Lust Transmission

But then the tap turned off. Her vagina stopped leaking pink fluid. Her arousal sank to almost zero. Confused, she went to sleep, hoping she'd feel different in the morning. She did, but not in the way she'd hoped: she'd started bleeding. The water still tasted a little strange, and the mold was still there. No filthy weekend of wanton self-pleasure, though. In fact, she quickly became embarrassed by the way she'd set the studio up for it; the sheets everywhere, the carefully positioned canvases, and of course the dildo in easy reach beside it all. She tidied up, warmed a wheat pack to soothe her cramps, and watched movies in the living room all weekend, drinking all the water she cared to.

*

A week passed. She bled for four days, her period a little brighter and thinner than usual, and slowly noticed her body chemistry resettle.

Looking at the art again during that week, Cherie couldn't see how the audience would take anything from it without comprehensive explanation. And what was the point of displaying work that couldn't speak for itself? Some of the patterns were interesting and could spark a range of interpretations from anyone who chose to stand and look at them for a few minutes. But there wasn't anything inherently compelling there. The pink of her stains and the white of the canvas were too similar in tone to draw the eye. Maybe that subtlety would appeal to a select few. It didn't particularly appeal to Cherie.

She thought she might have finished her crazy time in heat, and that the house and the pink stuff would simply allow her to be her normal self again. She even forgot to worry about it, the studio door closed all week. Then, on Sunday afternoon, while she was on the toilet, she knew in an instant that she was back on that slippery slope. Her urine felt a little sharper coming out than it usually did, and when the flow stopped, she felt a quiet buzz return to her crotch and settle there.

Two weeks, she realised in a panic. Two weeks and she'd be back in that desperate place she occupied the weekend Sid and Karina visited. It had lined up with her cycle and would drag her to a world of constant pleasure - inexorably, a steady build of pressure and fluid over fourteen days, before releasing her when menstruation kicked in.

Karina. She'd been here, drunk the water. She'd seen the sparkle of lust in her eyes that night -- and in Sid's. Was she going through the same thing?

As soon as she was done in the bathroom, Cherie texted Karina and asked her to meet for a drink after work the following day.

*

"Oh, Sid's great," said Karina. "Something's... different lately."

"Different?" said Cherie.

Karina looked at her over their mojitos. Cherie felt her crotch open and get a little wetter. Jesus, Karina is a babe, she thought, but let's not go down that path.

"Okay, you've gotta tell me. Did you put something in the food?"

"What?"

Karina laughed and shook her head. "I'm just... Sorry. It's-"

"I didn't put anything in the food," said Cherie.

"I know, of course," said Karina, trying to backtrack. But Cherie knew exactly what she was getting at. "I have to tell you, though-"

"Me too," said Cherie.

"What? You too?" Karina's eyes grew wide. "You mean..." She cocked her head to the side a little.

"Yup. So much. Intense."

Karina laughed and shook her head again. "Wait, wait, wait. We can't be talking about the same thing. But we must be."

"I was, like..." Cherie hesitated. "I was like a river that night."

"Oh my God. Exactly. Pink?"

"Pink."

"Okay, wow." Karina's smile dropped. "So that was for real. I thought it might have been a hallucination or something."

"You really think I-"

"I mean I really didn't, hon, but I didn't know what else it could've been. I wondered if you'd dosed the food with some weird, potent Viagra or something. But I knew that was insane."

"Yeah, it's... It's in my house. This stuff. It's in the water, too."

"Jesus."

"So how are you managing it?"

"Well, we went home and fucked each other's brains out, as you might imagine. And I do miss it. But the loss of control kind of scared me. That's not really me."

"Hold on. You miss it?"

"Well yeah, of course. It, uh, felt pretty amazing. Like never before. But we've managed to keep it up since - not to the same level, probably never again, but there's an openness to it that I don't think we've touched before."

Cherie just stared for a moment before speaking again. "Karina, I'm buzzing away with it right now - like, TMI, I know, but who cares - and you're... not?"

"Oh my God, what? No! No, it stopped. We had sex, it all came out, then I got my period a few days later. Not like that for you?"

"It's started up again. I had my period too, and that stopped it, but it was flowing all the way up to the day before."

