Gateway Ch. 01

I use my index and middle fingers to spread my pussy lips. I can see the fully exposed nub of my clitoris and the opening of my pussy. My eyes shift in the mirror from the lewdness of my exposed pussy to my own eyes. A powerful shiver runs through me as I softly beseech, "See my pussy ... my cunt ... see my need, my arousal, my hunger ... watch me ... take me ... use me however you want ..."

I watch my middle finger slowly disappear into my opening. I gasp. Something is amazing about the initial penetration and I allow it to be slow until the knuckles of my hand are pressed against me. I twist it, I curl it, and I feel the ripples of tissue inside. I move the finger in and out, knowing this first action will produce more lubricant. I slip another finger inside to join the first. Both slide in and out. I part the fingers inside, sliding the fingers along both sides of my pussy as I pull them back out.

Already, my bedroom is filled with my soft moans, gasps, and groans.

I pull my fingers from my pussy. They are coated with the clear, slick fluid of my pussy. I pull the fingers along my body and between my heaving breasts to my mouth, my other lips. I coat my lips like a fresh application of lip gloss. I inhale the scent. I look directly into the mirror and meet my own gaze ... and smile wickedly. I drive my fingers back into my pussy and masturbate furiously for minutes, my thumb bumping against my clit, my arousal instantly spiking. Again, I pull my fingers out but this time bringing them directly to my open mouth. I watch the fingers enter my mouth, the lips close around them, and my cheeks hollow as I suck the slickness and the taste from them. All the while my eyes are fixed on my eyes through the mirror: tempting, teasing, entreating.

My breathing has become faster and heavier. I see my ribcage expand, my breasts rise and fall. A light sheen has formed on my body in the warm air washing over me from outside. My need, my arousal, and my surrender are obvious. I plead to my own image, "I need to cum! I need to orgasm! PLEASE!"

A new shadow passes by the foot of the bed, the mirror becoming fussy for a moment. It is nothing, just a shadow, a movement of the sheer curtain and moonlight. A voice in my head, 'I would do wonderful things for you. I would pleasure you completely.' I stare at my image. It is clear, again. I leer at my image with the lust and hunger that fills me. "Do it then, slut!" I command, I entreat, I plead. "Give us the orgasm we need!"

I use one hand to caress my breasts while the other returns to my glistening pussy. My eyes flick between the fingers rolling, pinching, and twisting a nipple to the index and middle fingers disappearing between my pussy lips, my thumb rubbing my clitoris. The action, and the image, quickly send me to a higher level of arousal, closer to the ecstasy I desire.

My need heightened higher, my hand leaves my nipple and breast to join my hand between my legs. As if one hand encourages the other, it presses it harder and deeper into my pussy. A third finger folds into my pussy while the second hand retreats slightly to my clitoris, the swollen, engorged nub occasionally visible as my fingers move in and out. Faster and faster my fingers slide in and out of my slick and drooling hole. Faster and faster the fingers strum my clitoris. As if on their own, as if my fingers understand what's needed, they switch position and action. The fingers from my pussy now bring with them a thick coating of lubrication to my very stimulated and sensitive clit.

My orgasm is fast approaching. It is close. My body tenses. My back arches as I feel my body filled with the electric tingle of nerve endings firing. My mouth opens without sound. My tongue comes out to wet my lips as I pant and gasp. My knees rise and my feet press into the bedding as my hips rise from the surface as if they could encourage my fingers more. I have a fleeting glimpse of my lewd display a milli-second before my eyes roll up and my lids close. My three fingers are buried deep in my pussy as they drive in and out, lewdly and obscenely making a squishing sound through my over-wet hole. I curl the middle finger and probe, searching for that spot, that wonderful spot until ... OH GOD, YESSSSSSS ... I hit my g-spot as my other hand mauls the clitoris on the outside. The ultra-sensitive nubs, inside and outside, bounce electric shocks back and forth until they crash in an explosion that almost cripples me.

For a moment, I feel that way ... crippled ... unable to move, to breathe, to think. My hand is nearly buried in my pussy with my back arched and hips raised. My body shakes and trembles. Seconds seem like an eternity, a magnificent, wonderful, glorious, astonishing moment that held no earthly bounds.

