“Damn. I’m in for some good sex.” She wiggled in her chair with excitement. “Look at the package that guy is sporting.”
“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. I’ve told you before not to lust after the representations on the cards.”
“But I like this guy.” She picked up the card. “He’s hot.”
“Your fellow might not look anything like this.” Moira snatched the card out of her hand. “This is a deck of cards, dear. An artist’s representation of—”
“Yeah, I know. My fellow has electrical conduits and a moving conveyor belt. Mr. Treadmill and I, you know? Such partners for life we’ll make. I’ll be sure to send you a wedding invitation. My walk down the aisle will be unique, if nothing else.”
“I have another appointment coming. Go home, Mags. Suspend disbelief. And no more self-depreciating thoughts or comments either.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Chapter Two
Adanto sat back in the comfortable recliner in his ethereal home and slapped his hand against his forehead. “Es stupido.” Why did I blurt it out like that? She’s going to think I’m crazy. No…she’s going to think the gym staff are crazy and not want to return. Damn.
He felt the teeth of the High Ghul chomping down on his torso. At least that’s what he expected to have happen to him once it was discovered he’d fled the Djinn realm for Earth.
From the confines of his home in the aura of the treadmill, just out of sync with mortal reality, he kicked off his shoes. No need to be fully dressed in the ethers. His I Dream of Jeannie bottle wasn’t as high class as Hollywood made the homes of Djinns out to be, but it was nice. Since he inhabited the spirituous energy of a treadmill, he had way more space than an ordinary magic lantern, but less of the fashionable décor.
He pushed down the chair’s footrest and then jumped to his feet. He turned on his “Adanto vision,” as he called it. A two-way mirror from his world to hers. He’d used it to manipulate the LED panel on the treadmill. Dumb idea. Tomorrow, he was going to use a more traditional approach to communicate with his Maggie. Magic lantern time, so to speak. People believe what they can see. He hoped.
Tonight, however, he intended to prime Maggie by entering her dreams. He could do that so long as she had an electrical device near her bed. An alarm clock or radio would work fine.
He lifted his chin and envisioned his body rising from his aural home. Physically, he didn’t move. Only the non-corporal portion of him rose like a gust of wind, merging into long stagnant air. He drifted and moved toward Maggie’s home, eager to merge into her life, into her dreams.
Within moments, he was at her home. Adanto surveyed Maggie’s bedroom from a fly-on-the-wall point of view. So many electrical items to choose from…clock, radio, television, computer, printer…
The bedroom door swung open and Maggie entered, wearing nothing but a towel. Freshly showered, she looked radiant. Adanto hardened at the sight of her bare shoulders and legs.
She sat on her bed and pulled open the nightstand drawer. Three more electrical items he could inhabit. Telephone. Lamp. Vibrator…
Vibrator. Adanto quickly catapulted his spirit form into the heart of the vibrator as she removed it from the drawer. He settled in, enjoying the sweet linger of Maggie’s body in the wiring and casing of the toy, and waited.
*
Maggie reached for her hibernating laptop at the end of her bed and flipped it open. It whirred to life, connecting with the wireless router in seconds. She settled back onto a stack of pillows, her laptop propped up against her raised knees and chest. She cyber-surfed to her favorite site for a little visual erotic stimulus. She liked man love. Not necessarily hardcore gay porn, but definitely Yaoi and its ilk.
She cast aside fleeting thoughts of wrongdoing. That was her mother talking. I’m a big girl. I know what I like, and I know what gets me hot. She scanned the thumbnail video images until she found one that looked promising. A little man-on-man fellatio and bareback. Freaking sexy as hell to watch two hot guys get it on. And these guys were lumberjacks.
The video got right into the action. Skip the formalities and jump to the foreplay was her motto. The guys shared a passionate kiss but didn’t stand opposite each other pulling their own wankies in an amateurish fashion before getting down to business.
Dude number one pushed dude number two to his knees. The younger guy eagerly stroked and sucked his partner’s dick until it had doubled in size.
