She simply had to tell someone. As soon she’d returned to her little flat she washed and prepared the rhubarb, tuned the central heating, changed into warm clothes, and thrown her soiled panties in the wicker creel. Feeling her old self, she sank into the soft-down bed, logged onto her tablet, and messaged Livia.
Heavily pregnant, Livia dwelt in Maine with her husband, Andy, and toyboy, Tom. Helen suspected Livia wasn’t her real name, her men didn’t exist, and she didn’t live in Maine. As she wrote to her, she pondered, what colour is her real skin? What shape and size is she, really? How sweet is she to taste, feel, and touch? How strong does she smell of musk, scent, cigarettes, and – judging by her wild moods: bourbon?
At night, Helen changed. Changing identities, behaviour, mannerisms, and appearances opened a world of untold opportunities for loners like her. She’d no real family to speak of—her family all died prematurely, victims of her mysterious ague. Writing smut introduced her to intriguing new friends, voyeurs mainly, but writing controversial characters of different genders lost her the old ones. Those friends who survived the ague expressed little honest sentiment or goodwill toward her in their e-cards at Christmas. Increasingly, her friends were her characters, and him, of course; she could always rely on him to love her.
To enter her fantasy world, she only had to log in to her tablet, usually sipping off a faded fishes-in-a-faded-creel mug of coffee, oat milk, chewing flame raisins, and sucking chocolate. Unlike her modest, meagre lifestyle, Helen’s fantasies were filled with excitement, thrill, and risks: she thrived online as several very different personalities.
There was Helen: the round-faced, dark-haired, brunette wearing bright pink lipstick: smiling, smooching men cheek-to-cheek with her eyes closed. Helen’s flushed face in close-up biting a man’s nose. Helen wrestled naked with the fighting girl in her filthy novel. And, at other times, Helen was a blushing teenager wearing a denim shirt in a darkened amusement arcade, a redhead with straggly hair dressed in a bust-revealing basque.
Whenever she appeared in her dream for her creator, she was always called Helen, and the man being smooched and bitten on the nose by her was always him. Those, for the sake of an insane grip on her rapidly diminishing perception of reality, were her rules.
Inside Helen’s outrageous fantasy world there were no rules, only her hot, exhilarating, sexual encounters with girls like Daisy, twenty-seven-years-old, bisexual, daring, neurotic, shy, a girl she met, fell head-over-heels in love with, surfing the net for love. Daisy, a divine straw-haired blonde with pale skin, firm round breasts, spindly legs, and arms, hot tightly-clefted buttocks, who always appeared taking off her lacy black bra, her breasts tantalisingly exposed, her cute little arse shewing, shining out of her scanty, see-thru pants.
Helen’s ague grew inside her mind: emotionally unstable, brain-damaged, risqué, grew harder for her to control, for her to shake her fantasied, demented, fake, self out of her tormented mind.
She finished sipping her drink, placed her empty mug on a cracked glass coffee table, lay back on the unkempt bed, and sank her weary, bleary, dreamy, girlish, foxy, head into the soft pillow.
He’d left her a to-do list on her tablet:
Helen, I do want you, but I’m busy fucking Sara tonight for her baby:
Write me a story about your flirtation with Daisy.
Find a filthy image of you n Daisy having sex, post it for me, and get yourself banned from social media.
Record your and Daisy’s soft voices, making love, for me.
By now, the bedroom felt stifling hot, her skin felt clammy, wet, and sticky with her perspiration.
She pulled her tee shirt off over her head and wriggled out of her tight gym shorts. Underneath, she was wearing her finest sheer black lingerie: her lacy bra, and soft panties: perfect attire, for sex.
‘Sure,’ said Helen quietly to herself, as she wrote, ‘I can manage that for you. Sweet dreams.’
*****
My Girl
I came across Daisy, twenty-seven, single, a bisexual, lonely girl living on an adult chat site. I liked her, followed her, and wasn’t surprised when she followed me back:
“Hi, it’s Daisy,” she said, “I was taken by you: thanks so much for following me. Looking forward to getting to know you. Do you enjoy posts on your page?”
“I do.”
“I’m going to post you a little happy then…if you don’t like it…plz just delete it okay?”
“I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“Sweet dreams my lovely new friend. Yes, you will.”
