In the darkness sheets twist around my legs. Outside cicadas buzz, giving constant background noise that always go hand in hand with humid summer nights. In the corner of the room a pedestal fan oscillates from side to side. The frantic action of the blades a false advertisement for the puny relief they bring from the oppressive air in the room. I toss over, trying to get comfortable, chasing elusive sleep around the sweat dampened bed.
My legs fall open just as the head of the fan makes another pass. A puff of air brushes my pussy. It is like the caress from a lover. A shiver rushes through me. My legs press together. Alone in the darkness my hand strays downwards until my fingers press the lips of my labia together. Short crinkly pubic hair crunches against my fingers as I massage my clitoris through the lips of my labia. The pressure increases my arousal but the heat around me saps my energy.
Beside my bed my tablet lurks. It whispers to me. Telling me tales of the guilty pleasures lurking on the internet. Without making a conscious decision I find myself opening the screen and navigating to the familiar website. I don’t have this tab saved in my favourites. I don’t want to admit to myself that this is what I look at. Late at night when I can’t sleep, when I can’t lie still, when then hunger knaws at me.
Images flicker onto the screen. Young men stroking themselves. Their hands are wrapped around their hard cocks as they display themselves for an unseen audience. They are amateurs, like me they are feeding a secret, sometimes guilty pleasure of being on display for unseen watchers. Some the watchers are women, like myself watching silently, not announcing themselves. Others are men, loud and demanding the way men can be. In the chat box their comments roll through complimenting and encouraging. Some of them asking to see cum.
I slide my dildo between my legs. The cold glass contrasting against the heat. My pussy is wet and the smooth glass slides easily. I watch the screen entranced by the stroke of the man’s hand stimulating the hard velvety skin of his cock. The dildo slides inside me. I know the places to stroke. I know the exact amount of pressure to apply. My other hand strokes my clit, rubbing familiar circles.
I can feel the orgasm niggling at the edge of my brain. I know that I could push myself over the brink with a few, well placed strokes but I want to wait a little. I slow the rate of my stroking, sliding the glass shaft slowly in and out of my slick cunt. The sound of the fan blends with slick, wet noises. On the screen in front of me the hand strokes faster. The messages on the screen show that he is close.
The orgasm pushes at the edge of my consciousness. A familiar pressure started to build in my pussy. I know that I could push it away but I am impatient. The point of no return approaches. I thrust the glass shaft deeper inside me. Harder and faster, my fingers work faster, my breathing becomes harder and faster.
White fluid spurts over the man’s hand. In my room a muted moan accompanies the sound of the fan. The orgasm shuddered through me. My feet twisted the sheets as a small jet of liquid splashed over my thighs, covering my own hand. For long moments I lie enjoying the chemicals zinging through me. The heavy glass dildo resting on my thigh. All my muscles relax and sleep comes closer. I don’t want to move too much and disturb this peace but I have to remove the signs of my indulgence. Even now I don’t want to admit that I succumbed to my weakness.
My tablet is returned. The website removed from my screen, my dildo is stashed beneath my pillow. I fall asleep with my hand resting on the cool surface covered by the drying juice of my guilty pleasure.
This post is part of Wicked Wednesday Week 401. I haven’t used the prompt but was inspired by some conversations I had with fellow bloggers as well as some sexy material that was sent to me by a twitter follower.
Please make sure you visit Rebel’s notes and read some more wickedness