StillStunned
Mr Sticky
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2023
- Posts
- 10,502
Writing Exercise: Night
- Thread starter StillStunned
- Start date
mrs_mackenzie
Should be writing
- Joined
- Oct 18, 2020
- Posts
- 396
“Stop it Craig, I can’t get the key in if you-”
“What? I’m barely touching you.”
“Yes but it’s where you’re touching me that’s the problem.” I reached behind me and batted his hand away from my arse.
It was back before I could get the key into the front door.
“Craig!”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Stop acting like a horny teenager and let me unlock the door.”
When the key turned in the lock at last we both fell through the door, tipsily tripping over the step in the black dark. Nobody had left a light on for us.
“Now shush or you’ll wake everyone,” I hissed at him, hanging up my bag, escaping from his wandering hands.
“You won’t hear a word from me.”
His night vision must have been better than mine, because when I was midway through taking my heels off he scooped me up in his arms.
“Craig!” I whispered desperately, grabbing him as he whirled around and stepped through to the living room.
“Yes, Michelle?” he asked, innocently.
“Put me down, we’re far too old for this kind of-”
The sentence went unfinished as I crashed heavily down onto the sofa cushions. My arms flailed, looking for purchase, but he stilled me with a kiss.
“Get that dress off,” he commanded.
“I will if you shut the door.”
He tripped over something in the dark and I was unsuccessful in containing my laughter.
“You’ll pay for that,” he threatened playfully.
“Ooh, I can’t wait.”
“What? I’m barely touching you.”
“Yes but it’s where you’re touching me that’s the problem.” I reached behind me and batted his hand away from my arse.
It was back before I could get the key into the front door.
“Craig!”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Stop acting like a horny teenager and let me unlock the door.”
When the key turned in the lock at last we both fell through the door, tipsily tripping over the step in the black dark. Nobody had left a light on for us.
“Now shush or you’ll wake everyone,” I hissed at him, hanging up my bag, escaping from his wandering hands.
“You won’t hear a word from me.”
His night vision must have been better than mine, because when I was midway through taking my heels off he scooped me up in his arms.
“Craig!” I whispered desperately, grabbing him as he whirled around and stepped through to the living room.
“Yes, Michelle?” he asked, innocently.
“Put me down, we’re far too old for this kind of-”
The sentence went unfinished as I crashed heavily down onto the sofa cushions. My arms flailed, looking for purchase, but he stilled me with a kiss.
“Get that dress off,” he commanded.
“I will if you shut the door.”
He tripped over something in the dark and I was unsuccessful in containing my laughter.
“You’ll pay for that,” he threatened playfully.
“Ooh, I can’t wait.”
StillStunned
Mr Sticky
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2023
- Posts
- 10,502
It hadn’t always been like this. Once, the night had been her domain, and she its mistress. She’d stalked the blackness without fear. Nothing moved that she didn’t see or hear. Nothing came close that she didn’t permit. Nothing left that she didn’t release.
That was before. Before the Rift, before the Two-Legs came from Beyond. With their machines and their weapons of cold steel and burning fire. With their lights and their noise and their strange auras, and with their unstoppable numbers.
They made the night theirs, and she feared it now.
Still, she had to go. It was in her blood, to hunt when the Moon shone. She drew sustenance as much from the hunt as from the prey that she caught. To forego the hunt was to deny herself.
So she opened her eyes from the day’s sleep and stepped from her hidden den. Beyond, the night loomed silent. Holding its breath, afraid to move. Afraid to drew the attention of any Two-Legs.
As silent as the night she moved into it. Became one with it through her ears, her eyes, her nose. Marked the tracks and trails of the day’s denizens, and–
There!
A whiptail, out after its bedtime. Scuttling along, blind and deaf in the dark, wondering where its home was.
Her fear slid from her like a cloak. All that existed now was the hunt, and her prey.
Wrapped in the night she glided closer. Silent, motionless despite her motion. Undetected, undetectable.
She saw the whiptail now. Its long nose twitched. Its hands rubbed nervously. Its eyes gleamed in the black.
Gathering herself, she prepared to pounce. This was the moment she lived for. The moment to savour when the world fell into place and everything was as it should be. The moment before the ecstasy. The moment–
The night was torn by a monstrous noise, ripped apart by invisible auras and murdered by a blinding light.
