some suggestions up the curve of his neck to his angular jawbone. Nothing. She teased his supple full manly lips with her tongue. He didn’t move.

Agrat was frustrated. She stripped off her sweats and tanktop and crawled under the covers with him, where she found him to be buck-naked and already hard. Oh, really? she thought, playing “hard” to get? Hehehe. I like that in a man. She twined her arms around his strong biceps, tangled her long shapely legs around his strong hairy ones. He didn’t moan, whimper or writhe.

What the fuck? Agrat thought, and then put her hand over his mouth to make sure he was breathing. He was.

That would have been a first. Kill him before he even has an orgasm. Just a touch from me and wham! Gone. She laughed to herself.

But he was still there. Alive and well. And fast asleep.

 Continue reading…

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Staff writer and editor at Jewrotica, Karalyn Dane is a poet and a novelist with a penchant for beer and unusual vegetables. She may or may not live out the many fantasies that she writes about on this site.
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