Camilla Ch. 073

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On Saturday night after coming home from Club Ritz, Camilla was in her bedroom, lying on her bed, thinking about Akemi’s succubus visiting her in her dream the night before. To appease Akemi’s spirit and ease her suffering, Camilla not only made love with her in the dream, receiving her cunnilingus and making yet another mess on her bedsheets, but also held the recent suicide in her arms, rocking her back and forth as Agape used to do when little six-year-old Camilla ran home from school crying.

Camilla still remembered the dream vividly. In the dining room of the mansion of the Satanists where she’d made love with Li-ping, Camilla caught her breath after coming from the licks of Akemi the succubus. The faint smell of smoke hovered lightly in the air, as the mansion was on fire. Camilla said, “I’ll always welcome you in my dreams, Akemi. I won’t reject you here. I’m so sorry I hurt you when you were alive. In my dreams, we’ll love each other as much as you want. Please don’t be sad anymore, sweetie.”

“I still love you, Camilla,” Akemi said repeatedly as they held each other.

Confident that Akemi’s ghost was appeased as well as could be expected, Camilla now turned the attention of her meditations to her father, Agape. She’d sat in on his lecture on Thursday a second time; again, her photographic memory allowed her to recall his words as though she was hearing them right then on Saturday night.

He had been discussing another scene from Hamlet, the one with the suicide soliloquy (‘To be or not to be’). Though her by-now-predictable awe and admiration of Agape’s erudition was in great part due, obviously, to her love’s biased estimation of his virtues, he also said things about Hamlet’s speech that resonated powerfully with Camilla, in terms of her recent troubles.

“‘To die, to sleep; /Perchance to dream,'” Agape quoted. “‘Ay, there’s the rub; /For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, /When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, /Must give us pause. There’s the respect /That makes calamity of so long life;…’ Hamlet is comparing death to sleep, of course. If in sleep, we rest from our troubles, then death means forever resting from our troubles. Hence, the desire to kill oneself. When we sleep, however, we dream, and if death is endless sleeping, is dreaming the afterlife? Will they be the pleasant dreams of heaven, or the nightmares of hell? As the Church teaches us, suicide is a sin. He who commits suicide is declaring his total lack of faith in God; this sends him straight to hell. Therefore, in killing oneself, do one’s troubles end, or do they only just begin, never to end? This realization turns Hamlet’s despair over itself: he has little hope in life, but even less hope in death as a cure for his pain. He’s gone full circle. He despairs of his despair, and therefore chooses to go on living, as hateful as his life may be to him.”

These were, in her opinion, the most profound words she’d ever heard in her whole life; once again, her father’s sexy insightfulness was driving her wild. His words contained, however, perhaps some of the most painful truths she’d ever heard. Small wonder Akemi felt the afterlife as a ‘hard’ experience, and Camilla as an empath shared that pain, coincidentally, in a dream. Camilla had always feared death, but now she had an especial dread of it. Love may have been a dangerous emotion, but despair was far more perilous, particularly for those with microscopic ovoid black aliens swimming around in their bodily fluids, aliens that mysteriously strengthened every emotion one felt. Bad feelings, therefore, were to be shunned like lepers; and glee had to be tightly embraced and clung to. From then on, Camilla was resolved to live, love, and laugh as much as she could; for however risky love may have been–especially the incestuous kind–compared to despair, love was as safe as a child in his mother’s arms.

“Daddy, you’re so deep; and I want you deep inside me,” she said to herself, imagining that his interpretation of Hamlet’s words was a warning shielding her from danger. In a way, you saved my life by making me pull myself out of my despair, as Dr. Davis saved my life by pushing me to cure myself of my speedball overdose, she thought; now I wanna make love to you, Daddy, as I did with Dr. Davis.

She went downstairs and into the living room, where her father, at his chair by the coffee table, was drinking as usual. She used Nigrovum to make her eyes temporarily blue, then got out her bag of marijuana and papers from the drawer of the coffee table.

“Wait, Camilla,” Agape slurred. “Maybe we shouldn’t get stoned tonight. These parties seem to be g-getting out of hand.”

“How?” she asked, sprinkling the marijuana on a paper. “You’re just getting really stoned and having wild dreams about Carrie, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but those dreams, if that’s what they were, seem to be m-more than that. And it doesn’t seem to be C-Carrie that Bayan Eskort I’m with.”

