Episode Four: Two Kims Work Out
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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Soaked sweat shirt and pants dribble over the edge of the hamper at the end of Kimmy's bed. She's completely motionless, the sheet pulled all the way above her head, obviously sunk in an exhausted rest. Our Dream Queen has been working out.
Invading her nocturnal wanderings when Kimmy is so tired ought to be much more fun. She's hardly likely to spot us lurking in the corners of her mind, voyeurs of fantasies. Will she be a star-fucker tonight, too? Kimmy's crushes are so much fun.
About 40 women are in what looks to be a gym. Tonight her sleep fantasies are not so very well-defined, but look - a wall of mirrors, showing very nice bodies in leotards or sweats doing some kind of aerobic routine. Over there are some exercycles and weight machines. Kimmy's reliving her day, perhaps. We can see her lithe little form at one end of the back row, her firm breasts bobbing below the edge of a yellow crop top. Her tiny, tight red satin shorts barely hide the rounds of her rear, and have crept up into the seam of her buttocks.
Oh, yes, this is an exercise class with some prime lovelies in it. Leading at the front is the stunning exercise model, Kim Paul. Oh, look at her splendid full breasts under that tight green jersey top, the kind with the skinny straps and low-scooped neck. She's bent half forward, head tilted up to watch her group, a little sweat dropping from her brow while her arms pump down and up at full extension and her feet hop in a quick run-in-place. Ms. Paul also looks something like our Kimmy - could it be we see her feature act in this dream?
The workout group slows and jogs slowly in place, cooling down. Kim Paul strips off her top, and then everything but her white shoes and low socks. This never happens outside of dreams, workout leaders don't do this - that woman is gorgeous. She begins to do a fitness competition routine, showing off to the fascinated crowd of women. Kimmy is fairly drooling at the sight. Oh, yes, Ms. Paul is Kimmy's next star-fucking target.
Ms. Paul makes a dramatic demonstration of her strength and flexibility, dropping onto one hand, lifting her body up into the air above the floor about six inches and spreading her strong, quite nicely curved legs into a gaping split. Kimmy stands frozen, her eyes riveted on the instructress' groin, the smooth hard mound fringed by short-clipped brown-blonde hair poised above the floor. Kimmy can't help herself, she begins to rub her own mound, creasing the cloth of her shorts into her slit as she imagines fucking this star of fitness.
Just as we are getting interested in watching Kimmy get herself nice and hot, everything gets crazy - all the women, including Kimmy, are naked and doing a new exercise routine. We wish Kimmy would be a little more considerate of the voyeurs in her mind, this is hard to handle. Now the other women in the class are standing straddle-legged, arms over their heads, leaning from side to side in long stretches.