For the third time that week, I’d come home late from work. I detected banging sounds from the basement that gave me pause. Tossing my keys on the coffee table, I went to the basement door and shouted for my husband.

There was another bang-bang-bang. Then a pause.

“Babe?” Brian called out.

“What are you doing?” I asked, slowly descending the rickety steps.

I turned the corner into the den that dominated our basement and froze.

“What the fuck?” I asked.

There were red drapes hanging from the wall and a few black ones scattered about. A mound of pillows was piled in the center of the room. I also spied a large book bound in what I assumed was fake leather, a large prop knife and a small smoke machine.

Brian stood there in jeans and a T-shirt. He was grinning at me with a hammer in one hand and a nail between his teeth.

“I was going to surprise you,” he said out of the side of his mouth.

“With what? Is it Halloween?” I joked, sitting down on the pile of pillows. “Have you missed me so much you’ve lost your mind?”

He sat down next to me and said, “I thought with all the overtime you’ve been doing, you might be stressed and could use a date.”

My body tingled, despite my fatigue.

“I’m listening,” I told him.

“A date with a theme.”

“And the theme is?”

“Demon lover,” he said, looking weirdly hopeful.

I almost laughed but then didn’t. Because who was I to say this wasn’t just what I needed? A little escape. A little play.

“Who?”

“Andrew.”

“When?”

“Saturday night.”

I grabbed his tee, pulled him close for a kiss and said, “So, I’ll be conjuring a love demon?”

His eyes sparkled with happiness as he said, “Exactly. See. You get me.”

We knew Andrew from the local Y. He had big biceps and an easy-going nature, but he was also as smart as hell. A nice combination. I’d fucked him before and always enjoyed it.

Andrew showed up a few minutes early for our date with a six-pack of cold hard ciders.

“Brian told me about this fantasy scene. Nice. We don’t normally do stuff like that,” Andrew said.

“I was inspired by my fantasy novels,” Brian said with a laugh.

“Any excuse to wear a caftan,” I said, raising a cider to my lips and taking a sip.

After a few minutes of chatting and drinking, I went up to change. The shirt he bought me was long and black and made of the softest fabric. The deep “V” that settled between my breasts showed off the ripe swells of my cleavage.

It was easy to imagine myself as a magical woman who could conjure a fantastic lay.

In the basement, the lights had been dimmed, and I could barely make out the form of my husband, who sat in the far corner in an easy chair.

I lit the gas fireplace, which wasn’t far from where he’d piled some pillows and blankets. There was a cast iron cauldron on the hearth. I smiled at that. He thought of everything. Inside was some liquid and nearby was a long wooden spoon. The knife was tainted with fake blood. There was an incantation printed on a slip of vellum.

I snagged it and felt my husband’s eyes on me. It made my pussy clench around nothing. Sudden wet arousal unfurled inside me, and I wanted one of them — either of them — to fuck me.

I raised the knife as if the blood was fresh and red, and recited the incantation: “Sacred wind, sacred rain. Moon who lights the night, bring me pleasure. Bring me touch. Bring me a demon lover.”

I dipped the knife in the liquid and swirled it. I felt a whoosh of air as Andrew appeared suddenly naked and glistening amid wisps of smoke.

My body surged with want. He was glowing like some underworld god, and his hair was swept back from his face. I could feel Brian in the corner — sensed his excitement, his rapt attention.

Andrew grabbed me and hauled me to him. His muscular body pressed close to mine. His kiss was fierce and eager. I fell into the fantasy, allowing it to overtake my rational mind.

His cock was long and hard, pressing against the top of my thigh. His teeth ran roughly along my shoulder and my neck. He gripped me tightly, grunting like an animal. I let loose a shivery sigh of pleasure.

Seconds later, he whisked away my caftan. He fell to his knees before my naked body amid the jumble of pillows. He held my parted thighs and planted his lips on my pussy.

My head fell back, and I pushed my hips forward greedily. His tongue painted molten streaks over my plump clitoris, and his fingers spread my outer pussy lips. Then he plunged a few digits into the heated core of my cunt.

I groaned eagerly and brought one hand to the back of his head. I let him lick me and suck on the tight knot of my clitoris as he fucked me with his fingers.

Those demonic digits curled inside me, nudging the most tender parts of me. I heard a soft exhalation come from the corner, and the sound pushed me up and over the crest. I came with my knees shaking.

Andrew stood. The dark stage makeup around his eyes made him look intense and dangerous.

He kicked aside some of the pillows, and I saw the hidden gem. Brian had laid down large slate tiles to form a stone flat. An altar if you will.

