Woohoo! My new illustration for Lucid Desire has arrived. This beautiful piece was commissioned by none other than the awesome Zombiepirate.
To celebrate, I've put a huge excerpt of the story below (a whole damned chapter!), and dropped the price of the book down to 99c for those who would like to read the rest of this tale of sexual freedom and discovery.
|Artwork by the incomparable Zombiepirate.|
4 The Gym
I can’t concentrate on this stupid project.
I’m sitting in front of my computer, looking at the first, empty page of a huge report I have to write, but all I can think of are the possibilities. What should I do next? With a spare seven or eight hours a day I could do anything. I could climb a mountain. I could be a superhero: Half-Asian Girl: with the power to simultaneously confuse and impress. I could learn how to play the drums?
No. The thought that’s jumping and waving at me is the first thing that would come into most people’s minds when they have the power of a god. Or maybe it’s just me. But all I want to do is bone down! I want to find the best penis in the world, owned by the man who can sex better than all other men, and then have the most soul-crushing, hardcore session imaginable. Dream-me shouldn’t be able to walk after this one. And because it’s just a dream, no one gets hurt, right?
Maybe I’ll try Mr Susa again, and this time I’ll be the heroine who doesn’t die, but rather saves our hero and we go off to celebrate with a whole heap of beach sex. I feel a slight dampness and hope no one in the office needs me to stand up for anything (why did I wear these white pants today?).
I’m tingling. Looking at the computer, all I see are my arms and legs wrapped around tanned muscles while I’m being invaded by a slick, pussy-seeking missile. My dream man can pump for as long as I choose, and if he fails I’ll just summon up ten more—a football team even.
My dampness is now wetness. I should really get to work...
I give Mark a quick peck goodnight and then lie back, looking into the darkness, outrageously relieved that the day is finally over.
I take myself through the muscle relaxation exercises. I’m not sure if they’re still necessary after all the practice I’ve had, but I don’t want to risk messing it up. I squeeze and release every single muscle I can think of, including my PC, which I hope is about to get a workout. I breathe deeply: in, two, three, four; out, two, three, four. I close my eyes and picture a mirror: a full length, antique-looking thing with intricate, golden designs around the frame—flowers and vines and maidens bathing, probably in the nectar of the gods (I could have just pictured my own mirror from IKEA, but I guess a grand moment requires grand furniture).
At first there’s nothing but darkness in the glass, then my face gradually appears—thick, peach-coloured lips; ambiguous, almond eyes—followed by my naked body. I look at myself, closer than I have for a long time. Age has just started to catch up with me. I still have the athletic yet curvy figure I’ve always had, and the honey-brown skin which has always helped camouflage my real weight, but that stomach pouch is becoming incredibly stubborn. It doesn’t matter how many crunches I do, it sits there and mocks me with its jellyness. And I think those lines on the back of my legs are now permanent. And gravity is starting to take its toll on my once firm, high-set boobs. I’m all for loving myself and that sort of crap, but I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a shallow bitch, and if I’m going to meet the man of my dreams I better have the body of my dreams.
In a somewhat out-of-body experience I find myself walking around the woman in the mirror, adjusting various flaws like a master seamstress (or a master plasterer). ‘No, no, no, this just won’t do. Bring this in. Get rid of that. Where did these creases come from?’ I poke and rub and shake various limbs and things. I lift her breasts with my hands and bring them closer together, where they obediently remain. I erase that lower-belly pouch so she finally has the abs she’s been working so hard for—not shredded and veiny, but toned and flat with a hint of obliques and those little lines leading down to her cooch.
She’s always wanted to be taller as well, so I grip her head with both hands and pull it up. Her body stretches without losing its shape, adding probably half-a-foot to her overall height. No. I want more. There. Now she’s about six-foot; those modelling agencies who told her she was too short can suck it.
Stepping back, I admire my work: a statuesque, fit, caramel queen. Then I look down and see that of course the woman in the mirror is me. I feel tall. I feel powerful. I could pose for an Instagram pic like one of those fitness girls. Actually, I could probably eat one of those girls for breakfast.