The Two-Legs had come.
That was before. Before the Rift, before the Two-Legs came from Beyond. With their machines and their weapons of cold steel and burning fire. With their lights and their noise and their strange auras, and with their unstoppable numbers.
They made the night theirs, and she feared it now.
Still, she had to go. It was in her blood, to hunt when the Moon shone. She drew sustenance as much from the hunt as from the prey that she caught. To forego the hunt was to deny herself.
So she opened her eyes from the day’s sleep and stepped from her hidden den. Beyond, the night loomed silent. Holding its breath, afraid to move. Afraid to drew the attention of any Two-Legs.
As silent as the night she moved into it. Became one with it through her ears, her eyes, her nose. Marked the tracks and trails of the day’s denizens, and–
There!
A whiptail, out after its bedtime. Scuttling along, blind and deaf in the dark, wondering where its home was.
Her fear slid from her like a cloak. All that existed now was the hunt, and her prey.
Wrapped in the night she glided closer. Silent, motionless despite her motion. Undetected, undetectable.
She saw the whiptail now. Its long nose twitched. Its hands rubbed nervously. Its eyes gleamed in the black.
Gathering herself, she prepared to pounce. This was the moment she lived for. The moment to savour when the world fell into place and everything was as it should be. The moment before the ecstasy. The moment–
The night was torn by a monstrous noise, ripped apart by invisible auras and murdered by a blinding light.
The Two-Legs had come.
calmlikeabomb
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2020
- Posts
- 621
Something written in days past with someone who is now gone...
---
The still Indian summer night lay above her like an ink black blanket. And Kanta lay beneath that blanket on a cot on the roof of the Haveli (Indian manor house) where she served her owner, the Thakur, the headman and the patriarch of the village. It was too warm to sleep inside the Haveli, and the soft cool wind caressed and soothed her aching body.
Kanta breathed the fresh, cool air in deeply. Her glorious breasts, brazenly naked under the stars rose in unison, still stained with the Thakur's seed. Kanta licked her lips as she recalled the events of the evening, how the Thakur, impatient with need, had grabbed her in the kitchen itself and forced himself on her.
Kanta raised her right hand to her right breast. Her bangles jingled gently as her thumb and forefinger rolled her dark nipple gently. Her gold rings, a gift from the Thakur in return for her anal virginity, felt chilly against her soft fleshy breast. Hissing and growling with his need, the Thakur had savagely torn her choli apart and squeezed and pinched her breasts, and now they felt tender and heavy, like ripe mangoes left too long on the branch.
She brought up her other hand and gently massaged her left breast too. The Thakur was a brute, but he wasn't usually this savage. Usually, he would wait till Kanta would finish her chores and then call her to his room where she would warm his bed, filling his bed room with the sounds of her cries and the jingling of her anklets, until he was spent and she could retire to her own room. But tonight, something seemed to have come over him, something wild and terrible.
With her eyes closed and mouth open, Kanta kneaded her breasts. The relief was almost immediate and immense. The stains on her breasts felt sticky under her fingers, and she gently raised her right breast and licked herself, tasting some of the Thakur's seed off her skin. She knew every single man in the village lusted after her large, pendulous melons, and sometimes, she would over hear men who worked the Thakur's fields talking about how they would suck and squeeze them with relish. Their words had always excited her, but everyone knew that as the Thakur's property, she was off limits. While she was thankful for the protection, she sometimes wondered how it would feel for a group of men to actually have their way with her. Unfortunately, the Thakur didn't like to share with other men, and Kanta made do with her imagination.
And as her tongue slowly laved over her tender flesh, Kanta imagined that she was a queen with many servants of her own, who were licking her all over her body. She sighed as she imagined their tongues probing her curves and her holes, having a contest to see who could lick her clit first, arguing amongst themselves as they traced their tongues over her armpits and pierced navel.
Her breathing quickened as she gently squeezed her left breast, and opening her mouth, suckled on her right nipple. She imagined the probing tongues on her face, lathering her in their saliva as eager hands part her thighs. She felt a quiver in her cunt and sucked her breast harder, teasing her nipples with her teeth, just like how the Thakur had trained her. He often enjoyed making her suck her nipples while she rode him, and though surprised at first, Kanta had grown to love the act.
