Dreamtime

The red sandy soil of the Outback burns the soles of my naked feet and the intense sun scorches my body. I’m naked again, and alone. Not far away from me Uluru, also known as Ayre’s Rock stands squat on the desert floor. 

This is a hostile place…..a place where a two hundred mile round trip to he ‘local’ shop is not unusual. Many of the farmers around here fly light aircraft. It’s quicker. 

Why am I naked? I don’t know. 

I find shade in the crevices of the rock and, joy of joys, a pool of fresh water. I slake my thirst before immersing myself in the cool water. The water has a slightly oily texture to it and tastes oddly familiar. It takes the heat from my body and I feel that peculiar sensation known only as to women as the water supports my boobs. 

There are legends about this place. It’s considered sacred by indigenous Australians, and I shouldn’t be here. Although I was told that the rock would provide sanctuary and comfort to a traveller in distress. 

Something touches my leg. How would a fish get out here? It wraps itself briefly around my ankle. Not a fish then? It felt more like the tentacle of an octopus, but without the suckers. Instantly the spectre of the blur ringed octopus flashes through my brain. Pretty little things….and deadly. Get bitten by one of those, and you don’t even make it to the phone! But they’re marine animals. They wouldn’t be found here. 

An Aboriginal storyteller told me of a creature that can take many forms. It adapts to the needs of its host. Damn…what was it called? Again I feel the tentacle, matched by another on the other ankle. This time their grip is firm. Not painful, but definitely firm. Strong, too. I feel them forcing my ankles apart further and further. This lowers me until my chin is on the surface of the water. Finally my knees bend and my back rests against the hard rock. 

I feel another tentacle traveling slowly my the inside of my right thigh. Instinctively, I want to cup my vagina with my hand but I find that actually, I don’t move. Its tip touches my labia and seems to explore me. I’m getting wet. It’s strange that a girl can feel herself getting sexually wet even when immersed in water. Whatever it is, its exploration of my labia is painstaking. Every fold, every wrinkle explored u til it finds the hard nub of my clit. 

My heart rate increases, and my breathing deepens. Then I feel another tentacle enter me. It slides inside easily and deeply. Then it seems to expand, wider and wider, filling me, stretching me, making me feel impossibly full. Just when I think I can’t take anymore it begins to pulsate inside me. That and the feeling of my clit being stimulated is driving me to orgasm. I’m going to cum in this pool. 

And finally, yet another tentacle presses between my bum cheeks and works its way into my secret, puckered hole. Steam is rising from the pool and I’m inhaling it deeply. Suddenly, I realise where I’ve smelled and tasted this before. This is pure, fresh girl-cum. I’m going to add to it. The orgasm tears from the centre of my being and I feel myself squirt heavily….

…..I awaken in my bed gasping. My vagina is still contracting and I’m squirting into my panties. In the space between asleep and awake, I feel those tentacles wriggling in my vagina and my bum, and I feel the exact moment when they slip out of me. 

Wide awake now, I feel between my legs. I’m soaked. My inner thighs are soaked too. My boobs are impossibly firm, and my nipples actually hurt. 

For a moment I try to process the dream, but the tenuous connections of its logic are evaporating even as I try to type this. It becomes fragmented and disjointed and the pieces float awa like fragments of burned paper born off by the breeze.