“Oh, come on, Daddy. Candice doesn’t come over anymore. It’s just you and I now. You trust me, don’t you?” She rolled the joint.

“Yeah, of course I trust you,” he said, looking away.

“Then there’s no problem,” she said, and sucked on the joint to seal it. She looked sadly in his still suspicious eyes. “C’mon, Daddy: these months have been the first in years that I’ve spent any time with you. Let’s have some fun.” She handed him the joint.

“How can I say no to those baby blue eyes?” he said, taking the joint and reaching for a lighter.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said. “Your glass is empty; I’ll refill it for you while you puff away.” She took it into the kitchen and put some more ice and Jim Beam in it. As usual, she mixed a half pill of ecstasy in it, then got a can of Heineken for herself out of the fridge, and brought the drinks back into the living room. When she gave him his bourbon, he gave her the joint, having puffed on it several times.

A half an hour went by, and he was starting to feel the ecstasy. She hadn’t taken any this time, because she no longer needed to have so extreme a high to lessen her inhibitions, now that she’d accepted the reality of her incestuous love; also, being less wasted helped her to be in better control of the situation. To do a better job of convincing him that the lovemaking was all just a dream, she used Nigrovum to make him temporarily drowsy, even though he was now peaking on the E.

He briefly closed his eyes, then opened them. He seemed no longer to be in their house, but in the mansion on Grouse Mountain, the setting of most of Camilla’s dreams with the ghosts; only in this Nigrovum-enhanced setting, the mansion wasn’t on fire. There was a beautiful inner decor all around Agape.

He looked up and no longer saw Camilla, but Carrie, naked, with Camilla’s body.

“Carrie?” he asked. “W-where am I?”

“Heaven,” Camilla said in Carrie’s voice. “The palace of pleasant dreams.”

“I see. Where’s Camilla?”

“She’s upstairs.”

“In a higher heaven?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s make love, Aga.” Camilla had laid those dirty towels on the floor again, and Agape got on them on his back. She pulled down his pants and underwear, got on top of him in the cowgirl position, and fondled his penis, which became semi-erect. Then she bent forward and reached down to his face, kissing him hard on the mouth. He opened his mouth, and she slid her tongue inside.

As they French-kissed, their tongues rolling over each other, he noticed the smell of beer and marijuana on ‘Carrie’s’ breath. He pulled his tongue out of her mouth.

“What’s wrong, Da-uh, Agape?” she asked.

“Carrie?” he said in surprise. “You’ve never smoked even a cigarette, let alone dope. Why do I smell it on you?”

“W-well,” Camilla stammered. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

“I guess.”

“C’mon, Aga, let’s make love.” She lay down on his chest and wrapped her arms around him tightly, nuzzling on his neck. They started kissing passionately, frenziedly, her moaning and sighing while her pussy got wetter and wetter. She nibbled on his ear while his head fidgeted from the intense high of the ecstasy. Between nibbles and sucking on his earlobe, and licking and blowing inside his ear, she said, “‘…that thou didst know…how many fathom deep…I am…in love! But it…cannot be sounded…'”

He turned his head to look at her. “You just quoted As You Like It,” he said. “I n-never knew you knew the play. Carrie, you’re m-my Rosalind in disguise, my Ganymede.” He belched.

“Yes,” Camilla said. “I just studied that play this week.”

“You studied Shakespeare?” he asked. “You teach psychology. Since when do you have time to study literature?”

“Oh, uh, I mean I, uh, watched a movie of it on TV a few nights ago.”

“It w-was on TV? When? You should have told me. We could’ve seen it together.”

“Never mind. Let’s fuck,” she said, jerking him off more vigorously now. She then used Nigrovum to get him fully erect, then got up and aimed his cock under her slowly descending pussy. She felt a shudder of delight when the tip touched her vaginal opening. Feeding his cock in, inch by delicious inch, she sighed and squealed in a crescendo of rising pitches.

Again, Agape, though enjoying her slippery pussy as it hungrily embraced his phallus, was as perplexed as he was aroused by how different her cunt felt. While he loved Carrie enough to be accepting of the imperfections of her aging body, the tight delight of this pussy was too new a sensation for him not to notice, and feel suspicions about. Was this young-looking, black-haired girl on top of him Candice? Was Camilla disobeying his wish not to have her friend come over? Was his stoned inebriation making him think Candice was Carrie, or was something else–something alien–confusing him?

