25 comments/ 32518 views/ 14 favorites The Sweetheart Removal Agency By: manyeyedhydra /*** AUTHOR'S NOTE. I broke the title length for Literotica stories. The correct full title of this is "The High-School Sweetheart Removal Agency", which is just too good of a title to pass up. It's an Anti-Valentine's Day tale for the Valentine's Day short story competition. Enjoy... ***/ Everyone knows how the story goes. Boy meets Girl. Boy makes fun of Girl. Girl calls Boy a jerk. They get older. Boy falls in love with Girl. Girl falls in love with Boy. They don't tell each other because they're terrified of the other laughing in their face. They get older. Boy asks out other girls. Sometimes they say yes, sometimes no. Mostly he's more relieved when they say no. Girl dates another boy, discovers he's a giant douchebag. Boy wonders if his future is going to be a life of watching late-night porn with only cold pizza and a box of tissues for company. Girl wonders if she might be better off asking out other girls. Then it happens. God, Cupid, the noodly appendage of the Great Invisible Flying Spaghetti Monster, or even just plain chance intervenes and pushes them together long enough for them to realize the truth: They're high-school sweethearts—two souls destined to come together and be joined for all eternity. It's fated in the stars. Boy kisses Girl. Girl kisses Boy. They live happily ever after. Credits roll. The end. Only it never is . . . * * * * Eight years later . . . "I wish she was dead," Court McCann muttered morosely into his beer. "Come on, you don't really mean that," Jimmy Morrison, his best bud, said. "Yes I do," McCann grumbled. "I wish the frozen shit from an airplane toilet would fall out of the sky and land right on her head. I wish it would smash her so far into the ground I wouldn't even need to pay for a funeral." He didn't, not really. He just wished his life had walked down a different path. One less . . . bland. It was past ten. He was sitting at a corner table with Jimmy down at the Cat's Eye Bar. His wife was over at Lucinda's for one of their social gatherings. "I never would have believed it," Jimmy said. "Everyone back at high school thought you two were the item. Christ, we all thought the pair of you would still be staring lovingly into each other's eyes right into your nineties. True love . . . just like the movies." "Hollywood is full of shit," McCann said. "What happened? You caught her playing Hide the Hot Dog with the gardener?" Jimmy, being a best bud, tried to inject some levity. Jimmy was his best bud, his little buddy. That's what he'd been to McCann all through high school—little buddy. Jimmy had always been a little shorter than McCann, a little less athletic, a little less good-lucking—a natural sidekick, McCann's wing man. "It would have been better if she had fucked the gardener," McCann said. "Then I wouldn't have to feel so guilty about not loving her anymore." "It sparked out, huh," Jimmy said. "Yeah, that's about right," McCann said. "You know how it was. Back then me and Sharon sparked so bright it was like we had our own personal sun to keep us warm. Then it fades, until one morning you wake up and realize it's not there anymore. Worse, you can't even remember if it was ever there in the first place." "I hear ya," Jimmy said. "Only took four years for mine to fizzle out. Although it was none too bright to begin with, if you wanna know the truth." "I thought having Alvin would help . . . rekindle it, you know. Now it's worse. Now I'm trapped. What kind of asshole runs out on his wife and young son. He's a great kid too. I love him but I'm scared I'll end up blaming him and resenting him for making me feel like I'm caged. I don't want to be one of those asshole dads that knocks their kids around because life didn't turn out the way they hoped." Both men supped their beer in melancholy silence. McCann lowered his voice and leaned forwards. He didn't want any of the old coots eavesdropping on this little nugget of shit. "We haven't had sex since last November," he whispered. "I haven't asked for it and she hasn't seemed too bothered about it going away. I feel like Kevin Spacey in American Beauty—whacking off in the shower is the fucking high point of the day." Jimmy shook his head in sympathetic disgust. "You can't go on like that. It ain't natural. Tell her how you feel. File for divorce." "I can't do that," McCann said. "I'll lose everything . . . Alvin, and I'll still have to stump up alimony. You know how it is: It's a man's world . . . until he dumps his wife." "Too right, bro," Jimmy said. "Unless you know the right people." This was added as an afterthought and Jimmy stared down into his beer as if he hoped McCann hadn't heard it. McCann had. He thought about his little buddy. Except now, eight years later, Jimmy was the one with the fast car, the nice