The Incubus Hammering Hannah

Guess what happens to older ladies when they're all alone? Hannah is alone, thinking about a sexy male jogger while lying in bed. Until something touches her underneath the covers. [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).

Excerpt:

It was Friday afternoon, and I was in bed thinking raunchy thoughts about a jogger I had seen.

I had taken a personal day off from work. I had gotten up early, went to the grocery store, came back home, eaten breakfast then gotten back into bed.

I was pitiful.

I had no personal plans.

I was born with the gift of being gorgeous. Long hair, big natural tits, a small waist, and an ass to die for. So you would think my schedule would be full of sexual tomfoolery.

Growing up, people always told me I was beautiful. But all beautiful girls don't want to be seen as beautiful. And I am one of them.

For me, being beautiful is depressing. Men take advantage of beautiful girls. Men think beautiful girls are stupid. Men are always trying to get into a beautiful girl's panties.

Perverts are everywhere, so beautiful girls beware!

I learned to dress down and be unnoticed as I grew older. I didn't make a lot of eye contact with men. I wore torn jeans, dirty T-shirts, sweats, and ugly dresses. I didn't wear make-up. I never wore perfume. I walked around barefooted in public so I would appear unsanitary.

When I turned thirty, I still looked eighteen. So now, I work alone in a cubicle on a quiet floor in a high-rise away from people. I spend my days sitting in front of a computer and spend my evenings eating TV dinners and watching reruns. That's the life of this beautiful girl.

I'm just too scared that things will go wrong interacting with horny men. Too scared that I will end up being hurt, kidnapped, or killed in a romance.

Men are dangerous!

To make up for my devised isolation, I spend a lot of my time masturbating and finding ways to heighten the clitoral experience. I stroke my pussy in my car, in the laundry room, at work, in the elevator, at the movie theater, in the library. I flick the bean in men's public restrooms, men's public showers. And I sometimes sneak into men's apartments when they aren't home to touch myself while lying on their beds, wearing their clothes, and smelling their sheets.

I masturbate anywhere I will possibly get caught by a cute guy, even though, I'm terribly afraid of romance.

I know. I'm pitiful.

But everything changed Friday when I was in bed thinking sexual thoughts about a jogger I had seen on my way to the grocery store.

This guy was jogging without a shirt on, and I noticed a tuft of curly hair running from his belly button to the waistband of his shorts. He looked delicious, and as he ran past me, he smiled, and I unconsciously smiled back.

I was having adventurous, sexual thoughts about the unknown jogger, feeling sad that he had missed his opportunity, and feeling lonely that I was getting older without any boyfriend prospects.

That's when I felt something slide across the heel of my barefoot underneath the covers.

I wiggled my foot feeling for a piece of sheet that had gotten twisted up in some way.

I felt the sensation again. This time, the tickle went across both heels of my bare feet at the same time.

The tickle was nice, but a little alarming.

Dettagli