Camilla had his cock three-quarters of the way in now, and she was nearing her first orgasm. Her squeals had changed to screams when he got all the way in, and the knob of his cock aggressively kissed her A-spot, giving her her first orgasm. She splashed her come all over his lap. She continued going up and down on his cock, screaming high-pitched, staccato squeals with each new poke of his cock against her elated A-spot. The thickness of his manhood was giving her grinning G-spot a most thorough massage, too. She came a second time, screaming her loudest yet.

Again, as Agape almost mechanically fucked his daughter, he–in spite of his wasted stupor–couldn’t help noticing how different his lover was from not only Carrie, but also Candice. Candice was a wilder lover than his girlfriend, to be sure, but even she didn’t scream that loudly. These squeals he heard were the cries of the chthonian; his lover seemed to be a maniacal Maenad about to rend him limb from limb. This had to be a dream: in any case, it was his best lay yet!

After drenching his lap with a third orgasm, Camilla slowly pulled up, feeling his cock slide out of her pussy and tingling with pleasure at the feeling of its thickness tickling her gleeful vaginal walls. Then she moved down, and went down on him, tickling the tip of his cock with her vibrating tongue. She kissed it at the dick-hole, licked the underside of his knob, and wrapped her wet lips around it, sliding her mouth half-way down his shaft and pulling up to the knob again. Oh, you beautiful giver of life, of my beauty, and of my mind, let me worship you–magical, divine lingam! she thought.

He moaned and fidgeted as she continued sucking him off, amazed at the skill of his cock-sucker. This can’t be Carrie, he thought; I don’t think it’s Candice, either. She sucks better than Carrie, but this is a bravura blow-job!

Her head was going up and down faster and faster on her father’s cock, and she moaned and played with his balls. I can please you, Daddy, she thought; but only in secret. Why does society have to forbid incest? Why can’t I tell you how much I love you? Why can’t my love be sounded?

Finally, he was nearing orgasm, and she could psychically sense it. She pulled his cock out of her mouth and jerked him off, keeping his cock pointed at her face. She looked at his face, his eyes squinting with pleasure from her expert hands. She smiled to see how well she was pleasing him. He shot his first spewing between her eyes; she screamed and giggled in surprise. His second spray hit her in the left eye; his third, in the right eye. His fourth hit her to the left of her left eye, and his last hit her to the right of her right eye. Her facial was a mask that she imagined concealed her true identity. She made her face change back to that of her own. Though it was too risky all at once to disclose the identity of his real living room lover, she’d hoped to do so in safely infinitesimal stages, starting with letting him see her real naked body with Carrie’s head, then with Carrie’s face but Camilla’s black hair, now with Camilla’s face, masked in his come.

He looked down at his young-looking, black-haired, black-eyed, grinning lover, with his come dripping down her cheeks. For a few seconds, he thought she had Camilla’s nose. No, he thought, closing his eyes; Camilla couldn’t do such a sick thing to me. This is a dream for sure.


On Sunday morning, Camilla and Agape went to church. Father Josiah’s sermon was about the dangers of tampering with the spirit world. He was troubled to see her sitting at the front pew and paying little heed to his words, since he’d meant this homily especially as a message to her and her own tampering with devils, as he saw them. After having slept with her several times, he now felt a connection with these ‘evil spirits’ himself, and tried to resist them as best he could.

When Mass had ended, she and Agape went up to the priest to say good-bye to him. After doing so, Agape continued walking out the door, while Camilla stayed to chat with Josiah.

“You didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to my sermon today, Camilla,” Josiah said.

“Well, I fear despair much more than spirits,” she said.

“Despair is perhaps the worst sin of all, but that doesn’t mean what you’ve been doing with these devils isn’t something to worry about.”

“They aren’t devils; they’re the sons of God.”

“There is only one Son of God, Camilla.”

“Father,” she said, sneering, “If all the fears of the world were put on a ladder from smallest to biggest, tampering with the spirit world is just one rung above incest. Both rungs are a dozen or so below the fear of despair, which is at the top, as I see it. The lower rungs are so small in terror, compared to despair, that I’m not worrying about them.”

“You should worry about them, too,” the priest said, “for they can lead to despair.”

Knowing she was getting away with fucking her dad, and keeping the ghosts under control, she let Josiah’s warning blow by, for only depression, stress, and despair, at the top of that ladder, were her concern now. Changing the subject, she asked, “Wanna get together tonight at the hotel?” She bit her lower lip and looked up and down at him.

