Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Phantasmagoria Copyright 2003 Jennifer Ann



   It seemed so surreal and dream like.  I felt strange and detached.  I
was in a room, this much I knew.  There were other women in the room with
me.  I sensed them rather than saw or heard anything that would have cause
me to have noticed their presence.  If I looked around, all I saw was light
and mist.

   There was no sound and everything was misty and hazy.  It was like being
in a smoke filled room but there was no smell of smoke.  Or, imagine a room
with so much dust in the air, the light sort of outlines everything with
halos or auras but obscures the details.  The light was bright but not
harsh on the eyes.  It didn't seem to come from any one direction or single
source but from everywhere.  There were no colors other than black and
white.

   The people I saw - or men I should say, they were all men - dark against
the bright mist and other than broad physical proportions, featureless. 
They never spoke.  However, as it may sound, when a man came up to me I
could sense his emotions and my emotions would seem to synchronize with
his.

   Let me try to explain.  Remember, I said I felt detached.  Somehow, I
knew I was there to be assessed, to be bartered or purchased.  That didn't
upset me in the least.  It seemed so natural, as did everything else.  I
wasn't upset, pleased, excited or anxious.  I was disconnected from my
emotions.  I was just there.  Time did not exist.  I could have been there
minutes, an hour or longer, I do not know.  I was not aware of the passing
of time.

   During that timeless interval, a dozen or so men approached me-one at a
time-and looked me over.  At the time, I knew I was being appraised for
something.  But what for?  Again, I didn't know.  I didn't care.  Of the
twelve or so, three of these men stood out from the rest.

   The first, I call the accountant.  He was tall and thin.  He looked me
over for what seemed like minutes; seemly, inspecting every feature,
looking for imperfections and comparing me to the other women.  He reminded
me of a bookkeeper from a Charles Dickens novel, sitting at his tall desk
and scrutinizing the figures, except in this case the figure was mine.

   As he looked me over, I sensed admiration mixed with apprehension, a
fear of missing something better.  I found myself ambivalent as to whether
I wanted him to choose me or not.  I sensed he felt that he might find
someone better.  Sure enough, he left thinking that he could always come
back, if nothing better materialized.

   Genghis Khan was another memorable shopper.  Now, it might be unfair to
compare this guy to Genghis Khan, especially since I never knew Genghis
Khan.  However, whenever I think of him, I get an image of Genghis Khan in
my mind.  He was much shorter than my accountant and much broader in the
shoulders.  His profile, which was all I could see, was stocky.

   When he scrutinized me, it was much quicker and less for the details and
more for masochistic qualities.  My mental senses were overwhelmed with
deep broodings and torment.  I found myself wanting to be punished and
controlled.  My out-of-body sense of detachment was resigned to going with
this brute and being his slave, sexual or otherwise.  Abruptly, he turned
and left, taking his brooding tension with him.  Several others came and
went before Adonis arrived.

   I was in my misty cocoon of detachment when Adonis walked up.  He had an
athletic look.  His athletic looking shoulders and chest tapered to a trim
waist and hips that flared slightly at his thighs.  I immediately felt a
flip-flop in my stomach and tingling down below.

   He looked me over with a look that seemed to undress me.  I found myself
wondering about his manhood and, what he would look like, what it would
feel like in my hands.  The more he looked at me the more I tingled and the
wetter I became.  I saw myself joined with him physically as one.  I wanted
him.  I want to give myself to him.

   Reaching toward me he offered me his hand.  I extended my hand toward
his.  His warm and strong fingers closed around mine.  I felt light headed.



   *********************************************************

   Instantly, I found myself standing with him in a different room.  This
room was darker and warmer in a sense of coziness.  The light was still
source less but it was a warm candle like glow.  I sensed that there was a
bed behind me.  I was in a bedroom.  He stood silently looking down at me.

   Slowly, he reached out and pushed one of straps of my shift off my
shoulder.  He did the same with the other strap.  Gently he slid them down
my arms.  The silken shift slowly slid off my shoulders, over my breasts
and hips to puddle on the floor around my feet.  I was wearing nothing
beneath the simple shift.

   His eyes took in my body, as he looked me up and down, much like
earlier. This time he seemed pleased with what he saw.  I could sense his
desire building and I grew heady with my feminine power.

