Mind Journeys: Episode 8
"It seems like the day will be filled with rain." Benjamin stood by the window, looking out.
Maisie glanced out of the window at the continuous downpour. She couldn't go play outside in her rain boots and raincoat, as it was way too wet. Instead, she'd choose to spend the day with board games and cooking.
The rain persisted throughout the morning and afternoon. It was still pouring when bedtime arrived. She yearned for sunshine and azure skies.
"This won't last forever."
As she closed her eyes, she found herself no longer in her bed. Instead, she sat on the veranda of a house with shady trees, definitely not in England. The lush tropical foliage far from sturdy oaks and ashes. On the railing, a gecko eyed her. The sky was as blue as she had hoped for, and the sunshine was bright. Opposite her on a rattan table, a big glass filled with a sparkling liquid, likely gin and tonic. Allthis, in stark comparison with her day at home.
Next to her, calm and composed, in his sporty beige linen suit and an open-necked white shirt, sat Harris, looking over his drink at her.
What a delightful situation. Even on the nights where you anticipate a cozy night'sd sleep, escaping the rain, this was a dream location. A drink, a view, a comfy chair, and a soothing warmth. Perhaps some steamy romance? Perhaps a tryst with Harris on the white sheets of a bamboo bed underneath the mosquito net, intertwined bodies in the scorching heat? Clothes thrown recklessly? As she had not slept with Benjamin before going to bed, there was no such amorous moment with him.
"What won't remain like this?" Disregarding the unexpected relocation was futile by now.
With a broad sweep of his hand, he took in the scenery: "Go, and set the world afire; overthrow thy father's house.
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard."
"A storm? You mentioned this earlier..."
She noticed an unexpected silence, the ceased chirping of the birds in the trees at a distance, hinting at a change beyond her lawn. Beyond the trees, clouds were gathering in the sky, obviously a storm was imminent. Around the wooden house, it was still mostly the same, if not more serene and appealing. Bamboo poles supporting the roof, as thick as her thighs. She sipped her drink.
"Where are we?"
Harris gave her an enigmatic smile. The atmosphere was becoming tense. She crossed her leg over her knee, enjoying the light cotton dress wrapped around her.
"This place is simply stunning, don't you think? Perhaps the clouds won't reach us for a while." It was upsetting to have the tranquillity interrupted just as she became comfortable. The growing heaviness, though, could not be ignored. She glanced at Harris, "Or do you think this is just before the storm breaks?"
He nodded, just as the first raindrops appeared, gently hitting the ground. A minimal rainfall. The serenity of the late afternoon vanished.
"I wish we could just stay here. How do you manage to take me to these places? I don't grasp it. Who are you, exactly?"
Suddenly, a downpour started, the rain falling heavily. The sun vanished behind the clouds.
"We should come inside." He didn't answer her questions. They settled in the living room, Harris sipping his drink and herself by the window, witnessing the rainfall. The downpour was a stark contrast from her home's weather the same morning. The rain was no different, however it was so misplaced in this exotic location.
A fierce drumming of rain on the roof, a constant din. She hated it.
"It's so hot and oppressive inside, like it should've been cleared by the rain." The warm atmosphere she had enjoyed outside was now uncomfortably humid. She desired to be outdoors in the cool. "Do you think... It wouldn't inconvenience you if I went outside, like taking a shower?"
"Nude outside in the rain?"
"Would it matter? Could you join me?"
Harris gave her a sarcastic smile. "You'd get drenched."
It crossed her mind she was already soaked, beneath her cotton dress, between her legs in who knows what kind of underwear - she hadn't worn this in her sleep, in this location, with this man. She looked at Harris. She craved passion, he could fulfill that need.
"Touch me," she whispered.
Frequently, situations like these unfolded in colonial stations - a few white men and women taking residence at the station, the unrelenting heat, potential boredom... so much intimacy must have blossomed there? The restless spouse with their partner miles away, seeking thrills and camaraderie with the dashing new arrivals from England, the soldiers? Did these men peek under their wives' cotton dresses, slide their palms through the garter elastic of their loose knickers, delve into their abundant curls? No more the trend of shaving bare, so it was the rough scrape of callused fingertips along the flesh of the old fashioned 'Mounds of Venus.'
Harris acquiesced to her desires. It felt marvelous, his powerful fingers lifting her dress and trawling across her body; just like she had yearned for Benjamin to do. His hands treated her gently, possessing the right balance of strength and tenderness. She leaned against his shoulder, feeling his hot breath on her neck, his fingers raking through her chestnut tresses.
"I crave sex... so much of it," she gasped, her primal urge for physical intimacy becoming intertwined with her desire to conceive. Her usual sexual cravings subtly assimilated into wanting to become impregnated. She cherished the idea of being lifted into his arms, his hands beneath her dress, guiding her to the bedroom outfitted with a mosquito net. She envisioned crisp, cool sheets, nothing more. Too boiling for blankets, eiderdown, or anything; even more, no need for lingering with clothes on - an unclothed body was needed in the face of the task at hand.
