The Ghost of Timor Ch. 10

January 2023

Alison had been lying on her bed when she fired up her iPad for the fourth time. She had only just admitted to herself that she might have a problem. Logging on to a mobile device was never something that she'd had to worry about when she was growing up. They didn't exist in the 1990s. If she wanted to contact someone, she would call them on a land line-a phone-and talk. If they weren't there, she'd call back or leave a message.

In the absence of a phone, she'd write. Writing was harder, but her message would be more permanent. And it was one way. She would be in control of the conversation so the tone would be whatever she wanted it to be. It might take weeks or months to get a reply, and by then she may have moved on. If a letter came, it was something physical that was scrutinised and cherished.

The last method was to talk. Get up off her ass and visit someone. To wait till she next saw them to deliver her message. It had worked for the last ten thousand years of human civilization and she didn't think that would ever change.

But things changed dramatically in the 2000s with texting and mobile phones. Chat channels and then social media which followed got husbanded to mobile devices, and that changed the world. People everywhere these days had their heads down, looking at their phones. It was anti-social, and it was causing chronic illness.

She had tried to resist, for her children's sake, but it was a losing battle. It wasn't until she admitted she had a second problem that she realised she had the first.

Her second problem was porn. Not images and videos. No, Alison didn't watch porn, she read it, like a lady. She couldn't quite remember when she had first come across a story or a site that had aroused her, but it was only fairly recently; since the pandemic, she thought. Since her separation.

No, that was wrong. It was before. She had definitely been reading since 2020, but she admitted now that she had started before then. She had started as a way of relieving the pain of her last problem. Her marriage or, to be more accurate, her failing marriage.

She'd been enamoured with him when she'd met him ten years earlier. He seemed to tick all her boxes. An Olympic athlete who, like her, loved skiing and was there in her hometown. It was like the stars had aligned just for her by magic. It is what she had saved herself for all these years and now that her career was established; she was finally ready to commit.

But something went astray somewhere after they got married and now they had separated. The confinement of lockdowns had forced them to spend more time together, and they had realised that they no longer wanted to. They hadn't wanted to for years.

Her erotica addiction had started before they had finally put their cards on the table and that now she had separated, it had been her only sexual outlet. Alone with her iPad, in bed, after a nice warm shower, dressed only in her robe. It was her version of date night.

She had explored various types of erotica to see what tickled her fancy, but she had to admit that the idea that got her really excited was public nudity. Not flashing or streaking, that implied planning and control. No, Alison liked her protagonist to be locked out of their house by accident, without a stitch of clothing.

Maybe it was the loss of control that tickled her in the right way. She was a woman who was orderly and organised. Intense, as her husband put it. The idea of being naked, vulnerable and desperate was so not her. She couldn't get enough of it. She liked her stories well written and believable, but she had even been aroused recently by some unbelievable smut. The type of story where the protagonist loses a bet and has to do the shopping naked yet never gets arrested. It was so unreal and yet sometimes it worked for her.

But she admitted that her arousal by public nudity hadn't come entirely out of the blue. Twenty-five years ago, she had attempted to get off by stripping naked and masturbating in the men's showers while she was away at an Army Reserve camp. She had thought that she would be alone, but shortly after she came; she found she had company. Trapped, naked in the men's showers. She had had to brazen her way past half a dozen teenagers before she could run out the door with her clothes in her arms and get dressed in the women's. But what if she hadn't heard them and they had found her naked on the floor in the throes of ecstasy? What if they hadn't let her leave the room so easily and surrounded her? What if, what if, what if?

In reality, she knew that she would have panicked. But now that the years had passed, and she had replayed that episode over in her mind a thousand times, she wasn't so sure. The idea of being naked in front of a dozen men and unable to hide, well... that was just heaven!

Of course, it was all just fantasy, and that was the point. It was her fantasy, and she could replay it in her mind however she wanted. Sometimes they had stood there silently and watched her, unbeknownst. Sometimes she had noticed them and carried on regardless with her audience of silent onlookers. Other times, they had made her work for her clothes and her freedom. But the best of all was when she had escaped her situation-one way or another-but had had to leave her clothes behind. She then had to make it back to her room, naked, in broad daylight. That was when the real fun began.

Sometimes she would run unseen, pausing mid-flight to relieve her arousal in different locations on her journey home. Sometimes she would get caught and exposed, having to talk or please her way out of each situation. Oddly, despite the number of times she had relived this fantasy, in all its variations, Alison never made it back to her room. In her dream, she was always on the run, naked and vulnerable. Perpetually naked in her mind while literally naked in her bed. Naked and masturbating again. If only someone would watch.