house, the blingy outfits, the better-paid job. Jimmy was the one everyone saw about town with a different hot babe on his arm every night. He wasn't the sidekick anymore; he was the main man. "How did you get rid of Cindy?" McCann asked him. "You hooked up with her about the same time as me." Jimmy became strangely evasive. He looked at the TV, sideways to another group sitting at the next table, down at his beer. Anywhere but at McCann." "What's the secret?" McCann asked. Jimmy looked like a hunted thing. As if he saw watching eyes everywhere. "You've had too much," he said. "You'll think differently in the morning." "Like fuck will I," McCann said. "It's dead and ashes. See that badass motherfucker over there in the cowboy boots and leather jacket? If that badass motherfucker was a hitman I'd walk over there, right now, and offer him twenty thou to put a bullet in her head." Jimmy looked uncomfortable. He kept looking around the bar. Finally, one side won out in whatever internal conflict had afflicted him and he took out his wallet. Behind his last credit card was a business card. It was rumpled and dog-eared, as if it had been buried in the back of his wallet and left there for some time. He passed it to McCann. The design on the front was of a broken heart, but with ropes tied around one half as if it was being hauled away. Written on the back in an elegant font was the legend, The High-School Sweetheart Removal Agency. "I used them when things between Cindy and me weren't going so well," Jimmy said. "No accusations, no messy divorce, no lawyers . . . just a clean break and a fresh start." There was a number on the back of the card. McCann was tapping it into his mobile phone when Jimmy reached over to put his hand over McCann's. "Wait until the morning," Jimmy said. "Give yourself a chance to think things over." Gone was the easygoing playboy buddy. Jimmy looked like a man trying to sell state secrets and terrified government agents would pounce on him at any moment. "If you feel anything, anything, for Sharon and Alvin you'll put that card at the back of a drawer and never look at it again." * * * * McCann waited until the next day. He waited long enough for her to tell him that same stupid anecdote about the minister that hadn't been funny the first ten times he'd heard it. He waited until she left the house to go to her church social and then pulled the card out of his pocket and rang the number on the back. The woman on the other end had the sexiest voice McCann had ever heard. Like black chocolate dipped in honey and lying in a cradle of crushed velvet. "This is the High-School Sweetheart Removal Agency, how may we be of service." Her tongue rolled around the words as though she was pleasuring them and McCann felt a surge of blood rush down to his crotch. He was uncomfortably aware of how long it had been since he'd last had sex. She was probably just a little old spinster with knitting needles in her hair, but what a voice. "I have a problem. A friend said you might be able to help out." * * * * "It's a surprise, for Valentine's Day," McCann said. He pulled up and parked outside a nondescript building in an equally nondescript business park. McCann saw a shoe store, an IT store and a Hooters restaurant. None of them appeared to be doing great business. McCann's car was the only one around. "What sort of surprise?" Sharon asked. She stared suspiciously at the building in front of them. It looked like a fake Greek temple. Thick white columns supported a wide porch and formed a colonnade facing out onto the lot. There was no branding anywhere to indicate the function of the building or the nature of the business inside. "If I told you that it wouldn't be a surprise," McCann said. "It's unlike you to be mysterious," Sharon said. That would be because you insist on everything being planned right down to the last detail, he thought, planned until every last morsel of interest was squeezed right out. McCann bit his tongue. Had he noticed how unimaginative and unadventurous she was back at high school, or had he been too busy looking at her tits and legs? "You know how things have got a little . . . predictable lately." "They have?" his wife asked. We haven't fucked in over two months! Do you think that's normal? Again McCann swallowed the words back down. "A little," McCann said. "So I thought we'd do something special this year, for Valentine's Day." "That's so sweet," Sharon said. She moved her hand across and rested it on his thigh. "Do you remember the time you proposed to me?" He did. It was in the park. Fall was settling in, but the sun still held vestiges of summer's warmth. A playful breeze careered through the park like a giddy toddler, whipping up crunchy brown leaves in its wake. In the center Sharon stood radiant in a bright summer dress. He was on his knees before her, offering