“Don’t leave this room either. You’re pretty noticeable, for better or worse. And don’t get in too much trouble!”
Jack’s instructions ring out, then he shuts the dorm room door, leaving me alone with seven or eight hours to kill. However long he and Miguel are at school, anyway. I take a look around the room, and sigh as I see there’s not much to do.
After a moment of contemplation, I decide I might as well clean the place up a bit. Despite my aversion to doing menial tasks for my masters, this room isn’t the cleanest, and I’m going to spending quite a bit of time here.
So I go around the room, picking up dirty, awful smelling clothes, finding candy and gum wrappers, and making use of the tacky lemon air freshener in the bathroom. After about 30 minutes of cleaning, the room looks (and smells) much nicer. The dirty clothes sit in a basket near the door, obviously used to transport clothes to wherever they’re washed in this place. The garbage is in a neatly tied bag, and a new bag has been put in the small can next to the desk.
Satisfied, I sit down on the edge of Miguel’s bed and wonder what I want to do now. When I see a dust bunny float by my face, I suddenly get an idea that’s ingenious, even for me.
With a moment of concentration, my large, leathery wings sprout from my back and unfurl, spreading to their full area. With a few mighty flaps, I kick up plenty of dust and lint from the floor and under the beds. It rises up into the air like a multi-colored cloud, and using the wind from my wings, I herd the dust and lint over to the trash can. It’s a little difficult blowing it all into the small opening, but I manage without spilling much at all.
I retract my wings again, looking around at my handiwork. There’s still plenty of dust that needs a proper vacuum, but it looks much better than it did before. “Well what do you know?” I say to myself. “I knew they had to be good for something other than flying and tripping people…”
With the room as clean as I can reasonably make it, I see that it’s still only been 45 minutes since the boys left. I sigh again, and wonder what I’m supposed to do now. I glance around the room, and my eyes fall upon the computer atop the desk. It looks fairly new, which leads me to believe that it’s Jack and Miguel’s, as everything else in the dorm looks not necessarily cheap, but certainly not fancy either. It’s a college dorm designed to save money, not be a luxurious suite for students.
Sitting down in the creaky swivel chair at the desk, I shake the mouse a bit to turn the machine on. I’m not an expert with human tech like this, but I know enough to get by.
The screen lights up, revealing a PowerPoint titled, “The Life of Leonardo Da Vinci.” It clearly is a homework assignment, but seeing my most famous former master brings back some memories. I had been utterly shocked when ol’ Leo had summoned me, as all the souls that made their way to the underworld described him as insanely smart and talented, but not a Satanic summoner.
True to form, he hadn’t been very interested in the… sensual side of my summons. Instead, he had spent weeks studying me and asking me questions, trying to understand the demons that he had previously only read about. It was his studies of my wings that inspired his own flying machine that sadly went unused. I had been thrilled when I heard about that, that I had inspired the greatest mind up above to create one of the most ambitious and historically important inventions, ever.
Now, that is not to say he was always strictly professional and scholarly. We had fooled around a few times, although a lot of times he was too busy even for that. He was always so kind to me, even in the midst of our passion, that I couldn’t help but grow a little attached. It had been a similar situation to right now, now that I think about it. I hadn’t been able to leave his home much, as he would’ve undoubtedly been executed by the church if he was found with a demon.
Thinking about my favorite former master, and maybe even human in general, sets my mind racing with memories of our wonderful experiences in the sheets. For an intellectual with no experience at first, he was an amazing sexual partner. I suppose it can be chalked up to the fact that he actually knew anatomy (unlike many of his day) and asked plenty of questions, but I had always been satisfied with him.
Thoughts of his hands and mouth make the familiar ache between my legs return, my lust flaring up at the worst possible time. Jack and Miguel are still over six hours away from the end of classes, and I can’t leave to find someone else to help me out.
I try to ignore my growing horniness, but remembering the events of last night and this morning makes that impossible. Despite knowing it will only end in frustration, I slip a hand into my panties and begin rubbing my clit, trying to satisfy myself.
My fingers ease my need a bit, but soon the stimulation only makes me want more. By this point I’m dripping wet, my body preparing for the cock that I crave, but can’t have. I know I should stop, but my insides are begging for some stimulation, and I can’t hold myself back.
My resistance crumbling, I increase the pace of my fingers on my clit, and drop my other hand to my glistening entrance. I slide two fingers into myself, quickly adding a third when two is nowhere near enough. I moan in pleasure, and also frustration since I know the orgasm I need so badly is unattainable.
I quickly begin fingering myself, sliding my hand forward and back to plunge my middle three fingers into myself repeatedly. I let my head fall back onto the back of the chair, my face pointed at the ceiling as my hips buck involuntarily. I flounder like a fish out of water as my instinctive *need* becomes overpowering.