Sprawled bare on the bed, her legs apart to dissipate the heat and to enhance her allure, her oversexed form intended to entice the man. She lay waiting, looking on as Harris removed his clothing.
Not young, not old, he boasted a strong torso, not a bodybuilder but muscular nonetheless - a flat stomach and a modest amount of male chest hair. Harris, she marveled, was the picture of a man from her perspective. She watched him as a man would gaze on a live performance in a strip club, satisfying herself with each unclothed layer of her lover. He kicked off his shoes, delicately removing his socks, taking care to avoid damaging the laces. She fixed her gaze below his belt, eager to devour the next visual treat that awaited. He loosened his belt, his erect, virile phallus about to make itself known.
Why tease her? To heighten the anticipation of the spectacle to come, or was it simply human instinct to show off such a key component? She bit her lip, enjoying every moment as his manhood revealed itself. Button by button, his shirt opened to disclose his bare torso to her appreciative eyes before he slipped off his trousers and underwear, revealing the erected member staring up at her, eager to join her.
Lost in the pouring rain and flashes of lightning, a roar of thunder defined the room as the storm rampaged outside. The person standing at the window in his state of naked arousal covered the glass with the shutters to block the remaining light.
She yearned to welcome the zealous, entrancing Harris between her legs, his testosterone-fueled existence about to satisfy her on the bed. Her mouth fixed itself around it, pushing with buoyancy, desire burning to please Harris, to touch his essence.
"Mmm, cock!" She ecstatically fellated him, speculating on how exhilarating it would be to have two men in her life - one for her lips, the other for her vagina. The pleasure of a penis so delving deep within her, coupled with another's penis in her mouth. The prospect of experiencing Harris and Benjamin together danced through her mind. Regardless of the outcome, she desired to have Harris consume her, to dissolve her in immanent desire.
Harris trailed his fingertips through her strands, gently ripping her away from his crotch as he shifted to the sheet, his powerful fingers slipping beneath her, comforting her. As Thompson moved with confident, precise movements over her, their bodies molded together in lovemaking's embrace. They switched sides of the bed, exchanging sensual smooches for exposing his organ at the height of arousal, his hands committed to her.
She yelled, her desires satiated but the thought of conception as well. The storm waged on as they engaged in forbidden pleasure in the room adorned by a welcome darkness, and partial sunlight. Her unforgettable orgasm, a conversation with the rain, pulsed violently within the mosquito enclosure, entangled in the violent fury of nature's cocoon.
In the remote areas of the empire, were there covert affairs happening, again and again, in the midst of the heat? Were there numerous babies born from such liaisons, or were penises swiftly removed just before releasing their seed on the soft female bodies? Did the ladies instantly grab and stroke, or quickly turn to encase the emerging sexual organ in their mouths?
He didn't want it, dissimilar to the many female from the past, yet Harris withdrew, seemingly in sync with the situation. His penis discharged upon her, with significant force.
Eventually, they disengaged, pulling away from each other; the penis dripping, having completed its purpose on her belly. She felt fulfilled by the intercourse, despite her sexual channel not being in the form of a man.
As she stepped out of her room, the rain continued to pour, making her think that it would be like a shower, washing the perspiration and sex fluids off her frame. A wince -- wouldn't it be better if the male fluid were inside her? She could have then, been pondering whether she would conceive.
A sudden clap of thunder highlighted the sky, showcasing the long grass visible up to the trees, an enormous downpour drenching everything, not dropping vertically -- the wind took care of that. She stepped onto the wet grass outside, completely drenched, her hair soaked through and dripping. Banging on the shuttered windows didn't elicit any response. Had Harris not heard her, was he asleep, or was the storm too loud? She was caught outside in the torrential rain, soaked through her clothing.
Suddenly, the storm dissipated as quickly as it had come, the dark clouds racing away and the sun and blue skies returning. With the final drops of the warm tropical rain still falling, she rose from the lush grass and walked towards the trees. It was then, she saw them – the men.
Emerging from the trees appeared the men. Nude men, brown-skinned men with rain still streaming down their frames. She, too, was naked, completely exposed. They rapidly encircled her. Had they been watching her? Before, she had seen only Harris when she had been transported away by him: now there were several – and all men. Should she flee, but the house refused to open for her; should she attempt to escape in a different direction, but where should she go; should she stand her ground, but to what end? She shifted her gaze from one to the next, then to the next. Not tall men such as Harris, but poised and stunningly masculine, their muscles honed from manual labour, their hands powerful.
