Camilla Ch. 076

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Agape went to church all disappointed that Camilla said she wasn’t feeling well enough to accompany him; actually, she was still mad at Father Josiah for interfering with her sex life, and she wanted to punish him not only with the psychic barrier she’d put tightly around him, but also by not letting the priest see her at Mass–she being the girl who was the object of his sinful passions. That barrier still had him well contained, for though he’d been trying very hard to break through it, he was nowhere even close to succeeding just yet.

Feeling safe knowing that the priest, in his jealousy, wouldn’t thwart her for quite a while at least, she began to feel her incestuous temptations again. Still, she was somewhat hesitant about fucking Agape again, knowing that her father was also getting better at using Nigrovum. Since he could turn off his hangovers instantaneously in the morning, he was potentially good enough to frustrate her gratification at night. She figured more drugs would be necessary to weaken his resistance: perhaps getting some ketamine from Candice would help; she’d ask her friend for some the next time they got together.

In her bedroom with her laptop out, Camilla chatted online with Dr. Singh.

“How is everyone in Vancouver, Ravinder?” she typed.

“Not well at your school,” Dr. Singh typed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Some classes there went on a field trip four days ago to the Grouse Grind, not too far from where that mansion was. There were three buses going there, each with a class taught by Mr. Grisham, Ms. Callahan, and Mr. Langella. When I learned from the news that all three buses mysteriously lost control and crashed, killing several people, including all three teachers, I remembered you included the teachers’ names in your list of lovers.”

“Grisham and Langella dead? Oh, my God!”

“I used Nigrovum to scan the accident scene for psychic activity, and I learned that the teachers had secret sexual passions for a pretty, nubile girl on each bus. These girls were sitting near where the drivers were, and the teachers suddenly attacked the girls, trying to rape them. Blouses were torn open, and the girls screamed for help. The drivers were distracted by all the noise, at a time when the buses were going along roads that are particularly difficult to drive on. Then they lost control, and crashed.”

“Oh, no,” Camilla typed.

“Oh, yes. As we know, Nigrovum intensifies the energy that’s already there. When you passed it on to those teachers, you gave them the energy of your sexual appetite. That’s why you must cool your desire, Camilla, so this won’t happen any more. There have been too many deaths already.”

Annoyed, Camilla typed, “Are you saying those attempted rapes were all my fault?”

“No, far from it,” Singh typed. “Don’t be offended. In fact, I’d say the whole accident, including the rapes, was caused by a source right here in the Vancouver area, not by you. We must remember the close proximity of the crashes to the site of the burned-down mansion, where I’m sure much of the psychic energy of the masked Satanists still is. Since their semen was repeatedly being sprinkled on the grass there in their bizarre rituals, grass covered in Nigrovum that they knew about as well as we do, I’d say the ghosts of those Satanists channelled your teachers’ lust to explode at a perfectly coordinated time.”

“Why would they do that?”

“By killing your teachers, the Satanist incubi–who’ve been haunting you in your dreams–have added Grisham, Langella, and Callahan to an army of ghosts they are raising.”

“This is getting TOO weird for me, Ravinder.”

“I know, but the Nigrovum I’m communicating with have been telling me this: this army of ghosts will help the Satanists realize their ultimate, diabolical dreams.”

“You said before that Nigrovum can drive people crazy? How can you know for sure it isn’t driving you crazy? Sorry, but your story sounds a little over-the-top to me.”

“Unlike you, Camilla, I’m at total peace. No incubi have threatened me in my sleep, I have no sexual obsessions, nor any violent thoughts, as you’ve had. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I had the slightest doubt there was any danger.”

“OK, what are the ‘diabolical dreams’ of these Satanists?” she typed.

“Don’t you remember what I told you about the Satanists’ book that was found in the burnt remains of the mansion?”

“Oh yeah, they wanted to spread Nigrovum around the world, making everyone a slave to lust.”

“In weakening everyone’s will that way, they’d easily take over all the world governments, the banks, the media, everything.”

He’s getting paranoid, she thought. She typed, “OK, but aren’t the Satanists all dead?”

“Not all of them; they have secret societies in countries worldwide, and the incubi of those killed still have power and influence. As you know, they visit you in your dreams, and as we’ve seen, they can kill. Haven’t you known any ghosts that Merter Escort could interfere with the living, and kill them?”

