At last it died down, and I just lay there in the pool of cum, and sure enough, as the minutes passed it became lighter and frothier until it just evaporated off me and off the bedclothes. I was just a naked, sweaty girl laying there with my pussy and ass and mouth tingling. I was exhausted, satisfied, still horrified by the whole thing, but relieved that another session seemed to be over. I drank some water and fell asleep again. It was 6am.
I was woken two hours later by Mom, urging me to get dressed so we could go to church, of all places. I've never liked going to church. When I was a tomboy kid I used to wear a boy's suit to church but today of all days I felt like the supreme hypocrite, going to church and hearing the pastor talk about the sanctity of marriage when every night I was being fucked in every hole by dozens of invisible people, and enjoying it, what's more.
But I got up and showered and put a dress on, and tied my hair back, and I went along.
At church, Mom and Dad waved to our friends the Dahlstroms, and Mona nodded to me and held up her hand with the thumb and little finger outstretched: call me later.
Mona's my oldest friend. Not necessarily my best friend, but my oldest. Mona is ... well, I think she's pretty. But she's kind of funny looking. She wears glasses for her short sight and she has these big teeth which can be kind of alarming cause when she smiles, which isn't that often, she beams. And it shows her big teeth. Which I think is cute, but she's all self-conscious about it so she deliberately doesn't smile much. She has a nice body, though she doesn't show it off. I've never known Mona to go on a date. She claims she sees guys. I've just never met one.
Mona's mom died of cancer when Mona was 10, and Mona went through a phase of totally believing in spirituality and Tarot and angels and stuff like that, and she got more and more miserable because she believed that her mom's spirit had lived on but it was clearly making no effort at all to communicate with her, and that was uncharacteristic of Mona's mom, who was a really sweet lady. So Mona thought that her dead Mom must be very pissed off with her for some reason, and it was very hard to convince her that that was highly unlikely. She got very depressed, and one day when she was eleven she drank half a bottle of her dad's bourbon and took some sleeping pills. It was actually pretty lucky she drank the bourbon because it made her throw up the pills, but while she was recovering she discovered a magazine called the Skeptical Inquirer and she stopped believing in all that new age stuff and became converted to reason and skepticism. (It also put her off getting drunk; she'll have a beer or a glass of wine now and again, and that's it.) She started reading people I'd never heard with names like Hume and Chomsky and she started taking math really seriously, and ... well, I may not be totally stupid, I like reading classic novels and I'm going to do English Lit at university because I'd like to be a teacher, but Mona is whip-smart. She's going to study criminology.
Like I say, Mona's not exactly my best friend but we've known each other since we were three, and my parents are friends with her dad and stepmom Alice, who's really nice.
I was sitting in the church with my parents waiting for the service to begin when suddenly I felt another pushing. I did my best to conceal how it felt as I mentally fought it off. I started to sweat. I swallowed and trembled slightly.
"Harriet, are you okay?" said Dad.
"I'm fine," I said tightly. "I just feel a bit ..."
"You don't look great," he said. The cock was insistent, pushing at me, I could feel hands on my boobs, hands sliding all over me. A tongue was in my mouth. I pushed it out with my mind.
"I feel kinda sick," I said. "I'm gonna go outside for some air."
"Do what you have to do," Dad said, "it's fine." I saw out of the corner of my eye he and Mom exchange a worried glance. My parents are pretty cool, all things considered. Even church; they weren't like raging evangelical Christians or anything. I'm not even sure they believe in God. I think they only went to catch up with their friends. More than one during the sermon I'd see my dad sneaking glances at his watch.
I got up and walked quickly out of the church, feeling it get stronger and stronger. I went out into the sunlight and went around the corner and stood out of sight in the shadow cast by the church and I gasped and concentrated and, slowly, I fought it off. The pressure of the cock grew less and the feel of the hands on my body grew fainter, until at last, after about fifteen minutes, it had gone completely.
But oh God, I knew I was gonna pay for that later. It had been so vivid. Whatever it was would return and I wouldn't be able to beat it down.
I heard a voice behind me say "Harriet?" I turned around, wiping the sweat from my forehead, and there was Mona. She looked concerned. She was wearing a twinset and weird little hat, an outfit which had belonged to her grandmom and which she liked to wear to church to be ironic. The older people thought she was genuinely wearing it to look respectable, whereas her dad and stepmom knew that she was doing it because she thought church was stupid, but they didn't mind as long as Mona didn't make snarky comments about it.
