Sex on the Brain

Up the ladder, Becky climbs for what seems to be ten or fifteen minutes before she comes upon an opening. Crawling out, she emerges from what looks to be a fire place, though clearly just for show, moving from the marble hearth onto a thick carpet and rising from clear air into a haze of wispy, colored smoke as she stands. Smells of lavender and honey put her at ease, all the stress and fear from entering the mysterious mansion evaporating with every breath.

As the incense floats around the room, filling also her lungs and brain as well the air, she looks around, taking stock of her surroundings, now out of curiosity than panic. Candles line almost every surface, from the dresser to the vanity and the bedside tables, burning wicks melting waxes of violet, red and black. It’s pretty she thinks, and a fire hazard as she notes the many cloths and sheets, of many different materials, draped and hanging from the room, forcing one to walk around or through to get from one side of the room to the other, like a makeshift maze.

But, by far, the most noteworthy thing in all the room are the people on the bed. Their moaning alerts Becky to their presence before she sees them. Not just two of them, nor even three, but seven, one woman surrounded by six men. They are all naked, the woman kneeling in the center, her body being touched in every part by twelve manly hands. One caresses her left breast, another tweaks her right nipple. A hand reached between her thighs and dips a finger inside, another hand for another man similarly reaches down between her asscheeks and thumbs her rear hole. Two fingers turn her chin, and kisses her sweet, plump lips, then another two fingers from the parallel man pull her face in his direction, taking another kiss for himself. One strokes her spine. Another her side. One traces her thigh, another grips her shoulder. A hand squeezes her ass, another’s fingers are wrapped tightly in her hair.

Becky knows that she should look away. She should announce her presence or try to slip out undetected. Instead she finds her feet taking her closer. Her eyes are unable to leave the decadent dalliance before her. She is drawn, first and foremost, the realization that this could be her. Not just in the sense that Becky is a very attractive woman who could quite easily convince six men to worship her if she were so inclined. No, this girl really could be her. Same figure, same hair, same eyes, every inch of her is Becky. Except, as she drifts ever closer, she has never seen herself so wanted, so wanton.

The men are remarkable too. Not simply in that they are all well built masculine men with bared cocks bigger than Becky has ever seen. Beyond that, they are identical. Every one blonde haired, blue eyed, all without a belly button, exact replicas of man in the tunnels, though she never got a chance to compare their cocks, which she now considers to be a big mistake on her part. Emphasis on the big.

Passing by a sheet, they disappear from view for second, then she sees them again, repositioned, the Becky-esque woman still on her knees, but now one of the men is standing, the head of his cock touching her lips. The real Becky feels her own lips quiver, imagining the weight of that hot flesh, the scent of him right beneath her nose. Fake Becky opens her mouth wider to welcome the man’s girth, while both hands grab hold of two other dicks, jerking them as she sucks, while the other three continue to stroke and caress her body.

Faster, she pushes through the blankets and sheets. Her feet are running, but she doesn’t know why. There’s something important she should be doing right now, but the most important thing to her right now is getting to that bed. She doesn’t even know what she’ll do when she gets there. She’s never been with one man, never mind two, or three or six. The thought should perhaps even repulse her, but her feet don’t retreat. While her mind struggles to remember, her body carries out its deepest desires.

They blink out of view again, and when they come back into sight they’ve moved once more. Feckey is on top of one of the men now, another positioned behind her, ready to mount. Two are still in her hands, and two stand before her, her mouth open as if to take both. Not a single dick has penetrated her yet, but are poised to do so. Becky wants to get there before that happens. She tries to ask herself why, but only reply that comes back is ‘I don’t know’. Those words seem significant too.

Triumphant, she pushes through the veil and finds herself beside the bed.

And they’re gone.

The bed is made and undisturbed and without a single soul upon it. Dumbfounded, she looks around the room and sees no one. From here however, she can see the door out of this room. Confused, dizzy and lightheaded, Becky doesn’t know how to process what just happened. Was it some kind of incense fueled day dream, a mirage brought on by stress or a premonition of things to come?