Remembering how Mrs. Holland had killed Miles in his dream, she nonetheless chose not to mention it. “What can I do?” she typed.

“Restrain your promiscuity, I beg of you,” Ravinder advised. “No more new lovers. As for those you’ve already been with, convince them to pursue a spiritually nourishing life, as I hope you are doing. With every new person you pass your lustful Nigrovum energy onto, that’s potentially a new soldier for this army I was telling you about. I know what I’m saying sounds far-fetched, but the microscopic black beings in our blood don’t lie. They’ve told me everything I’m telling you about now. It makes no difference to them whether we destroy ourselves or not, for the universe will always carry on; but it does to me, as it should to you. Please control your urges; it’s for your own good.”

Convinced Dr. Singh was going crazy, and remembering Josiah’s meddling, she then typed, “You’re not going to use Nigrovum to restrain me, are you?”

“No, no,” Singh assured her. “I don’t believe in interfering with free will. I’ve used Nigrovum on you only to help you out of your despair and fear.”

Good, Camilla thought; as long as you, Ravinder, don’t put psychic barriers around me, I won’t have to put any around you, as I did Josiah. “Thanks for all your advice, Ravinder. I think I’ll sign off now. Bye.”

“Bye,” he typed.

“A Satanic army? You’re nuts, Dr. Singh,” she said after going offline.


On Monday, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Camilla went to Dr. Martin’s office; a few sexual encounters with him would keep her satisfied for the while, before risking another encounter with her father. She was wearing a tight-fitting black dress and matching high heels. The dress showed off a generous amount of cleavage, and it went down only half-way between her thighs and knees. With those clothes, her jacket, and her whorish bright makeup, she had nothing else on.

Dr. Martin has already been exposed to Nigrovum, she thought as she got to his door; so even if what kooky Singh says is true, it’s too late for my skeptic prof. She went in and locked the door behind her.

“Hi,” he said, getting up from his chair.

“Oh, don’t get up, sir,” she said in the voice of her new persona, ‘Anna’, a combination of her breathy ‘Marilyn’ and imitation of Calina’s Russian accent and ungrammatical English. “I had to see you.”


“Yes. Your phallus so big. When you give me anal sex at Club Ritz, I so amazed. My eyes and mouth wide open.”

“Among other things,” he said, ogling her behind.

Giggling, she said, “Yes. I want feel your phallus in my vagina. Can you give me pleasure? Please, sir?”

“Uh, right here?” he asked, trembling with excitement.

“Oh, no. I scream too loud,” she answered, worrying that Josiah would break free of his psychic barrier and cancel out her psychic abilities to block out her screams. “At your home tonight?”

“Well, tomorrow night would be better. I’ll be too busy tonight grading essays.”

“Can I please you now?”

“Well, if it’s quiet and quick.”

“I’m naked under my dress; you want me take it off?”

“Oh, yes,” he panted.

She unzipped her dress at the back and dropped it on the floor. He was practically drooling at the delicious sight of her freshly-shaved pubic region. Knowing he liked high heels, she kept her elegant black shoes on. Standing right in front of him, she turned around, spread her legs out wide and bent over so he could see her brown asshole and pink pussy.

She looked back at him upside down from between her legs and said, “I left myself natural smelling for you.”

“Just the way I like it,” the coprophiliac prof said, sniffing her faecal-smelling asshole. He was fully erect, and he pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

She got on the floor on all fours, spreading her legs wide open and pushing out her butt so her asshole was in plain view. She got her tube of anal lube out of her purse and gave it to him. He lubed his huge cock and her rectum thoroughly, then he pushed the tip of his dick against her anus. She looked back at him, squinting her eyes and sighing as he slowly slid it in her ass.

As he pumped away, she had that same amazed expression as before, her eyes and mouth as wide open as her asshole. He kept pushing in and pulling out, grunting with pleasure. He reached forward and fondled her breasts as he fucked her.

Suddenly, they heard a knock on the door. “Is everything OK in there?” a woman asked. “I heard moaning.”

“I’m…doing push-ups,” he groaned.

“Oh, OK,” the woman said, hardly believing what she’d heard, and left.

Camilla fingered her clitoris as she felt that gigantic cock probing her rectal depths. Her pussy was as wet with excitement as her asshole was lubed. Soon, Merter Escort Bayan she psychically could sense that he was about to come. “You pull…out now,” she moaned. “I…swallow come…in mouth.”