But tonight, the Thakur hadn't asked, or told her what to do. Tonight, he had ravished her like an enemy, something he hadn't done for years.
Kanta had been shocked at the force and intensity of the assault. It was almost like a demon had possessed the Thakur. Throwing away her torn Choli, he had turned her around and pushed her to the kitchen wall and crushed and sucked her breasts while staring at her with a cruel look in his eyes. Normally he would spit on her as well and call her his randi (whore), his rakhail (kept woman) his chhamiya (courtesan) but tonight he had just repeated one word as he abused her breasts.
Kutiya. (Bitch)
---
There's a few elements specific to the Indian culture here, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
---
The still Indian summer night lay above her like an ink black blanket. And Kanta lay beneath that blanket on a cot on the roof of the Haveli (Indian manor house) where she served her owner, the Thakur, the headman and the patriarch of the village. It was too warm to sleep inside the Haveli, and the soft cool wind caressed and soothed her aching body.
Kanta breathed the fresh, cool air in deeply. Her glorious breasts, brazenly naked under the stars rose in unison, still stained with the Thakur's seed. Kanta licked her lips as she recalled the events of the evening, how the Thakur, impatient with need, had grabbed her in the kitchen itself and forced himself on her.
Kanta raised her right hand to her right breast. Her bangles jingled gently as her thumb and forefinger rolled her dark nipple gently. Her gold rings, a gift from the Thakur in return for her anal virginity, felt chilly against her soft fleshy breast. Hissing and growling with his need, the Thakur had savagely torn her choli apart and squeezed and pinched her breasts, and now they felt tender and heavy, like ripe mangoes left too long on the branch.
She brought up her other hand and gently massaged her left breast too. The Thakur was a brute, but he wasn't usually this savage. Usually, he would wait till Kanta would finish her chores and then call her to his room where she would warm his bed, filling his bed room with the sounds of her cries and the jingling of her anklets, until he was spent and she could retire to her own room. But tonight, something seemed to have come over him, something wild and terrible.
With her eyes closed and mouth open, Kanta kneaded her breasts. The relief was almost immediate and immense. The stains on her breasts felt sticky under her fingers, and she gently raised her right breast and licked herself, tasting some of the Thakur's seed off her skin. She knew every single man in the village lusted after her large, pendulous melons, and sometimes, she would over hear men who worked the Thakur's fields talking about how they would suck and squeeze them with relish. Their words had always excited her, but everyone knew that as the Thakur's property, she was off limits. While she was thankful for the protection, she sometimes wondered how it would feel for a group of men to actually have their way with her. Unfortunately, the Thakur didn't like to share with other men, and Kanta made do with her imagination.
And as her tongue slowly laved over her tender flesh, Kanta imagined that she was a queen with many servants of her own, who were licking her all over her body. She sighed as she imagined their tongues probing her curves and her holes, having a contest to see who could lick her clit first, arguing amongst themselves as they traced their tongues over her armpits and pierced navel.
Her breathing quickened as she gently squeezed her left breast, and opening her mouth, suckled on her right nipple. She imagined the probing tongues on her face, lathering her in their saliva as eager hands part her thighs. She felt a quiver in her cunt and sucked her breast harder, teasing her nipples with her teeth, just like how the Thakur had trained her. He often enjoyed making her suck her nipples while she rode him, and though surprised at first, Kanta had grown to love the act.
But tonight, the Thakur hadn't asked, or told her what to do. Tonight, he had ravished her like an enemy, something he hadn't done for years.
Kanta had been shocked at the force and intensity of the assault. It was almost like a demon had possessed the Thakur. Throwing away her torn Choli, he had turned her around and pushed her to the kitchen wall and crushed and sucked her breasts while staring at her with a cruel look in his eyes. Normally he would spit on her as well and call her his randi (whore), his rakhail (kept woman) his chhamiya (courtesan) but tonight he had just repeated one word as he abused her breasts.
Kutiya. (Bitch)
---
There's a few elements specific to the Indian culture here, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
Erozetta
Erotically Inclined
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2024
- Posts
- 1,576
And this one I just wrote after waking up about 15 minutes ago. Please excuse typos, I'm not wearing my glasses while typing on my phone.
