by Susan Donym
Jenna sat there for a moment with her heart racing. Paul was coming over. They were going to have sex. For real.
This was the most insane thing she'd ever done. Sure, Paul seemed nice in his IMs, but she didn't really know that much about him. Maybe he was really a psycho, and he was going to come over and murder her with a hammer or something.
Jenna groaned, hating herself. She went to the front door and stood there staring at her locks. Part of her was sorely tempted to bolt them shut, turn out the lights and go hide in her bedroom closet, ignoring Paul's knocks on her front door.
But another part of her, the part below the waist, was all tingly and excited. She was gonna have sex! Wild, kinky, invisible fetish sex with a boy she didn't even know!
She hurried into the bathroom, pulled her dress over her head and tossed it into the hamper, following it a moment later with her bra and panties. She went to the bathroom mirror and stood there with her hands on her hips, giving herself a quick once-over. She turned this way and that, striking sexy poses as she sucked in her soft little tummy.
“Not too bad,” she told herself. “Paul's totally gonna want this. I mean, I'm cute, and I have awesome boobs. These are, like, porn star boobs.”
She gave her boobs a little shake in the mirror.
“I bet I could even be a stripper,” she said. “Like, for real. I could go down to that gross place I drive by on the way to work, and I could just say I wanna be a stripper, and they'd hire me for sure. Then I could just dance around on the stage every night and work the pole, and all the guys would be creaming their jeans for me.”
She danced for a moment, watching her reflection and trying to sex it up, but then she stopped and slumped her shoulders.
“Some stripper I'd be,” she said. “I can't even dance for myself, without feeling like an idiot.”
Jenna glanced at the clock. It had been a few minutes since she talked to Paul, and she had no idea when he would get here. She probably didn't even have time to shave her legs.
She started up the water for a shower, then when it was warm enough she stepped in and started to lather up. Right now she was more anxious than horny, so to get herself warmed up she lingered on her boobs as she rubbed the soap into her skin, her fingertips circling the sensitive tips of her nipples. She closed her eyes and imagined it like they'd talked about during the video chat.
She was going to get out of the shower, naked and wet, only to find an invisible stranger there waiting for her.
As she pictured the scene she worked her breasts with one hand while the other found her damp fuzz down below. It felt good, but there was no time to linger. For all she knew, Paul might be waiting in the living room already! The possibility was thrilling. And terrifying. Mostly terrifying.
She switched off the water, grabbed a towel to dry off and then stepped out of the shower into her bathroom. She listened, not hearing anything from the living room.
“Paul? I just got out of the shower. You out there?”
She didn't hear anything. But something seemed weird. She had the funniest feeling, like she was being watched. Like somebody was in the room with her.
She reached out, and her hand seemed to brush something fleshy, like somebody's shoulder. But there was nobody there.
As she was standing there gawking at the empty air she felt something soft, warm and moist on her lips. A kiss.
Her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped, looking around. She was all alone in the bathroom. It had to have been some weird, random little muscle twitch in her lips, and it only felt like a kiss. There was no way it could be...
But then she got kissed again, with a little smack sound. There were lips touching her lips, the warmth of somebody's breath on her cheeks. And then it was gone.
She looked around the room frantically, then she rushed to the mirror, brushing her wet hair out of her face. She made faces at herself, pulling at her lips and pinching them and waiting to see if they twitched like that again, twitched so it felt like she was being kissed. She puckered up, opened her mouth wide and touched her mouth over and over again. But the kiss feeling didn't happen again.
Then she turned away from the mirror, and got kissed a third time.
“OK,” she said. “What in the fuck..?”
She felt a soft little kiss on her cheek.
“Hey! What's..?”
She felt another soft little kiss, on her other cheek.
“Whoa! Come on...”
She felt a kiss on the tip of her nose, and another on her forehead.
With a little squeal of alarm her hands flew over her face, blocking any more kisses.
“OK,” she said loudly. “Whatever is going on, it's really freaking me out! So, whatever is kissing me, stop it!”
She heard something below her, the squeak of bare feet on the bathroom tile. She felt warm breath in her ear, and heard the whisper of a familiar man's voice.
“Please...”
Jenna looked in the direction where the voice had come from, seeing only the doorway that led back to her bedroom.
Her mind raced for a moment, and then she answered the voice, acting on pure instinct.
“OK.”
Suddenly she felt a hand on her breast, squeezing. Looking down she could her breast swaying and bouncing, as if a hand was really touching it. But nobody was there.
She was getting felt up, by an invisible man. Either she'd gone insane, or Paul was telling the truth.
Paul was invisible. And he was there, in her bathroom. Right now.
“Oh, my,” she said, her voice trembling with an excitement bordering on panic. “S-somebody seems to be touching me. B-but, I'm all alone...”
