The Empty Lover Ch. 01

Note:

This is the first part of a longer story crossing multiple Literotica genres. This story is a slow build but will spiral into near-constant sexual adventure.

Edited, with my sincere thanks, by Neurparentetical and Azhura.

All characters are over the age of 18.

Dildos, Jane reflected to herself, carefully handling the stone phallus she'd lifted from the wood shipping crate, hadn't changed much in 900 years.

The crate was one of the dozens shipped to her aunt's warehouse from the archeological site in Greece she'd just returned from.

Jane's job, on delivery days, was to catalogue all the pieces her aunt had shipped home. She'd carefully lift each out with gloved hands, place it in a well-lit light box, take a few snaps of it on a camera far too fancy for her meagre photography skills, and then place each object in one of the hundreds of clean styrofoam transport containers that were piled neatly in the corner of the warehouse's receiving area.

It was hot that day, and Jane was already dripping sweat from the exertion of prying open a couple of dozen heavy wood boxes. She was dressed for it though. A light-coloured cotton tee and yoga pants made the work bearable in a way that nothing other than pyjamas or flat-out nudity would have.

Jane had often contemplated, on especially hot days, just doing the work nude. No one else ventured into that part of the warehouse. There were cameras, but Jane had the only credentials for the business's media server that, for security reasons, was not web-accessible.

The day in question wasn't quite so unbearable... but the thought of pulling her clothes off and finishing in the raw flashed through Jane's mind, coincidentally right as she lifted the cool stone cock out of its container. For a brief moment she had an absurd vision of herself replacing the ancient masturbatory aid with a bag of sand on a stone pillar, like a terrible porn parody of Indiana Jones; "Indiana Bones and the Raiders of the Wet Hole" was the best she could come up with in the moment.

In a strange moment of serendipity - wet holes and all that - as soon as her fingers curled around the smooth polished shaft of the perfectly crafted hard stone penis, she felt an immediate gush of fluid drip down her thighs - a feeling that had nothing to do with sweat.

Jane's first reaction wasn't surprise or even embarrassment - Being suddenly turned on at work really shouldn't be allowed, for... productivity reasons! Instead, she simply found the sudden flood of sexual juices odd. One might argue that that made Jane herself odd - or at least inhibited. One would have a point.

Jane wasn't usually turned on by cock - not in and of itself. She'd had a few boyfriends and had enjoyed sex with them, but her enjoyment had been a person-specific thing; she'd liked the guys, and the liking had driven her lust more than any individual body parts in the abstract. She loved dicks, but only attached to men she already wanted.

That nugget of self-awareness had been validated for her the one time she had, in a fit of extreme sexual frustration, decided to venture into a toy shop and pick up a thick, slightly squishy, wall-mountable cock to impale herself on, in the hopes of putting a particularly bad breakup in her rear view.

That night had ended with her quite unsatisfied. A half-hour of trying to chase one particularly elusive orgasm had ultimately been ended by a singularly ungraceful moment that pulled the dildo from its suctioned perch on the wall. Naked, exhausted, bruised, and face down on her bedroom floor, she'd been immeasurably grateful that she hadn't had an audience.

This event had earned that particular toy the nickname "murder-dildo" (Jane was of the opinion that desperate and horny masturbators did not kill themselves, but that instead, their overworked and poorly secured dildos were entirely to blame), and she'd made a solemn pact with herself that night that she would stick to vibrating clit pleasers for her masturbatory adventures from then on. The cock in her hand, however, was making an impression.

About five inches long and about as thick around as a tall Red Bull can, it was immaculately carved from a single piece of grey stone. Veiny, circumcised, and polished so smooth it felt like glass, it lacked the squishy give of a hard flesh cock and somehow felt warm to the touch.

Jane found herself wondering if it had been, in its previous life - hundreds of years and thousands of miles away - crafted as a strictly ornamental labour of love of subject, or if it had been used by some lonely Greek housewife. Perhaps, she mused, a present left behind by a sweaty husband who might never return from war. She idly imagined that part of its sheen was the perfectly preserved cum of a temple whore, who'd used it in a ritual display of feminine orgiastic power.

