The Last Incubus Ch 07

The Last Incubus: Chapter 07

Chapter 7: The sex magnet and more changes.

"Put to death, therefore whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed." ~ Colossians 3 v. 5.

*****

As I was straightening up the men's clothing displays, I found myself humming to the Christmas music being piped in over the loudspeakers in the ceiling. By rights, I shouldn't have had to be in the men's department, but the lunch crowd had just left and there was no one left to refold the shirts and pants that the customers had left for the store staff to put away.

Here it was, the middle of Christmas shopping season, and we were still short-staffed. Technically, we had been understaffed since the pandemic, but back then everyone was shopping online, and upper management could get away with fewer employees.

But now, the crowds were starting to come back, and the higher ups still hadn't hired enough manpower to handle the Christmas rush. That's why as supervisor of the women's department, I found myself folding clothes in the men's department. If you had told me when I first started working here out of high school that I'd still be here in my mid-forties, I wouldn't have believed you. Yet here I was.

"Excuse me, Miss? Can you help us?"

I turned and saw a tall young woman, with long black hair, pale blue eyes, and a beautiful face who appeared to be in her early to mid-twenties. She had a gorgeous shapely figure, and perfect posture-attractive enough to be a model. Her face, and especially her eyes, had that certain "glow" about her that women get after they've been with their husbands. Only this woman wasn't wearing a wedding ring, so I could only imagine the sinful activity that she and so many other girls are engaged in nowadays--not that I'm judging, but...

"The women's department is to your left. Is there something in particular I can help you with?" I asked.

She smiled sweetly.

"No, it's not for me, Miss...uh,... Theresa," she explained, reading my name tag. "It's for my cousin, Ross. He seems to have had a rather unusual growth spurt and he's desperately in need of some new outfits. We were hoping you could take some measurements so we can find something in his new size."

There was no one with her.

"Pardon me, but where

is

your cousin, Miss?" I asked, looking around.

"Oh, call me Tina. He's looking for underwear. I can get him if you'd like," she replied.

"That won't be necessary. Have him meet me in front of the mirrors by the men's dressing room while I go and get my measuring tape."

I grumbled a bit as I hurried back to the lady's department. There should be a male employee running the men's department and taking measurements on male customers. I supposed to be taking bust and hip sizes, not sleeve lengths and inseam measurements. I had no business to be measuring men's bodies. It went against company policy.

There were two people waiting for me by the dressing mirrors. The attractive woman who called herself Tina, and what looked like a local college student with her. He was a little taller than her, muscular and good-looking, as far as I could tell despite the woolen cap and dark sunglasses he was wearing.

He was dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants that looked like they had just been purchased from the University Bookstore. The white socks and casual recreational footwear he wore looked and smelled like they had never been worn outside of the mall. There were several packages of boxers and tee shirts in his hands that he held in front of his sweatpants. I couldn't see his eyes because of the sunglasses, but from his posture he looked anxious as I approached.

"Sir, are you looking for shirts or pants?" I asked.

"Both," the couple replied in unison.

"I see. Sir, would you mind standing in front of the mirror, please?" I pulled out my measuring tape.

"Sure," he replied, nervously.

He gingerly moved in front of the mirror, still holding the packages of underwear in front of him.

"Sir, you'll have to put down those packages. Why don't you give them to the lady. I will need your arms free if you want me to measure you."

He turned his back towards me and faced the mirror before handing the packages of underwear to the woman.

I stood on his left and a little behind him as I began my measurements, starting with the neck. He looked very nervous, so I thought I would try and help him to relax.

"Your cousin tells me you've had a recent growth spurt," I said, looking up at the measurement on the tape around his neck.

"Y-yes, th-that's right." He stammered.

"Just relax, this won't take long. Maybe you could tell me your name," I suggested. I thought I could add a personal touch to put him more at ease.

"R-Ross, Ma'am."

"You can call me Theresa, Ross. Now hold out your arm."

"Like this?" he asked as he held it perpendicular to his side.

"That's perfect," I said reassuringly, as I measured his sleeve length.

