Advice From The Internet 2

I'm not sure what roused me, but suddenly I'm awake with my eyes wide open. My bedroom is pitch black; even the streetlight that normally teases at the edge of my window blind is absent. The loudest sound is my own nasal breathing.

The first nugget of sentient thought to strike me is that my cotton pyjama pants feel off. They've become twisted during the night. I'm a restless sleeper, so that's a common occurrence. I reach down under the covers and pull them back into position.

With the adjustment, I notice a slight wetness in my underwear. That, too, is a common occurrence. It doesn't necessarily mean I'm horny. Sometimes vaginas just leak stuff. On this occasion, I actually am a little horny, but that's irrelevant.

Groggily I push myself up my pillow into a half-sitting, half-lying position. I reach out to my bedside table and feel along its wooden top. Eventually my hand closes around cool metal, and I bring my phone up to my face. In my drowsy state, my fingers fail me, and I drop it on my chest. My phone slides down my buttoned pyjama shirt and between my breasts. The cold screen directly against my skin makes me hastily yank it back out. If I wasn't alert before, I sure am now.

When I turn it on, my bedroom is graced with a faint glow. In the corner of my eye, something moves into the closet.

What was that? My head snaps up and I flick my hair out of my face, peering through the darkness. Nothing looks out of place; there's no sign of any animal or... person. Then I notice that my bent knees are casting vague, shifting shadows onto the walls, and I sigh. Paranoid.

It's 3:15. What a terrible time to be awake. For some reason, I don't feel drawn back into slumber. My reptilian brain has decreed that I need to be alert right now. Instead I open the browser and type in 4chan.org.

Yeah, I know, I know. I promise I'm not completely insane. It's just fun to go on certain boards and announce that I'm a girl and watch the poor incels go crazy. Most of them are just desperate and a bit creepy. The rest demand that I post my tits, which is the standard method of female verification on the website, and when I don't, they call me slurs and threaten to kill me. Not that I've never considered it. A quick half-nude could be fun. As titillating as I find the idea of random strangers masturbating to my body, though, I'm worried they could track me down from a single boob pic, so I keep things mild.

Before the website can finish loading, the screen goes black. I press the power button repeatedly, but my phone only vibrates in protest. Then, I remember that it wasn't plugged in when I grabbed it. Damn.

I lean over and return it to my bedside table, inserting the charger. The dull white outline of an empty battery symbol appears on the screen. It's an old model, and it'll take at least half an hour before I can turn it back on.

Well, there goes the only source of entertainment at hand. I still don't feel like I can fall asleep soon.

My gaze wanders around my bedroom. The charging screen is the only source of light; if not for that barely-present glow, I wouldn't be able to see a thing. As it is, it takes a moment for me to realise that my closet door is slowly moving.

I sit bolt upright, staring at the closet. The creak of the door opening is quiet, yet incredibly clear in the night. It was definitely shut a minute ago. Maybe I just left it unlatched, but why is it only falling open now? What's making it move?

Something steps out from the closet.

My heart skips a beat.

A tall shadow emerges. It's so blurry and indistinct that it disappears into my peripheral vision if I shift my gaze away. Peering at it, I can make out a gently protruding nose and indents for eyes on a head that seems to merge with the darkness around it. Though it doesn't take any noticeable steps, it seems to be getting gradually closer.

Panic fills me, mind and body. I'm frozen in utter shock. This is clearly some kind of evil spirit, or at best a neutral spirit that is nonetheless scaring the shit out of me.

There are three obvious questions: what the hell is this thing, what does it want from me, and how do I make it go away? If only I was as knowledgeable as those occult nerds on the 4chan paranormal board, /x/. I never bought anything I read on there before, but now I'm rethinking it all.

Wait! I remember seeing something on /x/ about dealing with supernatural entities. It was all about confusing the spirit with absurd behaviour. Yes, that's right... the post suggested pulling down your pants and jacking it.

Okay, it was probably a joke, and definitely one targeted towards men. As I recall, however, all the replies seriously praised the masturbating technique. Surely the principle holds true regardless of one's plumbing. Besides, what else am I supposed to do? Looking at that tall black creature, now halfway between the closet and my bed, makes my mind blank on any actual logic. I need to act now, but all I can think about is that silly post.

Taking a deep breath, I cast aside the covers and pull my mane behind my ears. I keep an eye on the shadow person as I put my thumbs around my pants and underwear and tug both down my thighs. Showing this otherwordly being my slightly hairy pussy makes me feel ridiculous, but I can't back out now.

I push my pants past my knees, which I then awkwardly spread, trying to give the shadow person a decent view. It's embarrassing, but I swallow my pride. I've never done anything quite like this before - brazenly playing with myself in front of someone else - so I can only hope I'm doing this right.

With two fingers I gently stroke my labia up and down, spreading my fluid around my folds. The shadow person stops moving. I run my thumb around my clit in circles, getting closer and closer, until I barely brush the tip of it like a feather. A little spark of pleasure elicits a breathy sound from my throat, so faint that even in the silence I can hardly hear it.