up the ring he'd spent a whole year's worth of night shifts at the Cat's Eye Bar saving up for. He remembered her face, the smile, the way her silky blonde hair whipped around in the breeze. She'd been so beautiful in that dress. The memory was as clear as if it had been yesterday. He paused on opening the door. He didn't have to do this. He could tell her he'd got the wrong place, drive off and stop at the first restaurant that looked suitably romantic enough. Then he thought back to that memory. It was as clear as if it had been yesterday, but now he felt more like an observer, as if he was staring at a picture of two lovers rather than being one of them himself. The man looked like him, the woman looked like Sharon (although she'd put on a few pounds since), but it didn't feel like it was he and Sharon. He felt like he was looking at two actors playing the parts of Court and Sharon in a movie of his life and adding a Hollywood glow to events he was no longer confident had even happened this way. The man in the scene must have loved that woman a great deal, but try as he might, McCann couldn't find that feeling hiding anywhere inside him. He opened the door. "Do you think Alvin will be okay," Sharon said. "You know how fussy he can be around strangers." "She came highly recommended," McCann said. She was the babysitter, also provided by the High-School Sweetheart Removal Agency. After seeing her turn up on his doorstep, there were plenty of other things McCann would recommend her for. He could happily pound that sweet little ass all night long. "I'm sure Alvin will be fine. Remember, we're supposed to relax." McCann said. They got out of the car and walked through the entrance into a chic reception area. White lilies stood in vases at either end of a wooden counter. Behind the counter was a strikingly attractive receptionist. McCann gave his name and didn't have to wait long before an even more beautiful woman entered through the doors to the right of the counter. "Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. McCann," she said. "I'm Kate. We've been expecting you." McCann recognized the voice. It was the same voice he'd spoken to on the phone. Kate was definitely not a little old lady with knitting needles through her hair. Her body was hidden beneath an exotic silk robe. The robe was decorated with an intricate rendition of a nightscape—a full moon shining above the vast sprawl of a northern forest. The scene was so skillfully rendered McCann fancied he might be able to step inside and hear wolves howl beneath the shadow-stained canopy. McCann couldn't make out much of her body underneath and that mystery added to her eroticism. The fine silk slid over and clung to her curves, teasing him with tantalizing impressions of a hip, a breast, a peach of an ass. Her face completed the picture. There was a sultry cast to her features, exotic. Hair the color of midnight flowed over her shoulders and she possessed heavy-lidded eyes and full sensual lips. This wasn't the beauty of a homecoming queen, or Hollywood's idea of the sweet girl next door. Kate looked like a woman who did all the things the nice girls wouldn't do. McCann realized he'd been staring too long. Sharon had noticed and it made her uncomfortable. Fuck her. She was gone after today if everything went right. "This is the Spa Athenia. Your pleasure is our pleasure." "Oh, a spa, you shouldn't have." Sharon put her hands to her cheeks and gushed as though she'd regressed a decade and just been given tickets to a pop concert performed by the heartthrob of the day. She put an arm around McCann's waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're so thoughtful, darling." McCann put on his usual forced smile. One day his face would freeze like that. Or maybe it would crack and the top half of his head fall off. Kate met his eyes, saw what was really churning through his gray matter and gave him a sympathetic nod. "I believe it was the full deluxe package you wanted," Kate said. "How about we start with a nice relaxing massage?" She turned back to the door. "Emma" she called out. A redhead wearing another fine silk gown, this one depicting volcanoes and other fiery motifs, walked into the reception area. She was shorter and slimmer than Kate, and had an elfin, almost androgynous, cast to her features. Her fiery red hair was cropped short in a style that would have suited either a boy or girl. She was still attractive in McCann's opinion. "What type of massage would you like?" Kate asked Sharon. "Swedish, Deep Tissue . . .?" Sharon looked to McCann for guidance. "I don't know. What do you think, dear?" McCann resisted the urge to snap, Just pick one, you stupid bitch! Emma came to his rescue. "My specialty is the Sapphic massage. Why don't you try that? It's sensual and very relaxing." "Okay, I'll have that one," Sharon