Bi fiction · Female perspective


Foreword: There really is no story behind this one. It’s just a random scenario I thought of, and since I haven’t tackled any supernatural themes on the blog yet, this at least contains a smattering of it.


It had been an awfully long day at work when that fateful event happened. So damn long in fact that I was positively itching to get home, pour myself a tall glass of whisky on ice and just sip at it leisurely whilst loafing around on the couch binge-watching Russian Doll on Netflix for three hours straight.

What can I say? That’s my ideal night in.

I live alone, and have done for the best part of two years. Well, except that time I was sleeping at Juan’s place a couple nights every week. But that’s a different story altogether, and not one that I especially care to recall—after all, it did involve a botched anal beads scenario and a shitload of cocaine.

Let me spare you the details on that one. I promise, it’s really not worth straining your ears over.

Due to the decidedly stressful and demanding nature of my job as Head Attorney at a successful law firm in downtown Chicago, I seldom have time to spend having sex, let alone going on dates. It’s just not something that I can justify doing with all that’s going on around me. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love fucking people. But when I’ve got clients to meet for dinners most evenings, and a bunch of other appointments crammed into my schedule (as a matter of professional courtesy, naturally), it’s tight. There’s rarely a moment when I think to myself, ‘you know, I just really want to screw someone.’ And by this point, I feel like I’ve pretty much become immune to the temptation of sexual encounters.

On a side note, I also happen to be bisexual, so I’m not exactly limiting myself—at least, not in that sense. Of course, being bi doesn’t mean I’m attracted to every single person I meet.

That would be ridiculous.

As I’m essentially repeating in various states of rephrase, I haven’t had a lot of action from anyone recently. But you know what? I feel pretty comfortable with that aspect of my life. It’s fun being free to do as I please. After all, I can’t complain. I have Netflix, a warm couch to snuggle onto at night, tubs upon tubs of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food in the freezer, and a ton of awesome sex toys that always…well, nearly always, hit the spot. What’s not to love? I can get myself off whilst concurrently shovelling spoonfuls of dessert into my face and forgetting all the stresses of the day.

All by myself.

It hasn’t always been that way, though. That “fateful” night I mentioned earlier? Yeah, it’s certainly gonna stick with me for a while. It wasn’t exactly a terrible or traumatic experience, not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, the opposite is true. The thing is, I don’t know when I’ll ever get to live through that again.

It was surprising.

…surprisingly orgasmic.

Right before the “fateful” night happened, I’d had a major malfunction at work. And I’m talking about a total fucking meltdown where everything was just falling to pieces around the case I was working on. The client was being difficult and there was zero evidence coming to light in his favor we needed it most. Typical. It was one unfortunate instance after another. I ended up working longer hours and unintentionally skimping on sleep. Really, the whole thing was teetering on insomnia, because even when I tried to get some shut-eye, it was practically impossible to do so. Instead I spent countless hours staring holes into my bedroom wall in the dead of night.

But there came a point where I just knew I’d gotten past the worst of it. There was, at the very least, a half-open window of opportunity on the horizon that told me I could relax and enjoy some downtime. On days like those, the feeling of release and comfort could only be welcomed with open arms.

That evening, I got back to my apartment—a swanky townhouse on North Franklin Street— slipped off my handbag and jacket and slung them over the back of the dining room chair. I’d been running all over the place and I was more than a little eager to soothe my weary feet. I kicked off my kitten heels and stripped right down to my underwear to settle into the brand new pair of pyjamas I’d purchased at Macy’s. Somehow, I’d managed to get out of the office for a short while over the previous weekend thanks to my co-worker Steve. Yes, there were things I needed to prepare for this motherfucker of a case even on days when I wasn’t supposed to be working. I can remember it now, how the soft, thick cotton was plush against my skin, just perfect for a blustery winter’s evening.

Seriously, they don’t call Chicago ‘The Windy City’ for nothing.

I poured myself some Jack Daniels, straight with no ice or mixer but it probably reached more than three measures in the glass. Then, I grabbed one of those tubs of Ben & Jerry’s and a large serving spoon. Since I was so desperate for a break, it didn’t take me long to get nicely wrapped up and snug on the couch. I fired up Netflix and started streaming an episode of Suits that I’d given up on watching months ago. To keep warm, I pulled a faux fur throw over myself and took a long, deep swig of my bourbon. I tucked the ends of the throw beneath the soles of my feet and pinned them down with my toes to try and contain the heat somewhat. With my cell phone battery disconnected and the laptop stored out of sight, out of mind, I decided it was going to be a ‘me’ night, and nobody was going to ruin that.