She felt a hand grasp her other breast too, and she looked down to see both of her breasts heaving and swaying against her ribs, the soft flesh rippling as it was squeezed by invisible fingers.
She staggered back slightly, steadying herself against the counter. Her skin felt wet and hot and she wasn't sure if she was still soaked from the shower or if she was drenched with fresh sweat. Just for a moment, she kind of wondered if she was about to pass out.
It couldn't be real. Maybe she'd fallen in the shower and conked her skull on the tile, and this was all her dream as she lay bleeding on the floor.
Or maybe she'd wanted an invisible lover so much for so long, she'd finally lost her mind.
She felt herself get kissed again. Then another kiss.
“P-Paul..?”
Something warm and wet was slipping between her lips, something slippery and wonderfully urgent. A tongue. She parted her lips, accepting it, welcoming it. She was kissing a man she couldn't see. She was getting felt up and French kissed by a real, live invisible man.
Boom. She came, just like that. Just from kissing, and invisible hands on her breasts.
She heard herself making silly little whimpering orgasm noises as she was kissed and groped, and she was self-conscious for just a moment before her orgasm seemed to double back on itself and she either had two orgasms in a row or one really big orgasm that went on for so long it seemed like it would never stop.
“Oh, God,” she said between kisses. “Coming. Coming now. Coming.”
She was still woozy when she felt hands on her shoulders, leading her over to the sink and bending her forward. She grasped the edge of the sink with both hands just as she felt her feet being spread apart, her thighs parted until she was in the perfect position for a standing fuck, from behind.
Oh, God. Were they really gonna fuck? She wanted to fuck, but she hadn't shaved her legs and she was probably somewhere between prickly and fuzzy. Plus she'd felt a little crampy this afternoon, and she was worried she might be getting her period. It wasn't due until next week, but sometimes it came early. What if she was finally having sex with a real live invisible man, but then she got her stupid period and started bleeding all over the place?
She was worrying about getting her period, when she was about to get fucked by an invi
sible man. She must have lost her mind. It was madness, all of it.
She felt fingers, tickling her pubic hair. Stroking it, like a kitty. She moved to spread her feet farther apart, tilting her ass up slightly. She was very ready to get fucked now.
“Paul?”
The hand between her thighs moved in deeper, a palm squeezing the little mound of her pussy.
“Oh, God,” she said. “What the hell is this? What are you..?”
Still holding on to the sink, she bent so she could look down between her legs. As the invisible hand worked her pussy her springy little thatch of pubic hair was moving seemingly all by itself, like tall grass swaying in the breeze. She felt a warm hand on her soft tummy and she could see her little pot belly sway and jiggle, the impression of invisible fingers in her flesh. Five little indentations, four fingers and a thumb.
Then there was a finger, inside her. Or was it a finger? Did Paul just stick his cock in, or was she just being fingered?
Yes, it was a finger, slender and flexible. She shuddered and moaned, terrified but more aroused than she'd ever felt in her life. She was getting fingered by an invisible man, a lifetime of frustrated fantasies coming true in an instant. She'd ached for this, never believing it could really happen. It was like finding out Santa Claus was real or something.
But it was happening. There was an invisible man behind her, his breath hot on the back of her neck as he rubbed her tummy and plunged a finger deep in her pussy.
Suddenly she found herself being stood up straight, spinning away from the sink and then being French kissed again. She glanced sideways in the mirror, seeing herself standing there with her face flushed pink and her mouth hanging open stupidly, her wet lips seeming to work by themselves as she accepted the tongue in her mouth. As she watched her left breast jumped and jiggled, rolling in gentle circles then shuddering and swaying. She was hypnotized, watching herself get felt up by invisible hands.
She was about to come again. Back in college she'd come twice in a night, with a boyfriend who was kind of an idiot jerk but who really knew how to eat pussy. Other than that her orgasms had always been frustratingly elusive things, and usually the only way she could come was if she was alone and jerking off while she thought about invisible sex stuff.
She'd already come twice tonight, maybe three times depending on how you were counting. There was no way she could possibly come again, especially not so soon after the last time...
Boom, she came again. And she was making those dumb whimpering noises again, but even louder this time. She never made noises like that with other boys, but now she'd finally met an invisible boy and she couldn't stop whimpering like a little dog locked out in the yard.
She was dizzy with pleasure, so dizzy she was honestly worried she was about to fall over and hit her head on the sink. Her invisible lover seemed to sense it, and she felt herself being led by the wrist back to her bed.
She landed on her mattress, then she felt the mattress shudder and squeak as a man she couldn't see landed there beside her. She blinked, trying to regain her senses. She squinted at the empty place where she knew a man was, as if he would come into focus if she just focused hard enough.
