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Cathartic Descent

A night - transcending the past year, a reality, no one has experienced.

You glance at your phone, nothing out of the ordinary whizzes past as you instinctively scroll before flicking your finger for the last time, before the short time passes before another automatic doom scroll. The bottom of your screen catches your eye as the familiar yet spine tingling icon just about rises, the red shape surrounded by black, the flip switches in your brain, you are completely alone in the house, and you've remembered to light the scented candles.

The bottle of vino now only nearly full as it sits next to a poured glass, with you comfy on the sofa as the page is now in the back of your mind as you tease yourself on whether you should indulge tonight or not. The almost white noise of the Alexaradio in the background, the hint of the sounds of the nineties, silenced by a hurried request from you to stop playing. People always said you were away with the fairies, a flight from one guilty pleasure to another.

The tiny butterfly sitting at the bottom of your stomach, teasing the edges of the tip of your nerves, as you timidly scroll down the page to see an array of new posts, the titles of the stories intriguing or tittilating you. You select one, the little bar coming up at speed with the grey progress bar making its way across the screen, presented with the warning about this blog being adults only, you feel an inch of excitement and anxiety as you'd never admit to anyone that the like button you didn't think twice about has become your indulgence.

Pressing the orange button and the screen becomes hot pink, white and black, just as you make sense of the screen, you ignore everything else and start on the first paragraph, knowing you will be sucked in and seduced by a dream like setting and the plain filth that covered the lower paragraphs. You feel a sprinkle of horniness as you remember how the drips of wetness almost caused beautiful agony on those times you were one of the few who gave in to masturbating to the stories on the page, the membership to the exclusive club that have never met.

The wonder of the inspiration for these stories fills you with erotic curiosity, you dared to think that these could be real experiences, the almost voyeuristic image of what could really have happened in the real world that were so beautifully written in these pages. Your vibrator only a small amount of effort away as you lower your knickers and feel the wanting, the new flame inside that burns brighter with the lust of wonder. 

The masturbation feeling ever so more sweet as you go down the page, the words intensifying as you become more intimate with yourself, the natural selfishness that comes with enjoying yourself or someone else, makes the experience ever so more erotic with every movement of your hand, every touch of your breast. The pleasure becoming ever so ominous, that you re read from the part where it hit you, the sound in your flat becoming stomach dropping, you press the speed button on your vibrator one more time. 

The almost sedating, yet lushious smell of the natural extracts in the candles has you on a cloud, the pillows just happened to be perfectly placed to comfort you as your flower is now soggy, the nerves lit up that the slightest touch sends pleasure. You go back and read that one strawberry sweet paragraph again, pushing your vibrator in just the right way to hit your g spot. and the cushion beneath you is soaked, a moan accompanied by an almost loss of awareness preludes the beauty of an orgasm.

If you think he needs to, let him know x      

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