She had a sudden urge to lick it.

Jane shuddered and almost dropped the cock.

"I need to get laid," she said, under her breath, brushing her short pixie-cut blonde hair over one ear. It was a nervous gesture - one usually reserved for bad first dates, parental lectures, and uncomfortably intrusive thoughts.

She carefully placed the stone dildo - for that's how she thought of it since she'd imagined, for a moment, plunging it into her dripping pussy - into one of the light boxes stationed throughout the room, and took the obligatory catalogue photos as quickly as possible.

And then, though she'd swear later that she'd packed it away responsibly in its designated and clearly labelled storage container, she slipped the relic into her purse. She wouldn't think of it again until hours later when it tumbled onto the floor of her bedroom and lay there, staring at her from its one perfectly rendered and almost maliciously inviting eye.

***

Jane thought about stopping on her way home and picking up a new toy to deal with the sudden and growing ache between her legs, but the efforts of the day had drained her of any motivation to do anything but drive home and collapse.

Once again she reflected on the oddity. She was naturally a very buzzing and bubbly person. Active and with varied exercise throughout the week, she had a slim but well-toned figure that usually almost vibrated with potential energy. Not so that night. As the sun set and she let herself into her apartment, Jane felt foggy - not exhausted exactly, but her bed was calling her with an intensity she'd rarely felt.

"Come," it seemed to whisper. "You made me this morning, remember? Stretch out on me and let yourself drift off. I'm pretty sure my sheets are clean. Never mind, that doesn't matter."

Okay then, Jane thought. I'm super tired apparently. Any second now my bed is going to grow a giant mouth and start chatting me up.

She moved through her apartment in a haze, peeling off sweaty clothes, letting them drop to the dark hardwood floor beneath her feet and relishing the feel of cool air wafting across her bare belly from the open window beside her bed.

She had made her bed that morning. Thank god.

Jane collapsed on the taut sheets, the feeling of cotton whispering against her bum and back like a soft kiss. She shuddered and slept...for a while

Unnoticed, on the floor near her bedroom door where she'd dropped her purse, the stone cock she'd pilfered from her aunt's haul had tumbled out, its glassy head pointed towards her bed.

It was an inanimate object, beautiful but lifeless. If Jane or anyone else, however, had been present and awake in her apartment that night, they would have sensed something emanating from that ancient object. They would likely have found that more than merely odd - troubling, disturbing, unnerving, unbelievable yet undeniable.

They would have sensed impatience.

***

It was need that woke Jane. Her pussy was throbbing and its need tugged her, fully awake and almost over-energized, out of confusing dreams she'd never be able to describe beyond a few flashes.

"Fuck," she groaned.

She was wet - soaked, in fact.

She had never felt this much before. One hand strayed down between her legs and was immediately met with heat and slickness. Wetness coated her bare lips - she shaved to avoid drag from swimming, not for any sexual readiness - and puddled between her ass cheeks.

Fuuuuck.

There was no laziness to her play. She slid two fingers inside herself and her whole body spasmed, her head arched back and short, thick blonde hair fell away from her face. She needed to cum. It was as though something had flipped a switch deep inside her, and desperate lust was now running the whole show.

Two fingers weren't enough.

The hand that wasn't desperately plunging its fingers inside her reached up to cup a small breast, milky smooth and capped with an improbably hard nipple, which she pinched - hard.

She came. Her fingers curled upwards inside herself and what felt to her like a stream of cum came pouring lazily from her greedy pussy.

It wasn't enough - nowhere near.

Jane was feeling something that, even in her longest, most sex-filled relationships, she'd never really experienced.

She needed to be filled - immediately.

A whimper of frustration escaped her lips.

Do I still have the murder-dildo?

Jane sat upright, hair wild, eyes almost glowing, her now angry clit throbbing, and cast lust-crazed eyes around the room.