“I loved her post. I told her I loved men as well as women.”
“I don’t mind you loving guys. I have, and still do.”
“You make love sound so relaxed and casual. I’d love to kiss you, only if you want me to?”
“Mmmn would really like that right now. I love my mouth being kissed, along with other things. A soft nipple rubbing my lips is almost as nice…would very much like to taste you?” she giggled. “I can’t help myself,” she giggled again.
“Love it when you giggle, Daisy, I’d love you to kiss me.”
She kissed me.
“Daisy, I love you kissing me like that. Oh, you feel heavenly tonight.”
“My tongue is talented: mmn, love your sweet nectar! Hope we chat again soon, kissing, you know … maybe doing ‘that’ together, too?”
“I hope so, as well,” I said.
I left a lovely comment against an image of her kissing me, signed off, and went and made myself a glass of stiff gin, ice, and tonic. When I came back, she was still there, naked, waiting, for me.
“Let’s get together, make our dreams come true,” she giggled, “tell me what to do…”
“I’d love to lick your love-hole, that’s if you want me to?”
“Mmmn would really like that right now. I love my pussy being licked, along with other things …done to it…a soft nipple rubbing me is almost as nice…would very much like to taste you.”
“Lick my cleft with the tip of your tongue, girl, pretend my jus is cream? Squat on my breasts, feel my teat swell inside your wet slit.”
“I’d love to rub my wet slit all over your breasts…omg…yes…yes I’ll maybe even lick them, too,” she giggled.
“Go on then, squat over my stiff teats, saturate them in your girlie jus, come over my breasts.”
“Hope we can… maybe, make love?”
“Mmmn my fingers inside your soft love-hole, stroking, caressing you: I hope so, too.”
“I want to share my pleasure mound with you.”
I left a lovely comment under another image of her taking off her bra then posted my erotic bit: two girls exploring each other’s sexual fantasies imagining it was us, hoping she’d like me.
“I love you, Helen,” she said.
I felt sad. I said, “Daisy, I love you, licking my cleft, my pearl bead, making my clit swell. Lie on top of me in a ’69.’ I’ll stick my tongue inside your hole, lick all that sticky jus, off your raw flesh. Don’t get my hair on your sweet tongue, girl. Oh, you feel heavenly tonight.”
“My tongue is talented… hairs don’t bother me at all… mmm love your sweet nectar.”
“You make me want to squirt. Your tongue is talented. You feel sensual.”
“Love to have your juices soaking me…I’m sure that pussy of yours tastes wonderful… you’re just going to have to let me wax you.”
“Want you to wax all the hair off my hole, leave me bald as a plucked hen… want to squat on your face, squirt in your mouth, let you lick out my cleft. I’m told I taste of syrupy, vinegary figs scented with caramel cream.”
“I’d love to 69 with you…pour our pleasure mounds dry onto each other mmn …yes…my pussy is dripping into my panties as we speak.”
“Going to knead your breasts, squeeze your teats till you run with milk… going to sit on that tongue of yours, make you lick my clit, wiggle it inside my dripping wet fuck-hole till you squirt for me, red hot lover.”
“Then your b/f can use both of us… coming deep in our pussies?”
“Didn’t know you’d like him to fuck you, Daisy. Do you mind being filled with his warm semen?”
“My body’s on fire for you…been tasting myself thinking about us together… would love for him to fill me with his warm cum…need both of you so much…his cock buried deep in me…you feeding that yummy pussy…omg…plz…g/f…I’m so horny right now.”
“Lie back and dream of his cock deep inside you, Daisy, you creaming all over his erect shaft as he ejaculates his balls full of semen inside you, me squirting into your mouth. You can knead my breasts if you like. Think you’re close to coming in your panties, girl. I’m dripping wet, coming… are you getting wet, soiling, your panties?”
“They’re wringing wet with my joy juices…I’m going to lick them clean when I orgasm in them!”
“I can tell you’re about to squirt, Daisy, thought you were a shy girl.”
“My cunt’s creamy right now … want you to squirt in your panties, too!”
“My pants are saturated… peeling them off…I’m coming…coming for you, love you, Daisy!”
“Mmm…omg…I’m coming, too…coming for you, my sweet girl… oh, sweet, wet, dreams!”
