Strange shadows, like long, probing fingers stretch across the room and glide noiselessly over our bed. As the moon completes her cycle across the heavens so the shadows move across the bed, the wind play tendrils exploring first the sleeping Emily, and then reaching for me. A breeze in the trees outside give the shadows a life of their own and as I see them move, I convince myself that I can actually feel their touch.
Softly, so as not to wake her, I move the duvet from my naked body and lie there almost breathless in anticipation as the first of the black shadows touches my body. It travels slowly down over my tummy to my mounds, and iI open my legs in anticipation.
Sharps, scratchy fingers of the night move across me and oh, when they finally touch my clit, the feeling seems real.Outside the wind is getting up because the pitch black finders seem to thrash against me now as if to beat the orgasm out of me. My mind has given reality to the touch and I refuse to allow my own fingers to join the party.
There is something dark and sinister about the way this looks. I’ve seen movies where the shadows of branches of trees became the sharp, pointed-nails of witches fingers, and it’s only a short journey for me to imagine that the coven is exploring my body. Fingering me, entering me.
My knees are up and spread now. I can see the wild plunges of the shadows on my inner thighs and my mind gives them corporeal sensation. I’m being wildly fingered. Somewhere in that hinterland between wakefulness and sleep, I’m being fucked by the branches of a tree and the dark-robed arms of the witches.
Without laying a single finger on myself, I cum, pressing myself into the bed just as I would if someone was making me cum. I bite the corner of the duvet to suppress the cries of passion threatening to erupt from my throat. Suppressing all vocals during an orgasm always enhances it for me, and tonight it seems to light a raging torrent of lava between my legs.
Eventually, the wildly panting shadows retreat as the moon passes behind the house. I’m left covered in a fine dew of perspiration and I drift back into sleep’s warm embrace. I turn onto my side and wrap myself around Emily.
Slitely irritated, I feel something gritty under me and I brush it away. As sleep claims me, my last conscious thought is “Was that toast crumbs….or tree bark?”
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