I parked Jenny's Mustang a block from Amy's two-story apartment. We'd gotten to the point in our relationship where we basically lived together, but I wasn't quite comfortable with giving up my place. I guess I'm a little bit of a commitment-phobe. The lights in the apartment were dark, meaning that Amy hadn't finished her shift yet and that I would be spending the rest of the night alone.
Well, that's good. I guess I have time for a shower.
I walked up the stairs, stripping as I went, throwing my dirty clothes into the hamper in the corner of our bedroom. I flicked on the bright yellow lights of Amy's luxurious bathroom and turned on the hot water. Steam quickly filled the room and some of the unconscious tension I had been carrying eased, if only slightly.
I used the shower as a time for reflection, mentally reviewing what had happened since I met the old crone on the way to
La Mer.
Amy's oral had been amazing, unintended though my command had been, the results were incredible. I hadn't cum that hard since I first discovered masturbation. The events after that—the waitress, Jenny—the troubled me. I closed my eyes and replayed the waitress' shrieking, the sound of a puddle of her cum forming on the floor, her moans, her pleas to cum. I felt my heart rate speed up, my cock swelling slightly at the memory. I suddenly felt guilty. I hadn't fucked her, but oh how I wanted too. That...wasn't like me. I loved Amy. I did. I had never cheated before in my life.
Am I really that weak? Does a little...ok...a lot of power rob me of all of my self-restraint?
The thought of fucking brought me to Jenny. I could still see that white knuckled grip, her hair flipping as I pounded into her from behind. I could feel the tightness of her asshole squeezing me as I fucked her to an orgasm. My cock twitched at the thought.
Stop. Thinking. About. It. Focus on something else.
Unbidden my mind continued its mental review of my night with Jenny. Pulling my swollen cock out of her freshly fucked ass. Commanding her to finish me with her mouth. Watching her eagerly swallow my cock, sucking it roughly, passionately...sluttily. Finishing on her face, her hair, her chest. My breathing had become ragged, it felt like I was reliving those last few blissful moments. And then my mind fixated on the look of humiliation, despair, and (best of all)
fear
. That thought brought my lust, my arousal, my
need
to a fever pitch. I
needed
to get off.
Needed
to fuck something.
I tried to masturbate. Usually the warm water of the shower was enough to help me get off, but today none of the mental images I could conjure—Heather Harmon, Faye Reagan—nor the half remember erotica I'd read could get me off. I felt frantic, there was throbbing in my cock and I had to find release. I shut off the water, toweled off as quickly as I could, and got ready to jump into bed. On an instinct I decided to grab The Coin out of the hamper—I didn't want it to get accidentally washed or something. Coin in hand I hurled myself onto the bed and started slowly stroking, searching my mind for anything that would help me get off. I flipped through the images of every woman I knew to no avail. Until, that is, Nancy O'Donnell. The boss that had laid me off.
Nancy was beautiful, if a bit severe. She wore her black hair in a tight bun, stylish, but large, black rimmed glasses framed her hazel eyes. Nancy always wore dark black suits to contrast, I suspected, her perfect alabaster skin. Unfortunately, she was as asexual as they come. Her skirts were always mid-calf length, and word around the office was that she hadn't gone on a date in five years. The images that filled my mind, however, weren't of Nancy the severe boss, but Nancy the Slut. Begging to have my cock rammed down her throat. Begging me to bend her over her desk and
punish
her for firing me. Pleading with me to ram my cock into her wet cunt. I could almost feel the wetness of her mouth taking me, swallowing me whole. My orgasm was building but I couldn't get over the edge.
Fuck, I'm going to teach that bitch a lesson tomorrow.
The thought was barely formed in my mind when I was overtaken but a massive orgasm. A stream of cum coated my stomach and chest and I almost passed out immediately. I kept enough presence of mind to wipe myself down before I passed out. As I drifted off to sleep I imagined how I would greet Ms. Nancy O'Donnell.
I awoke—well not precisely awoke
per se,
more like 'became aware of my surroundings'—in an open field. A wide expanse of wheat gently swaying in a light breeze that I couldn't quite feel. But, the field seemed...off. Though the field shifted, each motion seemed to lag, to streak. It was as though I was in a living oil painting. It was disquieting. I was further unnerved by the fact that the place seemed so familiar, despite the fact that I'd never been near a farm or a field of this size my entire life. City-boy, born and raised. I studied my surroundings more closely looking for a landmark that might remind me of where I was. I turned in a slow circle, searching for anything—the sun, a city, a tower, a person—that could help me deal with my growing sense of unease.
Where the fuck is the sun?
Though I had done a complete three-sixty the sun wasn't anywhere to be found in the cloudless sky. The field was immersed in this auburn, brown light that appeared to originate from everywhere and nowhere.