“Wait,” she said. “Paul? Are you..?”
She felt hands on her knees, spreading her thighs, then a glorious, unbearable tickling in her pussy, something wet and wiggly penetrating her. A tongue, inside.
She was being eaten. An invisible man was eating her pussy, and all she could do was lie there helplessly, groaning and moaning. She glanced down to see her thatch of pubic hair swaying again, sweeping left and right as an invisible tongue explored her. She could hear her invisible man gasping as he feasted on her, his breath coming in warm gusts against her thighs.
She had a million questions, but she was too horny to speak and she didn't want to do anything to risk losing this moment. This was her ultimate fantasy granted, her dearest dream come true, and if she thought about it too much it she might ruin it all. This fantasy would pop like a soap bubble and she'd find herself back in drab, lonesome reality, all alone in bed with no invisible hands reaching out to grope her from the dark.
The tongue in her pussy traveled north, finding her clit and gently circling, flicking it. She clutched the mattress with trembling fingers, almost sobbing from pleasure, and felt herself coming yet again. She'd come more in the last five minutes than she'd come in the last six months. It was like she just kept coming and coming, like making love with this mysterious, ghostly presence was mostly coming with only brief intermissions when she wasn't coming.
Finally her latest orgasm peaked and she lay there wrecked and ruined, sweaty and limp all over, practically boneless, more puddle than girl.
“Oh. God.” She wasn't even trying to talk, but the words were just coming out. “That. Was. Oh. God.”
She reached out blindly and somehow got a good grip of Paul's cock on her first try. Her little fingers were wrapped tight around something big, warm and meaty, and as she tugged it she heard a man gasp.
“There you are,” she said with a smile. “I've got you now, you naughty little poltergeist. You won't get away from me this time.”
As she leaned up from the bed, her empty hand full of hard cock, she saw the pillows squishing against the headboard as her invisible friend leaned back. She gently felt her way across his body as she got into position between his thighs, then she leaned in close and started to suck his invisible dick.
She glanced over at the full-length mirror beside her bed. She appeared to be all alone in her bedroom, bent forward weirdly and making strange kissy faces and gulping noises. It was like some bizarre mime performance, like when somebody walked against the imaginary wind or pretended like they were trapped in a box, except she was giving head.
In the mirror she could see her cheek bulging against the cock, her lips stretched into a wide O. She could feel Paul's cock against her lips and teeth, she could taste cock and even smell it. But when she opened her eyes, the impression against the pillows was the only indication that she wasn't alone in this bed.
She could feel that her invisible lover had a really big dick, and all of a sudden she kind of wished she could see it. But she reminded herself that she'd seen plenty of dicks in her day, and this was what she'd really wanted all along: a nice, big, invisible dick.
How had Paul done this? He'd said a bunch of stuff about working at a lab and being an inventor, but she'd thought that was just part of their sexting play. But he'd actually done it somehow. It was this bizarre, totally impossible thing. But here he was now, invisible in her bed. For real.
That was, unless she'd just lost her mind and she was hallucinating this whole thing. Actually, that sounded far more likely.
But if this was madness, she wanted to stay mad forever.
A hand touched her arm, rolling her over onto her back. She felt a soft kiss on the lips, then a heavy weight on top of her. The mattress was shaking beneath them as her invisible lover fumbled, and she felt something stiff and damp tapping clumsily against her thighs, just missing her pussy.
“Oh, goodness,” she said with a giggle. “Poor invisible boy can't even see his own cock, to stick it in. You need a little help, buddy? Here, let me have it.”
She reached down between their bodies, fumbling for a moment before she grasped his cock. Then she closed her eyes, concentrating, as she guided his cock inside. She felt it slide in, then more and more of it kept arriving. Her invisible lover was almost too big, but not quite. As Jenna saw it, almost too big was just the right size.
An invisible man who was really hung. She'd definitely lost her mind. There was no way anything this awesome could ever happen for real.
As the invisible man began to fuck her she felt dazed and distant. It was all too surreal, she couldn't believe it was really happening. She felt herself being fucked, but she was all alone in bed. This whole thing was simply impossible!
But then a little of the fuck's good feeling slippe
d through her incredulity, and once it got through it was like a dam burst and she was flooded with ecstasy, practically drowning in it. She was being fucked, by an invisible man. For real.
She lay back on the bed, her arms spread against the pillows and her thighs parted, watching her tits and belly jiggle as she was fucked by a ghost.
Was she about to come again? No, it was impossible. A girl could only come so many times in a night...
And she was coming again. She tried to keep it kind of quiet this time, to not make those embarrassing orgasm noises, but she couldn't help herself. She just felt too good, and she couldn't stop whimpering and whining.
She felt Paul throb inside her, and something about it told her he was right on the brink.