A Succubus For Christmas (15 page)

She started to push up and down in his lap. Gordon's cries of pleasure were smothered in her cleavage as his cock slid up and down a moist, slippery tunnel.

Arachne put her hands on his shoulders and leant back. Her hips traced a full arc as she thrust them over Gordon's cock again and again. Back and forth he slipped inside her, each thrust pumping him up to higher and higher levels of bliss.

“Is this better, little fly?” Arachne asked. Little beads of perspiration formed on her pale skin as she thrust her body up and down.

* * * *

Gordon woke with a start. The bedroom was dark around him. Before his eyes could adjust the room was filled with blinding light as his wife switched on the bedside lamp.

“Are you okay dear?” she asked.

“Just a bad dream,” Gordon replied.

His cock was rock hard and straining against the confines of his underwear. He was about to...oh, no, already too late. He couldn't stop it. A warm wet patch grew on the front of his underwear as he ejaculated with steady pulses.

The damp patch filled the front of his boxer shorts. The sticky fabric clung to his oozing cock. This was probably a hilarious sight for anyone other than him. Gordon felt only embarrassment. Imagine, soiling himself like this, like a callow teenager just passing puberty.

He turned on the fan to hide the noise as he sat on the toilet and cleaned himself off as best he could.

What's wrong with me?

* * * *

Gordon woke up late again. The clock read twelve as he stumbled over to the computer, still in his nightclothes and fired up the internet.

Gordon searched the site, looking for any contact information. There must be some business information somewhere: phone number, name, details of a modelling agency. Why else would the site be here? It had to be making money for someone.

Arachne continued to pout at him from the screen. Her hands, covered in long black gloves, were mussing up her hair. There was a knowing gleam in her green eyes, almost as if she was teasing him on purpose.

Who are you?

Obsession.

No. It was only curiosity. That was all.

Obsession.

The word twisted in his gut like a shard of polar ice.

He stared at the lush curves of her body as she posed against a wall covered in white cobwebs. Her black gloved hands were cupped under her ripe breasts. They held them as if presenting a dish fit for a gourmand.

If only he could call her, hear her voice, then maybe he'd see her as a real person. Not a fantasy figure, just another person with their own mundane worries and concerns. Maybe then all the dreams would go away. Maybe then he wouldn't be so...he didn't even want to think the word–

obsessed

–about her.

As the sun dipped towards the horizon it threw long shadows across the utility room. Gordon turned sharply. The shadows across the far wall suddenly resembled those thrown by the legs of an enormous spider. It was just his imagination though. The source was an old cherry tree outside the window.

Obsessed.

* * * *

That evening June had a surprise for him. After they'd put Carol to bed and he'd spent another fruitless hour scanning the jobs listings he returned to the bedroom to find his wife waiting up for him, in sexy negligee. She lay on her side on the bed and wore a come hither smile on her lips. The room was lit by a circle of scented candles placed around the bed.

“What's the special occasion?” Gordon asked.

He hadn't seen his wife in that negligee for years. He hadn't realised she still had it.

“I've been a very bad wife,” June said. “I've neglected the needs of the man I love most in all the world. I saw your little accident last night,” she added. “It made me realise I've not been giving you as much attention as I should.”

“It was a little embarrassing,” Gordon said, sitting on the side of the bed and taking off his clothes. “Like being a gormless teenager all over again.”

“I know the best fix for that,” his wife said, sitting up and running a hand over his shoulders.

“I do too,” Gordon said.

He turned to kiss his wife and they both collapsed on the bed together. He held her in his arms, relishing her warmth. They kissed and cuddled, hands exploring the familiar contours of each other's bodies. He pulled down her panties and rubbed his palm against the moist flesh beneath. He moved up and softly pushed his cock into his wife's willing sex. He thrust against her, hearing her sigh and feeling her rock her hips up to meet him.

They quickened their pace until the mattress began to squeak and then they slowed down, giggling like newlyweds, not wanting to wake Carol in the next room. Gordon rose above her and thrust in and out with long slow strokes.

Something wasn't right.

He looked down at his wife. Her breasts were covered in beads of perspiration as she writhed beneath him. Her head was turned to the side as she sighed into the pillow. Her black hair fanned out across the other pillow in luxuriant waves.

Black hair?

Gordon blinked and saw the familiar face of June staring up at him with concern in her eyes. Her short blonde hair fanned out over the pillow.

