Layla’s

You’re standing in a white room, the fluffiest, plushest carpet you’ve ever felt beneath your feet, as soft and as smooth as any down feather. The walls are shining white, lit by unseen lamps that leave no shadows.

And in the middle of the room is a mound of flesh, female flesh, squirming and naked, from which emerges moans. In the middle of the pile is Layla, naked and administered by all the women around her. They are kissing her, entwining tongues, lips and teeth playing with each other. They are nibbling at her ears and at her neck. They have her areola in their mouths, they are sucking on her nipples, they are caressing her breasts. They are kissing her belly button and running their tongues around her stomach. They are congregating at her groin, sucking on her clitoris, delving deep into her sex and into her anal hole, with their lips, and with their tongues and with their fingers. Everyone naked. Everyone pleasuring Layla.

No-one notices you. They’re too busy with each other, with Layla. Some you recognise. There’s Abigail, an accentuated, imagined version of Abigail. There’s Anissa. There’s Spencer. There’s Blair. Are those students. Yes, you recognise Kelly, surely with bigger tits than she really has, but the face is obvious. Others you don’t know.

You’re naked. Your cock is erect. And there’s a pussy belonging to a gorgeous female stranger, who is kissing Layla’s thighs, and fingering with adoration her vagina. You manoeuvre yourself behind her, line up your erection with her own slit, and push yourself in. Her response is a moan of utter joy. Layla is forgotten. All this stranger knows is your monster stretching her out. It only takes a few pumps and she’s shouting out, “Cock is better than pussy.”

And as she shouts it out, she fades.

One person’s looking at you now. Layla. There’s horror in her brown eyes. There’s shock. There’s anger. They follow you as you shift towards a new, vacant pussy. This one belongs to an idealised Anissa. Her pussy is wet and ready for you and accepts you with ease. It only takes a handful of thrusts and Anissa is declaring to the world “Cock is better than pussy.”

And with that declaration she fades.

Panic in Layla’s brown eyes. But she’s still overwhelmed by female flesh. She’s still lost in her own pleasure. As you slip from pussy to pussy, each one exposed, each one ready for you. And as you claim them the lover forgets the female before them and states “Cock is better than pussy.” After each declaration the declarer vanishes. After each declaration there is one less woman making love to Layla.

Blair’s declaration rings in your ears. Soon followed by Spencer’s. Soon followed by Abigail’s. Soon matched by Kelly’s.

Until there are only two women before you. Layla on her back, between her legs her final lover. A dark-haired stranger. She’s studded with piercings, nose, nipples, upper lip. Her bald pussy lips are glistening before you. Layla is trying to wriggle away from her lips that are lashing her clit, she’s trying to warn her final lover of the incoming snake. The lover doesn’t notice or imagines these actions are just her orgasm.

She doesn’t notice you until you slide yourself inside her. She grunts at the intrusion. She stops her adoration of Layla’s clit to turn her brown eyes on you.

“Who are you?” she asks. You can see the stud in her tongue. You can see the confusion in her eyes. You can feel her pussy wrapped round your cock. She’s more real than all the other lovers. There’s more substance to her. More feeling. With each thrust she shudders and groans, as if she was real. She holds out longer. But she can’t hold out forever.

“Cock is better than pussy,” she declares. And as she declares it, she fades. But for a moment she fights the fading. For a moment she appears to be real. Then she vanishes.

And Layla lies before you. Naked. Her wonderful breasts are heaving; at her previous pleasure, at her indignation of being left with you. You can see her tattoos clearly. Water lilies on her upper right arm, a scorpion on her pelvis. You can see her bare pussy glistening with her arousal.

“No, no, no. Not you. Not you.” She screams. She struggles backwards. Still on her back. Crawling on her elbows, brown eyes locked on you, on your penis.

The white room shatters. It fades into nothing. Leaving you in darkness. You’re in your bed. The feel of the cap on your head, the painful erection, the only residue of what you had seen.