Episode One: Kimmy Wrestles with Domination
by Wil E. Harden ©
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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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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Spying on this hungry blonde goddess before she retires, we could guess what Kimmy the star-fucker might dream about. She has an online boyfriend, Lance, for whom she's developed warm feelings indeed. Today the two of them met four times for cybersex, and the last time her boyfriend wrote some things that led her through a major orgasm.
Her boyfriend suggested how one of Kimmy's latest crushes might use her body. Kimmy loves Lance, but she has the serious hots for the female wresting star, Trish Stratus. Trish looks something like Kimmy but the wrestler has muscles and power where Kimmy is feminine and weak. Tonight, Kimmy has dream designs on Trish Stratus.
Strange things happen in Kimmy's dream palace. We catch flashes of events in progress, making our way toward the center of tonight's action, a river of pleasure-giving chemicals splashing and splattering as they course by in small but growing streams. Good that we have the all-weather gear or we'd be stopped in our tracks if any of that stuff got on us, dropped between the brain cells in helpless fits of ecstasy. Looks like the party is getting hot.
Here, pause and look. We've found the region of the sleeping beauty's mind where all the action is. Dream Kimmy is in a flaming pink dress of some shiny material, a short flounced skirt flaring over her modest hips and lush behind. A pair of broad straps form the bodice, wide open down the center to her navel. Her breasts show roundly between the straps and a little is visible from the sides.
She's wearing stockings, the kind that end on the upper thigh in a broad ribbon of elastic lace - see, there, you can catch the edge of it now when she blushes at something someone said and bends her upper body a little. She stands on matching shiny pink high heels, they are quite tall and make her calves stand out in a stripe of shapely muscle.
Oh, Kimmy's at a party. What's going on? It's hard to follow, events shift in that way dreams do, things don't always make sense. Lance is with her now, towering above her - he's tall in life, too - he's taking her hand and putting it in the opposite hand of some other party guest. It's a woman - she's much like Kimmy, but nut brown from the sun where Kimmy is pale, heavy breasted and like a lioness in her haunches. Lance whispers in the other woman's ear and we see her respond by looking at Kimmy with widened eyes. His job completed, Kimmy's cyber-boyfriend vanishes.
Anxiety of some kind clouds the scene, we can feel it by the chemical reactions from Kimmy's sleeping mind. There's another shift in perspective, now, we're looking through her eyes at the other woman from the scene and feeling the same worry our physical hostess experiences. This is quite a "soup" we've dropped ourselves into, it affects us, too. Strong stuff, those steroids, enzymes and liquid proteins in the human brain.
Out there, on the other side of Kimmy's perspective, the woman leans forward and gives our hostess a very wet and erotic kiss. We share Kimmy's rush of relief, surprise, and powerful sexual response as a hot pointed tongue enters her mouth and strong small hands make a warm shock on her cool breasts. Whatever that boyfriend said worked; these women are getting right to the point. Kimmy's active consciousness is slipping away on a flood of physical desire.
Ah! Another dream shift! Kimmy is not at the party any longer, she's in a hazy bedroom, stripping the other woman from a dress identical to the one our hot hostess wears. Her dream body is shivering, not from cold, but from hungry wanting, her bottom and thighs have goosebumps and her sex is pulsing with heated waters. There's no sense of smell in this state, but if there were we surely would know the heavy musk of a woman ready to get laid.
Now the other's dress falls to the floor and she steps out of it wearing only her health and a pair of thick-soled black platform heels. The other woman's hands reach over and cup Kimmy's bared breasts, then firmly push the petite girl to her knees before a prominent shaven crotch. Kimmy eagerly addresses the woman's mound when her hips roll forward as a demanding presentation.
Overpowering, now, the sexual atmosphere in this place nearly robs us of our senses. We begin to lose our own self-awareness, and we watch, become joined to Kimmy's dream while her tongue slides quickly up the woman's slit and down again. She tastes ready.
Kimmy knows this is the one she wanted. Her dream woman tonight is Trish Stratus, the beautiful, powerful female wrestler. Lance has given his lover to the star. He has given his lover what she craves. Kimmy spreads Trish's mound with her fingers, hands trembling, and looks at the secret folds of joy between the slopes. She sticks her tongue deeply into the woman's channel, sucks juices from it, moves her upper lip across the standing clitoris.