said. "Very good," Kate said. "Emma, if you'd like to lead Mrs. McCann to her room, I'll see who we have available for her husband." Emma took Sharon's hand and led her through a door on the other side of the reception area. McCann admired the way the silk gown slid over Emma's body. Nice pert little ass. Kate led him back through the door she'd entered by. Another real peach of an ass, McCann thought as he walked behind her. He considered asking Kate what she was doing later, but he suspected, given the real function of this establishment, she must get hit on so many times she was probably sick of it. Still, he was tempted. After all, the worse that could happen was she'd tell him no. He'd expected the 'real' side of the 'spa' to be more business-like. If anything the corridors he walked through seemed too opulent for an average out-of-the-way spa. Kate led him to a darkened room. A large window in the far wall looked out onto an elegant little massage room. McCann saw a comfy-looking massage table and a large screen covered in pictures of foamy waves and sea spume. In contrast, McCann's room was far seedier. The only light came through the window looking out onto the other room. A big leather armchair was positioned in front of the window as if facing a flatscreen TV. "Take a seat," Kate said. McCann sat down. The armchair was soft and extremely comfortable. "Would you like a drink?" Kate motioned over to a bar in the back corner of the room. McCann was less interested in that than the platinum-blonde he saw standing in front of it. Another out-and-out knockout, he thought. Her blonde hair was cut to a medium length with plenty of body. Chic. Sapphire eyes smoldered above a cute button nose and glossy bee-stung lips were pushed together in a glamour-model pout. Like Kate and Emma, she appeared to be wearing only a fine silk robe. Hers depicted birds of prey soaring over a snowy landscape. McCann wondered if the High-School Sweetheart Removal Agency also doubled up as another type of agency, one that could be found in the phone book under E. It made shrewd business sense. What better way for a man to celebrate his newfound freedom. They must make a killing. "I'll take a Jack D, on the rocks," he said. "I'll have my usual please, Mia." Kate said. Kate's usual appeared to be red wine, though she drank it from a wide, goblet-style glass rather than a normal wine glass. She leaned elegantly against the arm of his chair. Mia, the sexy blonde, handed McCann a tumbler of whisky. Her robes parted enough for McCann to see she had a wonderfully toned body underneath. She wasn't wearing a bra and he caught a glimpse of her breasts. They formed two perfect hemispheres, each topped with a candy-pink nipple that looked sweet enough to make McCann salivate. Mia didn't appear to be done after handing over the drinks. She crouched down and pushed his legs apart. She stared up at him with beautiful blue eyes. Bee-stung lips pouted seductively as she reached into his lap to fiddle with his belt. McCann looked at Kate. "All part of the service," she said, taking another sip of wine. "I . . . uh . . . see," McCann said. He wasn't about to complain. Mia pulled down his pants and moved on to his underwear. She pulled down his briefs with teasing slowness, letting the elastic catch on his erection, dragging it down and then letting it spring back up like a Jack-in-the-Box. Those lips, McCann thought. Puffed up and moist with shiny lip gloss, they seemed custom-designed to give out blowjobs. She teased him some more. She lightly blew on his twitchy mushroom head while her long fingernails tickled through the hairs on the back of his balls. Her lips pursed, bobbed closer, pulled back, bobbed closer, close enough to give his glans a chaste little kiss, pulled back. She toyed with him, letting his desire bubble up as he stewed in frustration. Then finally those luscious lips parted, her head bobbed down and the tip of his cock was drawn up into the warm interior of her mouth. At that moment Sharon opened the door and walked into the brightly-lit room on the other side of the window. McCann almost jumped out of the chair like a scalded cat. "Relax, Mr. McCann," Kate said with a chuckle. "It's a one-way mirror. Your wife can't see you. She can't hear you either." McCann saw it was so. Sharon stared at the glass, but was obviously looking at her own reflection. She fiddled with her bra. Her breasts, natural C-cups, had always been one of McCann's favorite features. Emma came in behind her and put hands on her shoulders. Sharon started and then laughed when she realized who it was. The sound-proofing was good. McCann couldn't hear a thing and he knew Sharon had a laugh that could rattle glass. That was not one of his favorite features. The soft cushions of Mia's lips closed back over the swollen head of his cock. He closed his eyes