Deep Inside Read Free Page B

hand to her eyes and mouthed back the words, “Looks pretty on you.”
    During the class, I noticed that Sarah was making the strange little shapes she always did. It didn’t matter if she was molding clay, or painting, or doing watercolors. It was always the same—they looked human, but with three eyes and long extended limbs.
    Sarah worked on her little creations very hard, and her work on them was extremely detailed. They looked like their limbs had been twisted so hard that the veins were popping through the skin. She modeled the flesh so it had scales and hideous knobs.
    I myself loved being creative, and today amused myself by painting large, swirly, swoopy abstract images. As I moved with my brush, my imagination drifted off.
    In my mind, I was in an English garden. I saw myself in one of those large, flower-strewn hats and a long white dress. There were flowers bordering an expanse of grass. It must be spring, I thought, because the air had a newborn quality to it, not plumped up the way that summer air can be, but like a first, pure breath.
    And all of the blooms were shades of purple: rows of deep blue-red roses, lines of lavender tulips, beds of white and purple striped petunias. I walked among the abundance of flowers, strolling, finding a Victorian parasol in my right hand.
    I caught a glimpse of my skirt and saw that it was transparent and realized I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I could see my pubic hair. I gathered my voluminous sheer skirt around me, bunching it up to cover myself as best I could.
    And yet when I glanced around the garden, I saw dozens of aristocratic women, all adorned in the same sheer way. You could see their pubic hair, and their breasts. They wore their revealing skirts proudly. They strolled elegantly, carrying parasols. They wore enormous hats that had long feathers and ribbons.
    They held their heads high, so why shouldn’t I?
    And there was Sarah, laughing and chatting with them. What a glorious day! I was so happy to be there. Sarah waved at me, her own dress not white, but a stunning shade of lavender and I could glimpse her body through it. She raised a parasol and flirtingly twirled it, while smiling enigmatically. Then she walked on, winding her way around the lawn. There was a mansion behind her—one of those many-turreted and -chimneyed things.
    I suddenly realized that it was Sarah’s family estate. How nice of her to have invited me over! I was having the loveliest afternoon.
    I waved at Sarah, let my skirts waft in the gentle breezes, and leaned down to take in a rose. I startled at its perfume. It was exactly the way my pussy smelled when I had touched it in the bathroom, but instead of wanting to disguise the odor, I breathed it in.
    I saw in the distance that Sarah’s funny little humanoids were in the garden, too, serving tea, playing croquet—but they didn’t seem odd. They seemed as elegant as everything else.
    I felt something nipping lightly at my ankles. Could it be an insect? It was a far more pleasant bite than a bug or fly. When I looked down, I saw that some of Sarah’s humanoids were running in and out of my skirts.
    At first they sent delicate itchy shivers through me. Suddenly, my imagination broke free. It, rather than me, now ran the show.
    I tried to regain control. But all went dark around me. I blinked my eyes, trying to reconnect with the reality of my art class. I couldn’t.
    I was in a pitch-black place where I could see nothing.
    The little humanoid things now swarmed over me. A couple of them scrambled up my thighs and humped me the way our family’s dachshund often did. They were making their way to my crotch and I swatted at them, but the feeling was strangely good, like being tickled, or loved. It made me giggle and swoon. As I did, my pussy relaxed, and I could feel several of the creatures scurry into my cunt.
    â€œYou can’t go in there!” I cried.
    Yet my pussy had a mind