Imperiously, Trish places a hand on the back of Kimmy's head, pressing the beautiful face against her lower body as she also tilts herself further up. Now Kimmy's tongue races below the feminine definition, teasing the small strait between Trish's anus and her pussy, licking the salt from her thigh's inner joint, back up and around the outside of her mound, down again into her vagina, out, wet, and up her cleft. She flicks her tongue tip quickly across the hard-soft surfaces of Trish's erect clit and is rewarded with a tremor throughout the woman's body.
Fingers like steel grapples twine in Kimmy's hair. She is lifted by them, brought straight on her feet, and then crushed in a hug. The women's breasts meet, nipple to nipple - now Kimmy is naked before Trish - while their sexes press hard against each other, the bones behind meet, deliciously, through the padding of their mounds. Kimmy is burning.
Trish hands Kimmy a large dildo - it's one of the double-ended types. She forms both Kimmy's hands in a grasp, almost like holding a golf club, around the center of it and guides one tip into Kimmy's cunt. Trish's hands urge the smaller woman to steadily and firmly press the instrument up against the inner wall of her organ. Then, still holding Kimmy's hands between hers, Trish force-fucks the girl on the hard rod, standing up, and smothers her cries with sucking, biting kisses.
Trish's rich bosom sways between their bodies. Her nipples rise from the center of aureolae the size of little platters, a light milk-chocolate brown.
Soon a series of modest orgasms ripple through Kimmy's body. She wants to stop, to rest and let this painful pleasure subside, but Trish forces her to continue until the girl's legs fail and she begins sinking toward the floor. The touch of the dildo in her is happy agony, she feels every bit of it through her overcharged cunny nerves.
Trish lets go of Kimmy's hands to then push on her shoulders until she again is on her knees, the other side of the dildo protruding obscenely from her body, pressing against the floor and deeper into her flaming gut. Kimmy shakes like a dog throwing off water, her hair whips in a golden blur about her head, she nearly falls over and her hands unsteadily brace her as she drops to all fours before the strong woman. Her belly brew runs down the dildo, to drip onto a large dark spot on the carpet.
Laying back on the bed, legs drooping over its end, Trish wordlessly commands the trembling girl to again address her pussy. When Kimmy complies, crawling to the inviting gap between Trish's legs, the dildo waves behind her like an ivory animal's tail. Kimmy runs her lovely hands from the soles of Trish's feet to the swell of her breasts, draws her shapely nails lightly over the rising nipples and scrapes back along the wrestler's stomach. The glistening nails trace, angled, down to the mound waiting for her obedient treatment, around its lower edges, and over the corded thighs that form pillars framing Trish's temple of love.
Both those legs clamp sternly about Kimmy's neck and head when the girl's licking, sucking, nibbling mouth brings Trish to her first moment of joy. Her calves then droop over Kimmy's shoulders, and her heels pound a short tattoo against Kimmy's back. Trish grasps the sunlight cloud of Kimmy's hair and holds her still, while the excitement concludes.
Woman's cum smears Kimmy's chin when she stands. She flicks a delicate pink tongue's tip to one side of her full mouth. Trish scoots further up the bed, pulls a pillow around and tucks it under her hips. She gestures for Kimmy to kneel between her legs and grasps the dildo still impaling the slender dreamer. When Trish pulls the rod toward her, it saws within Kimmy's body, pressing backwards against her tender tunnel. We see her gasp without noise and her hands fly together over the small round slope of her abdomen.
That's a reaction Trish likes. She pulls and pushes the rod back and forth, scraping its inner end against Kimmy's cervix. The girl shakes from head to toe. Trish raises one leg, draws the knee back against her breast, places the foot between Kimmy's globes, and pushes the woman while holding the dildo. Kimmy drops backward, her head loose on her neck, her sex cranked up wide between her knees, the pressing of the dildo inside her an exquisite torture.
From somewhere - the eternal magical storehouse of dreams - Trish has found a set of nipple clamps. There are four of them, rather like alligator clips, shaped as little penises whose balls are heavy weights. The clamps are joined by strong fine chains that meet in the center. When Trish attaches them to her and Kimmy's bodies, the two women see a silvery star with its center in the air between their breasts. Trish leans back and Kimmy's nipples lengthen with the pulling. She falls on top of Trish.