   The sense of detachment was gone.  My senses were now heightened.  I
stood there wanting him to touch me.  Finally, he leaned forward and kissed
me softly on the neck, sending a chill down my shoulders and arms.  Slowly,
he kissed up to my ears and back down to my shoulders.  My legs began to
quiver and my womanhood started to assert itself.

   He continued to kiss his way downward.  Kissing circles around and
around my breasts, he moved ever inward until he reached a nipple.  Then
drawing it into his mouth he sucked gently, sending waves of pleasure
throughout my body which focused between my legs.  I moaned a soft moan of
pleasure and felt as if I was almost in pain.  My knees wanted to buckle.
Blood rushed to my vulva, engorging it and nature's lubricants gushed
forth. I couldn't take his gentle teasing any more.

   Dropping to my knees I reached for his manhood.  I found that he too was
without clothing; his erection was proof of his excitement and desire. 
Taking him in my hands I buried my nose in his pubic hair, drawing in his
aroma.  I kissed his penis up and down its length, lost to all but the
feeling of this wonderful male member in my hands and against my cheek.

   Opening my mouth, I took him in.  A moan escaped his lips as I circled
my tongue around his head and sucked.  His moan encouraged me to pleasure
him more vigorously.  While stroking his shaft with my hand, I took one of
his balls into my mouth and sucked gently.  I was rewarded with a gasp. 
Wetting his shaft with my salvia I began to suck him more vigorously while
moving my hand up and down his shaft.  Soon he was rocking his hips forward
trying to force himself deeper into my mouth.  I guess he too reached the
point of pain; he pushed my head backward, freeing himself of my mouth. 
Reaching under my arms he lifted me and sat me on the edge of the bed. 
Then kneeling, he spread my legs and buried his face between them.

   My vulva was so engorged and sensitive that the first touch of his mouth
on my clit caused a gasp to escape my lips.  His tongue made a couple of
circles and buried itself in me as his mouth caressed my clit.  Within
seconds I was rocking my hips and grinding my pelvis into his face. 
Quickly the wave climbed and climbed, carrying me with it until it broke
and I orgasmed, cumming in his face.

   With my climax, his needs and passion took over.  In what seemed like
one graceful motion, he stood, reached under my armpits, lifted and shoved
me backwards toward the head of the bed.  Moving forward, his thighs forced
my legs further apart, opening me for the invasion.

   As the muscular silhouette moved forward to cover my body with his, I
wanted nothing more than to give myself to him.  To be taken and taken
hard. I was his and I knew it.

   His lips crushed mine just moments before his tongue and male organ
claimed me for their own.  The fluid motion ended with his cock buried
deeply inside of me, spreading my pussy walls and filling me totally.

   I held on to his muscular forearms, pulled my knees up high, exposing
and offering him my total being.  Using a smooth rhythm he drove himself
deep into me, then pulled back, only to drive forward again.  By the third
plunge, I was thrusting my body forward and meeting him in the middle.  Our
pelvises pounded into each other.  My head came forward as I squeezed him
tightly, while my breasts rhythmically followed his thrusts.

   Four, five, six thrusts.  I started building again.  Seven, eight times.
I was close to the edge.  Nine, ten, eleven and I went over.  This time it
wasn't a wave, it was Niagara Falls.  My fingers dug into his forearms and
I cried out, as my head whipped from side to side.

   My orgasm was so intense that I didn't notice him cumming until I
realized he had stopped his thrusting and his head was tossed back as he
ejaculated within me.  Then he would almost pull out, stop and drive
forward again.  Like a slut, I loved it.  I continued to squeeze him,
trying to get him to give me every drop of his semen.  I wanted it all.

   When he was spent, he slowly lowered himself into my arms.  We lay
together contented, in each other's arms.



   *******************************************************

   I awoke with sunlight filling the room.  For a moment, I was disoriented
and lost.  I remembered the night before.

   Where was I?  What happened last night?

   My brain cleared and realized that I was in my bedroom, my own bed.

   What a dream, I thought.  It seemed so intense...so... real.

   Then came an urgent call from my bladder.  I was moving toward the edge
of the bed when I felt it.  A quick pass of my hand between my legs and a
glance at the soiled sheets proved my suspicions correct.

   I got out of the bed and was rushing toward the bathroom when something
caught my eye.  Stopping, I turned my head and saw lying on the floor at
the foot of the bed, a circle of fabric, a simple cream-colored silk shift.