The visual acted upon Maggie’s weary body the way she’d hoped it would. Nothing like a quick orgasm to help her get a good night’s sleep. She didn’t think she could work up a satisfactory fantasy tonight. She was grateful for the external stimulation.
As dude two had his ass rammed by the thick cock of dude one, she switched on Mr. Happy. She set her laptop aside and spread her legs to allow the vibrating silver bullet access to her clitoris. She closed her eyes and let her imagination wander.
*
Adanto shivered as the sensuality of the moment penetrated him. He palmed his erection through his jeans and drank in Maggie’s pleasure. It was thick, rich, and left a sweet flavor on his lips. Better than chocolate. At six hundred and ninety-two years of age, he knew chocolate.
The delicate vibrations and balance of pressure to movement drew out the flower of orgasm in Maggie. A woman knew best how to pleasure herself. Adanto made mental notes of the travels of the silver vibrator from apex to opening. He wanted to do the same thing to Maggie with his tongue.
It took only a few moments for her to achieve orgasm. Adanto used that open moment—that millisecond of ecstasy when every iota of Maggie’s being was consumed by the rolling waves of climax—to slip into her dreams.
Being inside her mind didn’t help his personal situation in the least. His hard-on throbbed as if it were going to burst in the midst of her synaptic orgasmic afterglow. He needed to relieve himself or he’d be of no use to her.
As he settled back into the ethers of Maggie’s bliss, he leaned forward into a perfect ball, and pulled his own dick into his mouth.
*
Sated and exhausted, Maggie dozed off just past ten.
She absolutely knew she was dreaming. Without a doubt, it was a dream because nothing in her life looked so crisp or beautiful. Looking down on herself as a spectator at a movie might watch the big screen, she lay across a pillow-strewn bed atop brilliant, white sheets. They were so white they looked as though their brilliance could light up the night sky. A gentle perfume hung in the air. Jasmine. Light. Fragrant. A soft breeze kissed her bare arms. A window was open. She turned her head and gazed out across an expanse of grapevines growing under a warm Italian sun.
Tuscany. I’m in Tuscany. This looks like a scene from a movie I once saw.
“Si, bella. Your thoughts are my thoughts, and so I brought you to my homeland where I knew you would find enjoyment. Here, tonight, we shall make love to the music of the passing troubadours amidst the scents of lavender and wine.”
She’d practiced lucid dreaming before and knew how to control a few things beyond the veil. So why not go with the flow? Maggie pulled open her robe, exposing her breasts and belly to her lover’s kisses. “Amore mio,” she cooed, stroking his slicked-back black hair as he buried his face between her breasts. “My love.”
He trailed his kisses down her body, slathering attention on each soft fold of her flesh. He nibbled her inner thighs, urging them to spread wide for his touch.
Maggie moaned as the fire of passion grew in her belly. It was sweet torture. The want. The need. The anticipation.
She wanted the teasing to never end while, at the same moment, she wanted only to pull her lover atop her and beg him to penetrate her. Violate her. Take her however he wished, over and over again.
He slid his tongue slowly over her clitoris. He lifted his chin and took a deep breath. “Siete la mia aria,” he whispered. He repeated in English, “You are my air.”
She’d always wanted an Italian lover to rock her wo
rld. Since this was a dream, why not encourage the fantasy? She laughed. “If I am your air, then please…take a deep breath.”
He chuckled and buried his mouth between her nether lips. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth.
Maggie wanted more. She wanted all of him.
She spread her legs farther.
He lifted her hips to allow more access to her vagina and anus. He slid his warm tongue inside her. He moved it as he would his fingers or penis, the bridge of his nose crushing against her clitoris.
He pulled away and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “More.” He sighed. “I need more of you.”
He abruptly flipped her. Maggie yelped at the treatment and struggled playfully as he forcibly raised her to her knees with her bottom in the air. He gave her buttocks a slap and then parted her cheeks. He nestled his face into her rump and slathered her ass and pussy with kisses.
