I've had another one of those embarrassing moments where the story had to be told and I'm a bit bashful to share.
It involves tentacles. So...if your not into that stuff I'd read no further.
Much like "The Demon Inside Me" I'm wondering if I should plaster this story out into the world. Of course my pause in doing so is because it's one of those fantasies that I'm sure would be horrible in real life, yet in my own imagination where I control everything, it's okay. It's one of those stories that makes me realize I'm a sick puppy. But I believe most people have a sick puppy moment in their lives. I just happen to have several of them.
However, I'm of the belief that if I'm scared to put it out there, I have to put it out there. There will be some people that will say yuck, but I'm actually not for most people. If you are not most people and like a little bit of tentacle porn...this story might be of interest to you. Both parties have consensual sex so there is no taken by the Shoggoth...more like "My Shoggoth Affair" which is the working title for this project.
In part it's also my answer to dino-porn. I'm still laughing at it, yet I can understand the appeal for some people. Who the hell am I to poke fun at Taken by the T-Rex when I come up with this s**t. Okay, I'll still make fun of T-Rex AND my stuff, but as I say~my life can be seen through a comic and it's always exciting, beautiful and somewhat eccentric. I've left you a very rough draft of the start, (this is not the final product) tell me what you think of the premise.
I had no idea where the ball came from, but it was there, next to my feet. I looked around the park for someone to claim it. Children on swings, people running or walking the paved path. I thought maybe the boys playing on the field might have brought a second soccer ball. But the one around my feet was pink with small holes, it didn’t seem like a boys play toy. Yet no one came for it. I thought nothing of it that day and after my break was over, I went back to work. The next time I saw it, the ball came rolling towards me. I’d noticed it from the forest part of the park onto the manicured grass and without losing its inertia, made straight for me. At the time I didn’t think it was the same ball—didn’t know it was alive—because it wasn’t the same size as the last time I saw it. Before it could pass for a girls basketball, now it was the size of a natural fitness exercise ball. It’s pink color less awkward now that I could sit on it. Because all the benches in the park were taken, that’s exactly what I did, and sitting on that ball changed my life.
I tried keeping my knees together and hoped my coat and purse would keep my fly-away skirt down. Since my lunch was sitting on my lap, I at least could prevent skirt-flip in front. But my short skirt hung down on the ball on the sides and the back. My panties exposed on the ball. If I’d known what I was was sitting on, I’m not sure if I’d do anything different. Thinking about Wesley, I rocked back and forth as nonchalant as I could in a public place. I tried leaning forward so the pressure would hit against that sweet spot that felt so good. Usually only a man’s fingers could get there just right, but the holes in the ball created grooves that could do the job almost as well. The small release was enough to get my panties damp. I should stop. I thought. But it felt so good.
I stopped rocking, but the pleasure didn’t stop. This pulsing against my privates continued thinking it was just the throb of lust. What felt like a finger slid down my inner thigh. I stood up and looked down thinking a bug had crawled in between me and the ball. Nothing was there. Just the ball and it’s strange indents. Sitting back down the pulsing came back. I couldn’t resist that feeling. It was doing no harm. I tilted my pelvis to get that little bean of nerves better access to the grooves on the ball. It was better than a finger. An entire palm flicked my hooded lady.
A thin strip of warmth skimmed along my pantie line. My heart raced, more dampness coated the barrier between me and the leather feel of the balls skin. Pink skin. Another skim along my inner core. My nipples pressed against my tight shirt. Breathing with more desperate uncertainty I realized how long it was since anyone touched me. The warmth tickled where my thigh met underwear. Lazy strokes, sneaking its way under the cloth barrier in micro increments, playing with me—asking permission to go further in like a new lover. I swallowed and looked around.
The benches were still full, but no one was looking at me. They were feeding pigeons or packing to go. The finger made tiny circles riding the line of cloth and inner thigh. My clit still being teased through my underwear. I gripped the part of the ball in front of me. Oh God, yes. The feeler inched closer to my venus mound, gently probing. I looked around, praying no one saw me panting like a dog. No ones looking, oh that feels so good.
As if it could hear my thoughts the digit slid over my folds and slowly penetrated me. This extremity or feeler, what ever it was, started off as thin as a pencil and tapered wide as a horses cock. At least that’s what it felt like. A cock that could double over on itself when it reached my end. I started to panic a little when it folded and kept sliding inside me. How long was this—tentacle?
Soon as I started to think about pulling away it stopped and started pulling out. Relief. It was almost all the way out when it started its way back in. This time faster. Like a machine it started pumping. Slow at first and then my body reacted and fed a woman’s natural lubrication down to help increase the friction. Hitting all my pleasure points it was futile to resist. I raised my head to the sky and pretended to enjoy the sun. Keeping quiet was a feat of control while being pounded and my clit being slapped silly. I was going to scream when I came and this thing insisted I give in.
I felt two thin antenna exploring me under my skirt, climbing upward. They tickled and felt just as good as a man’s hands on my stomach. Caressing the roundness of my breasts the feelers cupped me and lightly squeezed. I choked off a moan and looked around. We were alone now, my ball and I. A shot of ecstasy ran down as both nipples got flicked.
“Oh, yes.” My tight T-shirt didn’t hide the “fingers” playing underneath. They flicked and rubbed until my pink halo’s where hard pebbles. Then the vines wrapped around my areola, puckering the tips so tight they mushroomed. A short gurgle escaped my lips. This was better than having a man. Maybe even Wesley. While the tenticle inside me acted as a plundger trying to work an orgasm out of me, the finger wiggling my lady knob pressed harder.
“You want me to come?” I whispered. The vines around my nipples tightened and rolled the exposed tips. My abdomen tightened and my insides spasmed with my juices whooshing down. I heard the splatter of my mind-blowing experience hit my new favorite ball only because I could keep my scream of pleasure silent. The motion stopped and tenticles started releasing and retracting. I hunched over using the ball as a means to keep me from falling over. Panting from orgasm, the ball became an inert object again. A little ashamed, I straightened, telling myself it was all in my mind. That I’d needed release for a while now, and thinking of Wesley prompted this hullicination. Still, I thanked the ball and stood up to go back to work. I’d be five minutes late, but I didn’t think anyone would notice. But when I arrived at work, someone did notice—Wesley, the boy I’d been trying to entice taking me out. For what ever reason, he noticed me today.
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