I wrote the measurements down on a pad of paper before turning back to Ross.

"Now for the pants," I announced.

"May I see those measurements? I'd like to pick out a couple of shirts while you're measuring him for pants," Tina requested.

"Certainly, Madam," I replied as I gave her the slip of paper before turning back to Ross, "Let's start with the waist."

I moved in front of him and wrapped the tape around his midsection.

Standing in front of him, I became more aware of his muscular build, especially his chest and broad shoulders from the way he filled out the sweatshirt. There was something... stimulating about being so close to him and I began feeling flushed.

As I pulled the tape around his waist, I grazed against a bulge in the front of his sweatpants. Because it was so high in the front, it took me a second or two to realize what it was. Surely, my first impression was wrong, nothing inside a man's pants could be that big! So, I looked down to check.

"Oh my--" the words came out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

There was no mistaking that vertical protrusion. It must have been enormous! No wonder he was holding those packages so low! Sinful thoughts flooded my brain. I was a forty-seven-year-old married woman and a dedicated churchgoer! I shouldn't have been thinking things like that.

I tried to focus on reading the markings on the tape measure, but my eyes and mind kept drifting to that obscene bulge. Moisture was forming "down there," and I felt aroused and embarrassed at the same time. No wonder that young woman, Tina, glowed so smugly. This Ross person must be more than a cousin--if he was even that.

He must have felt me brushing his... thing, but he said nothing.

"Excuse me," I murmured quietly. My mouth suddenly went dry.

Still, he said nothing, but from the coloring on his face, he must be feeling as embarrassed as I felt. Then I remembered what measurement I had to take next. O Lord, please give me strength!

"I-I'm going to d-do your inseam n-now," I stuttered.

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered, turning his head in an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact.

My hands trembled as I ran the cloth tape up his leg, feeling for the top of his inseam. The higher up his leg I went, the more depraved my thoughts were, especially with my face so close to his... I tried not to look or think about it. Then the back of my hand brushed against his--oh, my Lord!

From the way they felt against the back of my hand, they must have been huge. I squeezed my thighs together and clenched just thinking about it. Could they really be that big? Unable to hold back any longer, I turned my head and stared at the outline of the "other" bulge hanging between his legs. I clenched again and felt more slipperiness "down there."

My face was flushed as I quickly got up and wrote the number down on my pad, doing my best to avoid looking in his direction.

"W-We h-have several selections in your size, but I suggest you try on one or two first, as some cuts may vary," I remarked, showing him the section of the pants rack.

I picked up a couple of pairs of khakis that I knew would fit and handed them to him. He took them into the dressing room. I was about to head back to the lady's department when the young woman called me over with questions about different styles of shirts.

While we were talking, I heard an anguished cry from the dressing room, "It won't fit!"

He must be mistaken. I picked out those pants myself and I knew my measurements were accurate. There should have been nothing wrong with those pants!

"They should fit perfectly. That's your size," I called into the dressing room.

"No, it's not that. It's just that I can't... it doesn't fit in..." he sounded frustrated, and I was getting impatient.

The more time I spent around this man, the more depraved my imagination became. The sooner he checked out and left the men's department, the sooner I could rid myself of the perverted ideas that were corrupting my thoughts.

"Here, here. I'm coming in. Let me see what the problem is," I insisted.

"No! Don't!" he blurted, but by then I already had the door open.

He was standing there naked except for his woolen cap and sunglasses. The khakis he was trying on were pulled up to the top of his thighs, but with his... uh... "equipment" sticking out, it was clear that he was having trouble tucking himself in.

His... "thing"... was as black as night, and larger than anything I had ever seen; although my sample size was limited to my husband and a boyfriend that I once gave a hand job to before I was married. This thing in front of me must have been at least ten inches long.

I just stood in the doorway and stared, unable to look away. I should have been disgusted, even horrified at the sight, but instead I was transfixed and drawn to it as if it was some sort of magnet... for sex. A sex magnet. I took a half-step forward and could feel my wetness growing; I was on the verge of leaking. I hadn't felt this moist since... that first night with my husband.