What were their intentions towards her? They were not holding weapons or clothes for protection, however, they did have blossoms in their hair, blooms of hibiscus, frangipani, bougainvillea, or passionflower - she could not discern which. The phrase of Scott McKenzie echoed within her, the beautiful melody in her mind:
'If you're going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you're going to San Francisco
You're gonna meet some gentle people there.'
Each man was physically alluring, yet, standing apart, they were intimidating. To be admired, yet, that wasn't so simple as they closed in around her. What did they want from her? The answer was clear when penises began to rise; an array of erections, much blood pulsing:
'For those who come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there'
A 'love in,' is that their plan? She stared in amazement, penises in various stages of erection and positioning around her. Some were unsheathed and ready, while others maintained their sheaths and occasionally shifted as a foreskin was retracted spontaneously. A threat or a promise. The men, the nude, lithe, attractive men with their erect members, were advancing towards her. Was there any basis for resisting or combatting – none; she looked towards the house to find out if Harris was coming to her aid – no sign. Her body responded against her will. Was it merely a dream or a true experience? She pondered if she hadn't had similar fantasies at some point?
I felt hands on me, pressing me, caressing me. Not rough hands, not forceful hands, but rather hands lifting me, managing me, hands at my wrists, my ankles, my arms, my legs, holding me eternally. It was like I was bound, like I was helpless - certainly, I was. I struggled, pushing my hips, spreading my legs apart, displaying my innermost part to the men. I couldn't help it - they would notice, wouldn't they? I was already seeded.
So many naked men, so beautiful, so tender with me; smiling at me, nodding in vigorous gestures, touching my body. I didn't notice the first penis forcing itself into me, the man between my thighs as other men held me. It was so soft, the movement so silky. I didn't feel him climax, but I saw him withdraw and another enter. His brown penis tall, his exposed glans shiny brown, a dipping with his hand and he slide in so comfortably, so his thighs touched mine. Already one of these men had been inside me and had accomplished his task, and now a second was moving effortlessly. Surrounding me, countless other men, no doubt eager to have their turn, but not crowding or making crude remarks, just standing there with their comrades, smiling at me with their hardened penises pointing up, saying nothing.
It must have been around thirty, maybe more men who so gently slid their penises into me. I lost count. So gentle. Penis after penis, erect and firm, sliding carefully into me. Not wildly, not one of them. Smooth insertions, opening me over and over. The act of sexual intercourse, the movement performed by penis after penis. It could have been the most vile thing, but it wasn't - strangely, it wasn't. Their penises weren't large, but they were full and their balls too. I was sure of that. And, two by two, they emptied themselves into me.
To imagine going from just one man, in my vivid dreams, to so many was... peculiar. A dream of sexual intercourse on a surprising, unforeseen scale. I had dreamt before with more than one man, but not a throng. One man after the other in me, seething so much semen.
Had it been horrendous, I would not have climaxed - and I did, a few times, as the rain dissipated into the air beneath me, giving at times a somewhat surreal, dreamlike appearance to the whole situation. The naked, erect men seen through a haze - however, there was nothing hazy about the sensation of the penises within me.
They stood silent, gazing at me as I crossed the lawn back to the house. Their penises at rest. I had an odd thought to go and kiss each one of them, each soft member, just hanging in front of its balls, spent and possibly dripping a little: such graceful little items. I turned near the house and just looked back at them.
'Gentle people with flowers in their hair
Traversing the world
Some kind of sensation
Peopled in action.'
Oh, hadn't they been in motion - such gentle motions together. I had been a chosen vessel for their seed. Would I now be pregnant? The storm had arrived. The men had just embedded themselves within me. The wetness there. Certainly, I could not desire any more, could I?
I awoke, soaking wet between my legs. "Fuck me, Benjamin, please!" And at this time in the night, he had consented, not knowing why I was so wet. It was so dark in our room. He had turned onto me and just inserted his already hard cock inside me. No foreplay, no moving lower on me, no danger of him discovering the wetness wasn't mine at all. If not. In the morning, I found my sheet stiff and moist in places beneath me, with starchy seed. Certainly, Benjamin couldn't have ejaculated that much; he couldn't have held so much in his balls and seminal vesicles; certainly, it had to be seed from much more than one man; far more than one man. I was so liquid with him. He kept moving out, slapping his hardness against my clitoris. That was enjoyable. The sex was so slippery, so silky, and unusually noisy in the silence of the night. Squirting sounds. Again and again, I guided him back, and we kept sexing. For him, a delightful surprise midnight fuck - much better than a midnight supper! He woke up, fucked, climaxed, and then went back to bed. Although I'm not certain he was fully conscious.
And in the morning, when I awoke at the kitchen table, I found a flowerpot standing; a Passiflora blooming up a bamboo pole. A gift from Benjamin?
Read also:
- Kristin, Tasha, and I: Chapter 2
- Chapter 6: The Neighborly Role
- What occurs in Las Vegas...
- A Friend's Mom: Mrs. Singer Part 4
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