She trusted her dreams. And this was one. Even as he probed her forbidden zone with his tongue, seemingly not able to consume enough of her, she trusted him—her dream lover—and undulated in time to his probing tongue thrusts. Every inch of her flesh screamed for release. She buried her face in the dream-pillows as she came against his mouth.
He lapped at her until the final vestiges of orgasm passed from her body and into his mouth. He rolled away, flat onto his back, his hand around his thick member. “Fai l'amore con me,” he begged. “Make love to me. Sit on me. Slide against me. Push your sweet ass against my thighs and let me fill you.”
Maggie lifted her head, already missing his touch. She’d bitten through the fine sheets and drooled all over the pillows. She turned nimbly on her knees and placed one on each side of her love. She held his penis steady with one hand as she mounted him. He slid in deeply, easily. She shuddered as his member filled her. She moved her hips forward and reawakened her clitoris.
“Speak Italian to me, baby. Take me on a tour of Italy as you come,” Maggie urged.
Her lover grabbed her hips and broke into song, bouncing her against his dick in rhythm with his tune. Maggie leaned back, propping herself up with her right arm against the bed. She thrust forward in time to the song until she could no longer discern the words for the cries of his orgasm.
Before his penis quit pulsing inside her, Maggie sat up and touched herself, forcing a second orgasm. She rode his still-stiff dick with her fingers pressed against her mound until she felt completely spent.
Sticky with their love, she dismounted and collapsed onto the bed next to him. She stroked his semi-erect member.
“No, bella. Not now,” he whispered. “You have exhausted me.”
“Si, amore. Now. More.” She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and it responded to her touch. She glanced into his fiery-brown eyes.
He reclined, chuckling. “As you wish, my love. I can refuse you nothing.”
Maggie encircled her lips around the head of his tired penis. It immediately reacted against her tongue. She pumped her hand as she mouthed him. The taste of his flesh was insanely delicious. Part her. Part him. Together, an entire buffet of sensual flavors. She took him as far down her throat as she could and cupped his testicles.
He moaned and encouragingly grabbed a lock of her hair.
Maggie released his dick and slapped his hip. “Roll over. Put your legs up.”
“What do you mean to do to me?”
“Turnabout is fair play.” Oh, she had wicked, wicked ideas.
He did as instructed, rolling onto his belly. He raised himself onto his knees, his buttocks exposed. She gave his firm rump a loud slap and traced her fingernail around his anus. “If I had a penis, I’d fuck you.” The mere idea sent a shudder through her.
“In the drawer.”
Maggie giggled. “What?”
“In the drawer,” he repeated.
She rolled off the bed and then reached for the nightstand drawer. Inside was a black life-like penis-shaped vibrator. “You want some of this?”
“I want whatever you want.”
Maggie climbed back onto the bed and buried her tongue into his anus. Her right hand went to his cock and balls. She stroked and fondled and licked and sucked until he squirmed under her. Maggie took his penis into her mouth. Using her hands to feel her way, she guided the vibrator to his anus and carefully breached his sphincter. His body tried to restrict access, but this was her dream, and even without lube, she worked the head into his delicious bum.
She guided his penis into her mouth with her left hand as she buggered him with her right. Sucking and ramming. His pleasure. Her building excitement.
He grew harder and harder between her lips. She tasted his semen welling at the tip, and from the way his hips rocked and he moaned, she knew he enjoyed her little foray into buggery.
“Mags.” He panted, breathless. “I want inside you.”
She withdrew the vibrator, and he lifted himself off her face. He crawled down her body until he was atop her. “Grab your ankles.”
She did as instructed. He ran his fingertips along her exposed vulva and anus, then pressed against her hole with the head of his penis. He breeched the tightest of barriers with one solid thrust.
Maggie lurched under him as he filled her. He stretched her quickly and forcefully. The naughtiness of the moment overtook her. The burn of penetration subsided and the friction of entry and withdrawal over and over aroused her like never before.
