The Stone that Grew a Man Ch. 01

The mind is a funny thing. What appears real can be merely illusion. Melanie was so far gone in her sexual excitement she just accepted she was half dreaming Penny might be being taken for real far away in the Maltese Islands but Melanie was imagining it in a very graphic way. As her orgasm built and broke she felt the penis withdraw and it was if hot liquid rained down upon her stomach as her sex quivered and contracted in exquisite orgasm.

Perhaps she passed out but as a feeling of warm contentment settled over her. The stone was no longer within her. She must have dislodged it in her excitement. She reached and brought it, all wet to her chest and dropped off to sleep cuddling it as you might a teddy bear.

In the morning Melanie found, as she made to get out of bed, pellets of stone upon the sheets, pellets of stone in bed with her, pellets like white frozen droplets of liquid. They seemed to be marble. She was wide-eyed. It had happened again. As she slipped them into the jar with the others, hearing once again the tinkling sound, she wondered what was happening. The stone erection was, she was not surprised to see, even more detailed in the morning light. The artist had even carved the urethral opening.

Melanie was sure something very strange was happening. It was not simply an oddly shaped stone she had found on the beach: it was something more. It was not just a physical thing, it, and she was quite sure it was the stone, was drawing her to itself, causing her an intense sexual desire. The pleasure was exquisite and not something she wanted to give up. Not at all. It was like a drug and it had her hooked. She loved the feeling of the stone sliding into her, she loved feeling it with her fingers and taking it in her mouth.