as she gave him a little suck. It felt like those exquisite lips were paying full attention to every little millimeter of his swollen member. She brushed them down his shaft to the root, and then brought them back up to the little ridge of flesh beneath the fleshy tip. Her technique was slow and deliberate. There was no rush to take him to orgasm, just a steady accumulation of pleasure growing in his balls, gradually building to the point where he wouldn't be able to hold it in any longer. The Sweetheart Removal Agency In the massage room Sharon went behind the screen and undressed. She came back with a towel wrapped around her body. The towel was almost, but not quite wide enough to cover both her breasts and sex. Sharon fiddled with it, caught in two minds over which intimate part of her body she should cover up. She got up on the massage table and Emma rearranged the towel so it lay over Sharon's buttocks. The red-haired masseuse picked up an exotic bottle from one of the shelves and squirted clear oil into her hands. She stood next to the table and rubbed her hands up and down Sharon's naked back. McCann watched, Mia's head still bobbing up and down in his lap, while Emma massaged his wife. She started on the feet, gently manipulating them. Then her hands moved up to Sharon's ankles and calves, kneading them and leaving behind a glistening cuff of oil. Her hands slid up to the thighs, innocent at first, but then nudging the legs apart and dipping inside. Sharon's head reared back in shock. She glanced over her shoulder at Emma. It was clear that a finger had roamed a little too deep and brushed up against a more intimate part of Sharon's anatomy. McCann couldn't hear Emma's apology, but it must have satisfied his wife as she placed her head back down and allowed Emma to resume the massage. Emma's hands tip-toed up Sharon's spine. They formed butterfly presses that spread apart over Sharon's shoulder blades. Dextrous fingers worked out the knots in Sharon's neck and shoulders. McCann would have been envious, but he was perfectly happy where he was with Mia's luscious mouth doing marvelous things to his cock. Emma's hands went back down to Sharon's buttocks and inner thighs. Her fingers moved inwards, again sliding close to the intimate parts between Sharon's legs. A finger erred and touched flesh it shouldn't. No accident this time. Sharon didn't seem to mind and—emboldened now—Emma let her dancing fingers encroach until Sharon was sighing and shivering with pleasure at their touch. Sharon must know what was up now, and yet made no move to bring Emma's attentions to a halt. This surprised McCann. He wouldn't have expected it from his wife. Her idea of adventurous was staying up after ten to watch the second episode of C.S.I. Whatever. "So it's entrapment?" he said to Kate with a smile. "Of a sort," Kate answered. She swirled the liquid around in her goblet and took a sip. "If it works, it works," McCann said, raising his glass in a salute. "It works," Kate said, finishing her drink. Mia's blowjob was definitely working. McCann had never felt anything like it before. Mia had amazing technique. It felt so good McCann was sure he should have come by now, but Mia's control was flawless. She would let him come when she wanted, and that wasn't yet. Instead her soft lips and enveloping tongue kept him at that pleasurable point just below the threshold of release. Kate walked over to the corner bar and placed her empty glass onto the counter. "I think it's time to get a little more comfortable." She shrugged her robe down to expose the tops of her shoulders. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I take it you have no objections." "None at all," McCann said. He'd been curious to see what sort of a body she'd been hiding under those robes ever since he'd first saw her walk out into the reception area. The little glimpses he'd seen so far—the way the silk clung to and slid over her curves—suggested an absolute knockout. Her body was stunning, only not in the way McCann had anticipated. It started well enough as she let the robe slowly slide down her body, revealing the pale globes of her gorgeous tits. They were every bit as good as—or maybe even better than—McCann had imagined. Then the robe dropped lower and midnight-black bat wings unfolded behind her back. That wasn't all. A whip-thin black tail with a spade-like tip uncurled from around her leg. Pointed black horns emerged from her temples and her eyes filled up with a blackness so absolute even the darkest caves beneath the Earth's crust seemed well-lit by comparison. McCann started to rise from the chair, but a gentle pressure around his cock reminded him it was still in Mia's mouth. He looked down and saw she'd also transformed. Horns poked up out of her platinum-blonde hair. She looked up at McCann with red eyes that told him