I Love Luci

I felt like I was walking on a cloud weeks after Beltane. Somehow, I just felt suffused with a joy and zeal for life that I just didn't ever truly feel... and it was noticeable.

My daughter seemed more inclined to ask after me than she ever had before... it had not ever occurred to me how often the family saw me as emotionally closed off, trying to understand and contain the chaos in my own head, that I had actually,

instead, been shutting myself away from the people that loved me, so scared was I to hurt them. My husband saw the change in me too, even going so far as to ask what brought this evolution on.

"The Devil made me do it," I responded with a smile and proceeded to tell him the complete story about the strange little spellbook and my compact with the fallen angel.

Naturally, he was concerned. I mean, what else could you be when your wife tells you she made a deal with the Devil? Still, as I continued to explain all of the details, our dates, and finally that I was not the only person in this flesh that had fallen pretty hard.

"REALLY?" Sean's eyebrows lifted so high in surprise it was almost cartoonish. "Evangeline? And here I thought she would be the more reserved between you... she always has been."

It was always like this when we discussed my other side. He accepted well enough, could even sometimes tell it was her that wanted him and not me. But her feelings for Sean, so far as I had ever gathered, were lust mixed with tolerance for him. She loved to fuck him. Adored the few times she had been brought to heel by him, but resented he wasn't interested in anything she was and on the rare occasions that he catered to her desires, it was fleeting and never lasted as he preferred to worship the woman he chose... not the one that he got saddled with by random happenstance.

It was uncharitable to say he didn't like Evangeline. It was truer to say that he wasn't overly fond of the parts of my personality that she embodied and came to the surface for. He didn't see Evangeline as a whole other person; he saw her as a part of me that had been given a new name, as if to say when I painted, I then went by my artist name in public rather than my own.

And I will be honest, I had thus far managed to avoid any real therapy to know if his take on it was more correct than my own that Evangeline was the sister I never wanted, and we only had one body to wear. Sometimes, I got to wear it and be in charge... sometimes I got to stay home and nap while Evangeline was out dancing and making mischief. If I was lucky, she live streamed her evening so I knew what happened. We had developed an agreement over the years. I would let her watch me and Sean, even let her ride shotgun and offer suggestions of what she might desire (provided I kept it quiet it was her desire, as she seemed to really think Sean didn't see her... or want to). And when she chose a partner, she shared with me. Sometimes I wondered if I did have memory gaps with certain partners if it meant she was engaging in some sort of play I might have problems with. But I knew her purpose was to protect me, so I wasn't too worried if she hid something from me so long as it was something that stayed between her and our lover and wouldn't cause me embarrassment in the future.

Sean kissed my temple and ran a hand through my hair, his warm caramel brown eyes on mine. "Be careful, love. Few wind up unchanged when they mess with the Gods. Fewer still are changed for the better."

"He doesn't feel evil," I said honestly. "He seems... lonely."

Sean shook his head with a sigh. "Always the champion for the irredeemable monsters of the world, my beauty?" He gave an indulgent, loving smile and kissed my lips while caressing my cheek and I leaned into his chest, letting him take my weight a little as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

I knew what he meant. I had a long standing love of the story of Beauty and the Beast. Not just the Disney version but any love story where the heroine has to find a hero in the heart of a monster. Sometimes they are physically bestial, like in the Disney cartoon. Sometimes their form didn't make them monsters per se, just what if demanded that they do to live, like any romantic paranormal story. I think that is why I have always loved vampires. Ever since Anne Rice in the late 70s, vampires had become the new misunderstood monster. Sometimes what made someone a monster was a misperception by society. Sometimes they just didn't emote or were sociopathic and chance of redemption seems impossible... and sometimes it is.

I had a weakness for monsters, and my husband knew it. The irony was that I had ended up with him, and he was so far from being a monster or needing redemption. He was completely, genuinely *good*. I was the monster.

My desire to mend the broken often shattered my own heart. I had never learned when someone didn't want to be saved or redeemed. Some were unrepentant... Knowing the difference often eluded me.