Alison had looked into other fetishes too, Japanese Shibari being the one that intrigued her most. The idea of being tied up fit in with her desire to be vulnerable, she supposed. At least that is what she thought it meant. She hadn't been game enough to ask anyone, and she didn't think her secret obsession warranted visiting a therapist.

The other thing that she had learned that turned her on endlessly was simple how-to guides: massages-God she missed massages-; positions; etc. Each time she read the "how-to-guide for whatever", no matter how urbane, it felt like the author was giving her permission to get off on her secret desires. It just turned her on. It had been her secret shame; getting off on reading about how to get off.

So, she had to smile to herself at the irony of her current situation. All those how to guides hadn't just been a wank-so to speak-and been useful in the end. It was the first time she had put her finger up someone's bum.

As the guide had said, the first thing she needed to do was take a warm, relaxing shower or bath. Having been in the hotel shower for the best part of twenty minutes, they had ticked that box. She'd also scored an orgasm out of it, so she considered that a double win.

After they had double teamed her to her satisfaction, she'd laid on the warm, wet tiles until she had recovered. Alison could see that Jeremy still had his erection, but knew that the water would have washed away her wetness. She had thought momentarily about his accidental poke in her bum earlier and her anal experiment years ago and considered trying again. Alison was aroused then and now she had come back down to earth; she wasn't as excited about the prospect. But then, as she recalled all the how-to guides she'd read on butt sex, another thought entered her mind. It didn't have to be her.

So, finding whatever lube she could-shower gel in this case-she coated her fingers and drew herself up into range. She hit the tap to stop the water-lest she be drowned-and let him know what was about to happen. With some curiosity, she noted he didn't protest or flinch. Jeremy had always been willing to experiment when they had been together, but she had mostly been the beneficiary of his imagination.

"Interesting," she thought to herself.

With him backed up against the shower wall and wet towel under her knees, Alison took Jeremy in her mouth as her lubed index finger testing his ring. She had wanted to just plunge it in, but remembered the guide's advice and circled slowly at first. But she also knew that she didn't have a whole day to get him loosened up, and that she had to do this now. She noted Jeremy was definitely getting harder and, with a little trepidation, she pushed her finger in.

With a gasp and a flinch, Alison broke into his ring. From her point of view, all she could sense was a curious warmth on her finger and a pleasant tightening around it. But the effect on Jeremy was dramatic. Instinctively, he drew upward and away from her finger. His cock stiffened and flexed and she felt him growing in her mouth. Jeremy gasped and swore. Not at her, but at the sensation. When he reached the limit of his height, he collapsed back down upon her finger, and then it started again.

"Fuckkkkkkkk!" Jeremy moaned.

Alison couldn't but smirk at the effect she was having on him. "So gratifying to have turned the tables," she thought. She let him out of her mouth, not only to breathe but to look upward at him and grin. Jeremy was in ecstasy, and it was her doing. She was immediately envious of the current generation, who had the technology and the stupidity to video their sexual exploits. This was one moment she wished she had had the foresight to record for posterity.

She pushed harder into Jeremy's bum, determined to maximise his satisfaction and hers. He twisted his head this way and that, trying to climb up the wall yet also stay in her mouth.

"Arghhhhh!" His cries echoed so loud that Alison worried that the next room might hear. "Fuck!"

As Jeremy closed his eyes and screamed toward the heavens, Alison raised herself up on her knees and, releasing him, poked out her tongue. Closing her eyes, she found the base of his cock and slowly licked all the way up as she pressed as hard as she could with her finger.

"Holy....," suddenly he was silent.

Warmth rained down on Alison's face. She wondered for a moment if the shower was leaking. But the water felt... wrong. It wasn't running away like normal. It was heavier, slower, and thicker.

She waited until his rain had stopped, then she slowly withdrew her finger. With her eyes shut, she was back in darkness, reliant on sounds and movement to guide her. She could sense Jeremy slipping down the wall before her and resting on the floor. She smiled but dare not open her eyes lest they were stuck fast. Realizing that she had just lost control, she waited for him to tell her that alright to open them.

"I wish I had a camera," he said.

Alison tentatively opened her eyes, hoping that they weren't glued shut. Jeremy was crouched before her, back to the wall, exhausted yet grinning with satisfaction.

"What do you do for an encore?" he asked.

Alison thought about it for a few moments, then held up two fingers and smiled. "We could go again, but I doubt if you could handle it."

"Oh Alison, my sweet summer child." A smirk crossing Jeremy's face. "Do you really think that was my first rodeo?"