Mona wasn't my best friend, because we had grown up to have so little in common - she was studious where I was mostly interested in a good time, she was sarcastic and negative where I was enthusiastic and positive, she had almost no friends while I had loads. Nevertheless, I still liked her and on some level I really wanted her to like me. When she had tried to kill herself and had wound up in hospital I'd got really sorry for myself (Why does Mona have to be sad? Why can't she be fun again?) and my Dad had snapped me out of it by reminding me that it wasn't something that was happening to me, it was something that was happening to her, and if I was going to mope around feeling sad for anyone it should be Mona. That was my first big lesson in not being entirely selfish, and the next time I'd gone to see her in hospital I'd gone in all determined to cheer her up and when I'd seen her smiling weakly in her hospital gown I'd got this huge attack of something or other - suddenly I got just a little glimpse of Mona's life through her own eyes, with her Mom dead and her Dad being sad but brave and she being so sad about it that she'd tried to kill herself - and I'd burst into tears. Not my best moment, but she'd ended up patting me on the back and making me feel better. ("It's okay, Roxie, I'm not going to do it again." She always called me Roxie, for some reason. I remember her saying once in her spiritualist phase that in a former life I'd been a gangster's moll.)
So I always felt that Mona knew more than me and was sadder and wiser, because she'd cheated death, dammit.
"What's up?" she said, peering at me through her thick glasses. "You okay? Are you hungover? Do you need a tampon or an Advil?"
"No," I said, "it's nothing like that. I'm ..."
I suddenly thought, as I stood outside the church with my heart pounding and my face clammy with sweat, that I had to tell somebody about what was happening to me, and it had to be her. If it had been a closer friend, someone like Julie or Agnes, they probably wouldn't believe me and would think I was pranking them or something.
"Are you busy?" I said. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"
"Sure," she said. "I mean, I'm at church, but no-one's going to miss me."
"Me neither," I said. "Come on."
We went to the parking lot and Mona, who was learning to drive and who used to practice by driving herself, her dad and her stepmom to church and the shops on weekends, let us in. We sat in the fronst seat.
"What's up, Roxie?" Mona said, and then paused and peered at me. "Oh God, you're not pregnant, are you?"
"Oh no," I said. "It's not that. Listen ..."
I thought for a moment.
"Mona," I said, "have you ever heard of anyone having sex with someone who isn't
there?"
"Yeah," said Mona immediately.
"Really?" I said, thunderstruck. "Who?"
"The virgin Mary."
"Fuck, Mona," I burst out. "I'm trying to talk about this! Okay ... let me put it
another way. Do you believe in ghosts?"
"You know I don't," said Mona, seriously. "Why?"
I stared at her face, with her lips parted and her big buck teeth showing behind them, and her squinty pale blue eyes staring at me through her glasses.
"Okay," I said. "I'm just gonna say it. For two days now, I keep having sex with
invisible people."
Mona stared at me blankly.
"What do you mean by 'have sex with'?" she said.
"I mean I can be sitting at the dinner table or in church, or lying in bed, and I feel,
like, a cock starting to enter me, and a guy's hands on my body, and I go through the whole thing, and I feel everything, but there's nobody there."
Mona's eyes were widening.
"And then when he comes," I said, feeling myself blushing crimson, "his cum is like,
on me. Or in me. Whichever. It stays on me for a while but then it quickly kind of ...evaporates."
Mona was looking at me like I'd grown a second set of arms.
"And if it's night," I went on, "then it's not just one person, it's a whole gang of people.
Dozens, maybe a hundred, and all at the same time. I woke up yesterday morning and my whole bed and me in it were, like, covered in this weird ghost jizz that evaporated about five minutes later. I was trying to tidy it all up before my Mom saw it and she came in and found me standing there with my t-shirt and my briefs and all my bedclothes bundled up and me stark naked, and I had to pretend that I'd started sleeping naked and was going to put a wash on, so now my Mom thinks I sleep naked, which is something I'd prefer she didn't think cause she'll probably tell people."
"And what," said Mona in a flat voice. "These invisible people are ... having sex with you."
"Yup," I said. "And not just regular sex. I don't wanna get into too much detail but they're not too fussy about where they take me."