"Maybe," I conceded, ever the sucker for a monster to save. And Sean knew it. He knew me. And that was why, despite the misalignment we had about a few key factors in our physical makeups, like my insatiable nature and his own which could often verge on Asexuality, he was still my best friend, my playmate, my confidant, my partner in crime... he also just happened to let me fuck him two or three times weekly. And while I got terribly excited when it got to be more than that due to the lack of child in the home (I'm looking at *you* summer camp weeks!), sex was not the primary focus or even what cemented our marriage together. It was more than that. It was a sense of lust, love, appreciation, trust, devotion, kinship, and respect that created the solid platform on which we built our marriage.

He had had many an opportunity to see me lose my heart to a monster and get it broken. And he was always the one who picked up the pieces, held me and put me back together after. That was true love. Letting me be who I was, even when he didn't understand the basic forces that drove me to needing multiple lovers. Most men, one imagines, would love the idea of his wife wanting to have sex all of the time. Some men would take my need to have multiple partners as a way to hook up with more than one person at a time.

Sean just... was happy I always wanted sex when he did. When we did have sex, I always treated it like I hadn't had him in months and I missed him... because sometimes that was accurate. I had told him if he wanted another partner the only reason I would be upset was because I wanted sex at least six times the amount he did. While I was fine if he wanted another lover, I just wanted to play too! Any chance to fuck him more!

He was the one man I had ever been with that didn't have a monstrous bone in his body. Or so *I* said, but he frequently reminded me I didn't know him in his angry teen years. When we met, he had been twenty seven and I, a twenty year old girl fresh to his little city, but hardly inexperienced or naive. We met playing a role play game, and he played someone who was his exact opposite; a cold, calculating, selfish part-time villain of a character. I had let Ev take the wheel when we played and our character was essentially herself. It was the darkness that he exuded playing his character that caught her attention. I think she felt like it was a bait and switch sometimes... she fantasized about who he pretended to be, not who he was at home. But that character, I reminded her, aware of pains in his past that helped create that persona for him, it came from *somewhere*. It was apart of him, as she was of me. And sometimes... sometimes I could see a little flash of that darkness in him and when I did... well... Frankly, it made me wet. It made *US* wet, which was so much more succulent... like finally, all of my nerves were turned on when before I'd only been able to access fifty percent. Just thinking about it now, that look and how much he aroused me when he was dark and serious, I felt my heart skip a beat and my pussy spasm, longing for his thick cock.

Something must have shown in my face, because his lovely caramel brown eyes darkened, just I had imagined a moment before, and I swear I felt myself suddenly drench my panties.

I must had drawn in a breath too sharply, because his eyes fell to my lips and his hand rose to my cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing my lower lip. I parted my lips, caressing his thumb with the very tip of my tongue as I watched passion suffuse his handsome features. He slipped the tip of his thumb past my lips and I sucked on it very softly until he withdrew it. Using my own saliva to coat and moisten my lips, he then leaned forward and licked my lips, tasting me. I felt my body tremble, and his arms were around me, holding my body tightly to him. A soft moan brushed past my lips and I felt my eyes soften as I gazed into his beloved brown eyes.

He was the only one... ever, out of any lover I had ever had... who knew that maximum flesh to flesh contact was only part of what made me yield to him and made me want to give myself to him despite his never having asked it of me... the other was this. He knew to grasp my body to his like he would place himself between my flesh and the world, if he could. Like he would use his body to not only bring me to orgasm until the day we moved into the next life, but to shield me from all the ugliness of the world, also. Like I was something to be treasured, but also something he viscerally needed to be buried inside of, lest he expire. He clasped handfuls of my flesh; teasing, kneading, grasping, clutching... I ran my mouth down his lower lip, chin and neck as my arms wrapped around him, petting and caressing as I lapped at his warm flesh. I could feel his cock stiffen against me as I pressed to him, and while it often confounded me that so few things made him hard and desperate to fuck, it also completely baffled and humbled me that I was one of the very few things in the world that *DID* make him hard and desperate to feel my hands, my mouth and my pussy. I knew if he could, he would fuck me as often as I needed. But he truly didn't understand sexual motivations at all. He wanted sex when it was offered but didn't think about it other than that. He had no kinks, no fetishes... nothing. Save me.

