Saturday, November 24, 2007

Windowless Love Child #10

Amanda almost fell in love again. She has just returned from a two hour-long walk. Amanda intends to lie entirely still for exactly three hours without falling asleep. A rapid succession of shallow breaths help her ease out of the anxiety to move, to scratch the nagging mosquito bite on her left ear she received in her sleep the pervious night. There is no music in playing in the room where Amanda lies. She is five minutes in, and feels a little burst of accomplishment.

Amanda lets emotions glide through her. Soft, subtle ones. They are the kinds of emotions one might not even recognize they were feeling if they were out and about. These emotions require absolute nothingness, or as close to that as any person can come.

“Windows of opportunity,” Amanda thinks to herself. Then she thinks of nothing and she feels a very slight nausea creeps into her throat. Amanda desperately fights gagging, because that too would be moving. There is a cool breeze wafting into her room from the window and hitting the door, seemingly stopping dead there. Amanda has goose bumps and would like to pull a blanket over herself. She does not move.

Amanda thinks about being almost in love again. Amanda’s cunt becomes wet. She has to fight to urge to writhe and claw at herself. Breath is becoming labored, very small amounts of sweat bead at her temples. A loving hate surfaces. Amanda grows increasingly wet as she thinks some more about windows of opportunities, about how often they close. Amanda is loosing her tolerance for not moving.

Without much thought, Amanda’s hand sinks down between her thighs. Her fingers move in and around her cunt. She avoids touching her clit at all costs. She occasionally pokes the first knuckle into herself, and then quickly retracts it, filled with shame and guilt. Then she does it again, an additional finger each time. Amanda’s left hand migrates away from her left nipple and down to join the affections of her right. She pushes three of her fingers deep inside herself and is a little surprised by the texture, as she always is. Her left hand gently skims the outer areas of her cunt. Amanda uses her left forefinger to touch her clit. First she makes it sufficiently 
lubricated by letting the finger join its dexteritous comrades inside of her. Then with her right hand still immersed, she delicately circles her clit, to avoid too much stimulation, which can be quite painful. Amanda explores herself this way for about 3 and a half minutes, almost orgasming a few times, but holding back as well as she could. She takes her right hand and removes it from herself and drifts to her asshole and shoves her middle finger exactly two knuckles in, quickly and without hesitation and at that moment whimpers pathetically and spasms slightly.

She lies on the bed quivering, ashamed for another two hours.


I was advised by two people not to blog this one, as it is too smutty and might invite a bad readership. I think the two people who told me this are both very kind people, who were only looking to be helpful and protective in a small way. I am posting it anyways because I mean, everybody needs a little smut in their lives.


karissa said...

smut isnt always a bad thing.

i want to wrap this series up and peek at it when ive lost hope for the creativity and meaning of people.

Kendra Grant Malone said...


meaning is a funny word. i think its pretty well established that meaning is only what one individual imbues into an action- that has become a very common understanding. so why the fuck not imbue all sorts of wonderful things into the actions we do in a private setting? to me, to suggest a lack of meaning is doing just the contrary, imbuing a lack thereof.

i had a conversation with a man the other night. he said to me "i dont mean anything i say". so i said to him "is that relative to what you just told me?", and he said "yes". we both cackled for a long while. it was nice, we were not talking about anything at all.

karissa said...

that makes sense. though at times i get all angsty and cant seem to put my own meaning into anything, so it takes looking at a pretty or funny or interesting group of words from someone else to remind me meaning is there.

talking about nothing is nice.