Author Topic: Aphrodisia  (Read 2843 times)

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Offline Saint

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Aphrodisia
« on: March 23, 2015, 01:25:55 AM »
[Blurb to go here when I find it.]


Time to populate the Bedroom, I  think.  I will be continuing this story, now that I have readers again.

Enjoy.  Again. 
:owlfly1:

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Offline Saint

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Prologue
« Reply #1 on: March 23, 2015, 01:40:58 AM »
Prologue

Part 0 – The boring bit at the start.

ThoughtJournal activate.  Scribe mode on.

I'm Cy Maria Trueman.  There are three things I hate in life.  The first is my name.  I wouldn't have minded 'Cyrus Mark Trueman' or 'Cybil Martin Trueman'.  But no, of course not; my dumbass mother had to give me two letters, and just to add a bit of overkill, a girl's name.  The second thing I hate is my dumbass mother.  I don't have a sympathy-grabbing story about her; she's not a drunkard like any other hated mother in a story; she never beat me; she didn't neglect me.  I just don't like the bitch.  Actually, come to think of it, I never even had a reason. 

Third is my complete and utter social inadequacy.  I'm the sort of guy who'll sit in class with his head in the textbook, then go and sit in the corner table at lunch.  If there was an award for 'Least sociable person', It'd have my name written all over it.  Even then I doubt I'd go to the ceremony to receive it.  I left school two years ago, got an apartment, and went into the world of work, but got fired a few days back for being rude to customers.  In my defence, the woman was a complete asshole.  Believe me, anybody else would have ignored her too.

Anyway, I'll tell you the rest of the story later, but I want to get right into testing this thing out.  I got an email about testing something called a ThoughtJournal, and even though I'm normally sceptic about shit like this, £5,000 is a lot of money for me.  It seems to be working so far.  It's even making my thoughts coherent, somehow, almost as if I'm actually just sitting at a laptop now and typing this up.

So yeah, there's my backstory, I suppose.  There's a list of stuff I should test with the ThoughtJournal, and the first thing is a short quiz thing, so I guess I'll try that, as it seems like a good opening thing.
 
About.me quiz opened.

Name:
Cy Maria Trueman

Age:
19

Occupation:
Unemployed. ¬_¬ (Oh, hey wow, apparently I'm thinking in emoticons now. :o  Hm.  I'll try and turn that setting off later.Emoticons setting turned off.)

Favourite band:
Memories of daybreak.

Favourite colour:
Green

Number of relationships:
None.

Number of sexual relationships:
Fuck off, stupid machine.
About.me quiz closed. Changes saved

I'll do that later, apparently the journal's getting a kick out of insulting me.  Anyway, the thing works, so yeah, I'm gonna go to sleep now.  Where's the power button on this thing?  If I think about it to turn it on, maybe to turn it off I think about it turning off...

ThoughtJournal deactivate.  Session saved.

ThoughtJournal activate.  Scribe mode on.


I wonder if there's a way to set that thing to sound better...  Sort of better than just me rambling...  I'm sure the instructions mentioned an 'author-mode'

Author mode on

I decided not to dwell upon that further; I'd simply sort it out when I woke up; it'd been turned off for the night, and quite frankly, I couldn't be bothered to turn it back on.  Time to see what my dream would bring me.  Maybe an escape from the world I'd yet to relish.

End of Prologue.
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Want to play DnD?  Check out: The Lost Treasure: A TC DnD Campaign
Don't want to play DnD? That's fine too, here's a short set in the world instead: A Tale of The Darkest Tome
How about helping me build a world From the Ground Up?

Offline Saint

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Chapter 1
« Reply #2 on: March 23, 2015, 01:42:59 AM »
Chapter 1

Part 1 – The first dream of Lucy.

There was something about the light in that place.  Something abnormal that was obvious right away.  I wasn't in the real world anymore, I was in my dream.  I came into awareness in a room, and quite simply, there could be no more description of it.  Nothing more than a room.  No windows, no wallpaper, no carpeting.  Just a room.  Just as I was contemplating how terrible my imagination was, I turned around to discover a door.

Not really wanting to spend the seven hours before I woke up in pure boredom, I opened it.  Predictably, it led to another room, though this one was suitably more furnished.  It was a large room, yet somehow retained the warm, cosy feel of a smaller one.  The floor beneath my feet was coated with a thick, rugged carpet, the sort that crept through my toes- at which point I realised I was only wearing a shirt and boxers.  The walls were painted a mellow red.  (Technically, it was a darker pink, but to ease my manliness, let's call it red.)

Beside me was a table, beside that was a bed, and beside that was another door.  I found it strange that I should dream of a bed, but I let it pass me over and looked down to the table, upon which was a glass of whitish water.  A single drawer was embedded in the table, so out of curiosity, I pried it open.  Empty.  How disappointing.  Time to try the other door, I thought to myself.  As I walked around the bed, however, the door opened.