When my breath came back with a gasp, my body crashed to the bed spent and fulfilled. My hand came out of my pussy and my other hand releases my poor, abused clit. I brought both up to my lips, my other lips, and again took in my scent and taste my orgasm.

My empty hand flopped to my side and it was only then that I rediscovered the forgotten vibrator. My hand grasps the toy and raises it. I catch myself in the mirror, again. Between my heaving breasts and parted legs, I see my image looking back. The image becomes blurred ... again ... as a deep shadow passes in front of it. Then, it clears and I hear the voice in my head, again, but I don't pay attention to the sound, only the words. I don't recognize a deeper voice than my own. Not now, anyway.

'Do it. I'm watching you like you want me to. You like being watched. Why else would you dress like that, walking through the house with lights on, not caring if someone might see in with your body exposed under that flimsy, sheer gown? Do it, again. Use that this time.'

I stare at my image. Lust fills my eyes. I gaze at her in the mirror. She taunts me, again. And I am so willing. As if I really do have a witness, a voyeur, an audience. My pussy is shiny with my wetness, my continued arousal, the evidence of my orgasm. My nipples are still hard and sensitive, my clit engorged and prominent. A shadow passes before the mirror and for an instant, my image is blurred and the voice in my head, that deeper voice that doesn't seem right to my mind but must be, taunts me more.

'Do it ... you are so sexy, so beautiful, so exciting ... you are sex. Do it. Show me how you use that.'

"Yessss!" I moan it out as my breathing rises and my arousal escalates. The taunting, the teasing, the blatant display. My mind must be tricking me with my image and thoughts as if it is someone else is here with me. "Okay ... you want to let it go and be the slut? Do you want to let the slut out? Not enough to use my fingers; you want the vibrator, too." I turn the nob at the base of the toy and it begins to vibrate in my hand. I rotate it over each nipple and suck in a gasp of air before sliding it down my body to my clit. My back arches as the vibrations shock the engorged, extremely sensitive button. I stare at the mirror, at me. Is it fuzzy because of a shadow or my surging, resurrected lust? "Okay, slut ... not enough to finger yourself to a release, anymore? Do you need more? You want to be more, be slutty? We'll be slutty!"

I've never felt this hot, this aroused, this needful. Maybe I really am a long-dormant slut. Is that my problem? This thing inside me needing release and holding me back, clouding my work?

God ... I can smell the scent of sex in the air, an aroma like a faint perfume mix of musky arousal and light sweat. It wafts over me with the light breeze through the balcony door. The vibrator glides over my glistening, open pussy lips. My image in the mirror smiles at me. I turn the vibrator at my hole and it sinks inside. My eyes, my mirror image's eyes, are sagging in lust but the smile on her face is lusty and encouraging.

"You like watching me, don't you?" I taunt my image as I pull the vibrator out and slide it up to my clit. I know my hole is open; I can see it. So can she, my image, her eyes riveted on my drooling hole.

'Yes ... I like watching you. I have since you arrived. You're different than all the others. You belong here. We want you here. We'll protect you.'

The voice doesn't make any sense but I am too stimulated for it to bother me.

"I'll be the slut, then! It's what we need, right? We need to be released to renew ourselves." Maybe. Maybe releasing what is inside will renew even my work, my creativity, and my writing. I'm alone. It's safe. Letting the slut out is still just for me, it's still private and myself. Well ... my eyes refocus on the taunting image in the mirror ... for her, too. I stare into the eyes of my image. "Yes, slut ...", I gasp out with mounting lust, "I'll be your slut." I drive the dildo into my hole and cry out. I stare at my image staring at the vibrator-filled pussy ... mine, ours ...

The mirror blurs with the passing of the shadow, once more. 'Be our slut. There is so much waiting for you.'

Yes, I think, there is so much if you release. Don't hold back timidly; don't settle for the partial experience. Release. Experience. Feel. Accept everything. My eyes close. My image is lost. "Yes, I want this."

I pull the vibrator out of my pussy. I pull the gently buzzing shaft, slick with my juice, over my clit and up my body. I bring it to my mouth and suck my arousal, my juice, off the buzzing surface. It tastes good. The taste excites me further. My scent is on it and it is good, too.