"What," she said, puzzled, "like the car, or outside, or ..."
"No, Mona," I said patiently, "like what hole they want to fuck me in."
"Oh Jesus," said Mona, and it was her turn to blush.
"And I'm learning to stop it happening once it starts to happen," I said. "That's what I was doing outside the church just now. But if I do stop it, it only goes away for a while. It comes back at night and really intensely, like it's angry at being kept away. Then it's kind of bad."
"Wait," said Mona, "it's not bad the rest of the time?"
"Well ..." I said. "It's really inconvenient, but the sex itself is pretty fucking amazing.
Except when it's that returning kind. That's really aggressive and it's no fun. You know the way bad sex is?"
"Yeah," said Mona after a tiny pause.
"So now I don't know what to do," I said. "Every night I'm getting my brains fucked
out for over an hour, and I wake up aching and I haven't had enough sleep. Luckily I'm, well, I'm enjoying it now, but what about when I get my period? What if I'm ill? If I were sick with something, it'd be hell. I want to try and find out what's causing it, and stop it."
I sat and looked at Mona. She stared back at me. Neither of us said anything for a long moment.
"What?" I said finally.
"I'm trying to think why you would make up something like this," she said.
"I'm not making it up!" I cried. I felt near to tears. "I'm telling you this cause you're my oldest smartest friend and I thought you might be able to help."
Mona stared out the windshield.
"It's a little hard to reconstruct the context of this," she said.
"Not really," I said, impatient and upset. "Something or someone invisible is having sex with me against my will, and it has a real effect on me but not a permanent one,
apparently."
"Yeahhhhh," Mona said. "That's the hard part."
"Well, I can't make it happen," I said, "or I'd show you what it's like."
"So, you're definitely not imagining this," she said.
"No! I'm telling you, I've woken up two mornings in a row now in a bed covered in fucking cum!" I was almost shouting. "It was in my eyes, in my mouth, in my vag, everywhere! I thought I was gonna die when mom found me, but when she did, it had gone!"
"Okay," said Mona calmly. "Calm down. Let's think about this. Exactly when did this all start?"
"Two nights ago."
"And had you done anything, or had anything been done to you, that could be regarded as a cause of it?"
"Like what?"
"Like, have you been laid under a curse by an old gypsy woman? Sorry - an old Roma woman?" Mona was impeccably politically correct, which is one of the nice things about her. Nevertheless, I wasn't in the mood for her brand of sensitivity.
"Of course I haven't been laid under a curse by an old gypsy woman!"
"An old Roma woman."
"Whatever!"
"Had you done anything else? Anything at all out of the ordinary?"
"No," I said, paused, and said "No" again.
"Why did you pause and say it twice?"
"I did do one thing," I admitted. "But it's so ridiculous, it can't have anything to do with this."
"What was it?"
"Seriously, Mona, it's not relevant."
"I'll decide that. What did you do?"
"I sort of ... made a video. Of myself."
"A video of yourself? Doing what?"
"Dancing."
"Dancing. Just dancing."
"And kind of doing a striptease."
"A striptease?!" said Mona, aghast. "How much did you take off?"
"Kind of ... everything," I muttered.
"'Kind of everything'?"
"I got naked, okay?" I said. "It was my choice. Nobody made me do it."
"And what, did you send this video to anyone?"
"Not exactly."
"What did you do with it?"
"I ... posted it."
"You posted it on the internet?" said Mona in a flat, cold voice.
"Yeah."
Mona stared at me, then opened the car and got out and slammed the driver door behind her. I got out and followed her.
"What?" I said. Mona stomped off.
"Mona, what's the problem?" I said, annoyed at her.
"Well, excuse me," said Mona. "I didn't realise that my oldest friend was apparently
brought up in a TRAILER PARK!"
"It was just a bit of fun!"
Mona turned and put her hands on her hips. I'd never seen her so angry.
"Harriet!" she said. "Those videos that girls do where they strip naked and dance? That's what drunk skanks do! That's not you! What the hell were you thinking?"
"I wanted to see what people would think!" I said.
"Of what? Of what a slut you are?"
"No," I said. "Of my body."
"Harriet, you've got a great body," said Mona. "I would kill to look like you. You're freaking gorgeous. You don't need to post a video of yourself butt naked on the internet to get strangers to tell you that."
I was surprised and flattered. Mona went a bit red and looked away.
