(Inspired by "Wakey" by Hydragyrum)
*
As Betty Gregg awoke one morning from intensely erotic dreams, she found herself being fucked in her bed by a gigantic insect. "Well that's one way to describe it," she thought with a gasp that was one part terror, one part orgasm. "Actually, it looks like one of the spider things from that space movie," was another stunned thought.
The creature had more legs than the infamous movie monster. It didn't seem to have eyes or a face. A tiny stalk with a miniscule knob, sat between the center legs. It took Betty all of five seconds to go from startled shock to shrieking terror.
She had the sight of the creature to process, then the realization that it was delving into territory previously explored by a few select men [including her ex-husband (plus a couple of women no one knew about)]. Her shrieks of "Help! Scream! Oh!" were lightly salted with a touch of "How dare he?!!"
It had to be a "he". Its schlong was buried deep in her pussy. At least it looked like a schlong. A long, thin schlong; good enough to swell her clit, make her wet, and give her cunt a serious work out. Betty had to struggle for outrage between her cums.
Her initial instinct to jump out of bed and run screaming from the room had a couple of complications: she was stark naked and glued.
A strange blue resin manacled Betty's wrists and ankles to the bed. The same resin covered the bedroom door; resin covered her clock, resin covered her bed, resin covered her walls. The room looked like a blue-hued cave.
The only way out was the window, but her confined condition scotched that option. "Well, I'm thoroughly fucked," she thought, "and in so many ways."
It wasn't fair. Yesterday, she was at the beach trying out her new bikini, a test to see if she still had it. Betty was thirty-five, old age in "hot years" (her ex-husband's words). Her idiot ex-husband made that point by leaving her for a twenty-five-year-old masseuse. "Can't believe I married someone so shallow," she thought.
She took him to the cleaners, but the damage to her self esteem needed serious repair. The looks she got from the beach boys, especially the younger ones, had done much to fix her ego.
Her new lady friends were sympathetic, "How could he? You're gorgeous." Betty was actually quite beautiful; her ex had little reason to trade her for a younger model.
Betty had long limbs and curves, a big chest with melon-sized breasts, broad shoulders, and a large round ass. Her jet-black hair was cut in a classic bob. Her dark brown eyes were slightly almond shaped. She had full red lips. People said she looked like Jennifer Tilly crossed with Louise Brooks. Betty was flattered, especially at the favorable comparison to Brooks. She was a fan of the actress and copied her hairstyle.
Betty had rented a private, isolated house by Lake Michigan. The house sported good locks; the area was crime free. The house creaked and groaned and made strange sounds. She stalked the place with a baseball bat. It took a month before she felt secure. At night, she left the bedroom window open. Betty slept nude so the night breeze could cool the sweat on her skin.
The night before the manacling, a meteor shower lit the sky. Betty watched from the back garden. She soaked in the bath for a half hour, dried off, and climbed into bed. Betty thought she heard a sound outside her window; she ignored it, letting the creaks and groans of the house lull her to sleep.
The wet dreams started immediately. Some involved her husband (Betty stirred in her sleep, offended that she'd even dream of the prick); others involved some of the young studs she met on the beach.
She dreamed of women, old boyfriends, new ladyfriends, movie stars (Louise Brooks made several appearances). Every dream involved being stroked, licked, sucked, and penetrated by dicks, tongues, fingers, mouths, among others. She came throughout the night, fueled by sex fantasy.
The last dream involved everyone. Betty orgasmed awake to find herself manacled, spreadeagled, and a giant spider on her pussy.
Betty prided herself on smarts, perceptiveness, and maturity. Once the initial shock wore off, the whats and hows became obvious. The thing was an alien. It had crept through the window, unnoticed, obviously after the meteor shower. "Maybe the meteor shower was an alien landing," she thought.
The thing had something to do with last night's dreams. The dreams were intense, erotic, and distracting. "A psycho killer could have broken in and I'd still be dreaming of fucking Louise Brooks," she thought.
Betty considered that she was still dreaming, "This whole thing is just way too weird (and mind you, this was post-"Help! Scream! Oh!" and-"How dare he!")."
She had presence of mind (difficult, given the attention the creature was giving to her pussy) to take stock. "I'm glued and trapped. My legs are spread. My pussy's wide open. There's an alien spider dipping its wick into it and 'gasp!' I think I just came." Betty pondered the strangeness of alien spider sex, "This is a new experience."
Betty looked at the creature. The view took her across the hills of her breasts. She felt a degree of self-admiration, "I do take care of myself." The early morning sunlight fell on her sweat slick skin. She glowed a pinkish-white against the dark blue resin. Each hitch of breath quivered her boobs with jellied quakes. Her areolas, dark pink half dollars, rested on opposite sides. The peaks of her engorged nipples pulsed erotically.
Beyond the breasts was her torso; a deep valley shaped by years of yoga and Pilates. Her belly and pelvis rippled and flexed; muscles tensed and relaxed in orgasmic crunches. Channels and trenches, small hills and rises appeared and vanished. "I'm rippling," she thought. A faint shadow appeared on her belly, running across the dent of the navel. It flattened and creased, vanished and reappeared with each breath.
Her legs were split at forty-five degrees to her body. They were bent at the knees, muscles quivering. The creature was between them, dipping into her moist flower, drawing her cum as a pump draws from the earth.
Its eight legs scrabbled across her lower pelvis, smearing her nearly bald pussy with juice. The creature's activity on her sensitive nethers almost made Betty giggle. Her other ululations crowded out the impulse. She was initially unaware of her love music. Her attention was focused on the alien.
The creature 'slurped!' as it worked her cunt. It's wick, wet and shiny, plunged and pumped. Betty second-thoughted, "I don't think it's a schlong." The "thang" looked too long and thin to be a dick, "And dicks don't really 'slurp' do they?" Betty noted that the "schlong" pulsed in a way reminiscent of a straw sucking water.
It was doing something to stimulate her clit and g-spot. Betty came with orgasms of increasing intensity. Each orgasm flooded her cunt with fluid to be slurped up by the spider creature. "Oh my God! It's 'eating' me," she gasped. Then she looked at the creature's eight fingers. They moved across her pelvis with soft strokes. "No," she thought, "it's milking me. It's milking my pussy for cum."
Betty created a sex chant; a series of grunts, gasps, and moans, "Ugh! Gasp! Mmmm!...Ugh! Gasp! Mmmm!...Ugh! Gasp! Mmmm!" Betty was tempted to encourage the creature as she would a lover.
Betty's body bellydanced to the alien's thrusts. The position of her legs restricted hip movement. Her belly and pelvis did all the work. Their bellows-like action pumped juice for the creature.
"This thing will have to stop sometime," she thought, "How am I going to get out of this stuff?" A soft, warm breeze blew through the window, cooling her skin. The next few hours were quiet; the only sounds were the soft wind in the trees, the slurps of the spider, and her orgasmic chant: "Ugh! Gasp! Mmmm!...Ugh! Gasp! Mmmm!"
