Autoerotica

Here I am at my first ever book festival

Many people are milling around, drinking shitty white wine from plastic tumblers.

But I'm not here to get drunk.

I'm heading straight to see >>>>>> >>>>>>>

I heard she was signing books here and, to be honest, that's the only reason I came.

I'm gonna ask her out on a date.

I push through the crowds of squawking culture-vultures. And suddenly I see her.

She is wearing very skintight, multi-coloured clothes and shines like a beacon. She is sitting at a desk signing books. There is a very long queue.

I grab a beer and join the line. There are about 20 people in front of me. They all have books just like me. This means that, potentially, 20 people might ask her out on a date before I get a chance. What if she hits it off with one of them? I can feel beads of sweat coalescing on my brow as anxiety sweeps over me. I glare at each of them in turn, shaking with anger, hoping that their tongues will suddenly swell from anaphylactic shock and they will drop to the ground, asphyxiating.. I picture >>>>>> >>>>>>> chatting to each of them, smiling, laughing, impressed by their wit and poise, looking away as she laughs and then furtively looking back through downturned lashes. Then being taken by the hand and gently led away, enraptured by her new suitor, while the rest of us look on in dismay. I stare hard at the back of each of their heads as they walk up to her, willing aneurysms to rupture in their brains before they reach the desk.

But then I notice that she is just signing books and saying hello. Smiling a gorgeous, plastic smile. A smile that says "I'm just waiting for this to be over. Please don't make it any more of a pain than it already is."

So I'm reassured; she's not interested in them.

Finally it's my turn.

I walk towards her, holding the book in front of me, but I don't give it to her to sign. Instead I hold it up like I'm a salesman demonstrating some product and say,

"This is a good book."

"Thanks"

Her hand is held out to take it from me.

"This is a very good book."

"Thanks" she says again and stretches out her hand a bit further.

At that moment I have a sudden mental image of me eating her pussy while she is sitting on a big pile of copies ofAutofiction.

I am going for it, licking furiously at her really wet pussy while she is arching her back and screaming as she orgasms.

The thought makes me stop dead, frozen. A blushing snowman.

Then suddenly it occurs to me that she can maybe read minds or is so super-intelligent that she knows exactly what I am thinking. So I try not to think of that; at any cost to think of something else. I close my eyes to concentrate. But instead I've got another vision; of me screwing her from behind and of her grinding her hips down onto mine so that my cock is deep inside her and we both have intent, ecstatic expressions as I slam my penis into her again and again, as deep and hard as I can.

She looks a bit surprised when I open one eye and I wonder if she is shocked at what I am thinking or if it's just because I'm standing there like a statue.

But then I decide to assume the worst: she can read minds; she knows I'm thinking about us making love. So I decide to send her a mental image of what our date will be like, with all the less explicit bits edited out.

The Date

We're dancing in the club for ages, sweating and high. She is rubbing herself against me, I am caressing her ass. Abruptly we are kissing and stroking each other, our kisses wild, our faces covered in saliva. Soon we are in the bedroom, kissing and talking. She is sitting straddling me. We are both aroused and wet under our clothes. Finally we can't stand it any more and start to rip each others' clothes off.

These mental images take a few seconds to complete, in which time I have put the book down and leant on the desk, looking down at her.

>>>>>> >>>>>>> looks even more perplexed.

Then suddenly with a 'snap' I am inside my mental image that she can read from my mind,inside her mind. She is there too and she makes another mental image where we are naked and she is sitting on top of me, riding me, with my cock deep inside her and she is sliding up and down on it and I am kissing her. I think we are on a bed on an island in the middle of a lake with mountains all around. Anyway, it's a nice spot. We fuck like that for hours; wild, sweating, fast, violent in a rage of sexual passion and then slow, hot, languorous, dripping, pounding endlessly. Flowing and dynamic; from one extreme to another; becoming one whilst time and space disintegrate and we float like pure energy; two perfect waves combined into one; in sync with the throbbing heart of the universe.

Until finally, utterly exhausted and satisfied, soaked in each others' bodily fluids like newborns, we collapse onto the bed.

And suddenly I am back in the conference room with the other book lovers and I realise that all that epic amazing fuck had taken place in the 5th dimension. Beyond time. And so had not even lasted an instant. But >>>>>> >>>>>>> is still there in front of me, as lovely as ever, still with the same perplexed look on her face.

She gets up from her chair, snatches the book from me and sits down again, hastily signing the copy of her novel.

With a stunning yet impenetrable smile she hands it back to me and says

"Bye-bye"

I'm speechless for a few moments, then I start to stammer, barely intelligible,

"W...Would y...you..."

"No way, creep"

She cuts me off.

A frown passes over her face like the only cloud crossing the sun of a pristine azure sky.

I turn into a snowman again.

But I don't melt, I sublime straight into a gas and my molecules float up to the ceiling and slowly evaporate out through an air vent.

The End