GameMistress
Experienced
- Joined
- Jan 14, 2012
- Posts
- 63
You're travelling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, the Twilight Zone… of Sex!
Arnie was sitting up in his apartment, enjoying his usual pursuits – watching TV and looking out the window at Main Street. From his place over the hardware store, he could watch the RexAll and the Diner, and he liked the view. His TV was tuned to something slightly fuzzy – perhaps an afternoon soap opera as it revealed a bathroom with a filling tub, bubbles flowing upwards while a woman in a robe hummed and moved through the room, her hair caught up in a turban-style towel atop her head.
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call the Twilight Zone... of Sex…
The Greyhound pulled into town – Arnie checked his watch; right on time, of course. This being Johnsonville, no soul approached the bus stop or stepped out of the depot at the Diner. Not even the driver left the bus, instead content to open the door and idle for a couple minutes. The scene on TV had changed a little – now the woman was submerged in bubbles up to her chin, the camera focusing on the tub as Arnie leaned forward in his recliner, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. A figure exited the bus outside, and Arnie shook his head, tsk-tsking softly. Poor stranger – once they were off that bus, they became the property of Johnsonville, and this town had yet to let a single person go in all the years he had been here.
You're travelling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination - Next stop, the Twilight Zone… of Sex!
The stranger slipped through the Diner’s door, and Arnie watched Bobby Ray glide out from the kitchen, where he was sure she had been up to no good, as usual. Arnie licked his lips, noticing that the lady on TV was now groaning softly, her back arching as she tilted her head back against the rim of the tub. Twin mounds – large, generous breasts – broke the bubbled surface, their nipples floating towards the ceiling. Arnie grunted himself now, rubbing his hardening member through his pants and shorts, the woman on screen beginning to moan in a long, low voice that seemed to originate from somewhere downstairs.
You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone… of Sex!
The Greyhound, well aware of its schedule and Johnsonville’s … unusual tendencies, closed its door and started on its way back down the highway. The woman – now identifiable as Mrs. O’Halloran when she lifts her head and the towel slides off her hair – is practically sobbing in pleasure now, both arms working between her legs beneath the obscurity of water and bubbles, her entire body bowing almost violently as she gyrates and rocks herself in the tub. Arnie’s fingers are squeezing and manipulating the thick tool in his lap, and he is blissfully unaware of all else as he hears his downstairs neighbor splashing wildly in their tub. His TV, of course, is not tuned to any particular station – but rather, it is his doorway to the delights of Johnsonville and its occupants, and being so passionately voyeuristic, Arnie adores it, worshiping at its glass screen daily with something akin to obsession.
This highway leads to the shadowy tip of reality: you're on a through route to the land of the different, the bizarre, the unexplainable...Go as far as you like on this road. Its limits are only those of mind itself. Ladies and Gentlemen, you're entering the wondrous dimension of imagination. Next stop....The Twilight Zone… of Sex.
Arnie is gasping and groaning himself, cock in hand and making soft slapping noises as Mrs O seems to find her own O – her lips drawing into a round exclamation of pleasure as her cries crescendo and escalate in pitch, falling silent for several breathless seconds before erupting into long, groaning sounds of pleasurable release. Arnie’s downstairs neighbor seems to echo these sounds, if in a more subdued manner then through the TV, and Arnie grits his teeth and grunts, his own orgasm rocketing from the bottom of his balls and out across the room in a gentle arc of thick, ropy release. Collapsing into his recliner, panting, he makes a mental note to tell Mrs. O what Mr. O is missing out on next time he sees her around town. On wobbling legs, he rises and moves to the set – shifting its yellow plastic dial until he comes upon something equally as interesting now: a teenage girl with curling blonde hair, wending her way through a shadowed wooden glade. Through the trees behind her, a shadowed, furred creature moved. Deciding this had the potential to turn into the best thing he’d seen in weeks, Arnie plopped back into his recliner and grinned.
Arnie was sitting up in his apartment, enjoying his usual pursuits – watching TV and looking out the window at Main Street. From his place over the hardware store, he could watch the RexAll and the Diner, and he liked the view. His TV was tuned to something slightly fuzzy – perhaps an afternoon soap opera as it revealed a bathroom with a filling tub, bubbles flowing upwards while a woman in a robe hummed and moved through the room, her hair caught up in a turban-style towel atop her head.
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call the Twilight Zone... of Sex…
The Greyhound pulled into town – Arnie checked his watch; right on time, of course. This being Johnsonville, no soul approached the bus stop or stepped out of the depot at the Diner. Not even the driver left the bus, instead content to open the door and idle for a couple minutes. The scene on TV had changed a little – now the woman was submerged in bubbles up to her chin, the camera focusing on the tub as Arnie leaned forward in his recliner, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. A figure exited the bus outside, and Arnie shook his head, tsk-tsking softly. Poor stranger – once they were off that bus, they became the property of Johnsonville, and this town had yet to let a single person go in all the years he had been here.
You're travelling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination - Next stop, the Twilight Zone… of Sex!
The stranger slipped through the Diner’s door, and Arnie watched Bobby Ray glide out from the kitchen, where he was sure she had been up to no good, as usual. Arnie licked his lips, noticing that the lady on TV was now groaning softly, her back arching as she tilted her head back against the rim of the tub. Twin mounds – large, generous breasts – broke the bubbled surface, their nipples floating towards the ceiling. Arnie grunted himself now, rubbing his hardening member through his pants and shorts, the woman on screen beginning to moan in a long, low voice that seemed to originate from somewhere downstairs.
You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone… of Sex!
The Greyhound, well aware of its schedule and Johnsonville’s … unusual tendencies, closed its door and started on its way back down the highway. The woman – now identifiable as Mrs. O’Halloran when she lifts her head and the towel slides off her hair – is practically sobbing in pleasure now, both arms working between her legs beneath the obscurity of water and bubbles, her entire body bowing almost violently as she gyrates and rocks herself in the tub. Arnie’s fingers are squeezing and manipulating the thick tool in his lap, and he is blissfully unaware of all else as he hears his downstairs neighbor splashing wildly in their tub. His TV, of course, is not tuned to any particular station – but rather, it is his doorway to the delights of Johnsonville and its occupants, and being so passionately voyeuristic, Arnie adores it, worshiping at its glass screen daily with something akin to obsession.
This highway leads to the shadowy tip of reality: you're on a through route to the land of the different, the bizarre, the unexplainable...Go as far as you like on this road. Its limits are only those of mind itself. Ladies and Gentlemen, you're entering the wondrous dimension of imagination. Next stop....The Twilight Zone… of Sex.
Arnie is gasping and groaning himself, cock in hand and making soft slapping noises as Mrs O seems to find her own O – her lips drawing into a round exclamation of pleasure as her cries crescendo and escalate in pitch, falling silent for several breathless seconds before erupting into long, groaning sounds of pleasurable release. Arnie’s downstairs neighbor seems to echo these sounds, if in a more subdued manner then through the TV, and Arnie grits his teeth and grunts, his own orgasm rocketing from the bottom of his balls and out across the room in a gentle arc of thick, ropy release. Collapsing into his recliner, panting, he makes a mental note to tell Mrs. O what Mr. O is missing out on next time he sees her around town. On wobbling legs, he rises and moves to the set – shifting its yellow plastic dial until he comes upon something equally as interesting now: a teenage girl with curling blonde hair, wending her way through a shadowed wooden glade. Through the trees behind her, a shadowed, furred creature moved. Deciding this had the potential to turn into the best thing he’d seen in weeks, Arnie plopped back into his recliner and grinned.