Now the wrestler shows her skills. She wraps her strong legs around Kimmy's, levering the shining-skinned girl against her pud. Their pussies flatten against each other, the implanted dildo sticking between and below Trish's rear seam while the pair kiss ferociously. Repeatedly, Trish's hands slap hard against Kimmy round buttocks, beating a bongo rhythm that soon turns the white cheeks from pink to red. The stinging blows inflame Kimmy.
Then Trish slides her hands under Kimmy's hip bones. She raises the body into the air, twisting the light woman's lower half to aim the dildo at her own cleft. With some movement by both of them, the rounded point arrives at Trish's wet cavern, and she lets go of Kimmy. Both of them slam together, mutually stabbed with jolting pleasure. Instantly they are coupling like rabbits. Trish won't let Kimmy raise her legs into the air, the anchors of her heels showing as her feet hook around the lighter woman's limbs. Their legs spread stiffly atop the bedspread.
Gaps show and close as both pairs of hips withdraw before rushing back together. Their pace is frenzied, driven by a paired need. At one point Trish pushes Kimmy's torso away and we see the sweat on their skin. The chain stretches between them, a cold star of painful points.
Kimmy's body, arched in the shape of a ship's hull, rocks on the ocean of Trish's belly, her stern plunging, then rising, now the dildo showing when her bow drops on the rising wave of Trish's lust, now the clamps tearing at their breasts. They come, again, together, and Trish raises her legs, digs her heels into the pillows of Kimmy's posterior, shoving them both together for their spasms. Women's waters wash down the shores of Trish's curving back.
This is an exhausting dream. We are shaken and tired by it. But the night fantasy cares nothing for the sneak thieves we are. It continues.
Trish rolls Kimmy onto her back. She flops submissively beneath the wrestler, not moving when Trish releases the nipple clamps and the thing disappears as if it never was. Still joined by the double dildo, Trish now pins Kimmy like an opponent in the ring. She slaps her pussy against Kimmy's, spanking their clits and labial lips.
She pushes Kimmy's arms wide and leans on her wrists, wrapping muscled legs around the pinned woman's, and humps their guts. Trish's big tits bounce and bang on Kimmy's helpless nipples.
As in the ring, Trish snarls. Her teeth show brightly between her thinned lips within the tanned face. She rears back and drops her solid midsection against the dreamer, the blow of her body shoves the woman underneath upward, against her grasp. Trish grunts and shouts with the power of it, then shoves down hard against Kimmy's belly and presses that poker into both their sex furnaces. With her legs turned into steel supports, she pushes, pushes, pushes against her victim until Kimmy thinks the dildo will come out of her mouth.
Then Trish shows her control. She grips the fake pecker with her trained cunt column and pulls back up while Kimmy tries hopelessly to keep it in her - and the ring warrior plunges it down like a pair of swords to pierce them both.
When Kimmy jerks her arms against Trish's grasp, the dominant woman's nails dig into the pinioned wrists, she bends over and pushes her heavy breasts against the hapless girl's billows. In a wet whisper, Trish tells her to be quiet and take it. Then she bites Kimmy's neck.
Kimmy feels the other's belly heaving with her breathing. She submits to the controlling power above and inside her while Trish again pulls her cunt up. not in the air, but over the top of Kimmy's, again and again, rubbing their clits across each other, and sawing the dildo in their bodies. The tripping of their sex buttons against each other causes Kimmy to come explosively, she rips her arms free, clamps Trish to her and plunges her tongue into the woman's mouth. Trish, excited beyond thought by her partner's relief, comes also in heaving ripples.
She releases her legs from Kimmy's, pulls her knees up underneath the other's backside, while Kimmy's legs fly high and wide. Their bodies fuse and they shake in a series of fleshly earthquakes. Rivulets of cum trickle past Kimmy's raised hips to streak her flanks.
Around us the commanding power of Kimmy's pleasure chemicals become all-embracing. We are lost in her endorphins as the sleeping woman's body answers her dream's arousal. Overcome, we vanish from her mind.
Kimmy sits up, trembling, her thighs damp. She can't remember her dream. She goes to the bathroom, wets a washcloth and enjoys the cool relief over her face, her breasts, between her legs. As she wipes her fragrant belly, she thinks of the wrestler on whom she has a crush. Her hand remains between her legs. What would it be like, she wonders?
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(c)Copyright, 2000 by Wil E. Harden, Bryn Mawr, CA 92318 All Rights Reserved Published by permission of the author on Literotica for non-commercial, individual private entertainment - not to be reproduced or copied in any fashion without written permission of the author
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