“Yes,” Gordon said. “I thought I heard something outside,” he lied feebly.

He tried to return to the rhythm he had before, but the moment was lost. It didn't feel right, although he didn't know why. He kept pushing into his wife, but it was no use, his cock was already softening and within moments it had deflated to the point of uselessness.

There was another face in his mind. A face with green eyes, full red lips and silky black hair. A face he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard he tried.

* * * *

Gordon was underground, but he wasn't sure where. Unlike the other vaults he'd visited in his dreams lately, this room was so vast he couldn't see the walls in any direction. Old cobwebs formed gauzy hangings all around him. Dream or no, Gordon didn't want to see the spider that had produced them.

He picked his way through a forest of silken threads. They were sticky and stronger than they looked. Pulling them off his naked skin when he accidentally brushed into them was energy-sapping work.

Gordon heard a chuckle from above him, feminine and dripping with evil.

“So eager to return to my parlour, little fly,” the voice said.

Gordon looked up and saw Arachne sitting above him. She was completely naked and sat, suspended, in the white threads as easily as if they were a hammock or swing chair. Her green eyes sparkled and her luscious red lips curled up in a cruel smile as she looked down at him.

“You can't resist my body,” Arachne said with a smile.

Struck dumb, Gordon said nothing. He was mesmerised by the curve of her tits.

Arachne leaned back and opened her legs, baring the hairless gash of her pussy to him. As Gordon watched she reached down and caressed her smooth labia. One of her fingers slipped inside and her breathing roughened to soft little gasps. Gordon felt his own arousal grow as he watched her play with herself.

Arachne's gasps grew louder and huskier until finally she gave a strong shudder. He watched, astonished, as a stream of thick white liquid jetted from her pussy. The liquid solidified in the air to form white strands that floated down and stuck to his exposed flesh.

She sprayed more white fluid from her pussy and it rained down on Gordon in gossamer filaments. He tried to brush the strands away, but they adhered to his skin and tangled together like a net. When Gordon tried to back away he tripped over and fell into a dense knot of threads. Hopelessly entangled, Gordon could only look on as Arachne, moaning and sighing with pleasure, squirted more and more strands of silk over his supine form. They looked feathery-light, but Gordon couldn't break them and soon his arms were entangled as well.

Arachne laughed at his struggles. She flipped over onto her front, her hands grasping old threads as if they were ropes. There was something unnatural about her body, as if her arms and legs had joints in the wrong places.

Gordon paused in his struggles and watched in astonishment as Arachne descended down from above, supported by a thick white rope of silk extruded from her pussy. She abseiled down like a spider, flipping as she approached the ground to land lightly on her feet.

What was she? Gordon thought. The lithe curves of her body were absolutely breathtaking as she walked towards him, but there was something utterly alien about her that registered in his most primal senses. He resumed his struggles, desperate to escape the thing walking towards him.

“Stop struggling, you'll only hurt yourself,” Arachne smiled.

She put her hands on either side of Gordon's head and leaned down to give him a kiss. Her supple lips crushed against Gordon's and he stopped struggling. For a moment he forgot where he was, lost in her embrace and soft kiss. A sweet perfume rolled off her naked flesh and inflamed his senses.

The silken webs were no obstacle to her. She pulled Gordon up out of the net until he was upright and resting against the soft curves of her body. She rubbed her boobs against his skin and her nipples left strands of soft silk behind them. He felt a similar sticky sensation lower down his body as she rubbed her dripping pussy against him. That too left strands of silk sticking to his skin.

She slowly turned his body, keeping her breasts and pussy pressed against him. More and more silken ropes were exuded around his body. Gordon couldn't do anything about it. His legs were already bound tightly together, his arms bound to his side. She continued to turn his body, winding more and more strands of white silk around him. Her attentions were gentle, pleasant even, as her breasts and pussy rubbed against him, leaving behind layers of silken wrap.

She was cocooning him.

Like a spider with its prey, Gordon thought with a shiver.

Other than his face, the only part of his body that wasn't covered in thick layers of silk was his cock. Arachne was careful not to get any silk on that as she cocooned the rest of his body. In spite of his fears–or maybe because of them–he was fully erect. The cocooning process was strangely arousing as the soft silken fibres brushed against every inch of his skin.

Finally finished, Arachne pushed him backwards and his body fell back onto and was supported by silken webbing. He couldn't move a muscle. She'd completely mummified him in silk.