she had his cock and if he ever wanted it back he'd better sit back down right now. McCann did. He looked down at where his cock vanished up into the devil's mouth. He felt her hot breath tickle around it. A bead of perspiration trickled down the side of his face. "Ah, so much better," Kate said. "Human forms are so restrictive." She stretched her black wings. "Why, Mr. McCann, you look a little perturbed," she said. He was in a room with two devils, one of which had his cock in her mouth. Perversely, despite the demonic additions, Kate had a face and body that put most centerfolds to shame. Her boobs were D cups, or maybe larger, and firm and perky rather than sagging. Long lithe legs emerged from a luscious ass. She hadn't been wearing anything beneath her silk robe and now, with her naked body exposed to him, McCann's gaze kept gravitating to the smooth folds of her sex. "Don't kill me. Please," he squeaked. Kate's lips turned up in a smile. "Why ever would we do that?" she asked. "You're our client." "I am." Another squeak. "Mia, Mr. McCann seems a little agitated. You need to work harder on your technique." Mia's working harder was to deepthroat him. McCann's breath hitched in his throat as he felt the warm membranes at the back of her mouth pinch around the head of his cock. That felt . . . nice. "What do you want from me?" McCann asked fearfully. "My soul?" Kate waved away his question with an elegant hand. "Don't be so melodramatic," she said. "As succubi, the notion of empty romance offends us. It inhibits the pure expression of animal passions." She glided over and lounged next to McCann on the overstuffed arm of the chair. "You're still young and vital." She caressed his shoulder and slid her hand down to squeeze his bicep. "You should be having sex with any young woman—or man, should you desire to experiment—that takes your fancy. You shouldn't be trapped in a relationship where the spark has long extinguished." "Uh, so that's why you have this agency," McCann asked. He kept a nervous eye on Mia as her head continued to bob up and down in his lap. "Exactly!" Kate beamed wide enough to reveal a row of perfect teeth. Sexy . . . if the incisors hadn't been quite so long, or so pointed. "It's important to us. You might even consider it our sacred calling." It did make a twisted kind of sense, McCann supposed. He relaxed a little as Mia continued to fellate him. In the massage room Emma had moved on to squeezing and kneading Sharon's boobs in a way that was far removed from both innocence and professionalism. The masseuse's robes slipped away as she freed a pair of leathery red wings. Sharon didn't seem alarmed by the transformation. She looked completely under the devil girl's spell. She stared at the succubus with naked need in her eyes and nibbled on her lower lip. "Emma is very adept with the ladies," Kate whispered in McCann's ear. He could see that. Emma's hand moved down to the mound of Sharon's sex. A finger slipped between the folds of his wife's sex and began to play. On the massage table Sharon's cheeks flushed red. She scrunched her eyes shut, arched her back and murmured in pleasure. Emma inserted a second finger and pushed both in and out, then wiggled them from side to side. Sharon's mouth fell open and a loud sigh escaped. Her head tossed from side to side as her body writhed and squirmed. He hadn't seen this side of his wife in a long time. Even though he knew it was dead, that he no longer felt any fondness for her, he still felt a pang of jealousy at seeing another woman taking her to the same heights of pleasure they'd abandoned years ago. Sharon arched her back and held the pose for a few quivering moments. Then the tenseness fled her body and she settled back on the massage table. Emma withdrew her fingers from his wife's pussy and sucked on her fingertips. There was a confident little smile on her lips, as if she knew Sharon was hers now. "Here we show up the cliché of high-school sweethearts forever as the romantic nonsense it is. Monogamy is the unnatural state. Why deny yourself the many erotic pleasures available to you." McCann found himself nodding in agreement. "I don't see you wanting Mia to stop," Kate said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Nope, definitely not, McCann thought. Mia did ease off on her blowjob, but only to push her body up higher and sandwich her soft boobs around his erection. She held them together with one arm while her other hand reached under and tickled the underside of his balls. She smiled as he quivered, and pursed her blowjob lips together to blow a warm stream of air across McCann's exposed glans. "Mia is my best fluffer," Kate said, running a hand affectionately through the other girl's lustrous blonde hair. "She can keep a man at the threshold of climax without tipping him over for as long as she likes." In the