He pulled his cock out and stood up. She turned around with her eyes closed; she didn’t want to see his impressive member until Tuesday night, when she’d feel it in her pussy–seeing it now would just make her all the more impatient for her date at his home. She, on her knees before him, jerked him off with his cock pointed at her wide-open mouth. She used Nigrovum to aim his cock properly. He shot every blast of his come right in her mouth; she felt it ricochet off her uvula, her tongue, and the roof and walls of her mouth. She hadn’t missed a drop.

He just looked down at her in amazement at her talents.

“So,” Camilla panted. “Tomorrow night…at your house?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “About 7 PM…will do it. Here’s my card. It has my address…on it.” He gave it to her.

“You live…near here,” she said. “How convenient. I can just walk…from school.”

“Yeah, convenient.”


That Tuesday night, Camilla hurried along the sidewalk on the neighbourhood leading to Dr. Martin’s house.

“Please give me some good loving tonight, sir,” she said. “I’m not ready to risk another fuck with Daddy…just yet.”

Knowing Dr. Martin liked lingerie, she wore those ornate white cross-garters she’d had on at Club Ritz when she gave him lap-dances on Friday. She also wore a white dress and matching high heels. Her hair, still blonde for him, was done up in a bun, and she wore thick black mascara and dark blue eye shadow to complement her Nigrovum-blue eyes; she also had pink blush and bright red lipstick on. The pretty perfume on her neck would complement the natural smells he’d enjoy between her buttocks.

She rang the doorbell, and he hastened to open it.

“You look ravishing,” he said. “Please come in.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said as she walked in. He took her jacket and led her to the dining room.

“Dinner will be ready in a few seconds,” he said as he walked into the kitchen to get it. “Your timing is flawless.”

I came by with a little help from my friends, she thought; my tiny black ovoid friends–they keep me on time.

He came back with the dish: chicken cacciatore.

“Oh, that looks good,” she said as he put some on her plate.

“Bon appétit,” he said after putting some on his plate. Then they began eating. “Now one thing I don’t quite understand: how does a girl, as young and lovely as you are, fancy a man as old and grey as I am?”

“I admire you,” she said, still in her ‘Anna’ persona, with her ungrammatical English and faux Russian accent. “I like older men.”

“That’s all?”

“I think you handsome, sophisticated. I like your English accent.”

“But I’m approaching sixty, my dear.”

“You remind me Richard Dawkins.”

“You find him attractive?” he asked, still incredulous. “He’s in his seventies now.”

“His face, his voice, his intelligence, yes. Even though atheist.”

“You don’t like religious skeptics?”

“They make me uncomfortable: I’m Catholic, though I doubt.”

“I doubt, too,” he said. “I’m an agnostic, and no lover of the Church, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” she asked with a frown.

“I’m afraid I agree with Freud that belief in God comes from a yearning for the father. Churches exploit this yearning, as do synagogues and mosques.”

“I love my daddy, yearn for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

“But I don’t like the priest at my church. He restrict my freedom.”

“Of course he does, that’s what all priests and rabbis do. That’s how they keep their power over you. I’m an evangelist of doubting, if you will. I spread the gospel of skepticism every chance I get, happily winning new converts almost every day during my York lectures. My lectures are my sermons. I must agree with Richard Dawkins that organized religion isn’t good for society. Religion isn’t good for one’s mental health; it’s all one big delusion that drives men mad.”

Remembering Dr. Singh’s recent ‘madness’, she then said, “I don’t go to church last Sunday.”

“You shouldn’t go to church any Sunday. Never go, Camilla. It’s bad for you: its hypocritical, sanctimonious morality will only cause you needless guilt and anxiety. You don’t need that; be free to live your own life. Enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” she said, convinced of his logic. “I don’t go church anymore.”

“Good,” he said. “I say we cannot know if there is a God until He shows Himself. I could be persuaded to believe in goddesses, though.”


“Yes. I see one sitting with me now.”

She giggled. “Thank you. You so sweet.”

“Indeed, I consider your whole body sacred, even the cruder-smelling areas, as you must know by now. Like a pagan, I want to fetish every inch of you.”

“I stay natural smelling Escort Merter for you tonight, sir.”

“Thank you, dear. One cannot appreciate a goddess’s divinity if one doesn’t appreciate her dirtier areas–that’s how I feel.”