"Huh."

"So you had sex and it stopped?"

"Mmmm." Karina thought for a second. "We... we didn't use a condom."

Cherie nodded. "Right."

"You haven't had anyone..."

"No, just me."

"Huh."

They were silent for a moment, thinking.

"I think you need to find someone," said Karina. "Are you on the pill?"

"Oh God," said Cherie.

"I know. Is there someone..."

"I've never had anyone - you know... Inside. Never before."

"What? What about Gideon?"

"Oh my God, Karina, I'm not a virgin! I mean-"

"Oh. Right. Inside."

"Yes. God."

"Are you? On the pill?"

"Ah, implant. Not that it's ever mattered."

"Well, it seems to matter now."

"I guess so."

"You know who would probably be a good fit right now..."

"Who? Oh no."

"I mean, I've seen the outline through his pants."

"Oh God."

"And he's kind of weirdly muscular, even if he looks about 13 in the face."

"Stop..."

"Remember that time we were laughing because we saw his boner in the hallway? Can't say it wasn't impressive, especially through those terrible camo shorts he always wore-"

"Seriously, Karina, you have to fucking stop, you don't know what you're doing to me right now."

Cherie made her eyes wide and cast her gaze downwards for an instant.

"Oh. I'm sorry!"

Cherie put in her hands. "Oh God, you're right, aren't you? He would come over the second I asked him to. And he'd be so excited, he'd... you know... real quick."

"Yeah, probably. But can I tell you something?"

"What?"

"Um... How can I put this?" Karina looked away, embarrassed. "You will enjoy it, at least on one level. A very basic level."

"Was it that good?"

"Oh, God, yes. The best ever, hands down. That's why I say I miss it. I almost want to feel it again."

"No, you do not."

Karina laughed. "Okay. Sorry. But seriously. It won't be all bad."

"If you say so."

*

Cherie texted John that night. She grimaced as she tapped out the words:

hey how r u? never did thank you properly for helping me move, can i cook you dinner? free sat?

He texted back about half an hour later:

Well, that would be nice, thank you. Shall I bring anything?

She grimaced even harder as she replied:

just urself :)

Dirty, dirty, dirty. What a dirty whore. Leading him on for years, leaving him in the cold, then throwing him a bone when she got horny, before almost certainly casting him aside again after. Just using him for her own ends. Her own pleasure. Planting one on him and stuffing him inside her without a second thought for his feelings. Draining his balls into her dripping-

She dashed to the studio, stripped off sodden underwear, and brought herself to orgasm with the dildo in seconds, imagining the shaft was John's live member. Pink splashes dotted a new canvas. She inspected them after and was pleased with the results. Was it the returning chemical imbalance in her body that made the art compelling again? Or was it genuinely interesting?

She hoped she'd know for sure soon.

*

The week passed reasonably uneventfully. She decided not to masturbate any more before John came around; might as well build up some tension and make the most of the release when it came. That meant very disciplined consumption of bottled water - never from the tap - and as little time in the studio as possible. A grope of her breasts here and there was unavoidable, and a couple of times, it took all her willpower not to stick a hand inside her pants and rub the viscous pink fluid around her blood-filled genitals. But she managed to hold off.

*

Saturday morning, Cherie awoke feeling plugged up and in need of flushing out. A stray caress through her underwear got the pink stuff flowing again, around her ass and through the fabric. She was grateful that the urge to pee trumped the need to come, which was increasingly difficult to ignore.

John texted around 11am:

Still keen for tonight? What time should I come?

For fuck's sake, she said to herself. Yes I'm still keen. Why second guess it? And I want you to come as quickly as possible, to be honest. That made her laugh.

yeah def, come around six

Thinking of a day of teeth-gritting abstinence ahead, she wondered why she hadn't invited him for lunch. That would have been a little weird, obviously - what single woman living alone invites a man over for a thank-you lunch? - but the invitation itself was weird, so why not? But it was done now.

She walked to the store to get supplies. Salad ingredients, steaks, wine. Was alcohol too obviously seductive? She knew she wouldn't need it, and she didn't think he would either. But it might help him relax into the evening a little easier.