When darkness creeps along the ground like a flow of evil enveloping all that is good from the day, I rise. My best work happens from within the shadows. Unseen, unheard, just felt, the visceral twitch in your stomach, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and the desire to turn around and catch me rise within you as you walk along the barely lit path.
There's a new moon and clouds block the twinkle of stars you can normally rely on to guide your path. Nothing but manmade light penetrates this night. And that light is weak, fading behind us with my silent steps slightly atop the dewy grass.
You don't turn around, though. You speed up. The end of the path so close. The edge of the park within sight. Your breath catches and your heart thrums so loud even I can hear it. We both know you aren't going to leave once you reach the end. Just like every night this week, you'll turn around at the last second, sweat on your brow, eyes wide, hand raised as though in shock. The slight twitch of your smile as I step from the shadows - looming large and foreboding over you - gives away what we both knew: you like it here. The freedom I offer is unlike that any man can give you.
I bow, a regal gesture, and my chin lifts, an almost painful move as my dark curled horns are much too heavy for it to be comfortable. The glint in your eye makes me grin and I hold out my hand. You tremble, but take it, and your smile grows.
The power flows from you and I drink it in. The child of an angel consorting with a demon. Shameful for us both, but so like a drug drawing us back to each other on these moonless nights that we can't help but reach for that next fix. And what a fix it is.
"Shall we?" I ask, gesturing toward the shifting treeline.
"Will it hurt?"
"A bit."
You smile and step forward.
When darkness creeps along the ground like a flow of evil enveloping all that is good from the day, I rise. My best work happens from within the shadows. Unseen, unheard, just felt, the visceral twitch in your stomach, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and the desire to turn around and catch me rise within you as you walk along the barely lit path.
There's a new moon and clouds block the twinkle of stars you can normally rely on to guide your path. Nothing but manmade light penetrates this night. And that light is weak, fading behind us with my silent steps slightly atop the dewy grass.
You don't turn around, though. You speed up. The end of the path so close. The edge of the park within sight. Your breath catches and your heart thrums so loud even I can hear it. We both know you aren't going to leave once you reach the end. Just like every night this week, you'll turn around at the last second, sweat on your brow, eyes wide, hand raised as though in shock. The slight twitch of your smile as I step from the shadows - looming large and foreboding over you - gives away what we both knew: you like it here. The freedom I offer is unlike that any man can give you.
I bow, a regal gesture, and my chin lifts, an almost painful move as my dark curled horns are much too heavy for it to be comfortable. The glint in your eye makes me grin and I hold out my hand. You tremble, but take it, and your smile grows.
The power flows from you and I drink it in. The child of an angel consorting with a demon. Shameful for us both, but so like a drug drawing us back to each other on these moonless nights that we can't help but reach for that next fix. And what a fix it is.
"Shall we?" I ask, gesturing toward the shifting treeline.
"Will it hurt?"
"A bit."
You smile and step forward.
UsuallyPresent
Gene Tripper
- Joined
- Aug 23, 2019
- Posts
- 10,592
I apologize in advance....
It was the best of nights. It was the wurst of nights.
"And the winner for best German-Style Sausage is..... drumroll, please! ... Helmut Arschlocke, in 'Spread the Mustard'! Congrats, Helmut!"
It was the best of nights. It was the wurst of nights.
"And the winner for best German-Style Sausage is..... drumroll, please! ... Helmut Arschlocke, in 'Spread the Mustard'! Congrats, Helmut!"
UsuallyPresent
Gene Tripper
- Joined
- Aug 23, 2019
- Posts
- 10,592
Let's see.... Oooh, a new writing prompt from StillStunned! Night, huh? Appropriate, as it's still dark out there. Now, what's a muse to do with that? Hrm... Well, first thing's first, lets get the cerebrum-stompers on and laced tight, we'll need 'em. Oh, creativity is always a pain in the concept. Hrm. "Call me Nacht," nah, would need to be closer to Ishmael. "The clock hands turn and hours come and pass, leaving..." Meh, I don't want him to die before finishing it. "It was the best of times, it was the worst..." Heee! Wurst! Lean in on that germanic thing. German sausage!
