So, I imagine a faceless man between my legs. I imagine that we’re somewhere extra naughty, like maybe an alley behind the bar where we just met. I imagine him shoving my skirt up and finding me bare underneath. He bends me over, planting my hands on the building and pushing his cock into me from behind.
I let my head fall back, plunging the bottle in and out of me hard and fast. It feels even better than I expected, just from the sheer knowledge that it’s an object that probably shouldn’t be inside me. I push it deeper, until the neck starts to widen at the base, stretching me.
I’m rocking my whole body now, still imagining the faceless man fucking me. An orgasm starts to build, making my thighs tingle. I moan loudly, reaching up to knead one of my breasts and pinch my nipple.
A sensation whips across my clit, and my eyes spring open, shocked by how good that just felt. Glancing down my body, I realize how ridiculous I look, with my legs hiked up on the table and a wine bottle sticking out of myself, but…
What was that that just made my clit pulse like that? Maybe I hit a spot inside me that nobody has ever hit before. I push the bottle back in, gasping, but I don’t feel it again, that sensation like fingertips across my clit. I slide my hand down between my legs and rub at my clit, going at myself hard with the bottle before my orgasm hits.
I cry out, throwing my head back. The orgasm doesn’t last long, acting more like a lightning strike than anything else, and then I’m left feeling weird as I tug the bottle out of myself slowly. I don’t know if I should be ashamed or not about how badly I need to be fucked and that I would take pretty much anything inside me at this point, but I’m going to choose to ignore it.
I put my dishes in the sink and leave my book on the table as I get in the shower. When I get out, wrapped in a big towel, I also ignore the prickle up my neck from that sensation of feeling watched. It’s just because of all the windows, and I’m going to have to learn to live with it if I’m going to manage a whole week in this place.
I dress and get in bed, and now that my libido is sated for the moment, falling asleep is easy.
Chapter 2
In the morning light, the cabin is homey, a far cry from its intimidating presence in the darkness. I’m feeling rather charmed as I take a seat at the desk in the spare room and set my coffee beside me.
Okay. I’m ready.
Back in the city, I can’t focus. Yes, I moved to the big city for my dream job, but I figured out pretty quickly that a high-speed executive job in the city wasn’t really my dream at all. I still love living in New York, and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, but I knew that if I stayed there twenty-four/seven, I was never going to write this damn book, so I rented this cabin, took a week off work, and made a run for it.
And now that I’m here, I have to actually do it. So, I open the notebook I brought with all of my notes in it, and I get to work.
When the headache sets in,I finally stop writing. The sun has long since set, the only light coming from the tall lamp beside the desk that I turned on hours ago. I’ve been writing for ten hours.I only stopped for food and bathroom breaks, even though I can recognize now that I probably should have taken a walk or something. Well, there’s always tomorrow. The forest will still be there once I’ve had a few hours of sleep.
My sore limbs protest when I unfold myself from the desk chair. Who knew that writing all day would take such a toll on my body? My legs hurt from sitting at a ninety-degree angle; my back hurts from being in that computer chair; and my eyes are burning from focusing on a screen for way too many hours. I may work an office job normally, but I rarely spend that much time focusing so hard on what I’m typing.
So by the time I pry myself away, I don’t even have the energy to make myself dinner. I stumble into my bedroom and collapse in the center of the bed. At least I had the foresight not to change out of my pajamas all day.
I fall asleep quickly in the peaceful darkness.
Beautiful girl…
I jerk awake, staring into the shadows. My body is on fire, covered in sweat, like I have a fever. But it’s not a fever. My body is primed for sex. I look down at myself, surprised to find that I’ve pushed my shirt up over my breasts in my sleep. I’ve got one hand wrapped around the plump weight of one of them, and my nipples are rock hard.
The hollow between my legs pulses, as if I’ve already begun the ascent to orgasm. I’m panting. The air around me feels thick, and I close my eyes again and reach between my legs, mindlessly pushing myself toward satisfaction.
I arch my neck, feeling the imaginary pressure of hands along my skin. I imagine a man with rough hands, touching andstroking andfeelingme. I swear the weight of his hands are there, even though I know they aren’t, but it’s like a caress along my breasts and my belly and the inside of my thighs.
I moan and shove my underwear down and stroke myself, not surprised when I find just how wet I already am.
Yes, just like that…
I gasp. I know it was my imagination, that voice in my head. My own fantasy. But it feels so real. It’s then that I wonder if I’m not still mostly asleep, floating in and out of a dream even as my toes curl into the mattress, and I hook my fingers inside myself. I feel that if I just stopped moving right now, I would slip right back into sleep, and maybe back into whatever dream is making my body react this way.
Keep touching yourself…
It’s like a whisper in my head, and I’m certain it’s coming from my own mind, even if it doesn’t sound like the voice of my inner monologue. No, I’ve clearly conjured a male voice in my head, a voice that’s telling me what to do so that I can find release.
That’s it. Pleasure yourself, pretty girl…
The voice is enough to shove me over the edge, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other slamming hard into the space between my legs as I come.
When it’s over, my body goes limp, and even though I'm sweaty and covered in my own juices, I fall right back to sleep.
Later,when I wake again, it takes me a moment to remember it all. The sun drifts in through the window, and I find myself mostly naked in the crumpled sheets. I turn over and burrowdown deeper into the blankets, my mind still slipping in and out of sleep.
