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The Halfway Point

Making your way down, the cold and crisp air becomes a breeze as the perfectly blue sky illuminates the clouds, the aroma of a bustling town is comforting for now, only a few more directions are needed to follow to get home.

The novelty of your new discovery, one you can barely contain in yourself with the blowing out of a candle, you never knew social media would have you strung out on the edge of ecstacy, a little world in your own imagination, an absurd fantasy as people walk past, with you almost losing your way.

Tackling the exertion as you carry your bags up the small incline, scrambling for your keys as you arrive at your front door, the weight you feel as you finally make it into the front room and shove the bags down on the sofa, releases quickly.

Sorting your purchases in each bag is a job in itself, you can never seem to find the cupboard space for anything anymore, each thing as useful as the last, a diary filled with random thoughts, a folder with all your important documents, you'd been far too busy in the past week to dig deep enough for anything else, not even the little pocket of photos you loved looking through.

You have a call booked at 2pm to discuss some boring and inane matters with someone from the council, something about an historical housing benefit claim you'd long forgotten about, you hurry to ready yourself as it's now twenty past one, laying on your bed with your phone next to you, a few random post-it notes you'd written with a few un-memorable details jotted down to the other side.

You pick up your phone and set it so that only the call can come through with no interference from other applications, that anxiety creeps in, going to close the Facebook application you accidentally allow it to open and it refreshes the feed, without a fleeting thought, you go to close it again, but your eyes drag down like they fall down a waterfall, nervous pain as they descend.



Not wanting to admit it, the top post is another one of them, that red pyramid in a profile circle, "Erotic Writing" written next to it, closing your eyes, knowing you can't go there this time - but then you remember another thing you need from your drawer, that bloody National Insurance card with the number you could never remember.

Opening the wooden drawer at the top of the chest of drawers, on the right side, scrambling around through piles of paper, the odd birthday card before you reach the fabric bottom, a small bag filled with random bits, your hand begging to come into contact with the decades old plastic card that had long developed several cracks, before a few fingers touch something firm, a firmness that instantly tingled your spine, and everything you'd forgotten about for this moment, apart from today's daydreams.


The mind diverted into impossible realms, your own sensibility holding you together as you recoil for a moment, a drip of suggestibility falls in your mind, before subconciously biting your lip, stopping half way as you are brought back to your senses, looking into the drawer and your mind blank, your phone still lit bright on that screen, another story post.

Facial movements mildly berkserk, the time continuing to move towards the mundane phone call, the unknown of if you'll ever be able to rearrange it, your fingers softly clasping the underside of the bag holding your favourite toy, as it had been a few weeks since you really let loose, the tingles in your flower, you want to ignore but you remember the lightness you felt after orgasm, at your last visit to his website.

Now ten minutes to go until two o'clock, feeling your body pushing you into accepting that you are indeed feeling horny, slowly pulling the bag out and placing it onto your bed, sitting down and picking your phone up, tapping once to make the screen light up again from a dim state, a tingle going down the spine as the link on the post displays the almost usual now, painted artwork with the pyramid displayed next to their embrace.

The fabric bag still sealed by string, as you lay back and take it with you, hurrying to your phones settings screen to block all incoming calls, going back to Facebook and tapping the link before placing your phone beside you and untying the string that holds the top of the bag together, the silicone of the toys control panel never felt so smooth as it did now.


Feeling the full weight of the toy as you pull it out of the bag, you place it beside you as you take your t-shirt off, over the shoulders as your bra feels slightly restrictive, running your fingers faintly along the top of your breast as you then scramble to take your jeans off, it is so fulfilling as the fabric against your flower feels exquisite, the light press with the roughness of your jeans.

The page loads up inside the Facebook app, the title words changing before the majority of the screen turns black, various images load as the text takes its place in white, “oh god” you think to yourself as it’s now three minutes to two.

Delegating your composure, your body moves without meaningful sense, trapped between what you know is right and your unconcious commitment to what is needed, the blue sky is a warm and gut dropping tension in the room as it appears through the window.

The first words rivet through you, setting the scene with a mention of the season, a detail drawn to impress before the emotion of the stories male lead comes in, you'd fallen so far in love with these passages, kept private from the draw of the community surrounding his work, now desperate for another release as you've given in, the clock at the far end of the room ticking past 2 o'clock.

Your index fingers slowly breaking the fabric of your knickers apart from your hips, a teasing flirtation of pleasure at the base of your spine, going into the allure of others, you are just for yourself as the outside world is none the wiser, that loss of control from an orgasm, maybe the neighbours will be privy, but how would you know?

The knickers go past your feet as you spread your legs, huffing as you desperately need to unclasp your bra without any hesitation as something you just need to do, the clip comes apart and you feel the release as the right shoulder strap falls down your arm, the cup coming apart and you commit yourself to this, your nipples almost painfully hard as you scramble to take the bra off completely.

Your flower waiting as you go back to your phone and continue to read, the intense details turn a desperate libido into drips of wetness, picking your toy up and making yourself comfortable with your legs spread further, the parting of your flower intensely tingles as you read further as the mysterious build up to the sex was always something novel.

Turning your toy on, a low hum is felt in your hand, weak, flustered and shaky, sliding the hand as it holds the toy, down your leg as a sensation is felt with the head of the toy not millimetres from your clitoris, the male lead in the story starts getting inside your head, as he is your supposed character, feeling a little guilty as he'd turned you on so much, she doesn't know whats in store, only one more paragraph and she'll be ravished.

Slowly welcoming the toy inside you, that low hum isn't enough as one more press of the plus icon on the control panel as your flower fully wakes up, the wetness now indiscriminate with the little rabbit nodule now coming close to your clitoris, you feel flushed as the details of the sex the characters are having becomes frank and graphic of which you indulge.

You see notifications at the top of your phone screen saying that calls are being blocked, the guilt lessens with each thrust of the toy, the words of the story becoming more perfect as if it was written just for you, impossible but with the affinity it always had, and without awareness of why it should be here, with you.

The shade of sunlight through the window, seeming so redundant as you chase a climax, your thumb joint aches as you reach the end of the story before the detail gets ever so sweet, the rabbit pressing firmly against your clitoris as the very moment of your movement has been forgotten, you recoil as you lose control of your phone, quickly scrolling up and the pyramid appears again, your heart flutters and you begin to sweat.

Memories of that one fling, the slow press against your skin, the warmth of his breath against your ear as your throat sunk and butterflies circled the bottom of your abdomen as his moans send you into a frenzy that make you climax with a fantastical burst that drowns the mattress cover.

You have lost all track of time as it is now twenty past three, feeling lightheaded for a moment, your soul is as heavy as a feather as you beam with positivity, unable to wait to grab that sugary snack in the other room. 

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