massage room Emma wasn't finished with his wife. Like Kate, the masseuse also had a long slender tail with a devil's point. She lifted up the end and waved it to Sharon with a suggestive smile on her lips. The end puffed out and the pointed tip became a blunt bulge. The tip took on a wet sheen as lubricating secretions oozed to the surface. McCann saw what the end of the tail resembled. His wife saw it too. She gave Emma a nervous smile and nodded her head. McCann was taken aback. He hadn't thought his wife that way inclined. He sucked in a breath as Mia's warm mouth enveloped one of his testicles. Her long fingernails tickled down behind his balls and danced around his anus. Emma rubbed the tip of her tail against his wife's tits. She gently boffed it against an erect nipple, then rubbed it down Sharon's side and over the slight bulge of her belly, leaving behind a glistening trail. She dragged it over the gentle incline that led to Sharon's sex. Again Emma shook the end, lightly tapping it against Sharon's mons. Sharon closed her eyes and opened her legs, throwing open her gates to let the devil in. The devil wasn't in the mood to enter just yet. She ran the bloated tip, now resembling a fleshy red dildo, along the groove of Sharon's sex. The swollen end dipped down and stretched the pink folds of Sharon's labia wider. Not entering, not yet, just gently probing the entrance. A little prod, just enough to cause his wife's mouth to open in a little gasp of pleasure. She tensed and rocked back against the stiff object, trying to push it deeper within her. Emma's lips curled up in a teasing smile. She moved with Sharon, keeping her tail tantalizingly at the entrance to Sharon's sex. Then she relented and started to probe a little deeper. Her bulging tail pushed deeper between the folds of Sharon's sex. McCann's wife fell back and another, louder, gasp of pleasure slipped from her lips. The succubus teased her with more experimental probes, each deeper than the last, until finally, smoothly, she inserted the tip of her tail all the way in. Sharon shut her eyes and let out a long sigh of satisfaction. It was a face McCann hadn't seen in a very long time. "You see now," Kate said. "All passion is fleeting. It never lasts. You no longer satisfy her as she no longer satisfies you. It was never meant to be forever." Mia pursed her soft lips around his dribbling glans and sucked him in like a delectable morsel from an expensive meal. He felt her cheeks work in and out as she sucked on the end. He squirmed in the chair, his balls so frustratingly close, but still short of the trigger that would cause them to fire. In the soundproofed room Emma had climbed up onto the massage table and was using her tail to vigorously fuck McCann's wife. His wife thrashed and moaned on top of the table. Her body clenched and a thin layer of white froth lined her labia. She gave another loud moan and her body clenched again. "What do you know about succubi, Mr. McCann?" Kate asked, her tone suddenly serious. "Um . . . sexy devil girls that tempt men," McCann replied. He was having difficulty concentrating. Mia's warm tongue had enfolded the swollen helmet of his erection and was wriggling in a highly arousing way. "We're a type of vampire," Kate said. "Only we feed off sex rather than blood. Like vampires, if we take too much we can kill our lovers. What many don't realize is we can feed off women just as easily as men." Emma kneeled on the massage table. Her sensual eyes were half-closed in bliss. Her tail pulsed obscenely between his wife's legs while Sharon thrashed and writhed, helplessly lost to climax. "Emma is feeding on your wife. In a moment she will begin to drain her in earnest." Emma closed her eyes. Her tail seemed to swell between his wife's legs. Sharon weakly pushed back with her hips. It looked like Emma had taken on some color while his wife had lost some of hers. Mia continued to bob her head in his lap. He heard soft murmurings as she noisily sucked and slurped on his cock. "Your wife will die and you will be free," Kate whispered in his ear, "but only if you wish it. We are not monsters. If you change your mind we'll let the both of you walk out of here with no ill effects." Emma's tail pulsed again, causing his wife to twitch in pleasure. It looked like she was aging before his eyes. Little wrinkles dimpled her brow and the first signs of crow's feet appeared at the corners of her eyes. Mia's head bobbed up and down in his lap. Lips soft like silk brushed up the length of his shaft, meeting at the top in an erotic kiss before parting to take in his whole length again. "You can still stop this," Kate purred in his ear. "What will it be, Mr. McCann? Do you still feel anything for your wife?" McCann looked at Sharon. He tried to recall happier times. He tried to remember the time when they'd been dating