My imagination floats, and communes with the night.
Oh, but it’s warm tonight…..so warm that moisture is lifting from the meadow forming tendrils of mist that seem to drift around the plant life, taking on the appearance of ghosts.
Every inch of me wants to be part of it, so I leave my sleeping Emily and walk naked through the darkened home. The land upon which it is built has history. Tribes of early humans lived here, and there have been archeological digs on neighbouring properties that revealed burials, pottery, and evidence of the first communities eeking out a living from the unforgiving land.
My eyes are fixed on the silver-grey tendrils lit only by the moon. They are exquisite in their form and movement. Even as I climb the style I imagine they pause to examine this stranger among them. The very centre of the meadow is nothing but close-cropped grass and it is there that I lie down. The grass is still warm from the heat of the day, and, for now, I have it to myself.
The silence is tangible. It envelopes me like a cloak and slowly, as the eddies and currents of my passing cease, the whisps peek out from the wildflowers to explore me. Now and then one seems to drift over me between me and the moon, making it less defined, more ethereal. The slight drop in temperature as it passes makes me wonder if, in fact, these are the spirits of long dead souls.
I feel as if my entire body is in ultra-high resolution. I can feel them touching me. I spread my legs. My clit feels suddenly cooler. One of them is there, touching me, sensing me, exploring my wetness. I spread wider, inviting him to enter me. My right hand drifts to my clitoris and begins a slow ballet of pleasure.
The orgasm builds, slowly at first, but soon passes the point of no return. As I allow it to take me, I offer it to those incorporeal souls around me…for those with no earthly body. Let them rejoice in it, share in it, commune with the living.
Now even the whisps of mist feel warm, feel thicker, as if they are taking on substance.
I walk away and feel them touching my sweet-covered back in silent thanks.
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