But I want more. There’s something else I’ve always craved. Am I forgetting that I have all the power in the universe? I can finally see what it feels like to be a man! I can be the one with the best penis! I can be the one who, with a few short thrusts, gets to feel the sensation of spurting white goo all over the place. People have always said I’m more of a man than a woman—with my potty mouth, and disregard for emotions, and comments about hot women—now I can test that theory.
I look again at the mirror and already there’s a new appendage hanging from my reflection. I don’t need to work on the details because I know I’ve modelled it after one of my favourite adult movie stars (from back when I used to watch such things). His name was Julian Rios. I’ll never forget it after seeing him make a woman literally climb a wall before she squirted all over a kitchen bench. I must have watched the same scene ten times—I’d never seen a woman enjoy sex so much, and certainly never seen someone squirt.
He had such a pretty penis as well, the way it curved upwards and dripped with the lucky bitch’s juice. I hope he doesn’t mind that I’ve borrowed it for a while. I’ve also given my version a neat foreskin for that refined look. Currently flaccid, it still looks imposing: long and thick like a German sausage.
Instead of turning myself into a man, I decide to keep the rest of the body I’ve just created, because it’s sexy as hell. Now it just has a little... extra. Also, I don’t need balls. I’ve just gotten rid of all my other ugly lines so I’m not about to add a piece of skin that’s nothing but wrinkles!
I hold my new present up with one hand. The end hangs off the edge of my fingers. My heart races. This is so cool! The flesh starts to fill out and grow, taking its own weight. The foreskin peels back. I gave myself quite an impressive one! I laugh loudly. I stand side-on to the mirror to see what it looks like: fully grown with excitement it curves upwards, just like I wanted, and is much bigger than my husband’s.
I decide it will look even better with some artwork, so I give it some sweet tribal patterns along the top to match the ink that runs up the middle of my back. Now it looks like the dick of a warrior. I think I’ll call it Conan. No, that’s cheese. I’ll call him Cameron. Cameron the Conqueror. Ha! I can’t wait to tell Dani about this—she’ll find it hilarious. I wonder if she’s at the gym in one of her terrible outfits, with her boobs spilling out everywhere. A tingle runs up and down my new friend. I’ve always had a bit of a secret woman-crush on Dani; and she has made a couple of appearances in some other dreams of mine over the years... but I haven’t done anything with another woman since I was about seventeen, and that was a whole lot of drunk fumbling in the dark. I don’t even know what I would do... but my hand involuntarily lands on the rotund surface in front of me and slides back and forth a few times. Oh man! Blood runs out of my head and all I can see is Dani’s butt as she kneels on a bench lifting a dumbbell. I know who I’m going to conquer.
I’m dreaming deeply now. I can’t feel the bed, I can’t hear Mark’s snoring, and a whole world has formed around me while I was busy perfecting my body. I’m at home, and the antique mirror is in our bedroom clashing terribly with our modern décor.
I see Mark standing behind me in the reflection (how long has he been there?). He usually towers over me but today I’m only a few inches shorter. His face is emotionless, even though he’s looking at my naked, altered form. He’s not shocked. He’s not excited. ‘What are you doing?’ he asks in a flat tone.
I don’t answer. I’m on a mission and I don’t have time for a discussion. I turn and walk out of the room and out of the house.
It’s full daylight; not a cloud in the sky. I wave to our neighbour, old Mrs Barkley, who is doing some gardening. In open-mouthed shock she half-waves back while spraying her cat with the hose.
I open the door of my little red car and—bam! Fuck that hurt! I forgot I’m huge now and slammed my head on the door frame as I got in. I rub the sore spot furiously.
Sitting straight, my head nearly touches the roof. I wrap the seatbelt around Cameron (who seems to be permanently ready for battle) and he’s held firmly against my flat stomach; the sensation drives me crazy and I quickly forget my sore head. I need to get to the gym!
Why am I even wearing a seatbelt? Also, come to think of it: why don’t I just fly there? Well, I’ve already shape-shifted and grown a giant cock, so I guess I don’t want to push myself too much in one dream. I could end up falling out of the sky, which would not be fun (especially because I hate heights). I drive there pretty quickly though. One car swerves to miss me as I run a red light, scraping another before it screeches to a stop. I’ll let my dream insurance look after it.