Now, kick that brain into activity and get them fingers going. Oh, c'mon, you can pee later, you KNOW I'm gonna be a right royal pain in the butt about this. *stomp*stomp*stomp* Get going! It's almost like you're breaking out of your conditioning - we WILL be working on that, don't you doubt it!
What about German sausage. Saurkraut? Nah, sausage fest - Oooh! It's an AWARD show! Oh, that'll work... C'mon, c'mon, get it down in pixels. There you go! Good author. No, I don't have more for you. Deal with it.
-stream of consciousness of an obstreperous muse on waking just before dawn
Now, kick that brain into activity and get them fingers going. Oh, c'mon, you can pee later, you KNOW I'm gonna be a right royal pain in the butt about this. *stomp*stomp*stomp* Get going! It's almost like you're breaking out of your conditioning - we WILL be working on that, don't you doubt it!
What about German sausage. Saurkraut? Nah, sausage fest - Oooh! It's an AWARD show! Oh, that'll work... C'mon, c'mon, get it down in pixels. There you go! Good author. No, I don't have more for you. Deal with it.
-stream of consciousness of an obstreperous muse on waking just before dawn
Bazzle
Smoking Hot
- Joined
- Dec 15, 2021
- Posts
- 1,415
Whole different meaning to a warm front and precipitation?
NotWise
Desert Rat
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2015
- Posts
- 15,821
Night wrapped them in her arms, and her fragrance wafted on the breeze. She whispered to them, “Feed me.”
“Did you hear that?” Willow asked.
“No. What?” Jasper’s lips caressed her ear, and his arms rested for a moment on her hips.
Willow stretched her arms over Jasper’s broad shoulders. “I thought I heard a voice.”
Night caressed them. Her fingers ruffled Jasper’s hair.
“There’s no-one here. It’s just you and me,” he said. Willow tipped her head up as a falling star streaked across the Milky Way. Jasper’s lips found her tender throat.
Night was soft. She cradled Willow as Jasper’s rough hands aroused her. Willow parted her lips, and she met his tongue with hers.
Thrills coursed over the tender skin that Jasper bared to Night’s cool breath. He caressed her breasts, and she gripped his arms. Willow’s fingernails dug into his skin.
Jasper’s hand traced up her thigh, and thrills rushed from his touch. Jasper’s excitement engulfed her.
“Give me your surrender,” Night said.
“I have,” Willow said, with her lips by Jasper’s ear. He joined their bodies, and their passion fed the hungry Night.
“Did you hear that?” Willow asked.
“No. What?” Jasper’s lips caressed her ear, and his arms rested for a moment on her hips.
Willow stretched her arms over Jasper’s broad shoulders. “I thought I heard a voice.”
Night caressed them. Her fingers ruffled Jasper’s hair.
“There’s no-one here. It’s just you and me,” he said. Willow tipped her head up as a falling star streaked across the Milky Way. Jasper’s lips found her tender throat.
Night was soft. She cradled Willow as Jasper’s rough hands aroused her. Willow parted her lips, and she met his tongue with hers.
Thrills coursed over the tender skin that Jasper bared to Night’s cool breath. He caressed her breasts, and she gripped his arms. Willow’s fingernails dug into his skin.
Jasper’s hand traced up her thigh, and thrills rushed from his touch. Jasper’s excitement engulfed her.
“Give me your surrender,” Night said.
“I have,” Willow said, with her lips by Jasper’s ear. He joined their bodies, and their passion fed the hungry Night.
madelinemasoch
Masoch's 2nd Cumming
- Joined
- Jan 31, 2022
- Posts
- 859
I really love these little snippets. Here is my contribution, though I know it’s a little out there:
Midnight blue was the color of the sky outside—outside, where I was not permitted to be. My heart fluttered with the flicker of the candle Mommy lit before she left for the night, my only source of warmth and light. It smelled of roses of romance and burned, burned as my heart did for her and her alone.
In the cage, I laid with my face made up, otherwise naked aside from a pair of clear high heels. Slowly, I stuck them up between the little black bars of the cage she’d made my bed by its ceiling. Silently, I ached for her without so much as a whimper. Though my little cock felt atrophied inside steel bars of its own, my most intimate desires for her were free to burn within me.