Nightstand? She dismissed that thought. No, she had a couple of vibrating toys in there, but nothing that would stretch her the way she needed. She shot a forlorn look at the en suite bathroom on the other side of the room. Nope. She could inventory exactly what was in there, and a veiny rubber dick was not on the list - not even a good hairbrush. Living room closet? The storage containers maybe?

There was no fog left to cover Jane's mind as she stepped out of bed. Naked and dripping, she padded across the room in search of an instrument of fuck.

'Fuck, OW!" she howled, her toe slamming into something hard and unyielding that should not be mixed in with her clothes on the otherwise tidy floor.

"The fuck?"

There it was.

Jane stood on one foot, holding her bruised toe between two hands as if trying to squeeze the pain away and contemplated the stone dick lying on her floor.

"What are you doing here?"

The cock just lay there, inviting but unhelpful.

Thoughts of the fact that this particular dick was supposed to be miles away in a transport case barely flitted across the young woman's mind.

"This is stupid, Jane" she muttered to herself. "Do you want an infection? Cause...banging a piece of rock that's been underground since the first Crusade is probably on a list somewhere called Dumb Ways To Get An Infection."

And yet the need between her legs was demanding she consider doing exactly that.

The stone cock, looking like nothing so much as a penis-shaped version of the obelisk from 2001: A Space Odyssey, did look very inviting to her - a comfortable length, girthy, the polished shine of it making the stone look almost like glass instead of granite. Jane wouldn't have been able to explain why, but it looked warm.

She bent down and picked it up. And her pussy pulsed with need.

Stupid stupid stupid! The thought raced through her head and was just as quickly chased out by the cooing of her traitorous hole, which loved the idea like Jane's hair loved a shower.

As before in the warehouse, as soon as her small fingers wrapped around the cock, she gushed. Cum dripped down her thighs and threatened to ruin her floor.

Whelp, she thought, can't have that. Best get back in bed. Her whole body shivered and almost purred at the thought.

Flopping back on her bed, the polished piece of stone clutched eagerly in her hand, Jane noticed a sensation that should not have been - and then another. They hit her like waves of impossibility.

The cock was warm. It felt almost pliable. Its texture...shifted. It no longer felt to her like unyielding polished glass but almost like warm, pulsing flesh.

She forced her eyes open and mentally willed her nipples to behave. She squinted at the stone phallus.

Nope, still just a hunk of rock. Her eyes were stubbornly confirming that reality, but her hands told an entirely different one. Then her ears got involved. They swore to Jane that they'd just heard a whisper of encouragement.

Jane shuddered.

"Kay," she said out loud. "That is not going in you until this shit stops." She pulled herself onto her knees and rested on her elbows, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

The incredibly horny young woman tried desperately to put her brain in work mode as she carefully examined the relic in her hands. She intended to be cold and analytical and professional in her examination, just as if the dick was any other uncovered relic. It was a hard thing to do, it turned out, when her bare ass was in the air, begging to be licked and spanked, and to feel a hard dick slamming insistently into her. Nevertheless, she made a valiant effort.

Stone? Check.

But it feels like skin.

Dick? Check.

But it's a really nice dick. Like, if dicks had a perfect ancestor from which all other dicks had sprung, this would be it.

Old? Also, check.

But it's really well preserved, and obviously well loved. This monument to phallus has obviously been cared for and protected... and is that... pussy?

Am I smelling pussy?

While the cock in front of her still appeared to be made of a single piece of exquisitely carved and polished rock, there was no denying what her hands were feeling, and what her nose was smelling. She was holding a real piece of man meat, minus the man - hardness over a slightly squishy core. It no longer just smelled like pussy to Jane. It smelled like cock, sex, and orgasms.

Without thinking she bent her face down and gave her new friend a long slow lick, from the perfectly crafted set of balls at its base to the suddenly-more-pronounced slit at its head.

It twitched and a drop of precum oozed out.

No it fucking did not!

She tested it, give or take a vowel.

Fuck! Salty and slick.

She whimpered and tried again.