“Please,” I moan, although I’m not sure who I’m pleading. Probably whoever decided that succubi aren’t allowed to make themselves cum. Nobody is quite sure where our “demonly curse” comes from, as big G upstairs denies it being his doing. And as much as demons and Lucifer himself despise him, God doesn’t lie.
As I continue speeding up both of my hands, the increased pleasure sends me hurtling towards the orgasm I’m chasing. My underwear are soaked through with my fluids, only making me lament my lack of any other clothes. However, I’m not particularly worried about anything other than hoping (probably in vain) that I can somehow make myself cum this time.
Soon I approach the edge I know I can’t cross. My hands work furiously, making my wrists ache with the speed of my movements. I’m so desperate and determined, that I don’t even hear the soft click of the lock to my left. I don’t notice anything until I see the door swing open out if the corner of my eye.
I jump in surprise and turn the swivel chair towards the door, and I gasp in relief when I see that it’s just Jack. He looks shocked when he sees my hands still working away inside my panties, and even more shocked when I can’t hold back another moan.
“What the hell?!” He exclaims, his eyes never leaving where my hands disappear into my underwear. I can feel myself just about to reach the end, where I’d usually be dragged away from my orgasm excruciatingly slowly without ever reaching it no matter what I do. However, since Jack is here for some reason, I might be able to save myself.
“Please just touch me!” I cry out as Jack quickly shuts the door and locks it. I look into his eyes with wild ones of my own, clearly showing my desperation as I let out another whimper of pleasure.
Jack still looks surprised by my desperation, but he doesn’t miss the opportunity to make me beg a little. “Touch you where?” He asks with a smirk.
“Anywhere!” I reply, mere seconds before the point of no return. “Anywhere, just hurry!”
For a moment, I think Jack might just stand there and watch me edge myself again, like he did yesterday. However, my begging seems to convince him at the last second. He walks over and places a single finger on my forehead, asking smugly, “How’s this?” His tone suggests he thinks his touch won’t do anything, but it does enough.
Since he’s touching me, the technical rules for me being allowed to cum are fulfilled, and just a second later, I orgasm. My back arches as I squeal in pleasure, and I plunge my fingers as deep into me as they can go. My other hand continues rubbing my clit as fast I can, and I begin cumming all over myself.
Jack watches this intently, feeling me writhe in pleasure under his touch. His eyes widen as his single finger seemingly makes me cum, and he stares at his hand as if it were magic. He allows me a few glorious seconds of bliss, before he removes his finger from my head.
Instantly, my orgasm stops since he’s no longer touching me. I don’t even try to fight it, as I know it would be futile. I’m a little frustrated by the sudden end of my pleasure, but the first few seconds had been enough to mostly satisfy me. “Thank you,” I murmur.
Jack looks down at my panting, disheveled form, clearly both confused and aroused. It’s a pretty standard combination for him, as far as I’ve seen. “What was that about?” He inquires. “And did my finger just-”
“I got a bit carried away,” I say quickly, interrupting him. I fix my panties a bit, although they’re still visibly wet. There’s nothing I can do about that though. “And yes, your finger let me orgasm, not *made* me. You know I can’t cum unless someone else is touching me willingly. My hands did the actual work, so don’t think your finger magically made me cum.”
“I’ll say,” Jack says with a laugh. He looks a bit disappointed when I explain he didn’t make me orgasm with a single finger, and I roll my eyes. I swear I’m going to have eye problems from how often Jack makes me roll them.
“Why are you even here?” I ask. Now that my head is a bit clearer, I remember that he wasn’t supposed to be back for hours.
“I forgot my English textbook, so I had to come grab it,” he explains. He adjusts his pants, trying unsuccessfully to hide his erection. “I wish I had more time, but I’m in a hurry.”
“I’m sure you *do* wish you had more time,” I taunt.
“Don’t make me order you to edge yourself until Miguel and I get back,” Jack threatens. This scares me into shutting up, although I know even Jack wouldn’t do *that*. Hopefully.
“That’s better.” He looks around the room, noticing how much cleaner it is. “Did you clean all this up?” He asks.
“Yeah, I had nothing better to do. Please don’t throw your dirty clothes on the floor in the future,” I reply.
“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” Jack says. “And I’ll try not to be a slob now that we have a guest.”
I smirk as he calls me a “guest.” If our conversation last night was any indicator, I might be a permanent resident. “Yeah, this was a one time deal,” I assure him. “Now hurry up, you don’t want to be late.”
Jack looks like he’s about to say something snarky, but instead he merely grabs his English textbook off the desk and heads to the door. As he opens it, he turns back to me with a smirk of his own.
“Try not to get carried away again before we get back.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/j8nlli/a_succubus_and_a_college_guy_chapter_5