She danced in my mind’s eye, each curve of her voluptuous flesh bouncing gracefully as she danced and laughed and smiled her sunlight grin. In the dark of the night, she was my guiding star. In a world of cold dismissal, she was my passionate blaze of hope and energy. I quivered and strained in my cage at every passing thought of her.
Enchanting my intrigue further, she danced into the arms of another. One of her big, strong men—more a man than I will ever be—kissed her and took her, my angel, into his carnal throes. I closed my eyes and saw him take her just for one night and slowly I pushed the long light blue dildo she had left me into my ass. I moaned out into the night as the burning sensation became raw and physical, like hers. In that moment, even from afar, we were one.
Midnight blue was the color of the sky outside—outside, where I was not permitted to be. My heart fluttered with the flicker of the candle Mommy lit before she left for the night, my only source of warmth and light. It smelled of roses of romance and burned, burned as my heart did for her and her alone.
In the cage, I laid with my face made up, otherwise naked aside from a pair of clear high heels. Slowly, I stuck them up between the little black bars of the cage she’d made my bed by its ceiling. Silently, I ached for her without so much as a whimper. Though my little cock felt atrophied inside steel bars of its own, my most intimate desires for her were free to burn within me.
She danced in my mind’s eye, each curve of her voluptuous flesh bouncing gracefully as she danced and laughed and smiled her sunlight grin. In the dark of the night, she was my guiding star. In a world of cold dismissal, she was my passionate blaze of hope and energy. I quivered and strained in my cage at every passing thought of her.
Enchanting my intrigue further, she danced into the arms of another. One of her big, strong men—more a man than I will ever be—kissed her and took her, my angel, into his carnal throes. I closed my eyes and saw him take her just for one night and slowly I pushed the long light blue dildo she had left me into my ass. I moaned out into the night as the burning sensation became raw and physical, like hers. In that moment, even from afar, we were one.
Rob_Royale
with cheese
- Joined
- Aug 8, 2022
- Posts
- 6,976
Steve told her not to go. Told her to mind her own business. But she just couldn't.
Their property bordered a local park and when she began seeing lights in the park after hours and hearing strange voices in the distance she couldn't help herself. At first she called the police, but after the first time, she never saw a county vehicle respond.
"Don't go," Amy's husband said. "You might not like what you find," Steve told her over and over and she didn't. Until tonight. When she saw the lights and knew Steve was in bed with a cold, sleeping heavily after a dose of night-time medicine.
Amy put on her gardening shoes and grabbed her flashlight but she hardly needed it. The parks jogging path was just on the other side of their backyard fence and she knew from her walks exactly where the activity was taking place. He took her phone so she could take photos or call the police is she found some cult out there sacrificing goats or something.
She followed the path seeing the lights flicker through the pines and the weird sounds that got clearer as she got closer. A quarter mile from her back fence the sounds were less distorted by the wind and trees and she finally realized they were people moaning. Amy stopped on the path. Her good friend Tammy had told her about 'dogging'. People out doing unspeakable things in the more remote public places that offered a modicum of privacy.
Amy's hands trembled and she nearly dropped her flashlight, imagining naked people out on the picnic tables, in wild anonymous couplings in the light of a couple of Coleman lanterns. What would she find? Women on their backs on tables surrounded by strange men? Men stroking themselves as other men fill the women's holes on the most wanton ways?
I should go home, she thought to herself. Amy nodded and knew that Steve had been right. She shouldn't have come. But then, she took a step forward. Not backward. And then another. And another.
Their property bordered a local park and when she began seeing lights in the park after hours and hearing strange voices in the distance she couldn't help herself. At first she called the police, but after the first time, she never saw a county vehicle respond.
"Don't go," Amy's husband said. "You might not like what you find," Steve told her over and over and she didn't. Until tonight. When she saw the lights and knew Steve was in bed with a cold, sleeping heavily after a dose of night-time medicine.
Amy put on her gardening shoes and grabbed her flashlight but she hardly needed it. The parks jogging path was just on the other side of their backyard fence and she knew from her walks exactly where the activity was taking place. He took her phone so she could take photos or call the police is she found some cult out there sacrificing goats or something.