I feel a change. I become deliberately not deliberate. I don't want to rush to a climax with proven manipulation only to cover up and go to sleep. I want to experience. I want to explore. I want to experiment. I want to feel. I want to experience. I want sensations to lead me, to guide me.

I bring the vibrating, buzzing shaft to my right nipple. I just hold it there, not pressing, not urgent. The vibration tingles. Electric impulses increase and flash through me. I shift it to my left nipple as my free fingers roll and tease the excited one. I gasp and moan. My tongue comes out to lick my lips which have already become dry from heavier breathing. I softly, gently swirl the buzzing shaft around my breast, then the other, then between them, and down to my stomach. I slow its travel to a crawl. My stomach muscles contract with the tension of anticipation. As the shaft comes to my belly button, my pelvis involuntarily rotates down as if nervous about the approaching stimulation. A smile forms on my lips. Slow and easy. A gentle building that almost seems to be too much in anticipation. The shaft reaches my mound and my lower back curls down to bring my pelvis up, now in welcoming anticipation of contact.

My eyes slit open. I look between my heaving breasts and spread thighs with the vibrator poised at my mound as a shiver of anticipation rolls over me. My smile is unadulterated lust.

"This is what you want? Unhurried, unrestricted, open."

The voice, 'Yes. You will experience so much.' Why doesn't the voice in my head sound like mine? Maybe to sound more erotic, more enticing to me?

The vibrator slides over my mound, just above my clit. I suck in a breath, then slide the end onto my clit and press it onto the nub. I almost cry out as a jolt of concentrated sensation shoot through me. But after only a moment I press it down over my lips, tilt the shaft so the end glides along my slit, parting my lips until it reaches my hole. When I feel it hit my hole, I pull it to sink it into my pussy. My mouth opens without a sound as a shiver ripples through my body.

I feel the pleasure building, skyrocketing. Little moaning sounds escape my mouth between ragged gasping breaths. My upper back arches, thrusting my breasts into the air. My neck curls with my head craning back against the headboard, my eyes shut tight. Both hands grasp the vibrating shaft, one hand over the other as if two are necessary to secure it, to drive it home completely. My nipples ache they are so taut and stimulated. My stomach contracts off and on as the intensity of the feelings grow from within me. With the shaft buried deep inside me, one hand shifts to finger my clit. The thumb and forefinger grab the sensitive nub, they squeeze, twist, and press.

A scream flies from my mouth filling the room as my body ... my soul, my being ... rushes to orgasm like none of my life.

"OH GOD ... OH GOD ... OH YEESSSSSS!"

My skin crawls with a feeling so intense I can't stop shivering and quaking. It is right there. I am at the crest of the most wondrous, most powerful, most amazing physical sensation ever felt. It has to be, it must be.

With one hand thrusting the shaft in and out of my dripping, sloppy pussy, the other grasps the end and twists it to the highest vibration. My mouth gasps, then my breath sticks in my throat as my head curls to my chest and my pelvis tilts up in a semi-crunch. My muscles ripple, tense, and ripple alternately.

With the vibrator pulsing inside, one hand moves to a breast and nipple, the other to my clit. My nipple is tortured as is my clit. Leaving my nipple, I press a finger alongside the vibrator to add it inside my pussy. I curl the finger and find the g-spot. The vibration of the shaft courses through the finger onto the sensitive g-spot which courses through me to my clit. It is all I can take.

"OHHHHH ... FUCKKKKKKK!" It comes out in a scream of sudden release as the most powerful orgasm crashes over me. "Ahhhhhh, ohhhhh, huuuuuhhhhhh ... yessssss ... YESSSS!"

My shoulders crash back into the bed and pillows as my lower back and hips rise off the bed. My feet pressed into the bed, my body tense and pulsing as wave after wave crashes and explodes through me.

I suddenly yank the vibrator from my pussy and throw it somewhere as I continue to quake and shiver, my breath coming in gasping panting. My fingers smooth down over my clit and pussy lips. They are engorged, swollen, and too sensitive to the touch. My hole is dripping and gaping open.

I fall back, roll over and pull the top sheet with me to cover into a fetal position. But as my breathing slowly calms and I am sure my heart isn't stopping and I am squeezed into a protective ball under the cover of the sheet, I sigh with satisfaction and contentment. I have never released myself so much. It was wonderful.