back in high school, back when he'd thought she was the best—no, the only thing in his life. There was nothing there. He saw the moments, but only as though he was a disinterested observer glimpsing scenes from another person's life. Emma's eyes opened. She stared down at Sharon. The devil girl's tail wormed deeper and expanded. Emma moved it in and out in little rhythmic tugs while Sharon moaned and sighed in ecstasy beneath her. The tail was a sponge—soaking up Sharon's life even as it took her to climax after climax. McCann watched his wife die. He watched her skin wrinkle as she aged rapidly before him, watched as she passed beyond age, beyond death, beyond decay even as her still-climaxing body shriveled, dried up and mummified right before his eyes. Only then, with a satisfied sigh, did Emma withdraw her bloated tail. He felt nothing. Mia stopped fellating him and moved out of the way to let Kate climb into the chair and straddle him. Her exotically beautiful face and the luscious curves of her naked breasts filled his vision. "Now you know for certain," she whispered huskily to him. "It was never meant to be. Now you can let go and begin anew." She lowered her hips and McCann's erection was drawn up into the deepest, darkest well between her legs. He lost himself in her heat and softness. Her vagina was a tight passage that kissed the whole of his length like a tender mouth. Kissed, squeezed and sucked. He was unresisting as her elegant hands undid his shirt and her long nails tickled through the hairs on his chest. She moved up and down on him and he was transfixed by the swaying globes of her boobs. He lost track of time as her vagina enveloped his cock in a snug embrace. A boy crying caught his attention. Is that you, Alvin? What are you crying about, Sport? He turned his head and saw Mia and another girl—the babysitter, he realized, the one with a peach of an ass—over by the bar and looking down at something beneath his field of vision. Their eyes gleamed with unnatural hunger. They parted full lips to reveal sharp pointed fangs. McCann's brow creased. What was the babysitter doing here? If she was here then who was looking after Alvin? Kate put her soft hands on either side of his head and turned it back until he was looking up at her beautiful face. Her black eyes were tunnels into absolute darkness. They sucked in McCann's gaze like sinkholes. "All ties must be severed for you to begin anew," she said. She lowered her soft lips onto his for a long, sensual kiss. He caught her breath. It smelt like flowers at a funeral home. The crying stopped. Abruptly. Kate ended the kiss and the soft cushions of her lips moved along the line of his jaw before dipping down to nuzzle at his neck. He turned his head. Mia and the other girl's eyes were half-closed as if savoring a delicious dish. Blood stained their mouths and chins. The red stood out against the porcelain-white paleness of their skin. Kate's hands, soft but forceful, turned his head back to look at her. Her full lips formed a seductive pout. Her hips rose up and down with sinuous movements. He felt the soft walls of her sex clench around him and finally McCann was tipped over the threshold Mia's skilled mouth had held him at for so long. He erupted in an orgasm so shattering all the intimate moments he'd spent with Sharon—even the early ones—were blasted away like pale wisps. It was all flowing away from him. He was emptying out, pouring himself out into her darkness, pouring out as he tried to fill a vast cold emptiness that could never be filled, pouring out until that emptiness stole inside him and took root inside his heart, his mind, and the remnants of his soul. The same darkness consumed his memories. He was cast out of a side door. He sat in the trash of the alley with his head in his hands—a wretch in a suit. There was a business card inserted between his fingers. He stared at it dumbly. They'd done something for him. Something he'd wanted. Then why did it feel like a vital part of him had been torn out? "You okay there, buddy?" McCann looked up. Finally his misfiring memory was able to give him a name and a face. It was his best bud, Jimmy, leaning over the front passenger seat of his car. "Get in." McCann stood up and got into the car. "It's the same for everyone," Jimmy said, "always hurts at first. You'll get over it." McCann did. Jimmy helped. He took him to the bars, the casinos, all the best parties. Now McCann was the man about town with a different sexy chick on his arm every night. Well, not every night, but often enough for life to be good, and life was very good indeed. He was free. No chains, no dead high-school romances tying him down. Life was a well-lit strip rolling into the distance with a different pretty girl waiting for him in every doorway. And he lived happily ever after. The end. Only it never is . . .