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"Touch yourself," they demanded.
I hesitated. No one, to my knowledge anyway, had ever watched me getting myself off.
"Touch yourself!" Stronger this time, and my hands moved involuntarily. They could force me to do it, I was certain, but by that time I was so hungry for satisfaction that I let go of my inhibitions. I worked both hands between my legs. One from the front, the other from behind. The forefingers of each hand met in the middle and fought for entry, simultaneously, while the rest of my digits sought their own pleasure points.
The rest of the world disappeared, replaced by the timeless realm of ecstasy. In typical fantasy fashion, a parade of bodies and faces danced in and out of my vision as my hands worked feverishly. Merging, melding, morphing into one complete dream lover. I completely forgot about my ghoulish guests until I heard, "Mmm, very nice," whispered into my ear, its breath as hot as its touch had been. And now a mouth on mine, tongue probing. Fire kiss. Two more, one on each breast. Biting me. Licking me. Plunging me into a roaring inferno that fueled every sense, each suckle sending bolts of lightning straight to my core.
The point—that delicious point of no return—was passed. I was falling toward the sun, burning. Gasping as my hands were pulled from my depths, I felt a hot tongue cleaning my fingers of their juices and then immediately seeking more from the source. Probing hungrily, far deeper than any human tongue could possibly reach, and far more agile than any cock, my walls were painted with fire. Red. Hot. Fire.
I was consumed by the blazing intensity of their attentions, lost in their raging tongues of flame. My skin, my cries, my utter surrender drove them to new heights. They held me as I fell, then flew, then fell—catching the currents and rising again. Each wav
e a new crescendo, until my body spasmed uncontrollably, becoming ultra sensitive to any touch. And still they drove on, oblivious to my gasps as I quaked again and again with the after shocks, begging for mercy. It was too much, too intense.
Then, much to my surprise, I again found myself flying. A threshold had been passed. The pounding intensity of my orgasm was replaced by an infusion of pure bliss, radiating outward from the center of my pleasure. A pervasive sense of well-being invaded my psyche, and the deepest satisfaction blanketed me as I crested again and again and again. Only then did they retreat.
I slept soundly, waking early the next morning with vivid memories of the night before. My spirit lovers would be back, they'd assured me. Every year. Now I fucking love Halloween! Love it with every fiber of my being. Next year? Plan B, of course.
The End.
Salt & Vinegar
LENA
I watch Jus stroll towards the kitchen.
"Get me a coffee will you, Doll?"
She gives me the finger, without looking around.
"Hah!" She's so cute when she's rude.
I throw myself onto the couch as I hear the espresso machine firing up.
It's a gorgeous day. The breeze is playing with the drapes around the open windows of our apartment. The soft movements cut the summer sunlight, casting an infinite variety of shadow patterns onto the wall and bringing my pictures in and out of focus.
My pictures are my life. I think I've always liked pictures. A small piece of the world captured and frozen for ever. You can just look. And the more you look, the more you see. So much in so little; in just an instant. A sudden smile. A cracked pavement. The incredible inevitability of a water droplet about to fall. Shape and form. Colour. Life.
I bought my first camera when I was eleven. It was pretty shit, but I'd spend hours after school just looking through the view finder, framing my world. I even took pictures sometimes. I only kept one of those. It's over there towards the top left. It's the swing in the playground near where we lived. The day was grey and the light just right. The playground was empty, freshly wet with rain. The swing was still and close up you can see all the subtle variations in colour from years of use. I spent some of happiest times in that park. Also some of my worst. A swing: inanimate but with so many memories. And not just mine, but probably for bloody thousands of kids.
I studied photography at college and finally got some quality gear. I've had a few breaks, a few awards. I do the odd gallery showing. I now pretty much please myself. It's not a great living, but I make enough freelance to get by. After all, there's more important things than being rich.
My second favourite photo is of me. And not because it's of me. Jus took it at the beach last summer. I just about ripped her fucking head off for touching my camera. Lucky she'd taken this before I'd realised. What's surprising is how good it is. She's normally so crap with pictures. Beginner's luck. What I love is the wind just gently blowing my hair. It's over my eyes and you can't really see my face. I'm just lying there. It's not even a particularly attractive pose. No, I love it because I remember the day and I know exactly what I was thinking at the time. It was about Jus, it was fucking dirty and I get wet again every time I see that shot.
Hell, I'll be candid. I think fucking dirty way too often. I blame the photography. I like looking at beautiful things. And the more I look, the more I want. Men or women, doesn't matter. I happily do both. Separately or together. But probably more women. There's something about the curves. The sensuality, even without sex involved. Of course, I much prefer there to be fucking involved.
I find pussies absolutely fascinating. So much variety. They're all different, distinct, unique. And I can't stop at looking: the taste, the feel, the texture, the smell. The way they move and open and blossom. Changing like the seasons. From autumn to summer: warm to sweltering hot. From moist to gushing like a torrent in a gully after a sudden shower. Shades of pink and red. Hidden and bare. Proud and aggressive. Soft and delicate. Am I fixated? Absolutely. I'm like a fucking 'crack' addict: pussy is my addiction. Funny thing is, Jus doesn't seem to mind. I sleep around a shit load. Always have. Always will.
Don't get me wrong, I love a good cock as much as the next girl. There's times when you just want to have a raging hot shaft pounding into your cunt. To feel a man's heat between your legs. You can get off with toys and stuff, but nothing feels quite like the real thing. A firm, velvety rod filling your hole. Shit, I'm getting hot now just thinking about it. Fuck. Don't mind me while we talk if I just... Oh Jesus, aaahh.
Where was I? Oh, supposed to be about me. Not much else to fucking say really. I'm loud and crude. Got no time for social graces. What you see is what you get. And if you don't like what you get then that's not my fucking problem! Well, sometimes it is. With Jus, I could cut my tongue out sometimes, but I can't help myself. And she can be such a sensitive, moody bitch sometimes.
"Hey! How's that fucking coffee coming?"
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JUSTINE
"Yeah, almost done. I'm just pissing in it."