Not a soul.

A couple hours passed and I found myself starting to doze off. It was then I realized it was growing cold, despite everything being hunky-dory with the heating. I’d made sure that the thermostat was set to a decent temperature, so I should have been pretty darn comfortable. But I wasn’t. It was suspiciously cold. None of the windows were open and the breeze didn’t seem to be originating from anywhere I could decipher. I tried my best to ignore it and continue watching the show I was so engrossed in. Eyes fixed on the screen, I knew it wouldn’t be over so quickly. The chill kept up, curling around my ears in light and airy wisps. A shiver crept along my back and I could feel my spine tensing up with every new tantalizing tickle. I pulled the throw over myself more purposefully, hoping it would offer some relief.

Naturally, there was no such luck.

The breeze intensified. I wrapped my arms tightly around my upper body and gripped at the throw as if it were my last earthly possession, as if doing so would somehow protect me from whatever the hell this was. I felt a sudden, sharp tug at the throw and before I could even blink, the thing was whipped from me and banished to the other side of the living room. I let out a horrified gasp. I was exposed, save for those thick pyjamas, but it was enough to make me understand how vulnerable I’d been rendered. The cold was intense and unbearable, and it felt like I’d been thrust into the ugly belly of some horror B-movie.

I scanned the room with caution, my eyes darting from side to side. I was a complete flurry of nerves. It occurred to me that nothing else in the apartment was moving, as you’d expect them to if there was a breeze blowing; corners of documents lifting up, the next available sheet of kitchen roll quivering—that kind of thing. So it quickly became clear that the chill was focusing its presence solely on me. I reached over to grab the remote and switched off the TV. If there were any noises accompanying the breeze, I wanted to be able to hear them without distraction.

The moment I leaned forward on the couch, what felt unmistakably like a set of fingers landed on me, and began to caress the back of my neck. There was literally no other way to describe the sensation. I froze in place, not daring to move another inch. The tiny hairs on my neck stood up on end. Fearful, a thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Who could have possibly broken into the apartment? I was on the ninth floor and in any case, the security system was so tight something would have been triggered for sure.

I wanted to turn around to face the intruder, but before I could make another move, there was a moist feeling taking over my right ear. The intruder was lapping at the top of it with their tongue, tracing the contours with a great deal of care. I let out a pleasured moan, unable to hold back my voice. Sure, I had no idea who this person was, or how they got in, but having the tops of my ears tantalized during foreplay is a definite weakness of mine. That, combined with the fact that I wasn’t expecting it really didn’t help one bit. The cool, mystery fingers brushed side of my face lightly, stroking all the way along the side of my neck and down onto my shoulders. I glanced across the room at the TV’s black reflective screen, hoping I might catch a glimpse of the intruder’s appearance as they stood behind me, touching me like that. But there was no-one, just the usual image of the kitchen units.

In other words…they were completely invisible.

Yet they had me captive, and I was at their absolute mercy. How was I supposed to win against this sexually charged force? Then, I realised something. All the stress that had been building up needed to be relieved. Despite being convinced that I didn’t need a hookup, in truth I had been contemplating hiring some assistance in that department. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d called for a sex worker to visit me in my apartment for a little ‘R&R’ outside business hours.  

But deep down I knew that it was never a question of ‘winning against’ them. It was about switching the agenda, bringing mutual consent into the equation. I wanted to know that if I was going to have this transparent intruder fuck me senseless, we were both in it together.

I took a deep breath and turned my body around so could I lie along the length of the couch. “You have my permission to do whatever makes you feel good, on one condition…” I said. “It has to feel good for me too.”

I allowed my body sink right into the cushion beneath me. It was so comforting, I thought I’d be blissfully consumed by the couch and end up in some kind of upholstery heaven. That brisk chill picked up again, and started to wisp around my ankles. Then, it blew open the leg holes in my pyjamas and coiled itself slyly around both legs like some famished corn snake on the prowl for mice. The intruder squeezed my legs slightly inwards just above the knees, enough pressure to make me feel the pulse of thick blood coursing through my veins. The serpent-like phantom had soon totally enveloped the lower half of my body. It was exploratory and deliberate in the way it slithered its wiry tentacles over me. The anticipation of having a whole mass of invisible genitalia inside me was driving my overactive imagination wild with lust.

Those tendrils continued to spiral their way up, nearing my crotch with each new motion. I felt a wave of relief well up in my chest as the breeze poured over me. The intruder probed at my sensitive clit, causing me to grip the back of the couch and dig my nails into it deep. The intruder offered a touch that was strangely gentle yet firm enough to leave a significant mark. It prised my labia apart, exposing my long-neglected cunt and teased it with small tendril lashes.