Yep, she’s there; just as I suspected. I can see her bright colours through the full-glass front of the gym as I do a slow drive by. I park as close as I can—which is not that close: not even in a dream could I prevent our gym from being completely packed today—and walk casually towards the entrance.
I look through the windows, past the sweaty men and women as they gyrate and push and pull on various machines and treadmills. It’s one of those huge, popular gyms, but I can easily spot Dani. She’s doing squats. She’s facing away from me and staring at herself in one of the mirrors as she descends with the bar on her shoulders, pushing her butt right out. She’s lifting heavy today.
Her outfit is, as usual, awful: bright red, leopard-print leggings which are being devoured by her round cheeks; a black bra (well, it could be a sports-top, but it really does just look like a push-up bra with a sports logo); and for some reason, she’s wearing horrendous, fluoro-green sneakers. I don’t understand it! I wear the same faded-grey tracksuit pants and normal runners every single session and they seem to work just fine.
Her misled extravagance is doing little to dampen my fire though, and as I stand there in my naked, erect glory while people point and stare through the glass, all I can think is that I should be behind those terrible pants providing some support.
Cameron agrees. He bobs with approval as I make my way to the door.
Inside, I barge through the throng of people who have gathered to see the tall, naked Amazon, and I see Dani resting on a bench, looking through her phone (most likely for her next outfit of the day).
I walk up and stand directly in front of her with my hands on my hips. An awkward amount of time passes while I wait for her to notice me; but it gives me a chance to drink her in up close.
Her dirty blonde locks are even messier than usual, with stray bits hanging in front of her eyes (probably why she hasn’t seen me) and a pony tail literally tied up with other bits of hair. Why? The hair tie was invented for a reason!
But her face and body are flawless as usual. Her full, light-pink lips are mouthing the pop song blaring in the background. Her flat, tanned stomach is sheen with sweat. Droplets are sliding from her neck down either side of her ripe melons with each deep breath. I suddenly geek out and remember the scene from Jurassic Park; you know the one: Malcolm dropping water onto Dr Saddler’s wrist, seeing which way the drops run. Oh no, her nerdiness is rubbing off on me!
Dani’s eyes finally leave her phone and trace their way from my bare feet, over my body, and up to my slightly reproachful face (I get annoyed when I have to wait for things). She seems to recognise me, but says nothing; just brushes a few strands of hair behind her ears, and then leans back on her hands. Did she know I was coming? Did she know I was going to be a foot taller and garmentless?
She looks me up and down; a sly smile forms on her pretty face as she observes my differences on the way up, and on the way down.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asks, bouncing her thighs together like big scissors.
Without a word I step forward, lean down, take her by the back of the head with one hand, and shove my tongue into her mouth. She gasps and jolts, but I hold her firm and in an instant dream-Dani is kissing me right back like she’s been waiting impatiently for this moment.
I have little care for the crowd gathering around us. I savour my friend’s taste, her smell, her delicate tongue. It nervously flitters around my aggressive probing. I always imagined she would be more assertive in this area, but it seems that my new size, or maybe my new appendage, has turned her into a timid girl. That’s okay; today I’m definitely the man.
Straddling the bench I force her down with my mouth until she’s lying flat. I support myself on the structure, and let my breasts press against her damp top and smooth skin.
I can’t get enough of those soft lips and that little tongue; I trap it with my teeth so it will stop darting in and out, and suck it like there’s a creamy prize inside. She exhales loudly. When I release it she attacks mine with new gusto.
I haven’t made out with anyone for what feels like years. I’ve been avoiding it with Mark, because it tends to result in sex, and the sex tends to result in disappointment, so it’s naturally been easier to give it a miss altogether. But damn it I’m enjoying this! Just two friends sucking face in a gym.
I tuck my bothersome hair behind one ear and press my body against hers. My hard cock—which I somehow started to forget—is pressed between our stomachs. The sweat allows it to slip and slide with each movement of my hips. Dani feels it too. She reaches down and takes it in her hand, squeezing, looking up at me; no longer with the face of a shy pixie, but of a devil: voracious eyes and fierce brows.
The sensation of being held, stroked—it’s so foreign, and aaaahmazing! Fuck!