She followed the path seeing the lights flicker through the pines and the weird sounds that got clearer as she got closer. A quarter mile from her back fence the sounds were less distorted by the wind and trees and she finally realized they were people moaning. Amy stopped on the path. Her good friend Tammy had told her about 'dogging'. People out doing unspeakable things in the more remote public places that offered a modicum of privacy.
Amy's hands trembled and she nearly dropped her flashlight, imagining naked people out on the picnic tables, in wild anonymous couplings in the light of a couple of Coleman lanterns. What would she find? Women on their backs on tables surrounded by strange men? Men stroking themselves as other men fill the women's holes on the most wanton ways?
I should go home, she thought to herself. Amy nodded and knew that Steve had been right. She shouldn't have come. But then, she took a step forward. Not backward. And then another. And another.
filthytrancendence
Overlong Replier
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2021
- Posts
- 533
It was night by the time she made it out the door of the office. Not evening. Night.
The sickly amber glow of downtown streetlights crowded out the distant glimmer of the stars. The moon was usually powerless to overcome the obscuring presence of the skyscrapers which encircled hers for many blocks.
All the disgust she had been shoving down inside herself was catching up with her as she paced along the sidewalk. Disgust with her boss. Disgust with herself. Disgust with the world. Hester's apartment was only a few blocks from her office. She could make it in a couple minutes if she hurried.
If she could stop herself from vomiting in the gutter.
A childish part of her was still rebelling at the unfairness of it all. She'd done her job. She'd done it excellently. Shouldn't that be enough?
But praise from those you revile stings far deeper than insult. And she felt that today, for the first time, she was truly in danger of becoming something she herself would and should revile. It had to stop. She'd known it for a while. Today was just the wake up call.
She found herself at the door of Hester's building. She pressed his buzzer and pressed her forehead into the intercom, waiting. It took much longer than usual. She realized with a start that she didn't even know he was home. She'd just assumed, because he was close, and she needed...
"Yeah?" His deep voice came blaring against her forehead, the sound unnatural through the small, tinny speaker.
"Hey, its Cass," she said, recoiling at the sound of her own voice. She sounded like a human person. She didn't feel like one.
"I-I should have called, but... can I come up? I'm not okay."
Long moments of painful silence pressed her against the intercom. When he engaged the microphone again, he heard another voice in the background. Her heart stopped and her mind raced.
"Alex is here, Cass. But we're okay if you come up. You sound like you're going through it," Hester said, his voice thick with compassion. The stupid part of her hated him for it.
"Yeah--" her voice cracked. She realized she hadn't pressed the intercom button and savored the small mercy of being spared that indignity.
She pressed it and said, "Thank you, Hess. You're a real friend."
The door buzzed and she stepped inside, relief flooding her for the first time in hours.
The sickly amber glow of downtown streetlights crowded out the distant glimmer of the stars. The moon was usually powerless to overcome the obscuring presence of the skyscrapers which encircled hers for many blocks.
All the disgust she had been shoving down inside herself was catching up with her as she paced along the sidewalk. Disgust with her boss. Disgust with herself. Disgust with the world. Hester's apartment was only a few blocks from her office. She could make it in a couple minutes if she hurried.
If she could stop herself from vomiting in the gutter.
A childish part of her was still rebelling at the unfairness of it all. She'd done her job. She'd done it excellently. Shouldn't that be enough?
But praise from those you revile stings far deeper than insult. And she felt that today, for the first time, she was truly in danger of becoming something she herself would and should revile. It had to stop. She'd known it for a while. Today was just the wake up call.
She found herself at the door of Hester's building. She pressed his buzzer and pressed her forehead into the intercom, waiting. It took much longer than usual. She realized with a start that she didn't even know he was home. She'd just assumed, because he was close, and she needed...
"Yeah?" His deep voice came blaring against her forehead, the sound unnatural through the small, tinny speaker.
"Hey, its Cass," she said, recoiling at the sound of her own voice. She sounded like a human person. She didn't feel like one.
"I-I should have called, but... can I come up? I'm not okay."
Long moments of painful silence pressed her against the intercom. When he engaged the microphone again, he heard another voice in the background. Her heart stopped and her mind raced.
"Alex is here, Cass. But we're okay if you come up. You sound like you're going through it," Hester said, his voice thick with compassion. The stupid part of her hated him for it.
