Invisible Predator

I was taking a shower before bed. I was nervous, feeling like I was being watched, and yet there was nothing. I checked; it must have been the full moon making me nervous.

The hot water cascaded over my skin, but despite its warmth, a shiver ran down my spine. My fingers trembled slightly as I grasped the shower gel, and I turned my head toward the translucent shower curtain, as if something—or someone—might be standing just behind it. Nothing.

I felt nervous, yet aroused. My imagination conjured up an imaginary presence. My hand slipped between my thighs, and the other between my breasts. I needed to release this sexual tension.

My breath quickened, the water trickling over my parted lips as my fingers pressed harder against my sensitive flesh. A muffled moan escaped me as I imagined invisible hands joining mine, gliding along my damp curves. The shower curtain suddenly shuddered, snapping against the metal track—a draft, surely—but my heart pounded as if it were being grasped in my hands.

I closed my eyes, letting the warm water trickle over my eyelids as my fingers traced increasingly insistent circles. The curtain still trembled, as if caressed by a breath that wasn't my own. A wisp of icy air brushed against the back of my neck despite the stifling steam, and my nipples hardened at the unexpected touch.

I continued to masturbate my clitoris and breasts, even more excited by the thought of what would happen if a man could see me pleasuring myself like this. My fingers sank deeper, the warm water barely masking the shivers of my thighs. A husky sigh escaped me as I imagined invisible lips pressing against my neck, teeth brushing against my skin between hot drops. The curtain vibrated again, this time with a calculated slowness, as if someone were deliberately pushing it back without touching it.

My stomach tightened, my glistening breasts rising and falling with my ragged breaths.

The water slid down my red hair and over my breasts, making it seem more real as I continued to masturbate my clitoris, which swelled so deliciously. I moaned with delight; it was so good, this mixture of personal pleasure amplified by a kind of indecency with this imagined voyeur.

My breath caught in my throat when a new breeze—more precise this time—brushed against the skin of my stomach, like phantom fingers following the path of the water between my breasts. The curtain trembled again, and this time, I opened my eyes with a start, convinced I saw a shadow silhouetted against the translucent plastic. Nothing. Only the steam and the flickering light.

I felt the pleasure rising within me; I was on the verge of orgasm. I had rarely been in such a state, imagining being watched while I pleasured myself in the shower. My breathing became increasingly labored; I could almost hear a breath.

My body tensed suddenly, the muscles in my thighs contracting under the pressure of my fingers, which were now swirling frantically. The mist thickened, blurring the curtain even more, as if something were pressing against it, an indistinct shape that followed the curve of my arched back. A moan escaped me as I imagined warm lips pressing against my shoulder, far more real than the mere trickle of water.

In my head, I could almost hear a voice saying:

- Just let it happen, you'll like it, I'm not afraid, wishes do come true sometimes.

The voice still whispered in my head, warm and insistent, as my fingers moved faster, pressing my swollen clitoris to the point of pain. A violent shiver ran through me as a drop of icy water—far colder than everything else—slid down my spine, as if traced by an invisible tongue. The curtain snapped shut once more, but this time it remained slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of shadow that seemed out of place in the otherwise familiar bathroom.

I was so aroused my body was practically begging for a man to appear and **** me. I couldn't take it anymore; I was pressing myself, or being pressed, against the shower wall.

My back hit the cold wall, but the pain melted into the swirling vortex of sensations that engulfed me. A hand—no, a real hand—suddenly gripped my hip, its fingers digging into my wet flesh. The cry that rose in my throat turned into a gasp as another hand curled my red hair, pulling my head back to expose my throbbing throat.

I was going crazy, but it felt so good. I surrendered to these invisible caresses. It wasn't real, but I didn't care; all that mattered was the satisfaction of my sexual urges.

The invisible hand tightened in my hair as a burning mouth pressed against my neck, sucking at my skin between drops of hot water. I felt a pressure between my thighs heavier, more real than my own fingers—and my body arched of its own accord, offering my throat to those phantom lips. A hoarse moan tore through the humid air as something hard and warm slid against my trembling hip, leaving a trail of sweat in the shower stream.

The voice in my head commanded me so temptingly:

- Spread your thighs.

My muscles obeyed before my conscious mind could even protest, my thighs opening under an invisible pressure that parted them with calculated slowness. The cool air of the bathroom caressed my wet penis, and I felt a presence slip between my legs—a solid, almost palpable warmth that had nothing to do with the shower water.

My penis throbbed like never before, yearning to be penetrated, relieved.

- I know your innermost thoughts, I will grant them,

I felt a penis so large, so long, slide inside me. It was impossible, and yet I saw my own vagina opening.

- Ah yes, that's it, yes! I thought.

The penis played at arousing me; the invisible penis barely penetrated before withdrawing. This game lasted so long. The more I tried to push myself around this invisible penis, the more it delighted in eluding me.

- Beg me.

- Oh yes, please, yes, take me, I… I want it all, take me, do it.

My voice broke in a sob of pleasure as the invisible pressure finally gave way, filling me instantly with a thick, throbbing heat. My nails clawed at the tiles as my body heaved against the wall, each inch of that phantom sex sinking in with torturous slowness.

My stomach clenched violently as the invisible length finally plunged into me in one relentless motion, tearing at my resistance with such exquisite pain that my tears mingled with the shower water. The phantom fingers in my hair tightened, preventing me from turning my face away as a mouth bit my shoulder—I felt the skin pressed by teeth that weren’t there.

I felt my hips sway around this invisible sex that penetrated me so well and so completely. The pulsation of this invisible sex within me grew deeper, more insistent, each thrust filling me with a delicious burning sensation that radiated to the very core of my being. My thighs trembled, unable to close, held apart by a **** I could neither see nor fight, and which I certainly didn't want to resist.

- Say it: you belong to me and you want to be taken whenever I want, without restriction.

My body, my reason, abandoned me; they belonged to this invisible presence. It was so good and terrifying.

- Oh yes, I belong to you. It's so good. Ah yes, I want to be taken whenever and however you want. Yes!

My voice was nothing more than a hoarse breath, stifled by the relentless pounding of this invisible possession. The spectral hands that held me grew more cruel, their fingers digging into my flesh like claws as the phantom penis plowed into me with a **** that lifted me onto my tiptoes.

I felt my pleasure along with these relentless penetrations; I was wild. The invisible realm of my imagination was becoming reality, and it was a thousand times more orgasmic than any ordinary lover, I felt his invisible hands tighten on my hips, immobilizing me as the throbbing within me accelerated, each thrust deeper, more brutal.

When I felt the semen enter me, my orgasm exploded—a mixture of fear, perversion, surprise, and pleasure. It was insane; I was being violated by an invisible presence, and yet it was an explosion of sensations.

I screamed as the last burning spurt spilled inside me, my belly still throbbing under the onslaught of this supernatural possession. The invisible hands wouldn't let go, their fingers carving marks into my skin as if to seal their hold.

The phantom penis remained planted deep inside me, swollen and throbbing, as if feeding on my spasms. It withdrew after a long moment during which I couldn't regain my senses.

I heard, in my head or perhaps actually:

- You belong to me. I'll make you come whenever and wherever I want.

I moaned, completely devastated. Had I dreamt it? Part of me, logically, told me I was going crazy, while the other part longed for its return.

I remained slumped against the cold tiles, my legs trembling, my breath still catching from the waves of pleasure that continued to wash over me. The shower water streamed down my back, but I felt nothing but the burning mark of his invisible hands on my hips—as if his fingers had imprinted themselves on my flesh.