As her lips made contact with what was, at least to her sex-drugged brain, a very real penis, she reached a hand backwards and absently started stroking her swollen clit, finding it frustratingly difficult to touch herself the way she needed to. Everything back there was just too wet.

Then, accomplishing a feat she'd never pulled off with a person, she swallowed the cock whole.

The second the stone -flesh!- cock passed her lips Jane felt as though her whole body became an extension of her aching pussy. Everything throbbed and pulsed as though waiting to fucked. Her brain switched off.

Jane had never loved giving blowjobs. She loved the feeling of power - of having a man at her mercy, her mouth controlling all of his actions - and she was definitely a pleaser, but nothing had ever excited her about actually sucking a cock. Added to that, she had an active dislike of the taste and feel of cum in her mouth.

This new Jane - the one who couldn't think and who was mewling like a frustrated kitten being denied food - was not the same person that had entered her apartment hours earlier. All she wanted was to feel the toy - that was somehow real - twitch and spurt warm sticky seed down her throat.

Well, that wasn't all she wanted.

Her pussy was begging. As the dick in her mouth threatened to fill her whole throat while she moaned around it, and her hand moved furiously between her clit and the inside of her aching body, she thrashed over onto her back, removed the cock from her mouth, and in one motion buried it inside her.

She screamed.

It felt like her soul was being fucked and there was no way to give herself enough. She wanted to be torn apart by the kind of sex that no one is supposed to want. Consuming and mindless - the kind of sex that made one a vessel to receive cum and return love.

If Jane had had the presence of mind to think about what she was doing she might have been a bit gentler. She might've considered the possibility that she was shoving a massive piece of heavy stone into her body, rather than a magically-real dick, and that doing so might seriously injure her.

Instead, all the lust-fueled girl could think was;

More

All of it

All the things

Fuck me

Fill me

Breed me

Spray my insides with cum

This is what I'm for

And so there was no room for gentleness. Nipples standing to such rapt attention she felt like they might up and fly away, her spine arched and her face locked in a perpetual scream, she furiously strummed her clit and buried the cock -

Perfect cock

- in her gushing slit -

Oh perfect

- over -

Made for me

- and over -

Shaped from me

- her body lost -

Please oh god please fill me daddy, PLEASE I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU FUUUCK

- to an endless orgasm.

Lost as she became, she didn't notice that both of her hands were gripping handfuls of damp sheets as she twitched and moaned incoherently. She didn't realize that she was no longer masturbating. She was being fucked. She was being utterly ravaged - used by something else.

That something else made demands of her without words.

Ravage.

Stretch.

Fill.

Fuck.

Drown you with my pussy.

Worship my cock with your mouth.

Suck me.

Eat me.

Need to fill you.

Mine.

Ours.

My pussy.

My cum.

Mine.

Mine!

Yours. Yours forever.

The stone cock was gone, but she was still filled with it. Jane Forster - who went to work, who went to the gym, who paid bills, and who knew something besides lust and sex - was very far away. Only a howling body and spirit made for fucking remained, and they were filled with the cock that wasn't. There was only vessel-Jane, and something else fucking her.

There was no other body with her. She was staring, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed at the door opposite her bed. The only sounds were her moans and a steady slapping against her wetness. Her legs were spread farther than she could possibly do herself, or had ever wanted to try. Hands she could not see pushed forcefully, holding her thighs down, spreading them - bruising her. The smell of a person filled her nostrils, and that person growled as he slid into her again and again.

She arched up to meet her invisible lover and kissed a mouth surrounded by stubble. She tasted sweat, but there was no skin there, let alone salty, delicious moisture beading on it.

He fucked her. His hands moved from her thighs and up to her wrists and she wrapped her legs around a back that did not exist. With each new orgasm - and they hit back to back to back, her pussy twitching so hard there was a brief thought of W hat if I break him? - she sprayed cum from her well-used but still-hungry hole. An insistent mouth made contact with her neck and she screamed - or kept screaming, for all she knew - and she could feel the weight and muscles of the man who was taking her pinning her, weighing her down. Her body tried to pull him into her completely.