I stand up. Gripping her hips I drag her to the end of the bench. I kneel in front of her, and my new long legs allow my hips to meet hers perfectly. I sit her up and kiss her again, holding her chest against mine; then I yank her head back with that disastrous pony tail so I can access the sweat on her neck and chest, which I lap at like a thirsty dog. I taste salt mixed with woman mixed with fruity perfume. The world starts to blur. I’m losing myself in my lust. Drifting away. I feel a pillow.
No! Hold on!
I look around at the leering faces, at my warrior penis. This must not be real. Of course it isn’t. It’s a dream, and I’m in charge. I shake off the mist and I’m back: fully aware, baby! Booyah! I better get busy before that happens again.
Leaning back, I grip Cameron with one hand. I tap his bulging, dark head against Dani’s sweat-stained crotch; rub it quickly from side-to-side. She spreads her legs further, leaning back on the bench with her elbows. I can see the outline of lips through the tight, gaudy material, and decide I’m going to do her a favour: it’s time to get rid of these pants.
I hold the fabric with both hands and try to tear it.
‘Hey! These are expensive!’ she tells me, clamping her thighs on either side of me. Of course Dani would care more about her stupid clothes than the embarrassment of hooking up with someone in public.
I wrench her knees apart and try again. The fabric stretches but remains intact. What is this shit made of? I remind myself this is a construct of my imagination; then I pull again and visualise the minute details of the seam separating, fibre-by-fibre. It obeys, and easily rips open, revealing a black thong being devoured by plump lips. I give a hard tug and the leggings tear away in shreds—the crowd behind me can have a souvenir.
I latch onto the front of her G with one finger and I pull it aside. Whoa! I knew her pussy would be as bald as a baby because we go for regular lasering sessions together, but I’m still surprised by what I find. I was picturing a dainty, barely noticeable pink entrance to match her refined, elf maiden look; but instead I’m met with a full, thick vagina; all sex; with dark meat curtains for inner lips spilling out from her plump, glistening folds. The sight, and the sweet, strong scent awakens something I’ve never felt. The man in me is taking over.
Like I said: it’s been well over a decade since I’ve touched someone else’s pussy (and I don’t even remember if I got that far), but I don’t stop to think. I push Dani’s thighs apart, and dive straight into her hot, salty opening; tongue-first. I lick deep.
She lies back and strains her neck to watch me over her brimming bra while I explore with my fingers and take loose folds between my lips, pulling and stretching, releasing and observing, savouring the slightly bitter taste of my friend. I take my time and use all the senses I’ve worked so hard on.
Her clitoris must be hidden amongst the top of these meaty leaves, so I wrap my mouth around it—all of it—and suck on her flesh. I open the folds with my fingers, revealing a dark-pink button, and with the tip of my tongue I spell out something in Mandarin, or Elvish if she would prefer. I can’t speak either, but I’m sure she’ll get what I’m trying to say. Her body arches; her ribs protrude; her moans soar high over the babbling of the audience and the Top Forty hits.
Her fingers comb through my hair and she pulls my face full force into her body. Her hips begin to thrust up and down on the bench and my mouth. My tongue accelerates, lashing a simple language of fast, straight lines which she understands perfectly. Her brow is furrowed; her mouth is open. She takes in the site of her best friend articulating her to a delicious orgasm, which arrives soon and lasts long, through several deep, head-crushing convulsions.
I come up for air, smiling wide with a wet chin.
Dani rests her head on the bench, gazing up at the sky and panting, face flushed. ‘That was a good set,’ she says after a few breaths.
Hilarious gym-pun, but this is no time for jokes: I’ve got some fucking to do. I spread Dani’s legs again and direct my soldier towards her luscious folds. She sees my approach and reaches down with both hands; pulls back the foliage to reveal a pink cave. Cameron the Cock takes charge and plunges inside headfirst.
Holy fuck! That’s incredible! The feeling of the soft, wet sleeve wrapped tightly around me almost drives me to the edge. Dani squeals and bucks, but I hold still, terrified to move in case I become a literal one pump chump. How could I live it down?
I clench my eyes shut; focus; breathe deep. I peek below and see her dark wings spread on either side of Cam’s thick base.
