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The Old Vacation Home

Bethany felt a blend of nostalgia and sadness while pulling up at the old vacation home, hearing pebbles crackle while she parked her car. She loved her father dearly even though her personality was far less introverted than his. Introverted, a bit, yes. But he had lived like an eremite.

The news about his death had shaken her to the core and while she had recieved them quite some time ago and processed a lot of the grief, seeing the place where he loved to dig into his bookworm research the most brought so much of it back.

As the youngest, she was absolutely a daddy’s girl and she stayed like this until now, in her thirties. As the most beloved and trusted daughter, she knew that his will would be stored in the small wooden drawer in the study room. Actually it was more like a library. Bethany switched on the dim lights and took a deep breath of the air that was saturated with the smell of wood and paper.

While she knew that he had an interest in collecting occult books, she was surprised to see one of those large things open on his desk, together with some notes of his own. Maybe he had hidden it because her mother was deeply catholic.

Bethany flipped the light switch of the green desk lamp and couldn’t withstand to deepen her investigation.

What attracted her attention the most was an old drawing that seemed to depict a screaming woman surrounded by dark demonic faces of some sort. Were those fangs in her mouth? Weird… But interesting. The text around the picture was hard to read because it had been written in elaborate gothic letters. While Bethany couldn’t decipher everything, it became clear that this was a ritual instruction on how to have sex with the devil.

Why would he be interested in this?

Fueled by intoxicating curiosity, she went through multiple pages of her fathers notebook. And while the whole thing remained very much a mystery, Bethany began to see where he was coming from. A bit.

His take was that stuff like this is supposed to be beneficial, a psychological act of liberation. A transformative use of inner archetypes. To him, the „forces of the devil“ represented suppressed parts of a persons psyche and to activate them meant a helpful step in what psychologist Carl Jung calls individuation.

He had loved Jung and he had loved talking in such intellectual mumbo jumbo terms, Bethany remembered and chuckled. How her mood had changed! And in a strange but undeniable way, the findings excited her.

One thing lead to another and soon she was carrying a bowl of water from the kitchen to her fathers desk and put it to her left, as instructed by the old book. While she lit the candle she had placed to her right she thought whether this was the way her dad would think it to be correctly done. Maybe he had a different view on it than this book. Was this in some way dangerous? Was she silly? Her mother surely would claim so.

Nahtz Fehr Ata Infernum Nera.

Nahtz Fehr Ata Infernum Nera.

Nahtz Fehr Ata Infernum Nera.

How many times would it be necess – what’s this? Bethany clearly felt a sensation. A shiver. But stronger than a shiver. And… up her legs? Up the back of her legs, starting from her ankles. And it lingered, like it had opened a pleasurable, tingling pathway of some sort. Her eyes widened and after a short stop, she softly continued the incantation.

Was this psychological? Soon, she didn’t care as much. Waves of bliss wriggled up to the top of her head, quieting her restless mind.

Was it her that had removed her top?

What began as small streams of energy became blasting rivers of lust, entering below her skirt, bursting out of her throat and chest. The incantation turned into strong moans as Bethany felt her elbows being grabbed by some outside force (or could it be a muscle spasm?) and pulled back. And now she felt it. the lips of her pussy were clearly pushed aside in a steady decisive motion. It felt cold but at the same time, it created an immense heat. The grip around her elbows tightened and Bethany was fucked with such a raw intensity that it bordered on pain. Just the right amount of dangerous force and not a bit more. A sort of perfection no lover had ever reached before. As she tried to recite the words of the spell but failed out of sheer passion, her juices gushed out of her in an uncontrollable orgasm before she sank down on the desk panting, covering the notebook with her breasts.

When Bethany drove home that evening she wrestled with the wondered of never going back again and returning very soon. After all, her soul indeed felt much liberated and pleasurably invigorated.

NSFW: yes

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