The woman in front of me turned around. “Fuck me,” she said.
Woman don’t say that to me often, and certainly not while standing in line at the post office. She was pretty with long blonde hair pulled back into a strict ponytail. Her jeans were tight, but her sweater was frumpy. Freckles spotted her face and she had a slight underbite.
“Fuck me,” she said again, loud enough for everyone to hear. She stuck her tongue out and it was unusually long. The tip of her tongue curled and uncurled, betokening me to enter her mouth.
No one reacted. The woman behind me sighed in boredom. The man in front of the blonde stranger shifted the box he was carrying from one hand to the other. They must have heard her.
“You’re not real,” I whispered.
The blonde rolled her eyes. She lifted her sweater to reveal a white bra holding massive pale breasts.
“Fuck me!” she yelled.
The man at the register called for the next customer. The line moved forward. The blonde walked backwards, still exposing her bra.
This wasn’t real. I knew that. This had happened before. She was some entity that I called up in lust and ignorance a week ago. It was just a card game; how was I supposed to know that the forces it dealt with were real?
The blonde pulled her sweater back down over her chest. She turned around and I heard her jeans unzip. In the awkward silence of the post office line, the sound of her zipper was impossible to ignore.
No one noticed. Not for the first time, I wondered if this was a hallucination. Was I experiencing some sort of wet daydream created by another? Did the blonde really have a white bra so transparent that I could see the saucers of her aureoles, or was that an invention of the capricious thing I had brought into this world?
The woman pulled her pants down. The tight jeans slid over her round butt and fell to her ankles. There were no panties. A strange scar covered the right buttock. Was the scar real or just another weird detail to this fiction I was seeing?
“Fuck me,” she said again, and this time she stepped back until her butt pressed against my crotch.
This felt real. My cock pulsed inside my jeans and against her ass. As discreetly as I could, my hips shifted and thrust towards her.
Oh God, it felt real.
The woman reached behind her. With a dexterity that couldn’t be human, she unzipped my pants and reached into my underwear. Warm fingers gripped my manhood and pulled it out. She pressed the head of my organ against her ass and slid it up and down her crack.
I looked around. A couple came in through the door with a clear view of everything the woman was doing to me. They frowned at the sight of the line and dutifully went to the end.
The woman leaned forward. She guided my cock into her sex. Wet heat gripped my shaft as I sank into her. The clenching walls of her sex held onto me.
I shuddered. My hands curled into fists. The urge to moan was incredible but I bit my lip. No one could see or hear what the woman was doing to me, but I didn’t know if I was just as unnoticeable.
This couldn’t be an illusion or daydream. I never felt a pussy this wonderful in any of my dreams. The entity must be controlling these people. It must have these people under some sort of a trance, so it can have its way with me.
The woman humped me. The sound of her wet sex getting filled grew louder and louder. She grabbed the hips of the man in front of her for support. He braced his legs and held the box in both hands as she held onto him.
“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” the woman cried.
The line moved forward. The woman held onto the man’s hips and the three of us took a step together. My cock never left her tight heat.
My climax approached. I lost control and grabbed her hips. My hands held her in place as I slammed into her. Frustration and fear drove my cock into her mysterious sex.
“YES!” the woman cried and then she cackled as she came.
I came as well. I yelled my orgasm to the uncaring line. Pleasure filled my body as I filled her pussy with me seed.
The woman slid off my cock. She pulled her pants up over her ass and the strange scar. The sound of her zipper was twice as loud as before.
I reached for my pants, but they were already zipped with my cock back inside. Did she do it or was it me? I don’t remember. It was always hard to remember details after the entity gives me an orgasm. It was one of the things that makes me doubt whether these encounters really happen or not.
The line moved forward. I took a step and my underwear stuck to my wet cock.