wave of bliss and release – a series of waves, actually. Multiple orgasms that fill me with a euphoria I’ve never known, more than even the best climax I’ve ever enjoyed at the hands of an ardent lover.
“Are you alright, Claire?” Mom asks, looking puzzled and a bit concerned.
“Shall we handle the Brussels sprouts next?” I ask, barely able to carry on a conversation.
The Brussels sprouts have great, oval balls tucked against the wide girth of their towering stalks, r eady to be steamed and mouthed.
“Strawberries. We have to do the strawberries now!” I gasp as I sink deeper into a Tarantella-like frenzied trance.
And the ever - bearing strawberry bed is graced by dozens of plump, luscious berries so sweet and delicious their necta r forces your tongue to dance.
Without another word , I whip through her remaining crops of fruit trees and berries.
Still, as enticing as all of that sounds and is, all of these fruits are best shared. Anyone hungry?
Unable to contain myself an instant longer, I snap the laptop closed and, jumping to my feet, squawk, “I’m taking you home.”
Eyes wide and mouth even wider, Mom nods her acquiescence.
That’s quite enough farming for one day.
Chapter Fourtee n
I sleep restlessly , un aware of what I dreamt about, but certain that it was sexual. Lately , I’ ve been awakening with the strange sensation of carnal pleasures taking place during my slumbers, though I never recall anything concrete. And just recently , I ’ve begu n to feel as though the eyes of a ravenous voyeur are upon me at times , both in my dreams and sometimes even when awake. It is at once unnerving and arousing.
Last night, I was in a mood , to be sure. Alex’s virile vegetation had me writhing in my car seat throughout the drive to Mom’s house. On the way home , I tried to make sense of what happened. I’ ve never done drugs , so I hav e no point of reference, but I’ m quite convinced that what I experienced would be considered the heroin of sexual experiences. And after that one hit , I have become a junkie. I want more. Alas, as I made the drive back home, the feeling of wonder faded , and I despaired of ever having that rush again. I feared it was an isolated incident, impossible to replicate.
Later in the evening, while doing research on cleaning solvents to use in a show segment, I caught myself moaning and running a hand over my breast as I read about Simple Green and its eco -friendly properties. Suddenly, everything seemed painted with lust and sensual passion. I questioned if the world was always that way, if, perhaps, my rigid routine mindset had closed my eyes to it.
* * *
It’s a crisp clear day following yesterday’s storm , and I decide to enjoy it by doing my morning work happily perched at one of the outdoor tables at Starbucks. I toss some breakfast at the menagerie, grab my car keys and laptop, and head out. The colors of the sky, trees and flowers are more vibrant than I’ve ever seen – much more so than can be attributed to a cleansing rain. I think of last night’s touchless, full-body orgasms and begin to wonder if they really occurred or not. Then again, it really doesn’t matter, because something has changed within me. It’s as simple as that.
Once ensconced at a cozy table overlooking the little shopping enclave, I tentatively sip my steami ng Mocha through it’s cool armo r of whipped cream, and break off bits of banana nut loaf, unconsciously pacing the consumption of both treats to ensure they are finished off together. I open my laptop and go straight to Facebook. No checking email on Sundays, a small gift to myself. As is now usual, my screen opens to Alex’s page . Today he has posted a good morning message – o ne that is making the morning very, very good for the members of his harem.
I am arrested by his boldness. To be sure, h e is an expert
“Are you alright, Claire?” Mom asks, looking puzzled and a bit concerned.
“Shall we handle the Brussels sprouts next?” I ask, barely able to carry on a conversation.
The Brussels sprouts have great, oval balls tucked against the wide girth of their towering stalks, r eady to be steamed and mouthed.
“Strawberries. We have to do the strawberries now!” I gasp as I sink deeper into a Tarantella-like frenzied trance.
And the ever - bearing strawberry bed is graced by dozens of plump, luscious berries so sweet and delicious their necta r forces your tongue to dance.
Without another word , I whip through her remaining crops of fruit trees and berries.
Still, as enticing as all of that sounds and is, all of these fruits are best shared. Anyone hungry?
Unable to contain myself an instant longer, I snap the laptop closed and, jumping to my feet, squawk, “I’m taking you home.”
Eyes wide and mouth even wider, Mom nods her acquiescence.
That’s quite enough farming for one day.
Chapter Fourtee n
I sleep restlessly , un aware of what I dreamt about, but certain that it was sexual. Lately , I’ ve been awakening with the strange sensation of carnal pleasures taking place during my slumbers, though I never recall anything concrete. And just recently , I ’ve begu n to feel as though the eyes of a ravenous voyeur are upon me at times , both in my dreams and sometimes even when awake. It is at once unnerving and arousing.
Last night, I was in a mood , to be sure. Alex’s virile vegetation had me writhing in my car seat throughout the drive to Mom’s house. On the way home , I tried to make sense of what happened. I’ ve never done drugs , so I hav e no point of reference, but I’ m quite convinced that what I experienced would be considered the heroin of sexual experiences. And after that one hit , I have become a junkie. I want more. Alas, as I made the drive back home, the feeling of wonder faded , and I despaired of ever having that rush again. I feared it was an isolated incident, impossible to replicate.
Later in the evening, while doing research on cleaning solvents to use in a show segment, I caught myself moaning and running a hand over my breast as I read about Simple Green and its eco -friendly properties. Suddenly, everything seemed painted with lust and sensual passion. I questioned if the world was always that way, if, perhaps, my rigid routine mindset had closed my eyes to it.
* * *
It’s a crisp clear day following yesterday’s storm , and I decide to enjoy it by doing my morning work happily perched at one of the outdoor tables at Starbucks. I toss some breakfast at the menagerie, grab my car keys and laptop, and head out. The colors of the sky, trees and flowers are more vibrant than I’ve ever seen – much more so than can be attributed to a cleansing rain. I think of last night’s touchless, full-body orgasms and begin to wonder if they really occurred or not. Then again, it really doesn’t matter, because something has changed within me. It’s as simple as that.
Once ensconced at a cozy table overlooking the little shopping enclave, I tentatively sip my steami ng Mocha through it’s cool armo r of whipped cream, and break off bits of banana nut loaf, unconsciously pacing the consumption of both treats to ensure they are finished off together. I open my laptop and go straight to Facebook. No checking email on Sundays, a small gift to myself. As is now usual, my screen opens to Alex’s page . Today he has posted a good morning message – o ne that is making the morning very, very good for the members of his harem.
I am arrested by his boldness. To be sure, h e is an expert
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