“You are so hot and tight, my love. I have never taken a woman so fully.” He slammed into her ass with renewed vigor.
Maggie held her breath as he pummeled into her. She’d never felt so violated, so used. So excited.
“I am going to come in your ass, bella. In your ass.” He shook with orgasm and streamed hot inside her, and she arched her back in climax in response.
* * * *
Maggie awoke drenched in sweat, the sheets ripped from the mattress and one hand between her legs, holding her vibrator in place. Inside her. She slid it out of her drenched vagina and set it on the nightstand. I fucked myself in my sleep. Cool. Damn, I love lucid dreaming.
She rose and took her toy to the bathroom.
After a thorough cleaning, she headed to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk, and decided since there were only twenty minutes left before her alarm would go off, anyway, she might as well start her day.
By heading to the gym.
* * * *
Maggie stepped out of the locker room and pulled her T-shirt down over her belly. She knew it would just ride back up again but, damn it, she wasn’t going to buy larger T-shirts. She usually wore something a little more fun and flouncy with her cotton Lycra leggings, and felt a bit frumpy in attire specifically donned for the purpose of sweating. She probably looked as awful as she thought she did too. But, damn it, at five thirty in the morning, no one should care how anyone looked, anyway. She wasn’t there to look good. No matter what Moira said, this was not a social venue for her.
It was not the place to meet men or chit-chat with the girls. It was a fucking gym. Sweaty, painful, and run by modern-day practitioners of Inquisition-like apparatus meant to tone, hone, and cure. The only thing that was going to stimulate her in this place was the thought of finishing and getting the hell out.
“Even God isn’t awake at five thirty,” she muttered, passing the service counter.
The little tiny blonde thing folding towels smiled vacantly. And to think, if I need help, she’s who I ask. Bambi. God, I hate the gym.
Maggie approached the entrance to the gym floor with trepidation. Last time her palms sweat like this, she’d snuck out of the house at age fourteen to hang out with her older—and forbidden—boyfriend. The gym was unfamiliar territory. It was a world of weights and elliptical this and strength-training that. Might as well have been the moon.
She hoped the talking treadmill was free. If it was in use, she’d probably turn around and go home. She fought the urge to run across the street to the donut shop as it was. She didn’t know
how to use the other apparatuses in the facility, and there was no way she was going to ask one of the bunnies for additional assistance. And paying for a personal trainer was out of the question.
She said a prayer that the gods of the elusive exercise high would bless her with increased endorphins so as to make it all seem worthwhile.
I have been blessed.
Her treadmill was open. Gleaming from its morning polishing. Spritzed with lemon fragrance, a fluffy towel draped neatly over the touch pad control.
I can just feel those cholesterol levels improving. Alleluia. It’s a miracle. I have been touched by the gods of sweat and pulled muscles. Amused by her inner monologue, Maggie surveyed the forbidden zone. She stepped into the workout room with its soft pink lights and strategically placed foliage and made a beeline for the treadmill.
Head down, avoiding eye contact in any manner, Maggie hopped onto the steel and chrome beast and tossed the towel over her shoulder. She kept her feet on the rungs to either side as she programmed the machine. Level one. Incline zero.
She attached the quick-release key to her shirt, the pressure monitor to her finger, pulled the burr out of her ass, and hit Start. The machine whirred to life at something just above a snail’s pace. She stepped onto the moving belt and began what she hoped would be a lovely ten-minute stroll.
Bambi pranced by, turning on the high-mounted televisions with a universal remote. Maggie sighed. She rolled her eyes as she saw her viewing choices. Lovely—politics, infomercials, and children’s programming. Three TVs and not a Food Network show in sight.
Already bored and slightly winded after three minutes, Maggie closed her eyes and tried to get into the zone. Exercise is good for me. I need to lose weight for my health. The money spent will come back to me tenfold. I need to buy dish soap. No…the positive affirmations weren’t cutting it. Her shopping list held more sway.
Claimed by the Djinn Page 2
