Travels of the Mind Pt. 01

Harris smiled his thin smile, "I could see and feel you tremble and come." He reached and touched her hair.

She stretched raising her arms high in the air, her knees were still far apart. "I want..." and what did she want? Yes, a baby, but what particularly at that moment? Her sex was open and more than ready for sexual intercourse. Stretched open by the stone within, it still felt as if a man was inside her. Had she been on the beach alone with Benjamin... Her tongue slid over her lips. They were a little dry. She knew what she wanted; had known that was what she would want. Known it as soon as they had descended to the beach; she wanted to 'drink' from Harris' penis. She wanted him to come in her mouth and for her to swallow.

"I want..." she said again. He had risen, was standing looking down at her, and her hand reached and began to undo the buttons of his brown corduroy trousers, the small buttons down the fly, undoing them one by one. The long, smooth stone still within her.

She had not reached within another man's fly for years; it had been just Benjamin. But now she drew out another man's cock. One she had been familiar with, once upon a time. Once more she found herself staring at Harris' rigid penis. She had done that before on another beach. Once more there was the rugged, veined shaft rising up to the shiny purple head. The sun's rays reflecting from it made it gleam, the wrinkled foreskin drawn back, the bifurcation of the glans and the taut fraenum revealed, inches from her mouth. Strong, powerful and desirable. How could it be other than that to her in her aroused state?

On her knees she leant forward and took it into her mouth. No maidenly hesitation, she was a married woman used to sucking her husband's cock, more often seeking it out rather than having it thrust at her. Again, her eyes closed as she mouthed the penis as if it was the most natural thing in the world; it fitted, after all. Did it fit!

Within her sex a stone penis, within her mouth one of flesh and blood -- if Harris was real. It certainly felt real enough -- and big enough. The woman's lips stroked, her tongue caressed as she sought -- sought what -- the semen to drink or to give pleasure to the man? Back and forth she rocked, her back bending and all the time she could feel the hard, stone penis inside her. The sun so hot, she could feel rivulets of perspiration running down between her breasts, trickling down the sides of her body, running down her thighs. And still she rocked. Benjamin would have come minutes before, unable to resist the hot liquidity of her mouth coupled with her roving tongue, but Harris just stood, his penis remaining as rigid as his walking stick.

"Please," she said, taking the penis from her mouth and looking up at him, "I'm so thirsty. Please cum, please cum in my mouth." So what a man wants to hear from a woman. Her mouth slid back over the shiny knob. So smooth, so unlike the rugged shaft below. She bobbed her head faster, attending to the upper part of the penis, letting the curving ridge of his knob, the corona, rub against her lips and then it began -- the transfer of sexual fluid. The hot spurting sudden, yet so welcome. It was copious, strangely satisfying to a thirsty woman. Her throat moved as she swallowed, her lips tight around the flesh.

As the last drop came from the penis, she felt herself being whirled away into a black tunnel up and up. It was over, her so brief visit back to summer, and she was suddenly aware she was anything but alone, she was back in the crowd heading to her office to finish her report. Instinctively her hand went to her body feeling for clothes. The awful thought that she might find herself beach naked in the crowd, embarrassed and cold. But she was as before. Brown jumper, cream blouse, blue jeans and sensible hat. In her mouth though...

She paused for breath outside a bookshop. In the shop window colourful books displayed on all sorts of subjects. There were novels too, by writers old and writers new. One caught her eye, a photograph on the dust jacket of a couple, a man and woman, seen from the back, a couple walking together hand in hand. Lovers alone on an open beach. She smiled, had she really been somewhere by the sea with Harris like those lovers walking along a shore? Theirs had been a pebble strewn beach, and not one where they could leave their footprints in the sand. Was that how they were -- Harris and she - lovers? Behind the couple in the photograph stretched the couple's footprints; their feet naked.

Had it been just a dream? But in her mouth the taste of semen. She did not feel thirsty anymore and, could it be, within her soft wet sex, inside her knickers, inside herself, pushed up by the cotton, was that a long, rounded, smooth, so phallic, white stone? It felt like it was.