“No,” he said gently but firmly.

“I hear a yes underneath that no,” she said, using Nigrovum to push that visualized rose toward his heart. In a big surprise to her, she then felt him use Nigrovum to push the rose back at her! “Father, I thought you were against tampering with devils.”

“I thought they weren’t devils, Camilla,” he retorted, throwing her accusation of hypocrisy back at her.

She went home with Agape, sitting in his car with a frown of disappointment. He’ll want me back, she thought. If the Nigrovum in his blood is tempting him to use its power, it will tempt him back to me, too.

When she got home, she went up to her bedroom and called Bob on her cell-phone. He didn’t answer, so she left a message about wanting to do another POV video with him, this time with Bob dressing as a priest and fucking her. He never replied.


It was a depressingly boring Sunday night in bed; and on Monday night after coming home from York, she felt as lonely as Candice, so she called her friend.

“Camilla! Hi!” Candice said in an uncharacteristically happy voice.

“Hi, I’m the lonely one now,” Camilla said.

“Get over here,” Candice said. “I wanna lick you to next week.”

In twenty minutes, Camilla was at the front door of Candice’s apartment, wearing only a trench coat and high heels. She rang the doorbell; naked Candice rushed over to open it. As she heard Candice’s frantic footsteps, Camilla dropped the trench coat onto the floor and kicked off her high heels. Candice then opened the door and looked at her lover.

“Am I looking in a mirror?” the surprised naked girls said together, staring in a daze of amazement at each other’s now fully black hair and eyes. Similarly, both girls’ pubic hair was all black, their skin was lighter, and their nipples were a darker shade of pink. Neither of them was wearing nail polish, so the blackness of their finger- and toenails was also evident. The naked girls looked like twin Goths.

“Get in here,” Candice said after snapping out of her daze, “before the fat guy sees you.” Camilla picked up her coat and shoes, and Candice pulled her into the apartment and shut the door. After locking it, Candice followed Camilla into the bedroom. They got on the bed with Candice on top of Camilla. Candice wrapped her hungry wet lips around Camilla’s delectable left tit.

“Remember when…I said that Akemi killed herself?” Camilla asked in sighs. “Well, her ghost…ate my…pussy last night…and the…night before. Oh!”

“I’m jealous…of her,” Candice moaned between sucks. She was now fingering Camilla’s clitoris.

“She’s jealous…of us…much more. ‘Cause of…her suicide, she’s in hell. Ah!”

“So…she felt…that heavy depression?” Candice started kissing her way down to Camilla’s pussy. “Akemi’s got…the Nigrovum blues.”

“Yeah. You must…feel it. Like big rocks…on your back…it’s that heavy. Oh!”

“Of course. Why do…you think…I do…drugs all…the time? They cheer…me up.” Candice was sucking on Camilla’s rock-hard clit now.

“You don’t have…to get high,” Camilla moaned, getting on top of Candice in the 69 position. “Just think…happy thoughts. Nigrovum will…help you…cheer up.” She started licking Candice’s pussy.

“Happy thoughts? Without you, no can do.” Candice slid her finger inside Camilla’s anus.

“Don’t wind up…like Akemi. I couldn’t bear it,” Camilla sighed, sucking on Candice’s labia.

“If you’re…with me, I won’t. Oh!” Candice moaned, then moved her head up to lick Camilla’s asshole. Candice put her fingers inside Camilla’s wet cunt, fingering her G-spot. Camilla’s squealing and heavy breathing were vibrating delightfully against Candice’s pussy. Camilla put her tongue inside Candice’s vagina, reaching for her G-spot. Candice opened Camilla’s asshole wide and slid her tongue in as far as it would go; then she pushed her fingers deeper inside Camilla’s pussy, fingering her A-spot.

A Nigrovum-induced high enhanced the girls’ horniness, and this positive feeling encouraged Camilla to think that Dr. Singh was right, that far from being a devil, those microscopic ovoid black aliens were really angels; they just had to be used right.

Finally, Camilla was nearing orgasm, and Candice brought her head down to Camilla’s cunt in psychic anticipation of the gushing. Camilla screamed in whistle register and came all inside Candice’s wide-open mouth. Only a little love-juice dribbled down the sides of Candice’s face. She also came, and Camilla licked away the ooze. They lay in each other’s arms slowly regaining their breath, then went to sleep.

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