This was wrong, and I knew it. I'm a good Catholic woman with strong moral values. I should have turned around, close the door, and walked away. But I couldn't. I just stood there, resisting the urge to move in closer and touch it. Then it twitched!

My husband's cock did that the first time he saw me naked! I remembered how aroused I felt at that moment knowing he thought I was sexy. Joe hadn't twitched at me in years, but this well-endowed college stud did. Something snapped inside me. Whatever moral tethers or self-restraints I had simply vanished, and I reached for that big black baton.

He started to resist until I wrapped both hands around his manhood. "Oh, no. Don't--God, that feels good!"

It was warm and hard and felt so good in my hands. I dropped to my knees to get a closer look, biting my lower lip. I took out my cloth tape. It was ten-and-a-half inches from base to tip, and completely hairless. As I measured, a clear drop of fluid formed at the slit on the tip.

"Let me help you fit into those pants," I purred as I wrapped my lips around the head and drew him into my mouth.

He tasted like spiced honey, and I sucked hungrily, wanting more, hoping he would fill my mouth with his seed, rewarding me for my efforts.

What was happening to me? Only once before had I ever put a man in my mouth, and that was my husband. It had had a disgusting musky smell, and I had stopped before he came. It would have been sacrilegious. The Bible tells us that a man's sperm is only for making babies. Yet here I was with a stranger's cock in my mouth hoping to taste his cum. I knew I'd go to hell for this, but at that moment I didn't care.

"Oh, so good," he moaned above me.

His pleasant moans of appreciation made me want him even more. I pumped him with both hands and rubbed my tongue against the underside of his prick impatient to taste his offering. My own arousal climbed, and I felt my moisture leaking past my labia and I began to think about how good his warm rod would feel inside me. But I couldn't ask him, it would only deepen my sin, and sinners don't deserve such gratification.

"Theresa, stop," he said as he pulled me to my feet to face him.

I saw my reflection in his sunglasses as he spoke. "Theresa, I can tell you're a giver, you're making me feel so good. But it's time you've learned to take some pleasure for yourself. I want to make you feel good, too. Turn around and face the mirror so that you can feel me inside you."

It was like he was reading my thoughts, my wicked, sinful thoughts! I turned and faced the mirror and saw a different woman looking back at me. She was a middle-aged woman who gave everything to her husband, her children, her church and her job without taking anything for herself. Pleasures, especially pleasures of the flesh were for other people, never for her. When was the last time she had sex with her husband? When was the last time she had an orgasm? Could she even remember what it felt like?

I watched the woman in the mirror lift her skirt and pull down her panties and step out of them. She put her hands on the mirror and arched her back as the handsome stud with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest approached her from behind. The dark sunglasses and the woolen cap he wore added a touch of anonymity. He was doing this for her, it was time she took something for herself for a change.

He lifted my skirt and placed his hands on my hips, gripping me firmly. When I felt something warm and large at my entrance, I clenched in anticipation and a musky-smelling drop of fluid trickled and tickled down the inside of my thigh. The woman in the mirror smiled at herself as she took a breath and relaxed her core.

"Please,"

she whispered, pushing back, feeling my outer labia kiss his firmness.

I wanted him to plunge inside me, all at once. I was expecting it, maybe even hoping for it. But instead, he was surprisingly gentle as he eased his way in, opening me up gradually, allowing me to adjust to his size as he entered.

I started panting and closed my eyes and focused on the feeling of that deliciously stiff rod easing its way into my slippery folds. I could feel every bump, every vein as he worked his way in, sliding back and forth going a little bit deeper each time. He reached my secret place and twitched before sliding deeper inside.

"Ohhh!" I moaned, clenching his veiny monster. I was already on the edge, and he still wasn't all the way in.

"

Do you want me to keep going?"

His voice was just as soothing as his--cock! It sent tingles up my spine, and I clenched again.

"Oh, please!"

I whimpered.

He waited for me to unclench, then a short quick push and he was fully sheathed--and I ruptured. The woman in the mirror had her mouth open with its corners turned upwards. Her eyes were glazed as she convulsed. She had never looked happier.

