by Brenna Campbell
Lying in bed, listening to my breath, luxuriating in the warm air wafting in from the moon-drenched night, feeling rather lonely. The air, filled with lusty summer secrets and promises made on stars, enters my lungs and I hold it there, sucking the magick from it. But before I finally expel it, I take the things that I am lacking and blow back whispery wishes into the world, hoping the fates might fill my aching places.
I stare down the length of my body, right down to my toes and appreciate my perfect sensuality, a thing a year before I did not have the confidence to recognize. I am naked and moonlight settles on my body, shining blue on my breasts, stomach and knees creating shadows in the crevasses of places intimate and secret.
My hair smells like honeyed almond milk and I drowsily think of what it would be like to lick that stickysticky nectar from a lover’s naked body or to inhale the scent of vanilla from in between full, round breasts. My body stirs as I envision the sensation of cupping soft delicious hips in my warm, wanting hands.
I roll over onto my side, resting on one arm, and stretch out the other to hug a body that is not there. I crave the feeling of a warm someone next to me, to hear their breathing, to stare into eyes that are comfortingly familiar but full of secrets and unshared stories. How I long to place my lips upon their shoulder and a hand on their hip, communicating through only fingertips and deep sultry gazes.
I long to touch the sensitive places on a body not yet worshiped and kiss away the memories of scorned lovers or nights of unfinished passion. I want to fill the lonely places in their heart with endless comfort and the unsatisfied parts of their body with my wantonness.
In my mind I touch flesh and I feel a body freeze as if unprepared for an act so unexpectedly intimate. With my other hand I caress a nameless person’s shoulder, and the back of their neck to reassure that I only want to please. I feel them melt into my hand, burning right into my blood through my fingertips, and I tremble as they relent unto me. Rigidity is replaced by eagerness, so I follow the flow of their neck, and notice a rise in temperature as the skin tightens, as if anticipating more attention. I touch my own neck, wishing it was the hand of my fantasy partner, but knowing that I will be the only lover in this bed tonight. I know that this is all in my mind, but it no longer matters; sometimes a good brainfuck is just as lovely.
My brain fully takes over and I slide a finger to my mouth and play the tip over tongue and lips, imagining an artful lover teasing and toying with the part of me that wishes so much to be kissed. I long to feel skilled hands and warm palms flat on my belly, or grasping at my wriggling hips. I wish for wandering kisses and mingled breath, hungry for lusty glances full of sexual promises and yet, all shall go unfulfilled tonight and I am left alone. However, when I close my eyes, my body submits to my imagination and soon I can feel small kisses all over my nakedness, and my hips rise off of the bed, quivering.
Summer moonbeams stream through the window, illuminating my body, casting my skin with a shimmery, silver glow, making me feel weightless and magickal. I try to imagine what my lover would smell like, to bring them to life, if only for tonight. I close my eyes to the luminescence and breathe in. Evergreen and pine fill me, the heady scent playing with my mind, creating a lover with strong shoulders and arms stretching out to me, wanting to lock me in their solid embrace. The light scent of aspens, mingling with cedar transfigures penetrating eyes, deep, calm and wandering. Those eyes look at me, and into me, filling me with even more longing and make me shiver. With just a glance, I am aware that this is the key to satisfying every sexual fantasy swirling in my brain. Any desire will be fulfilled, if only I submit to those eyes.
With the prospect of secrets to be played out, I breathe in again and trail my hands up and down my torso, inhaling sugary vanilla and the lightest hint of musk, promising fantasies come to fruition. With eyes tightly sealed, I open my mouth, sighing and feel smooth lips upon mine. I breathe in. I let them suck the air from my mouth and lungs, entrusting them with my very life. Releasing my mouth, they swoop in gracefully to my neck, and with softsoft lips cover my carotid artery, biting so hard that my toes curl. I dig my nails into the light cotton sheets and my knees buckle, reflexively making me straddle this secret lover’s burning hips. Whatever breath I have left, I lose it, waiting for another bite, another kiss, another moment of painful pleasure, another anything.
Opening my eyes, bright moonlight overwhelms me, making me wince. I look for my lover, but see only dust motes snowing down through the humid air and onto my sweat-glittered body. I was indeed alone, but a delicious craving was burning in my cunt and I hoped by closing my eyes again my lover would steal back to me, and fill me up.
I await their warm lips and knowing, artful biting on my skin to alleviate the pressure building between my legs. I long for caresses and erotic words, egging me on, to drive me higher; to send me into a frenzy of fucking and pain and craven delights. I need them. And I need them to want me and to fuck me. I need it all.
I rock my head back onto the pillow, warm from the flush of my heated face, and I feel them kneel onto the bed. I can feel the pressure of the end of the bed give under them and I freeze in a second of panicked vulnerability. Only seconds ago sex-hungry greed fueled my bravado, but now, I am intensely aware of my naked pussy on display revealing weakness. My secret moment of brazen lust is quickly replaced by exposure and now threatens my craving to be fucked and explored.
Feigning courage, in my head I say, “fuck me now,” meanwhile, no words manage to escape my parted lips. Instead, the secret lover whispers, “How?” I wish I had the nerve to say, “Just put it in me. And fuck me. Good and slow. And then ride me until it hurts.” But I don’t. No words are spoken.
I long to say, “I want to cum. And I want to be dirty. And I want to hurt when this is over.” None of these words enter the night. But as is the way of fantasy, this lover knows, and with the tip of their tongue, they slide it down the parted lips of my sex and breathe, “I know. I know what you want.” They breathe again, “whatever you want” into my damp pussy. I nearly come right then.