Often, when I'm in the mood, I spend a while idly rubbing myself before getting more intense, but this is no time for games. My fingertips delicately enter my vagina, slick with my juices. Penetration can take me a second to get comfortable with, so I just gradually push deeper into myself until I'm halfway to the last knuckle.

Now I can reach my clit with my thumb, which I carefully stroke, making me moan softly. I can feel the shadow person's eyes on my pussy, and when I look up, its head seems to be tilted. Trying to ignore my audience, I begin to move my two fingers back and forth inside me. Not totally jackhammering myself, but tenderly dipping my hand between the tight, moist walls of my vagina.

I close my eyes and try to imagine something sexy, but I can't focus on any particular thought. It's too quiet. I let out another groan, this one deeper and longer, partly in an attempt to convince myself that I really am in heat, despite the circumstances.

When I open my eyes again, the shadow person is still in the same position, even though a few minutes have passed since I started touching myself. In fact, now that I'm looking carefully, there's a second figure standing by the closet. Oh, great - I really do have an audience. I look away from them and do my best to suppress my humiliation. They must think I'm crazy.

The masturbating is keeping them away, but not convincing them to leave... yet. Clearly, I need to up the shock value.

Normally I don't play with my chest much, because it doesn't really help me cum, but it still feels good. More importantly, it's pretty visually erotic, or so I assume. From where I'd been gripping the bedsheet, I put my free hand to work fumbling with the buttons on my top.

One, two, three buttons undone, and my breasts are half-exposed. My first hand doesn't stop fingering me, and my vagina doesn't stop squeezing down on it. The last button comes free, and I part the two halves of my shirt, making sure the shadow people get an eyeful.

My boobs aren't all that big, but I can still grope them and pull them together. The nearer figure now seems surprised. I alternate between pinching my nipples, rolling them into diamonds. Compounded with a jolt of ecstasy from my throbbing clit, I whimper involuntarily.

Then, a gross and unsettling idea enters my mind, and I smile. My plunging fingers take a quick break from their work between my legs. They emerge coated in my natural lubrication, which I spread across my chest, getting it all over my nipples and around the curve of each breast. I return to rubbing my clit while my other hand plays with my tits covered in my own juices. The sticky substance quickly dries, so it doesn't help my self-molesting much, but I bet it looks downright vulgar.

Finally, the first shadow person seems to retreat, ambling back to the corner to join its indistinct friend. It's been over ten minutes since I started this bizarre strategy, and so I'm glad that it's finally paying off. So happy, in fact, that I think I sense a genuine orgasm on the horizon. Not quite yet, but soon.

I'm putting most of my attention on my clit now, flicking it back and forth and around, delivering waves of pleasure up my spine and core. My fluids have leaked down my thighs and formed a wet spot on the bedsheet. Every time I moan, it comes out throaty and between sharp breaths, like I can't hold back my elation.

The shadow people remain silent and obfuscated, but in their featureless faces I can see a conversation. "What the fuck do we do now?" I imagine one saying with its imperceptible mouth. Yeah, that's right. You messed up. You picked the wrong freak to haunt tonight.

Through a mental cloud of bliss, I suddenly remember my phone. It won't be charged yet, but I recall how it reacted when I tried to turn it on. How it vibrated so vigorously, like it was angry I had disturbed its rest. Maybe its rage could prove useful.

Removing the hand from my pussy, I reach across to my bedside table and unplug my phone. It still won't turn on, which is perfect. I place it against my vulva side-on, partially between my lips and resting on my clit, and start mashing the power button.

My phone shakes wildly, and the feeling is so amazing that a steamy whine escapes my mouth. It's like electricity is coursing through every bone in my body. The folds of my pussy quiver with the force as my effectively-naked body sinks down my bed into a lying position.

It's such a simple and strange maneuver, but it has such an effect on me. I just can't stay quiet anymore; moans and whimpers flood out of my throat like pleasure overflowing from inside me. The ends of my body - my fingers and feet, the hairs on the back of my neck, and yes, my nipples - tingle with overwhelming delight. Clearly, I need to invest in a vibrator.

After only a minute or two, I can already sense the orgasm coming. My chest heaves with the mounting pressure. I squeeze my eyes shut.

The fire in my clit culminates in an explosion and I cum loudly and dramatically, my back arching. My legs tremble and my free hand grips the bedsheet tight as if I might ascend to heaven otherwise. At the peak of my bliss, my hips twitch and I squirt a little onto my phone and down my thighs.

Slowly, I relax from the high, panting to catch my breath. For a short while, I lie in a state of glee, too tired to keep going but thoroughly satisfied with my efforts. What an orgasm. I wish every time could feel like that.

Brushing my hair out of my face, I groggily pull myself up into a sitting position. The shadow people are long gone, and they've politely closed my closet door behind them.

My phone smells gross and my sheets will need to be changed. Oh, well. I had no choice. Getting my vaginal fluids everywhere is a small price to pay for preventing a supernatural invasion.

Now I know what to do next time I'm visited by the paranormal. Thanks, Internet!