Walking home, every stride pushed lubricant across her vulva and around her clitoris, the hood of which had retracted as if to say, you go girl! A stand of bushes near a bus stop appealed: the moss and cool leaves under her hot ass as she imagined plunging her fingers easily into herself. Somehow, she made it home without giving in.

The afternoon was even more torturous. The house itself seemed desperate to make her succumb: breaths of wind ruffling her clothes against her skin, the sweet scent of aphrodisia, humidity requiring her to wipe sweat from her brow and drink more water. Her body was fully primed, plump and lubricated and open. All she had to do was strip off, lie back, and experience bliss. She distracted herself with a book until her mind began to wander dangerously, then watched season five of The Office until John knocked at six o'clock exactly.

When she answered the door, Cherie gave him a little peck on the cheek and embraced him with more warmth than ever before, most of it genuine. His body stiffened and couldn't relax but she kept him in her arms a little longer than she intended, partly to set the scene but more because he smelled safe. Comfortable. And good. Thank God, she thought: I chose a man who doesn't mask his scent with body spray or cologne.

She was about to lift a leg and start humping him, so she disengaged and had him sit at the table with a big glass of water while she went to the kitchen to fry the steaks and throw the salad in a bowl.

"Thanks," said John. "It sure was hot walking over here."

"You walked?" Cherie replied, coating a pan with oil, wondering if she sounded incredulous enough. He was clearly expecting that, like he'd said it to surprise and impress her, even though it was in fact boring, like almost everything else about John.

"Yeah. Hah. I don't know, I - sometimes I just feel like walking. I mean, I like walking."

The oil spat and bubbled as she laid the strips in the pan. The moisture in her crotch seemed to bubble with it.

"It's like... I take the bus all week to work, so on weekends, I prefer to walk. It takes a lot longer, obviously, but I don't mind that." He paused. "It slows me down, I guess. I mean in my mind."

"Uh huh," said Cherie, trying to concentrate, secretly grateful John was not a better conversationalist as she might already have ripped his jeans off if he were.

"I need that sometimes. Obviously. Sorry, I talk too much. I don't know. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," she said, looking over the servery to smile at him, the sizzle of the steaks crackling in her ear and down her spine. "I walked to get groceries today. Bad idea in this heat. Help yourself to more water." She gestured to the large jug she'd placed on the table.

"Thanks," he said, pouring himself another glass, downing it, then pouring another. "That's, like, so refreshing."

"Right?" she replied. "Something about the water in this place." I should really warn him, she thought. I don't have his consent to do this to his body. If someone did it to me, I would consider it the same as spiking my drink, which it pretty much is. But she rationalised: it will make him feel good. And I know he wants me anyway. He's wanted me for a long time, and I'm finally going to give myself to him, give him what he wants but would never take. I am in control of both of us. God, that's hot.

Swaying a little, she steadied herself with a hand on the benchtop and turned back to the steaks. She flipped them, revealing a nicely browned underside and stiff texture. Oil and juices oozed together around the meat.

"Smells good," said John. She caught him looking at her a little differently from before. More naked in his attraction to her. Could the water be having an effect already? Or was it her own, sex-obsessed mind playing tricks on her?

"My rule is to only flip it once," she said. "Then you'll always get a good steak."

"That's what my brother always says," he replied.

I don't care about your brother, thought Cherie. I care about getting your come inside my vagina, as deep as possible. I care about the head of your penis splitting me easily. I care about your naked body intertwined with mine, and covering your shaft with this sticky pink stuff and giving us both the best orgasms of our lives.

As the steaks finished, she switched off the heat, took out the salad ingredients and placed them on the benchtop. Concentrating as hard as she could through the waves of arousal coursing through her body, she ripped lettuce leaves into a salad bowl. The tearing sound made her wince with pleasure. A stray droplet of water flung itself off the green corrugations and onto her cleavage, where it ran into her bra. The sensation of it trickling down her already sensitive skin made her stop and crouch so she could grab her chest with both hands. She could feel erect nipples pressing against the fabric of her top, and stimulating them with her palms through her clothes sent sparks of pleasure up and down her spine. Her breathy sigh at her own touch was a necessary release.

"Are you okay?"

