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.
It's almost the color of...a coin. Of course.
I'm sure it would have been obvious to me sooner, but in this hazy world I wasn't quiet on the top of my game.
I took one more quick scan of the horizon and I saw it. The
figure.
I had missed it during my first survey because it was so small (or so far away), but there it was now that I knew what I was looking for, plain as day. I couldn't quite make out a distinct shape, it seemed to shift in random directions often opposing the direction of the gently swaying field. The longer I studied it the more I felt compelled to walk towards it. I didn't even notice I was moving until I closed about twenty yards. Once I realized I was walking I decided to pick up the pace. If that...thing...was the only thing in this sea of wheat, maybe it could let me out of here. The further I ran, the taller the stalks of grain became, until eventually I could only see the sky and a brown, shifting haze in front of me. I would've gotten lost had it not been for the driving force in my mind, propelling me towards the figure. Heedless of my speed, scratching stalks, and the occasional divet in the ground I made my way. I was swimming through a lake of stiff, brown water. One arm goes out pushes space for me to run. The next arm goes out. Left. Right. Left. Right. Lef...suddenly there was no more rough stalks to push.
The clearing was formed of pressed down stalks of wheat. In the center there sat a small building made of stacked stones. The building had one small rectangular door—just enough for a petite woman to fit comfortably through—and no windows. I walked around the outside of the building, I'm not really sure what I was looking for, maybe I just trying to work up the courage to go inside. Once back at the front of the building I forced myself to go inside. I turned sideways, ducked my head, and shimmied inside.
The interior couldn't have been more different from the exterior. The ceiling was twenty feet high, decorated with two candle filled chandeliers that bathed the room in a flickering orange-red light. The room's walls were covered in ivy, but instead of growing haphazardly the vines grew to form narrow swaths of green. The regularity in their size and frequency of occurrence made them seem like cultivated pillars, supporting the improbably high ceiling. What wasn't covered in ivy was filled with swirling, twisting designs that seemed to have neither beginning nor end. And in the center of the room there was a simple wooden chair resting on top of raised dais. In that chair, sitting naked, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
I was beginning to wonder when you would take notice of me.
Said a mirthful female voice in my mind.
I had begun to wonder if centuries of idleness had caused my charms to weaken.
Her lips didn't move, rather she lazily rested her head in her hand with an eyebrow raised. She...I didn't know her name yet, had long, gorgeous, flame red hair that fell in waves down her back and over her chest, obscuring the nipples of her ample bosom from view. She had rose red lips that shimmered slightly as though recently wetted by her tongue. Her stomach was firm and taught, thin lines denoting the strong muscles underneath. Her legs were smooth, pale, and very long. She had crossed them and was idly bouncing the top leg. But her eyes...her eyes were mesmerizing. Dark green forest green, almost to the point of blackness. I couldn't look away, couldn't move, couldn't speak. She strummed the fingers of her left hand gently on the arm rest of her chair.
Do you speak?
The voice in my head sounded mildly annoyed.
"Sorry." I managed to stammer out. "Who are you?"
I am Erthois, though I suppose you can call me Eris. Mine is a very old name, a bit outmoded. But what you really want to know is what I am, isn't it?