I withdraw him slowly, halting each time the sensations become overwhelming. Then, when his plump python head is about to emerge I push him back in, as far as her vagina lets me, until we’re joined at the base. She howls. Her stomach contracts. This is so much better than planking.
I’ve fantasised about doing things in the gym with Dani. How could I not after seeing her stretch and bend in every way possible while we work out together? But this is next-level! Impaling her with my very own dick as she squirms on the bench we normally use for chest press! Daaaaamn!
I’ve gained control of my overexcited warrior, so I start fucking her with some rhythm. (It’s only his first battle, so I can forgive him for being enthusiastic.)
Dani’s black bra is annoying me. I imagine it tearing, and it politely rips in the middle without me needing to touch it. She’s glares at me—it probably cost about fifty bucks—but I placate her with my strong dick. The bra falls away, and her breasts spill out into the open; and holy shit, they’re real! That blessed bitch. I’d always guessed that they were at least partially plastic, but there they are, real as day, flowing back and forth over her chest with each of my thrusts; the sort of boobs that would have inspired the great invasions of the past. Her harsh brown nipples contrast nicely with the soft, rolling hills.
I also tap on her shoes with one finger and they melt away, leaving fluoro green pools on the fake carpet below. I keep her cute little socks on: they look sexy as hell as I hold her by the ankles and test her flexibility.
I’m taking to my new dick like a pro. I fuck her with wild abandon, ramming her hard into the bench. I move my body on top of hers. I squeeze her luscious tits against my own. Her hard nips press into me. She wraps her arms around my neck; I kiss her deeply; feel her moans in my mouth. She jerks her lips away so she can breathe, and howl, and tell me yes, yes, fuck yes!
She semi-laughs-and-cries into my ear as my hips tirelessly slam down. She comes for me. I feel her pulsing pussy try to eject me as she desperately scratches my back, but I continue sliding in and out, milking her and relishing this new power.
I give her a moment to breathe; then continue pounding until I have her coming for me again, and again, on a constant orgasm-cycle, holding my cock deep inside at each crescendo. I am Amy, Queen of the Universe and the Vaginas. All shall worship me and shudder.
Before I finish I want to see what it’s like to have sex on an exercise ball. It’s just something I’ve always thought about, so now is my time. I slide out of my purring friend and lead her, stumbling on weakened legs, to the open floor area. The crowd makes way.
I grab a big, purple ball and shove Dani’s naked body onto it, stomach and boobs first, so her toes are holding the ground and her bubble-butt is pointing to the sky. That lithe, perfect little back covered in long, damp hair is a sight to behold. So too are those adorable dimples sitting above each cheek.
The power I’m feeling while being completely in charge of someone else’s pleasure, and my own, is incredible. I straddle her from behind, spread her cheeks, and make another glorious entrance.
I try to watch my form in the mirror but there are too many people standing around us blocking the view, so with some innovation on the run I float up and away from my body and take a front-row seat. I decide against pop-corn.
The tall, golden woman presses her hands onto the lower-back of the girl in front as her hips roll back and forth in a fluid, sexy wave; like a stripper against her pole. Her legs and ass flex with each thrust, and her round boobs bounce perfectly; her black, silky hair sways as she looks down; and damn that toned stomach looks great from the side. (Yes, this is indeed a new height in narcissism, thank you for noticing.)
The blonde also looks amazing: her muscular thighs pressed out by the rubber ball; her sweaty boobs squished so tight they could pop; her eyes closed and mouth agape in wondrous agony.
That’s enough. An ancient feeling surges from my loins up to my head and down to my toes: something I’ve not felt for a long time. I better be present for this. I suck myself back into my body, grab Dani’s pony tail, and ram her home; each thrust into that tight tunnel bringing me closer and closer. She wraps her arms around the ball, wailing. Hot juice runs down my inner legs as she clenches around me once more.
Cameron has conquered. I reward him by slamming down onto her firm cheeks with one last thrust, and he explodes, throbbing inside my friend’s battered pussy.
The world swirls. Dani and the cheering spectators and the gym machines disappear, and I’m on my warm bed. My middle finger is deep inside me, drumming out the final few convulsions of a foot-numbing orgasm.
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