He’s Leroy, all over again, she thought.

After dinner, they went upstairs to his bedroom. She removed her dress, revealing her white lace bra and panties. The coprophiliac squatted down, put his face against her buttocks, sniffing and nibbling on her underwear.

She took off her bra as he sniffed and nibbled; she also slowly moved her buttocks in a clock-wise motion against his face. He loved the feeling of her anal cleft and gluteal sulcus rubbing against his nose and lips. Yes, sir, she thought; worship my divine body, and I’ll worship your sacred mind. My cruder-smelling parts should be adored: after all, I am a goddess.

He pulled down her panties; as he helped her get her still-shod feet through the panties’ leg-holes, she opened her buttocks so he could see and smell her bronze, faecal-smelling asshole. He kissed and licked her asshole, and she closed her soft buttocks around his face. She continued opening and closing her butt-cheeks as he kissed and licked. After kissing her all the way up and down her butt-crack several times, he took off his pants and underwear. She lay on her back on the bed.

When he climbed on top of her, ironically in the missionary position, she saw his huge erection for the first time. Her eyes and mouth were as agape as they had been when she’d received anal from him. Now she’d feel that beautiful tower of power in her quivering pussy! She pulled her bent legs up to receive him.

He slowly slid it in: she was already screaming in ecstasy. Its thickness gave her G-spot such buzzes of pleasure that she came when he was only half-way in. When he went all the way in and poked her A-spot, she came again.

Her whistle-register screams were deafening, but he didn’t let that stop him from thrusting away. He was amazed that such a sexy young tart could find an old man like him attractive, and his cock was the hardest it had been in decades, thanks to this goddess! He was a pilgrim, worshipping in her Holy of Holies. His bedsheets were already soaking with her come after only ten seconds of fucking, for she’d come a third time. He fondled her tits as he fucked, gently squeezing them and pinching the nipples. Her jaw was sore from always being stretched open with screaming.

“Am I…pleasing you, dear?” he panted.

“Oh, yes!” she squealed. “So big! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

“You’re so…inspiring of…bigness, divine darling. Unh!”

She came a fourth time, then began to sense psychically that he was about to ejaculate.

“Come on…my face,” she said in shaky, high-pitched squeals. “Ah!”

“OK,” he sighed, and slowly pulled his cock out. She sighed with the vibrato of a soprano as his hugeness slid out, tickling her G-spot.

She got off the bed, and he sat on the side, with her kneeling between his legs. His cock was too big and thick to go in her mouth without discomfort, so she simply pointed it at her face and jerked him off. Her hand slid along the length of his shaft four times before he ejaculated on her nose, her left eye, her lips, and her right cheek.

Looking up at him with his come dripping off her face, she asked, “Do I…please you, sir?”

“Yes, of course, my dear,” he said, again looking down at her in awe of her sexual gifts. “Did you…enjoy that, goddess?”

She grinned and giggled her answer. This incredible lay certainly would tide her over until her next incestuous moment with Agape, which she’d be able to hold off for at least a night or two.


On Wednesday, Camilla was disappointed and concerned to see a plain-looking, thin female prof with short hair substituting for Alex in her world mythology class.

“Everybody, I have a sad announcement to make,” the professor said. “Dr. Alex McVie…died last weekend from causes I’d rather not go into right now. I am Dr. Sorensen, and I’ll be teaching his class from now on.”

Camilla shook with fear at this news. I’ll let his incubus fuck me tonight, she thought; then I’ll find out what happened to him.

“Today I’ll be discussing myths about the Great Goddess,” Dr. Sorensen continued.

“Good,” a girl sitting behind Camilla said. “I’m sick of all of McVie’s patriarchal myths. What a misogynist.”

Camilla just rolled her eyes.


That night in bed, Camilla left herself open to incubi, both in lecherous expectation of a spiritual gang bang, and out of a remorseful wish to be punished for adding to that ‘army’ of incubi. For however much she tried to convince herself that Dr. Singh was crazy to have said what he had said during their last online chat, her hellish dreams and devilish visitors at night were making such convincing difficult.

The incubi of Alex, Grisham, and Langella arrived almost immediately in the burning mansion. She was naked, and on all fours. Alex swept under her, putting his cock in her pussy. Mr. Grisham stood before her and put his cock in her mouth. Mr. Langella was kneeling behind her ass, and slid his cock in her asshole.

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