"Yeah--" her voice cracked. She realized she hadn't pressed the intercom button and savored the small mercy of being spared that indignity.
She pressed it and said, "Thank you, Hess. You're a real friend."
The door buzzed and she stepped inside, relief flooding her for the first time in hours.
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2017
- Posts
- 7,631
Alexis walked softly in the night, navigating the narrow path as much by its feel under his unshod feet as by the faint starlight.
It was, he knew, unwise for him to be abroad at this hour. Strange things happened to young men after dark around here, everyone knew that. His cross-cousin Crios had vanished last year on his way home from a visit to his grandparents. And, on an equally dark night just two months ago, Silenos the hunter's son had left to set his rabbit nets and had not been seen since.
Worse, First Moon had set an hour ago, with Second Moon not due to rise for another hour. Alexis shivered in the darkness.
There was however little option open to him. Elder-Uncle's sickness had necessitated his help on the farm and he was due in the village school one hour after sunrise. Alexis had no wish to be thrashed again by the tutor for tardiness.
Leaves from the dense foliage on either side of the path brushed against the young man's bare legs, caught at the thin fabric of his chiton. Alexis moved gently to avoid making any more noise than necessary. In his heart, he longed for his upcoming Manhood ceremony, for that day would bring with it the right to carry weapons in self-defence. Until that day, he would be protected by the adult men of his tribe.
That protection was, Alexis often felt, more theoretical than practical. Elder-Uncle had for instance thanked him from his sick-bed, but with not overmuch concern for the boy's journey home. Such hazards, he had obviously felt, were part of growing up, something which served a valuable function in maturing a youth, preparing him for the truly dangerous realities of manhood.
Moreover, he knew, the white fabric of his chiton stood out in the dim starlight. It was at times like this that Alexis wished his family was not so well-off as to be able to afford the brilliant white Terra-linen his garment was made of. The shabbier, brown-grey fabrics made from local flora were far less noticeable in low light. They take less time to keep clean, too, he thought ruefully.
The boy was startled to hear a low sound behind him, as if a stone had been brushed off the path by an errant foot. He paused, his head turning back and forth, searching for something, anything in the blackness surrounding him.
Alarmed but not yet panicked, Alexis began to walk faster down the path. Second Moon would show its first light presently, but that would be too late if someone - or something - was on his trail.
It was, he knew, unwise for him to be abroad at this hour. Strange things happened to young men after dark around here, everyone knew that. His cross-cousin Crios had vanished last year on his way home from a visit to his grandparents. And, on an equally dark night just two months ago, Silenos the hunter's son had left to set his rabbit nets and had not been seen since.
Worse, First Moon had set an hour ago, with Second Moon not due to rise for another hour. Alexis shivered in the darkness.
There was however little option open to him. Elder-Uncle's sickness had necessitated his help on the farm and he was due in the village school one hour after sunrise. Alexis had no wish to be thrashed again by the tutor for tardiness.
Leaves from the dense foliage on either side of the path brushed against the young man's bare legs, caught at the thin fabric of his chiton. Alexis moved gently to avoid making any more noise than necessary. In his heart, he longed for his upcoming Manhood ceremony, for that day would bring with it the right to carry weapons in self-defence. Until that day, he would be protected by the adult men of his tribe.
That protection was, Alexis often felt, more theoretical than practical. Elder-Uncle had for instance thanked him from his sick-bed, but with not overmuch concern for the boy's journey home. Such hazards, he had obviously felt, were part of growing up, something which served a valuable function in maturing a youth, preparing him for the truly dangerous realities of manhood.
Moreover, he knew, the white fabric of his chiton stood out in the dim starlight. It was at times like this that Alexis wished his family was not so well-off as to be able to afford the brilliant white Terra-linen his garment was made of. The shabbier, brown-grey fabrics made from local flora were far less noticeable in low light. They take less time to keep clean, too, he thought ruefully.
The boy was startled to hear a low sound behind him, as if a stone had been brushed off the path by an errant foot. He paused, his head turning back and forth, searching for something, anything in the blackness surrounding him.
Alarmed but not yet panicked, Alexis began to walk faster down the path. Second Moon would show its first light presently, but that would be too late if someone - or something - was on his trail.
