Episode Two
Hornier Consciousness
If
Penelope was going to take full advantage of having her television
idol Rod Stroker as a next door neighbour she was going to have to
have a focussed mind.
She
took her fluffy towel into her bedroom and placed it on the floor. As she sat down she loved the soft feeling of it against her bare bottom and the
gentle caress of the warm breeze through her bedroom window as it
caressed her widely spread wet pussy.
For
several years now, she had been a student of a mystical practise
called Horniyana Meditation. The aim was to connect with the
universal erotic vibration of the universe.
First
she picked up a moderate sized pink vibrator. Turning it on high she
inserted it into her vagina. She was so wet that normally it would
have popped right out again. To prevent this from happening, and in
order to properly align her chakras, she crossed her legs into the
lotus position, pressing the heal of one bare foot over the bottom of
her buzzing toy.
She
cleared her mind and let the light of creation illuminate her
consciousness, as the waves of divine pleasure radiated out from her
yoni to all parts of her physical being.
At
first she would experience a series of orgasms, but as she learned to
sit with her pleasure the cycle would become a constant. Orgasm was
no longer a thing which happened. It was a place to be.
In
this state the worldly boundaries, inhibitions and attachments would
melt away. Sexual preferences were first perceived as limitations and
then transcended. Penelope came to perceive that everyone was a point
on the erotic matrix, and so the inherent sexiness of all her fellow
humans was revealed to her as something irrespective of gender,
physical appearance or age.
Image credit: jackf / 123RF Stock Photo
Through
this spiritual practice, she became the earthly embodiment of the
eternal sacred slut. She longed to bring enlightenment to all. She
was not a woman of words or languages, but she knew that her tongue
could speak the universal language of sexual pleasure. The problems
of the world could be licked by licking. And there would be less men
in the world who would act like pricks if she anointed their pricks
with the love liquor leaking from between her labia.
Returning
to this earthly realm she stood up and looked at herself in the
mirror. It wasn't narcissism that made her gaze longingly at her
bountiful breasts with their pert pink nipples, the soft curve of her
pale belly, the neatly trimmed auburn curls which adorned the area
above her large pink and puffy labia ("all the better to be
sucked into your mouth and played with with your tongue" she
would have told any prospective lover), or that made her wink at
herself and smile in a cheeky way that wrinkled up her freckled nose.
She was a part of the erotic matrix too, and this is what she was
appreciating as she thought about how she would totally fuck herself
if she had a cock. Even without one she would lick that lovely pussy
of hers. But she wasn't a contortionist, so her self-love would have
to be satisfied with masturbation.
The
sad truth, of course, was that Penelope was ahead of the curve on
this whole universal erotic consciousness stuff. She was a pleasantly
plump thirty-year-old, more plain than pretty. Her main attractions
were her warm heart and her curves. But few would give her a second
look if they saw her walking down the street in jeans and t-shirt.
In
her own mind though she was doing a slow striptease for an audience
of 300 naked men. They were all stroking their stiff cocks.
How could they not? And as she lay naked, legs spread wide, quivering
in a self-induced orgasm, they took turns to shower her in the
seminal tribute of their lust. And she giggled to herself as she
thought what a good thing it was that the world was full of cum sluts
like herself who would now come to lick her body clean with their
tender pink tongues.
There
was a whole world in need of succour and enlightenment. But the need
was not equal. There were some who lived troubled stressful lives in
the public eye with nothing to comfort them but empty materialism.
People, for instance, who worked in the television industry, having
to churn out episode after episode of a koala-themed family adventure
series when deep down they longed to play Hamlet. Charity
begins at home. Or if not at home then, at the very least, next door.
How
will Penelope try to lure her lust-object Rod Stoker into an act of
karmic copulation? Find out next time!
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