"AHH!" she cried out. It was the most joyful sound she had made in years.

The world around me seemed to explode. I never dreamed my entire body could feel this good! As the eruptions started to fade, I tried to gasp my appreciation. "Oh, my God, that was--"

He started thrusting, and my body was clenching and cumming again. The woman in the mirror looked lost in her own world of internal happiness. The force of his thrusts pushed me into the mirror, and I pressed my face against the woman looking back at me.

His thick, hard flesh moving in and out of me caused me to lose track of time, place, even my own name. Everything except the total immersion of every nerve in my body tingling all at once. The woman in the mirror and I both came at the same time--again and again. Each orgasm better than the last. God knows how many...

Until now, I didn't believe it was possible for a woman to experience multiple orgasms. In all the years I've been married, I could count on one hand the number of times I had even one orgasm. I had never experienced more than one climax in the same week, let alone in the same love-making session.

I was still catching my breath when the fog lifted. My body seemed to glow--just like that beautiful young woman whose name was... um... her name... oh, now I remember. It was Tina.

"Theresa, are you okay?"

I blinked, suddenly aware of my surroundings. I was sitting on the bench in the dressing room, and he stood in front of me, his erection only inches from my face. It was just as firm as ever. I clenched at emptiness as I looked up at his face.

"Oh, yes. I feel amazing! Thank you!"

I looked back at his manhood. It was still erect, and it twitched when I looked. "You didn't cum?"

"No. That was all for you," he replied with a kind smile.

"Then let me help you," I said as I slid to my knees and wrapped my hand around his cock. I looked up at him as I licked the underside of its head tasting myself and a little spiced honey on it.

"Ohh, Theresa, you don't have to--" he moaned.

I stopped licking him long enough to reply, "I want to taste you--and I did promise I'd help you fit into those khakis."

I wrapped my lips around the head, wiggling my tongue against the underside while pumping him with one hand and scratching his hairless sack with the other. His moans got louder, and I pumped him faster. I wanted to give back some of the pleasure he'd given me. He twitched in my mouth, and I squeezed his scrotum, urging him to release himself into my mouth.

"Oh, I'm so close!"

I tightened my lips around his hardness and pumped him harder. Within seconds, he exploded in my mouth, filling me with a thick gel that tasted of salted caramel. Of all the rumors I heard about a man's ejaculations, none of them came close to the flavor I was tasting. I gulped quickly as more filled my mouth as fast as I could swallow. Some did leak past the corners of my mouth, but I managed to scoop them up without missing a drop.

I looked up at him and smiled, pleased with myself for making him cum and swallowing every drop.

He thanked me as he started to dress.

But as his cock deflated, so did my smile and I realized what I had done. I had violated everything: store policy, my family, my marriage, and my faith! He was young, about the same age as my son. 'How can I face Joe and look my children in the eye after this? What do I tell my husband? What will Father Mark think of me at confession? Will God ever forgive me? Can I even forgive myself?'

"Oh, what have I done?"

I groaned quietly.

Ross crouched down to eye level and put his hands on my knees. His pants were on, and his shirt was unbuttoned, leaving his chest open. He waited until I looked at his face. He looked a little silly wearing those sunglasses and that woolen hat. I couldn't help smiling, despite my guilt.

"You have no idea how much you helped me. Do you know how embarrassing that is to walk around in public with that, uh, condition? You've seen what I look like down there. I feel like some kind of freak, but you helped me more than I can tell you," he explained in a quiet voice.

"But it was wrong. I'm a married woman! I have children as old as you!" I sobbed.

"If your son had my problem and some woman came along and helped him with the same kindness and caring you showed, would you condemn her?" he asked.

I thought about his question before shaking my head slowly.

"Then why are you condemning yourself?" he asked, lifting my chin with his hand.

"Because... because I enjoyed it! It was an amazing experience--no, it was the best sex I've ever had," I explained.

"Then I'm glad I could bring you such joy. Isn't it possible that God sees what a good person you are and wanted you to experience all that joy and pleasure?" he asked.

Maybe he had a point. "I never thought of it that way."