Shit. John must have heard her. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the blood flowing frantically to her crouch, the broadening and itching and coating. She had to touch it, she had to. She reached down and prodded her vagina gently through her clothes. Suddenly, all the sensation in her body rushed to her center, like iron filings to a magnet. She couldn't suppress a breathy moan.

"Do you need a hand?"

She wasn't sure if she could wait until they'd eaten. How could she get him inside her quickly, after all the times she'd rebuffed his tentative attempts to get closer to her? It was already awkward. It would just have to be awkward.

"I..." She hesitated, disbelieving what she was about to say, then focused very determinedly on speaking the words. "Yes. Can you come and help me, please?"

His chair scraped the floor. He walked around the partition and into the kitchen, where she was hauling herself to her feet, her eyes closed.

"Oh... Are you okay?" he said again.

"I'm..."

He came close to her to and placed a hand on her back. "Hey, it's okay. You don't feel so good, do you?"

It was just going to be awkward. But she had to know what was inside his pants.

"No, but - uh, I do," she said, turning to press her body against his and wrapping her arms around him. He responded by holding her in a surprisingly tender way. She felt him stir against her. A moment, then she looked him in the eye and kissed him on the lips. "I do feel good. And I do need your help." She kissed him again, reaching down to find his increasingly erect penis and rub it through his pants. "I want to make you feel good too."

Then he was kissing her back, still tentative, as uncertain about this as he was about everything else. She would have to completely take the lead. Fortunately, he was getting very hard. No sign of doubt on the part of him she needed most.

She undid the buttons on his fly. "I'm..." he said. "I'm not sure..." She pulled down his underwear and his cock, wonderfully big and thick, bounced up and pointed at her. He gasped.

"I know," she managed through her excitement. She kissed him again and rubbed his shaft up and down. Precum flowed out and coated her hand. The feel of it soaked her crotch again. She let go of his penis to pull her own sodden underwear off under her skirt. Pink fluid ran down her inner thigh. John's penis continued to stick up at her proudly. She could hardly take her eyes off it.

"I can't really believe this is happening," he said.

She kissed him again and pushed on his shoulders until they were both kneeling on the floor. She made him stretch out his legs and lie down. As her body followed his, he almost pushed inside her by accident, the head of his penis bumping against the right side of her vulva. She cried out. The pink stuff flowed out of her and onto him. She noticed him look down at the liquid connection between their bodies, and saw his mouth drop open.

She crouched over him and held his shaft in place, then lowered herself onto it. The extraordinary feeling of two alive things filling her vagina was too much to bear and she came immediately, yelping and bucking as she flattened her body against his. He wrapped his arms around her, took a sharp breath and started grunting, and then she could feel him coming too, loosing a bright and sizeable load into her already sticky pussy. His twitching delivery pushed her off another cliff and her body was wracked with waves of intense pleasure, to the point where she forgot all about who she was sharing it with. There was nothing but her own ecstasy, and her body possessed the piece of him that was stuffing and ejaculating into her.

Cherie managed a smile as her butt continued to jerk every few seconds with his length still inside her. An actual penis, filling her with come. She hadn't realised how much she'd wanted that ever since she moved here. That it belonged to John, the man she'd sworn to herself she'd never be desperate enough to fuck, was likely to lead to a difficult extraction. But then again, he was big and felt extremely good. And he genuinely cared about her: she knew that.

The point of tonight had been to get his semen inside her and get immunity. Now she wanted more. Her body was still tremendously alive, anyway.

She pushed up against his arms and he let go of her. She sat up and lifted herself off him, swinging her right leg over to position herself next to him. Almost as soon as his still-hard penis sprung out of her body, pink stuff mixed with pale ejaculate fell from her vaginal canal and pooled on the kitchen floor. There was so much of it. It kept her wet and shiny and stimulated as it ran through and over her, and with a hum in her body infecting her brain, she leaned over John and kissed him deeply.

"Can we eat later? After... you know... again? Can you?"

"Uh..." He hesitated.

The least assertive person in the universe. Fortunately for both of them, his penis spoke for him: still big and hard and flowing. Plus, she had expected to have to do all the work, and with her body enjoying probably its last night of such elevated arousal, she was quite happy to do so. It was actually fun, like he was her willing toy, to do with as she pleased. A blank fantasy object.