And it humbled me that he legitimately saw me as his own personal sexual fixation. It didn't matter what I did. While I might love to lay back and play with my pussy while watching porn... he would instead watch me like I was the only thing worth staring at in the room. If I was still horny after he fucked me and he was done for the night, he would hold my vibrator to my clit and tell me naughty stories, using my kinks as highlights. His favorite was the werewolf fantasy. He didn't go into the taboo details that made me more than a little wet, but he always layered it with either restraint, being hunted, "resistance", or the primal nature of such an encounter. I knew the fantasy did nothing for him... watching his words get me off is what gave him pleasure.

In many ways he was both the most and least selfless lover in the world. Always willing to help me find ways to find sexual fulfillment, his own always well taken care of. And I didn't begrudge him the awareness that he would always be fulfilled... I just envied the peace of it. I was always restless. I knew why. I was on a clock. I felt like time was always running out. I think that was why Sean always loved me like it was the last time he might ever touch me.

And then there were nights like this... when he seemed to know what I needed. What I needed from him most of all. He looked deep into my eyes, and pressed me to my knees, dragging my lips to the straining front of his jeans, and whispered: "I want your mouth around me... *now*."

I was instantly salivating. It never failed to amaze me how quickly he got hard. It seemed instantaneous. I undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans while staring up into his eyes. He smiled softly and caressed my face once more, petting my cheek and sliding his fingers along my jaw line.

When I unzipped him, his hand curled around my neck and pulled my lips to the straining cotton of his boxer-briefs. I was ever so happy he had taken to my demand for this happy medium between boxers and briefs... he had looked so young when we first were dating, I had told him the sight of him in briefs made me think of a little boy in his Underoo's... and as neither pedophilia nor Mommy-age play were my kink, he would need to change the underwear. He barely hesitated. I'd liked that, I had to admit. If he is willing to change his preferred underwear for you, ladies, he is a keeper. If it's to go commando instead, and you do the laundry, he is a keeper and a devious bastard. You want to keep that motherfucker *close*! If he changes to *YOUR* underwear, he is a keeper and a kinky bastard; mazel tov! You just won the lottery!

I put the tip of his hard cock in my mouth, breathing out in a sigh, letting the cotton absorb the moist heat of my breath and transfer it to the cock literally a breath away. I pulled off his heavy boots, shoved down his pants and underwear, helping him kick them off, impatient to have that cloth barrier removed.

I knelt before his cock and wrapped my small hand around it. He was so perfect for me in so many ways... it amused me that he was nearly the polar opposite of my strange fallen angel. Sean was... exactly what you would expect when I said "Tech Geek". But his short frame of 5'8" was perfect for my even smaller stature of barely clearing five feet. He complained he was soft, but his chest was strong and wide and I loved to listen to his heart. He had a great ass! I just wished he let me play with it beyond grabbing a cheek every so often. He tended to keep a goatee at my request because he was still such a baby face, despite his dark brown hair now closer to the silver side of salt and pepper, he looked too young barefaced. He may have been edging up on fifty, but I still saw that not-quite thirty year old boy who captured me so long ago.

He still made me feel small, young and innocent, despite being arguably none of those things. I think, if I truly had to explain it, that was why Lucifer attracted me so. In his eyes, I *was* all of those things, so it wasn't mere perception. But what was between Sean and I was more than illusion. It was almost two decades of trust, daily effort, mutual growth as a pair and of course, the unbreakable bond of parenthood.

When I took him into my mouth, I put all these memories we had made together in my every touch, lick and caress. I didn't hesitate to take him as far into my mouth as I could as quickly as I was able. I loved sucking on him. He was average in length, but what he felt he lacked in length, I always assured him he made up for in width. If we went too long without sex and he went too fast before letting my body loosen up again, we had been known to tear me a bit! So, he could also make my jaws ache after awhile. But fortunately for me, he didn't seem inclined to leave me there long.

