Crispen, the incubus

“Crispen, be quiet! I think someone is coming!”

The young wife was referring to the sounds in the next room, no doubt caused by the early arrival of her husband. Crispen’s concerns were more proximate as he worked his fingers inside the woman’s pussy.

“Someone will be cumming,” thought the dark-haired young man, “and if you hadn’t been so coy, playing hard-to-get all morning, both of us would have already gotten our rocks off.” He kept those thoughts to himself, however. Whispering, he said, “I thought you said your husband would be at work all day.”

Pulling Crispen’s hand from between her legs, the young woman stepped away from the wall on which she had been leaning. She hurriedly pulled her skirt down, rebuttoned her blouse, and patted her hair.

“That’s what I thought,” she answered, looking worried. “Quickly! Hide in the closet while I see what is going on!”

Crispen found himself being half-guided/half-pushed into the nearby closet, without time to fasten up his pants. Not that he could have done them up if he tried — his erection would have required a shoehorn to squeeze it into his pants.

Crispen cursed as he leaned back in the pitch black enclosure. “Why didn’t I go with that saucy woman from the tavern?” he asked himself. “She was practically begging for it right there at the bar. I could have banged her in the kitchen and been on my way!”

But he knew why he passed up that woman in favor of the young wife whose voice he could now hear as she welcomed her husband home. She had never done anything as brazen as cheating on her spouse. Her nervousness, coupled with the excitement of corrupting such a sweet young newlywed would add such a richness and level of satisfaction to the conquest! It might even be enough to satiate his desires for a few extra hours.

Crispen was an incubus. Well, technically, he was a human with some incubus-like qualities, but he might as well claim the full title. After all, he was also a half-prince, but in this screwy kingdom, the “half” meant that he was “nothing.”

At 22 years of age, he was the firstborn son of King Malcolm. That should make him the crown prince and heir to the throne. The problem was that his mother was not Queen Caroline, but a magical succubus-like creature whom the King was fucking while Princess Adella was still a gleam in the Queen’s eyes.

Despite the parentage on his mother’s side, there could be no doubt that Crispen was the king’s son. His face, expressions, and build were virtually identical to Malcolm at that age. When Crispen’s mother told the king that she had born him a son, his response was banishment from Mirantia. If word ever got out that the king had been consorting with a magical creature, let alone sired a child with one, it would be the end of his marriage and the end of his reign.

So instead of sitting in a palace with his own personal royal harem, Crispen found himself in a dark closet, with his dick temporarily serving as a hanging rack for some garment that fell upon it.

He heard footsteps in the bedroom. “At last!” he thought. “I’ll take her quickly and get the hell out of here once I bust a nut. It won’t be romantic, but it will have to do — I’m starving.”

While not a true incubus, Crispen definitely shared many of the characteristics. His need for sex was more than desire or even compulsion; he needed it to survive. His body gained nourishment from sexual energy just as much as it was fueled by food consumption. In fact, he could probably last longer without food than he could without sex.

His good looks certainly helped him secure a continual supply of orgasmic calories, but there was more to it than that. His half-magical blood gave him a seductive power that only intensified as his own desire increased. The pheromones he emitted caused those around him — female and male alike — to increasingly burn with passion.

Because of this, he had to be very careful and not stay in one place for too long. If people suspected the truth about him, they’d probably burn him at the stake because of the fear and hatred humanity bore toward magical beings.

He also had to be careful about not overtaxing any of his sexual partners. As Crispen fed off the sexual energy of his conquests, they grew increasingly weaker. Besides, sex with Crispen was more than just a quick roll in the hay; he threw himself fully into the act and could have quickly worn out even the fittest and healthiest specimen if he wasn’t careful.

“All the more reason I should have a royal harem,” he thought, for the millionth time.

He listened again for the sound of the young wife’s footsteps that would signal his release from this stupid closet. Hearing nothing, he wondered if he should open the door and take a quick peek.