“You called me up. Now kneel before me,” Andrew said.

Goose bumps sprang up along my arms, and I got on my knees.

He played his hard cock along my lower lip, and I opened my mouth to let him push inside. He didn’t do it gently, but he advanced easily, surging past my lips and over my tongue.

He fucked my mouth, taking what he wanted. He did it just shy of the point of no return. I saw the pleasure and restraint written on his handsome face.

“On your back,” he demanded.

I lay down and spread my legs for him. I was a wanton woman eager for earthly pleasures from her supernatural stud.

He pushed his way between my thighs, nudging them open even wider. His hands slid beneath my bottom, angling my pelvis just right as his erection pressed to my drenched slit. Then he pushed into me. His body lurched forward as his cock filled me.

A rustling sound came from the corner. Perhaps Brian was shifting in his seat as he took it all in. I wondered if he was stroking his cock. Cupping his balls. Torturing himself by keeping his body at the razor’s edge. Not coming but needing to so badly.

“Yes!” I cried. “Fuck me! Take me!”

Andrew pistoned into me. His body was alight with the glow from the fireplace. His expression was intense as he concentrated on fucking me.

I shifted my body and gripped his shaft with my internal muscles. Squeezing my pussy around his driving cock, I rode the swelling waves of pleasure.

I imagined the scene from Brian’s point of view. A huge demonic man was taking me right there on an altar that he, himself, had built.

I writhed under Andrew, moving my body in concert with his. Flesh slapped flesh as we fucked like wild things.

A small orgasm slammed through me, making me shudder. My skin was slick with sweat, and I gripped Andrew’s biceps while ecstasy overwhelmed me.

He grunted, growled, and snarled. I shivered as he withdrew and manhandled me, turning me onto my hands and knees. I pushed back eagerly like a bitch in heat.

Andrew plunged back into me. His hands gripped my hips, squeezing me almost painfully. He thrust fast and hard, pounding into me. My knees ached from the hard slate. I shut my eyes, swaying with his movements as he held me tightly and repeatedly plunged into me.

I lowered my upper body, so that my shoulder rested on the slate and my cheek was pressed to the cool stone. My ass was still up in the air.

“Yeah, just like that,” he growled. His voice sounded deep and ominous. “Just like that. Bow for me. Supplicate yourself.”

I did, and he rode me hard. His thumb circled my asshole as he drove his cock into me. I wanted so much to come one more time. Just once more when he did.

He pushed his thumb into my rear, driving it deep as his cock stroked in and out of my snatch.

I’d fucked Andrew enough times to know that he was close to climaxing. I felt his body tense up, his rhythm quickened, and his breath came in harsh gasps.

“There, right there,” I cried as he pushed his thumb in just a little deeper.

Thrusting, rubbing, touching. He grunted, and I felt pleasure once again overtake me. My orgasm made me weak-kneed. The spasms hit me hard, and I shook from head to toe. Then he was coming, his body a riot of movement as he deposited his load inside me.

I fully splayed myself out, pressing my belly to the cool stone. Andrew disengaged and then his voice, a thundering rasp, commanded, “Come forth from the darkness and partake of my leftovers!”

I blinked and then heard it: Brian rising from the corner and shucking his clothes.

I rolled over, and he rushed toward me, a blur in the orange light. Then he was on me, sliding into me swiftly. Andrew stood over us, a wraith in the darkness.

My husband’s trim hips pumped as he fucked me, and I met him with my own motions. He was very close to coming, but I pushed him back with tented fingers.

He rested on his haunches. I sat up, knelt before him, and licked his long cock greedily. He tasted like heat, cotton and Andrew’s slick come.

I blew him slowly, giving my full attention to his needy member. I stroked my hand up and down his length as I sucked on his tip. I cupped his balls as firelight danced over us, and outside a crack of thunder boomed.

“Don’t come,” Andrew bellowed. “Don’t come anywhere but inside this wench.”

I thrilled at the words, the tone, the whole scene. Sure, it was a little silly, but it was somehow arousing.

I worked my husband until he was trembling intensely. Then I lay back, resting on my elbows, to watch him come and take me.

He pushed inside my cunt, his face wearing a mask of seriousness. He quickly found his rhythm. His lips settled on my breast, and he bit my nipple. When I clenched my muscles around his rod in response, he lost it.

Brian’s orgasm swept through him, and he filled my cunt with his cream.

“Wanton woman,” he whispered in my ear as he relaxed.

I smiled and said, “Yes.”