In a surprising shift, as he rarely was aggressive with me, he ran his hands into my long hair, gathering it all into a rope that he wrapped around his fist, then held me fast while he drove his cock in and out of my almost drooling mouth, fucking my mouth in long, sure strokes. I raised my eyes to his, and I could feel Ev in the back, more shocked and turned on than even I was. And her sudden desire pumped through me in a sudden, shudder inducing wave, as I gasped a little and felt the resulting seal of a cock entering my throat.

The combination of feeling like Evangeline and I were finally on the same page, the physical reaction of my body to that awareness, and Sean's sudden growling pumps as he continued to fuck my throat coalesced in a sudden, unexpected, gasping and gagging orgasm as I grabbed his hips, dug my nails into his ass and pulled him into me until my lips were at his base and swallows all around his tip as my body shuddered in orgasm, leaving me whimpering and groaning around his turgid member. Lack of air caused me to finally drag myself off his cock, screaming out my orgasm, my hand wrapped around him tightly, like his warm, hard dick was my only lifeline to reality.

"Gwen, get on the bed," he told me softly, and I could see he was holding himself back. I could see he wanted me, in this moment, as badly as I wanted him every moment of every day. I wished, not for the first time, that he could always want me this way. But I was also grateful each and every time that he did show me how badly he wanted me... because I knew he didn't possess that level of lust for anyone else. And while I tried not to be possessive, in a way, he almost demanded it of me.

He wasn't kidding when he said I was the only woman he saw. He wasn't merely offering platitudes when he said (excepting Christina Hendricks, whom I completely approved of) that I was the only woman he wanted to fuck. He was mine and while we had shared a girlfriend in our wild past, I didn't share him. I might ask him to come play with me and a lover, but he had no interest of being with others. He merely focused on me and enjoyed sharing his girl with whom ever happened to be present in the moment. Ironically, I would have loved to share him more... if only he let me.

I got up and moved to the bed, but awkwardly as he never once let go of my hair-leash. I crawled up onto the bed and no sooner was I on my hands and knees, still totally clothed in a long black lace skirt, silky camisole and black lace panties, did I feel his hands flip up my skirt, expose my ass to him, shove aside the tiny barrier of my panties and sink two fingers knuckle-deep into my sopping quim. He didn't hesitate to ravage my G-spot, pressing and rubbing into that fleshy nerve center. I raised my ass up a little higher, my back arching into his thrusting fingers, a low moan ripped from my throat as my cunt began weeping fluid for him.

I instinctively spread my thighs wider, feeling the cool air on my sticky, wet, hot cunt as he exposed more and more of it while he made me orgasm repeatedly on his wicked hands. I had fists full of bedding as he leaned down, his nose tickling my exposed vulva as he licked at my hard little clit before slipping his tongue inside me.

I wanted him to put his tongue in my ass... I had never experienced that. Done it to someone, sure. But I had no idea what it felt like and I desperately wanted to. But I knew that anything involving the ass was a hard limit for him, so I didn't ask. I continued to enjoy the feelings he was evoking in me, but tried to make a mental note to ask about trying that on my next "date" with Lucifer. Maybe he wouldn't mind helping me experience that? Or other things, I considered.

I felt immediately guilty thinking about Lucifer when my husband was well on his way to making me cum yet again for him. To be honest, it was almost like a bucket of cold water. As if sensing my conflict, Sean stood and without a word, buried himself to the hilt inside me, the sudden onslaught more than my brain could process, and I instantly came on the thick length of cock buried inside me. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I became a whimpering, moaning and begging thing, writhing and panting while thrusting myself back onto his girth, all but milking it with my pussy as I slid off slowly, squeezing and grasping him inside my petite body the whole way, the pressure in my cunt feeling molten.

"Gods, honey!" He gasped and slammed his rigid member into me even harder, as if he would bruise my cervix if he could. I continued to claw at the bed beneath me, feeling my muscles tighten, sensing the impending orgasm, knowing it would be a gushing mess, as my thighs were already coated with my desire.