"Thanks," I said, calmer.
"It's fine," she muttered.
"Okay," I said, "look, what's done is done. Anyway, it was just a stupid video. I'll take it down. It doesn't have anything to do with what's happening to me."
"Doesn't it?" said Mona darkly. "You sure?"
I realised that I had no way of knowing.
"Well ... I don't think so, anyway."
"I think," said Mona, "I'd better have a look at this skank-fest of yours."
***
"Okay," I said. "Don't ... shout at me."
I clicked the link and there I was, in my t-shirt and sweatpants, dancing away. Mona watched, impassively. I glanced at her. She was being very detective-y about it all, which I liked. I had no idea how or whether the stupid video had anything to do with
my involuntary invisible fuck-buddies, but I had to find out.
On the screen, my dancing self pulled off her t-shirt. Then, a moment later, her sweatpants.
I glanced at Mona. She was still watching, but there was a faint hint of colour in her
face.
"It's coming up now," I said apologetically. "We don't have to watch the bit where I get nekkid, do we?"
"Yes," she said flatly.
I watched, mortified, as my bootylicious self on the video peeled off her bra, teased the viewer with her arms over her tits, and then exposed her boobs, raising her arms above her head.
"I can't believe I did that," I moaned, peeking at it through my fingers.
"I can't believe you did it," Mona murmured.
"Oh no," I said, seeing me reach down for my briefs, "come on, we really don't need to see this ..."
"Everything might be a clue," Mona said, holding up a hand, never taking her eyes from the screen.
As my video self rolled her panties down and finally got entirely naked, Mona made a strange noise, a kind of sharp gasp. I glanced at her and her face was impassive as ever, but she was blushing, staring at my image on the screen, not even blinking.
"Yeah," I said, "so, there I am, I guess ..."
"There. You. Are," Mona breathed, and then as the video faded out she tore her eyes away and smiled brightly at me.
"Okay," she said. "So that happened. You got naked on the internet. Very naked, I might add."
"Don't rub it in," I moaned, folding my arms and hiding my face in them.
"The question is," Mona said, "does this have anything to do with this other thing.
Let's see."
"You look it up," I muttered. "I'm embarrassed enough as it is."
"Let's see, let's see," Mona said to herself. I heard her clicking on the various links and quickly closing pop-up windows and other tabs as she negotiated her way around the site. "No, this all seems quite normal, this is fairly ... hmm ... what's this ..."
"What," I mumbled, my face still buried in my arms.
"Nothing," she said. "Hmmm. Weird. I wonder what the great American public is making of all this."
"Oh God," I groaned, "don't read the fucking comments. Please."
"Here we are. Let's see. 'You are a hot bitch. I would like to fuck you.' 'I'd so fuck that.' 'Wow very fuckable.' Romance is not dead. 'Yay go girl. Let's see more of them titties next time.' A gentleman, finally. Oh, this one goes into detail. 'Hey babe. Wanna make out? You look so hot. I would take your clothes off and lay you down and put my cock in you real slow and ...'"
"What?" I said, startled, raising my head.
"He's describing how he'd fuck you, Roxie," said Mona. "It's not exactly J.D. Salinger."
"No, what he said," I said, craning around to look at the comment. "Something about, hey babe, wanna make out ..."
"'Hey babe, wanna make out, you look so hot'?" Mona said, reading it off the screen.
I stared at it in disbelief.
Those were the exact words spoken to me in my dream, by the first stranger to come along and undress me and drag me down to the sidewalk and fuck me. I looked at the time on the comment. It was made at exactly 5.01am.
"I had a dream," I said. "Two nights ago. It was how it all started. I had this dream and people were coming up to me and talking to me and fucking me and ... that's the first thing that the first one said. Those exact words. Hey babe, wanna make out, you look so hot."
Mona stared at me.
"Not exactly Romeo and Juliet," she said.
"No," I said, "but ..."
I grabbed the laptop and scrolled down.
All the subsequent comments were terrifyingly familiar.
I would kiss your tits and then fuck them and then fuck your mouth until you swallowed my cum.
I'd like to do you until you screamed for more, then I'd roll you onto your belly and take your tight little asshole.
I'd fuck you until you were begging me to cum in you, then I'd pull out and cum in your cute face.
"They all did this," I said, dry-mouthed. "This all happened to me. In the dream. Everything up until ..."
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