This nondescript lover that is no more distinctly man or woman, touches their fingers to my pubic mound and it feels like my flesh will melt. My clit is insistent, throbbing and pulsing, my cunt struggling for satisfaction.
I try my voice. “Fuck me.” And add, “now” all too timidly as time seems to stop. I feel hours melt into days, waiting for this faceless lover to enter me. I turn my head to watch them get up and undress. My hair, like wisps of soft spun sugar plays across the pillow, and I look at the clock wondering how much time has passed. I watch this lover disrobe and feel my confidence flow out of me as they steady themselves into position to fuck me. I watch more than feel their hands run down along my thighs. I watch the kisses to my knees and calves. I watch as solid hands grab my ankles, sliding my legs further apart. Mind and body separate with the graphic image that don’t seem connected or the things about to happen to me. Effortlessly their hands grip my ankles. Effortlessly they ease my legs open to an almost painful position. I smile into the moon-filled room. Effortlessly they chill my jangled nerves bringing me back to just the ache in my cunt, wanting just one thing, to be fucked hard.
Looking away, unsure if I want to see them enter me, I turn my head again to the clock, expecting hours to have passed, but realize the number has not changed much from “1:30 A.M.” The red numbers glow, remaining steady, making me feel lost.
Smooth skin, belonging to neither man nor woman, but Sex itself, move up my thighs, sizzling my tender flesh like water droplets in a skillet. What part of this entity is touching me? And which part will touch me next? Holding my breath and praying to stop time, I focus on the electric red “1.”
Hands on my ankles, the “1” still glowing at me. Ankles moving, knees shaking, back arching to receive, hands shifting and more insistent, none of which I feel, but merely watch happen to me.
“1.” A moan. A moan of delicious pleasure comes from my lover, the type of moan made specifically upon the instant of full penetration. A sigh from my lips as I watch Sex tirelessly move over my body to fill it with kisses and thrusts, and probe all of my intimate places. I feel their hair on my belly and their tongue dives in to moisten my already slick pussy.
“1.” I gasp. I feel that. I feel it. I do. I gasp again, and, bolder now, move my hips bucking my pussy to their mouth. I see Sex purposely move back and away, only to return to rub a steaming furnace-hot cheek across my inner thigh. I hear them inhale, as if trying to take in my essence and another groan escapes their lips, puffing warm air onto my pulsing clit. I melt. I am an ice cube in an electrical outlet.
“1.” I moan.
“1.” I roll my hips and shift, being half-dragged, half-scooted down the bed. They want me. All of me. I can sense it in every pore of my body. Every. Atom. Of. My. Being. Instead of being afraid, I am now so turned on that just breathing is pulling me higher and higher towards the peak of orgasm.
“1.” I feel a strong hand grasp my lower back and another hand on my voluptuousness, taking my body hostage, making it theirs. “1.” I am effortlessly rolled onto my stomach. It feels as if steam is pouring off my back as the summer breeze drifts across the room seemingly as endless as the universe itself. There are no more walls, just Sex, and what they are about to do. In my head I can sense them willing me to give myself over to them completely, but I can’t. Because from the moment they came to me, I was already theirs. And I was chosen just for them to use and fuck and turn into total passion.
“1.” I ache, tremble, gasp and want. I am lost until I feel a crack across my ass and it sends me reeling. I feel like I have slipped off the edge of a canyon and can’t find my footing to stop from falling. And I fall. And I sense nothing but falling and “1” and the delicious crisp sting welting up on my butt. Another snap and another crack, still falling, and my clit pulses. I feel as if I will never cum. But I don’t want to, not now anyways. I want to stay here and be fucked until- another slap. This time on the back of my legs, making my ass squeeze my pussy and vibrate my entire body. My weight settles on my breasts and I relish the sweat-soaked sheets on my sensitive nipples, and I greedily shift to purposely cause more friction. More moans escape my lips. My sounds anchor me to Earth, and keep me from joining the stars in the sky. They chain me to reality instead of becoming vapor to disappear into the void.
“1.” How many times have I climaxed, or have I even cum at all? Will I ever release or be released? Will there be an end to the tension in my cunt?
“1.” My lover spanks me again, artfully, playfully, endlessly, in total control. The Sex entity builds a delicious rhythm and combines our moans, and my sighs, and the heavy breathing, and the wind outside to turn it into music. The calculated slap of their hand is as insistent as the steady rhythm of hard, shameless fucking and I no longer need to cum. I just need to be fucked. I just want them to keep going, to drive me higher.
“1.” I am being spanked by expert hands, feeling fuller than with any cock or dildo that could ever fuck me. I am being fucked from the outside. My skin is being fucked by their hands that never let up; absolute pleasure upon pleasure.
“1.” Continued spanking, insistent, time is still “1.” Being fucked to the core of my being from the outside and it stings, and my ears are ringing and my clit hurts, and my legs are cramping and my body is the ecstasy in every bedroom of every house of every human fucking at that moment. Cries escape from my lips and I know that I am now bleeding. I relish the sound of the slapping, I love the sting, I want the pain, I need the contact and then suddenly, somehow, I feel them enter my pussy- stretching my delicate places.
“1.” My lover breaks the rhythm. And with a final crack that splits the entire night into two solid pieces, the wind, and vapor and mist pour into my core. Their hand rests on the prints that have formed on my ass, and they are as red as the electric “1” that still glows as steady as ever. I close my eyes, or open them; I no longer can separate reality from what my mind has just done to me. I bask in this unexpected painful pleasure.
I drift somewhere, closing (or opening) my eyes to “2.”