The ocean breeze gently wafted into the room through the open French door from the balcony and felt like soft caressing over my sweat-sheened naked skin as I lay still gasping for breath and reveling in the best erotic pleasure I've allowed myself in ... forever. I uncurl myself and lay on my back, one hand softly fondling my breast with the other gently stroking my slippery pussy lips. The satisfaction and fulfillment I felt were joined with enough fatigue that I could easily fall into sleep. But there was something about the house that seemed to exude energy I never experienced in the condo, a feeling or sense of being watched that spread a layer of exhibitionism over the top of the very real orgasmic experience. It was silly, of course, because I was definitely alone.

I opened my legs as my eyes closed and my fingers again moved deliberately along and into my wet pussy, my thumb glancing off my throbbing, engorged clit. I felt very much like I was splayed before a lover as I masturbated for his eyes to entice him to hardness, again. My heart began beating faster, two fingers now buried deep in my pussy, the other hand rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger. I gasped as my arousal again surged and I opened my eyes with only slits, peering down along my body to the foot of the bed, almost expecting to see my unknown lover standing there, stroking his hard cock, his eyes riveted on my displayed body as I brazenly showed him my arousal and desire.

He wasn't there ... of course.

I sighed, reached for my wine, and found it empty. I sighed, again. I could turn into the bed for sleep but ... that energy had a hold of me. I still felt watched though I knew nobody was there. No lover to anticipate more from. Not even any homes nearby for an accidental voyeur to catch a glimpse of me. I sighed, yet again.

I swung my legs off the side of the bed, grabbed the wine glass as I stood, and nakedly walked down to the kitchen for a third glass of wine. I took the glass out onto the front porch without the light on and sat on one of the chairs there. The ocean was relatively quiet, the breeze again softly caressing my body, and the sounds from the dark world were peaceful. My body and mind ebbed with that peacefulness of the world.

I set the glass on the small table in the entry after closing and locking the door, a new silly habit ingrained by coming from the big city.

As I started up the stairs, I felt that feeling of the house stronger than ever. I was being watched. I felt it but knew it was impossible. Unconsciously, at first, my walk responded as though there was someone to actually entice. My hips swung and my steps were firm, all to enticingly put a swing to my butt and a bounce to my breasts. At the top of the stairs, the light on the wall behind me flickered. As I moved down the hallway, I look over my shoulder. I know there was someone here with me, at the other end of the hall. I also know there isn't. But the feeling was much stronger this time.

My heart raced as I called out, "Hello?" But there is no response. Of course, there wasn't.

No, I was mistaken. I am alone. I must be alone. I know I am alone. But ... I thought I saw a man, but there is no man here. Only me.

No. He's there. I can see him ... almost. I fully turn in the hallway in the direction of the image. I am completely naked in my own house ... alone ... and I think there is someone here with me. The idea is absurd, certainly a product of the wine and my erotic imaginings and arousal earlier. The light flickers more, the hall intermittently illuminated. The scary thing, though, is that this other person, this man, is somehow intermittent, too, less human figure than a disturbance in the air, a shadow that appears and then fades, a presence approaching. Yet, I do not budge, not a muscle. I can't. It is as if I am frozen. Frozen with a mixture of sensations and reactions from curiosity to fear to rejection ... and stimulation and renewed arousal. Outrageously, I feel all this at the same time. He, the image, is very much closer now. But I still don't move. His gaze falls down my body and I look down with him. I blush. My body is aroused. My nipples are again rock hard. I feel my pussy lubricating with new readiness. All this for an image that doesn't exist. It can't exist. There is an impression of a hand, it is rising with the palm out as if to indicate it is okay, don't be afraid. The image is of a man, young, but still a man. He is black, I think. Yes, black. His clothes are of an old style, as if of several past generations. I see him but he isn't real ... less substantial than real. The light behind him passes through like a silhouette. I can't breathe. His hand is still out in front ... to reassure me? Or ... does he intend to touch me? Oh my God ... my body quakes.

The young man ... or image ... turns to look behind him down the hall and shakes his head. I lean to follow his gaze. When I turn my gaze back to him ... he is gone.