Episode Two: Carmen's Candle Power Electra-fies Kimmy
DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fiction. It features a public person as a character, but strictly in a fictional setting that in no way implies the private interests or personal behavior of the public person in fact parallels the scenes depicted below. This article has not been approved by or presented to the public person for endorsement or comment. Any similarity between the actual acquaintances and actions of the public person portrayed here, and the content of this story, is strictly coincidental.
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ABOUT KIMMY:
Kimmy doesn't remember her dreams. Sometimes she wakes up in the night, skin damp and clammy, her body flushed, and for a moment there's a ghost of recall but it doesn't last as long as it takes to press long slender fingers to her groin. The moist memory of something is still fresh, there, although the sleep images which made her so are gone.
Despite great beauty, Kimmy rarely sleeps with anyone. Her usual bedtime companion is a tattered, battered teddy bear who attended her every girlhood every tea party. So her night visitations can't be clutched at when she wakes from a tossing rest, told to another before the ghost in her brain vanishes. To know what dances among the neurons when Kimmy sleeps, we must steal into her ear, make our way finally along the nerves and set exploring to find that region where her mind lives as her conscious body rests.
And yes, there is a party tonight in Kimmy's brain.
Perhaps we should dress for the occasion first, with a little more knowledge of the woman whose very secret self we will invade. Kimmy is young, just a little older than the law requires to serve her a drink she would only sip from politeness. She was raised well, uses good table manners and doesn't care to see feelings hurt, is kind to animals, watches her small budget and yearns to do something important in her life. Most families would be very proud indeed to welcome as a son's bride this petite, slender blonde with the swan's neck, defined jaw line and straight nose.
Perhaps. There's another side to Kimmy that proves the old adage, "You gotta watch the quiet ones."
She is a bisexual woman with an unquenchable sex drive. Her closet is filled with slutty clothes and rows of very high-heeled shoes. At the private strip club where she is the only dancer, she sometimes fucks the customers ... on stage, on a table, or in the parking lot - and sometimes in groups of 20 to 40 at a time. Often she goes to work dripping cum, stoppered in her ass with a butt plug, gathered in a noonday cruise for cock among the businessmen's bars in town. And when she's not working, Kimmy's at home with a huge assortment of toys she uses while chatting about sex on the Internet - or for fucking with one of her several bisexual girlfriends. Sometimes she has them tie her up and dominate the tiny girl with the very full, silicon-enhanced bosom.
Kimmy's appetites are not the norm, perhaps, but she shares a habit with many people. She sees someone attractive, perhaps someone interesting in personal manners or even spiritual ways more than physically, and develops a crush on that stranger. And she's shy about it, even as many of us are. But where the average young woman with a harmless crush on a handsome stranger might contrive ways to peek from the sides of her eyes at her new attraction, Kimmy wonders how she could ask him to fuck her senseless. Or how to get that foxy woman, rather than a hot guy, in bed. Kimmy is an equal opportunity lay.
Also, like many others, Kimmy is a bit star-struck. She has an open heart as well as open legs, so for her a crush on a famous actor, beautiful model, or popular singer is a brief imaginary love affair of great intensity. In fact, her response is a flood of fluids down her thighs. She often daydreams about being a star-fucker. She doesn't remember them, but her night dreams are often filled with celebrity sex. And we, the dream invaders, are going to join her.
When we are wandering around Kimmy's dreams, it might be best if we wear stainproof raincoats with hoods.
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Hot weather makes Kimmy restless in her sleep, and she usually doesn't even bother getting under the covers or top sheet when the evenings are especially warm and muggy. Tonight it is worse than usual, so she has put on a favorite piece of music by the singer Carmen Electra and disdained the normal bed wear of a long T-shirt and thong.
Trying to find a way of lying on the big bed, Kimmy turns on her side, scissors her legs under a little cooling breeze from the fan pointed over her naked body and tucks one hand under her head. Behind her Kimmy's hair spreads as a pale meadow on the dark covers. Long dark eyelashes don't obscure the sight, through her sleep-slitted eyes, of the compact disk jewel box propped against the side of her stereo, the singer's picture showing a long view of her legs dropping from hips wrapped in a pair of tiny shorts laced open along the sides. Kimmy drifts off thinking she looks like Carmen, but not as pretty.
A few hours later we dream invaders peek in on the nude sleeper. She has fallen partly over on her back now, so one breast lies firm and round upon her chest while the other softly falls to the side. Darting bulges track movement of her eyes beneath the closed lids. Kimmy is resting deeply, in that state the doctors call "rapid eye movement" or REM sleep. She is dreaming.
Music plays, a singer calls from some foggy place beyond our vision as we sidle to the edges of Kimmy's mental vision. Her mind is echoing the songs she heard before, the songs that finally brought her to a state of peace beneath the humid night. She is there by herself, a beauty in blue. On her body she wears a near-transparent baby blue, one-piece teddy with a low cut neckline, a matching-colored pair of thigh high stockings, and a short robe that just covers the stocking tops. She is swirling, in a free form dance on feet shod in a pair of five inch tall blue high heels that cover the toes and have a thick strap on them.
A light oil glistens on her palms and finger tips. As she turns and moves her body in a sinuous dance of seduction, Kimmy begins to anoint her skin. She lifts her chin and spreads the oil using the fingertips of both hands from the top of her neck to her collar bone, then across her shapely shoulders. In the half light of her mind the hollows of her shoulders sparkle like small pools, winking and dipping into shadows as she moves.
There is always enough oil, this is a dream where things never run out, so she continues to lave her upper chest and the round tops of her breasts. Her fingertips slip into the top of the teddy and we see her nipples respond to the touch, rising beneath the sheer fabric. Now Kimmy's hands are crossed over her bosom, each hand cupping the opposite breast as she luxuriates in the smooth oil and her increasingly-sensitive flesh rasping below the cloth of the teddy.
Golden hair brushes the floor between her legs when Kimmy stands and bends, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, hands grasping her ankles while she twists her torso from side to side in time to the music. She slides her hands slowly up her legs, over the burring slickness of the stockings as she sensuously raises her body back up. After her palms slide across the lace elastic band at the top of the stocking, Kimmy twists her hands across the bare skin of her outer thighs, then rotates her fingerpoints back toward her center and slides her hands around the inner slopes and to the backs of her legs. A faint sheen marks the oil her caresses leave on her legs.
Both hands come back and move up to the join of her thighs and groin. They reach the edges of the teddy. She slips her fingers underneath, applying oil just with the balls of her fingertips from her asshole to the top of her pubic mound. The light, sliding touch teases her sensitive parts, circles her openings, but does not pass into any of her bodily portals. The crotch of the teddy shows a darker area where Kimmy's own moisture seeps into the cloth.
While we stare, fascinated, at Kimmy's self adoration, a tall mirror appears behind her. We did not notice when it arrived, only that our hostess now spins to look at herself handling her splendid body. Her hands move under the bottom strap of the teddy, she is manipulating her clitoris and obviously fingering her vagina.