The first true evidence of my sexual stimulation were already apparent in the form of the slick juices already dripping out. The intruder rammed its long, wet tongue into me. I gasped, wide-eyed and arched my back upwards in an automatic, reflexive tic. The thing writhed around inside me without so much as a moment’s hesitation, slipping over the thick aroused walls and collecting drops of liquid lust that lined it. The organ had entered so quick and so deeply, I thought it might destroy me. But, it didn’t. Instead, the tongue appropriately expanded and contracted to fit the shape of the hole, and I tell you, that shit was better than any sex toy I’ve ever tried; the impeccable timing, that slimy texture, the overall sensation it was providing?


While vivaciously investigating my cunt with its tongue, the intruder generated additional branches, extending them outwards and creeping slowly up along my naval. I couldn’t see any of this happening, but I could sense it in the air around me and on my body. A subtle electric shock rippled over my skin as the fresh growths wrapped themselves intricately around my torso, massaging the flesh intensely. I exhaled through a smile, enjoying the way my breasts perked beneath its soft touch. I felt like a human garden trellis, covered from top to bottom with weeds, but only weeds of the most delicate and satisfying kind.

The intruder’s tendrils were certainly persistent in their objective as they fondled my breasts like they were lumps of dough, and pinched my nipples one after the other in short, quick bursts. Now, something else fell against my crotch, something that I could tell was intending to fill me right up to the brim. As it flopped onto me, my jaw dropped open, and a little drool accumulated at the side of my mouth. The intruder circled the entrance with it, merciless in its taunting pursuit.



I remember wanting to feel it so badly. It was already clear that the intruder had grown just as aroused and hard as any human could. If only I were able to lay my eyes on its girth, the outline of the tip, the glistening precum as it oozed out. What would it be like to have someone invisible spill their seed inside me? I wondered about this. I attempted to visualize those protruding veins and the thick, meaty shaft that looked good enough to serve with a Full English breakfast. I wanted to hear the sweet sound of the intruder’s heavy balls as they slapped hard against my ass. But my mind was a total mess and my entire body was getting teased from every angle. It was almost impossible to collect my thoughts together.

The intruder eased itself into me, carefully but I felt the action held a great amount of determination nonetheless. I cried out, small tears of ecstasy forming at the sides of my eyes. It had plugged my cunt right the way up with its throbbing stick of TNT, and I could hardly wait for the thing to explode. Those first few seconds were a hell of a lot more intense than I imagined they’d be. It thrust in and out in slow and purposeful motions, so very deeply. The way it’d swollen up and stretched me out had me gagging for more, and based on previous experience, cocks and sex toys weren’t able to achieve that. It must have been a good twelve inches—monstrous by no exaggeration. My breathing became shallower as the intruder continued to fuck me. I swore I could even make out a series of faint groans and the sound of hefty panting reverberating through the atmosphere. But then again, perhaps that was all just a figment of my imagination. Still, hearing the deep roar of this invisible presence, imagined or not, had me questioning myself.

One moment the intruder was screwing me while putting those tendrils to work on the rest of my body, and the next another surprise greeted me, one that I definitely wasn’t expecting. If the monster dick was a shock, this was even more so. What felt like two giant airbags were soon squashed against my face, almost suffocating me. Breasts? I seriously wondered if this situation could get any better for someone with my sexual inclinations. The feeling of those glorious breasts slapping against my face was oddly comforting, but it excited me no end. Each time the intruder thrust its foot-long appendage into my wet cunt, those ‘airbags’ provided another dimension that would bring me that much closer to the edge of sanity.

The intensity of it all quickly reached boiling point. It felt like the fuse had been set alight and was fizzling away at a nice, steady pace. We were moving together like a dream, well…a wet dream at least. Those ‘imaginary’ moans seemed to grow louder, and when it seemed like the intruder had reached its limit, it withdrew to release its light and airy seed over my torso, and it became visible. Right there before me, was a mass of the thickest semen I had ever witnessed. I’d wanted it to come inside me, but still I had the most explosive orgasm of my entire life. It was a climax that left me speechless, breathless, and in quite a tizzy.

I admit, it took me some time to come to terms with this experience. Now, though, I look back on that “fateful” night so fondly. I was never visited by the intruder again, but I’ll never forget its touch, the way it curled itself around me so tenderly, yet it possessed such a confident force. The moment I decided to allow it the freedom to do as it pleased, it certainly gave me some food for thought. Even today, when I masturbate, I think of it, and that wonderful ‘ectogasm’.






















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