The Incubus Banging Becky

Guess what happens to older ladies when they're all alone? Becky is a lonely forty-year-old female who likes to tease skinny, young, shy men. If they're too young to drink then they're too old for Becky. Her fantasies bring The Incubus. [If you are alone and lonely then I just might come to visit you. I am The Incubus, and you belong to me.] Erotica for men. (male demon, straight sex, all characters are over the age of 18).

Excerpt:

My name is Becky, and I was on my way to the grocery store when I stopped at a red light next to a slim, shirtless, sexy, young man driving a scooter. He wasn't wearing a helmet. His tight shorts were cut high above the knee, and he was barefooted. I could see him licking his lips as he waited for the red light to change. I turned my head to him and licked my lips just as he had. I was unsure if he saw me, so I yelled over to him as we waited. "Psst! Hey, twinkie. You look kinda cute in those shortshorts. Can I have a taste of your creamy filling?" I licked my lips again.

When the light turned green, we both sped off, but the cute scooter guy turned into my lane and followed me all the way to the grocery store. When I parked, he drove up beside me.

"How's it going?" The scooter guy said. "Were you talking to me at the red light?" He gave me a naughty look and licked his lips, making them moist and kissable. I could see his confidence. His baby face couldn't hide his intentions. He was sure of himself. He would have me hop on the back of his scooter and carry me off to his place and love me until I forgot why I went to the grocery store in the first place.

I looked at his strong skinny arms and his broad skinny chest and took a deep breath. He was most definitely my type, but I had to turn him down. He had way too much self-assurance.

"I'm sorry sir. I thought you were someone else." I lied. "I apologize. You look like my girlfriend's friend who I kid whenever I see him. Sorry about that." The look on my face said that I was lying.

The scooter guy smiled. "Okay," he. He watched me as I got out of my vehicle then I bent over, pushing out my rear and shaking it as I reached into my backseat to get my purse. "You're gorgeous." I could see his eyes roam down my mature thighs. He looked at my flip-flops. "You've got beautiful feet. I love your toenail polish. I bet your feet taste as good as they look."

I smiled and licked my lips, tossing my hair, teasing him then turned and switched my bottom toward the grocery store entrance.

"Oh, you need to be spanked," he said as he parked his scooter and followed me into the grocery store without a shirt or shoes.

I will confess that I was tempted to let him spank me, but the scooter guy wasn't the guy for me. I'm a forty-year-old female who likes her boyfriends to have three things.

First, they have to be eighteen, nineteen, or twenty. I like my men to be barely legal. If they're old enough to drink then they're too old for me.

Second, I like skinny boys. I love'em thin, slender, and scrawny with baby faces, hairless chests, small muscles, and tiny, tight bottoms.

Third, I like my men to be shy. I love thinkers and introverts. I love men who are quiet and reserved. I fantasize about that loner every other girl ignores.

Out of those three things, the scooter guy missed the mark on shyness. He was too sexually motivated and driven, so I had to give him the brush-off.

Dettagli