Stepping into the room was absolutely everything I could ever possibly wish for.  She wore a large t-shirt that stretched down to her thigh, and as far as I could tell, nothing more.  Pale skin with a very slight natural tan.  Cared-for hands with manicured nails that weren't long, painted, or fake.  A soft chin with the beginnings of a smile gracing it.  Legs that looked warm, smooth, inviting.  Small, but seemingly developed breasts.  And that hair.

That hair.  It was the most most phenomenal I'd ever seen.  Right at the roots, it was a mixture of brunette and dark blonde, then on the way out, it began to meld into a lively red, growing in vibrancy as it trickled down her body.  Passing over her shoulders, it lightened very slightly, then finally as it approached the tips, just skimming the bottom of her back, it hit a thin section of jagged black.  As she turned her head toward me and the hairs slid over each other, the colours seem to shift around in perfect fluidity.  It was as if she'd gone to a salon and asked for her hair to be dyed 'liquid beauty'.

This was the girl of my dreams in ever sense of the phrase.  And that's what made it so perfect; this was a dream.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her soft voice caressing the air it filled.

“I'm not sure,” I responded, “Can I help you?”

She looked me up an down, and I realised again that I was lacking trousers.

“Well I like what I see, Cy.”  As she formed my name, her smooth lips hypnotised me.  The way they pushed Cy out was like she was kissing my name.  I stopped for a very brief moment to wonder how she knew it, then remembered I was dreaming.

I stepped towards this mystery girl, unable to take my eyes off of her.  There wasn't anywhere that kept my attention before some other part of her perfection stole it away.  She reached out her arm, and I took her hand.  It felt as soft as she was beautiful.  She squeezed my hand ever so gently.  She sat down on the bed.  I followed her down slowly.  She met my gaze.  Her eyes batted.  She smiled.  I melted.

“So who are you, then, pretty girl?”

She flushed, but quickly adjusted.  “Lucy.”

“Aw come on, don't I get any more than that?” I teased.

“Luchette Lotela.  Nineteen years, four months and six days old.  No parents.  Unemployed.  I spend most of my time in this bed.  Earliest memory is our first day of school.  Favourite band is Aphrodisia.  Second favourite is Memories of Daybreak.  Every part of me is made up of your ideal perception of a woman.  I love white furred animals.  Used to have a dog called Pixie.  I have exactly one mole on my body.  I always want more dresses.  I don't like high-heeled boots.  I've just got out of the shower.  My first orgasm was at age thirteen.  My second was three minutes later.  My third was a year after that.  You're the first person I've ever touched.  I'm not religious.  I'm ticklish under the armpits and on my bum.  My worst fear is losing a limb.  My favourite food is chocolate.  Favourite fruit is strawberries.  Don't have a favourite vegetable.  I'm open to new ideas.”  After this, she took a deep breath, then leaned in.  Her breasts pressed against my chest, and I could just vaguely feel nipples through the t-shirt.  She put my hand on her leg.  It was perfectly smooth.  I slowly passed my hand upwards.  She guided it around to the back of her thigh, and frictionlessly along until I reached her bare bottom.  “...and you were right.  I'm not wearing anything but this t-shirt.”

Part 2 – The time I almost became a rapist.

I woke up, barely remembering a half-naked cute girl and a bed.  A smile mounted my face groggily, but the more I tried to remember what had happened, the cloudier it got.  Whatever it was, it must have been good, because my soldier was standing to attention.  Since I had no work anymore, and there was nothing I had to actually get up for, I decided to amuse myself.

After sliding my boxer shorts down and off I took it in my hand, searching for a memory to work to.  By the time I'd started, an imagined image of Jenny Little was lying next to me, wearing those pink panties and lacy blue bra I'd seen once before.  Her hand moved down my chest and around my cock, and her other stroked my chest.  I couldn't remember much of her face, just her short-cut blonde hair and always-mascaraed eyes.

I imagined a kiss.  Moved my tongue around inside my mouth and thought of hers, all while still massaging myself down there.  She moved the hand away from my chest and down inside her panties and bit her lips.  I change the scene, it's now back when I found her like this.  It was the bakery I used to work at. New Year's Day.  In the storeroom at the back.  I was the first in that morning, and the night before had been the staff New Year's Eve party.  I hadn't gone.

When I walked into the storeroom, I saw her lying against the flour in nothing but that underwear.  I pictured her as she was, sleeping peacefully. One hand was in her panties, and they were just far enough down her thigh for me to see her pubic hair but nothing else.  It was completely unshaven, and a darker blonde than the rest of her hair.

My first thoughts were of going over there with my dick out and pulling those cute little panties the rest of the way down.  I almost did, too.  Walking over, I took in the rest of her.  She wasn't bony, but she wasn't fat, either.  Exactly how a girl should look.  She stirred and I worried she was going to wake up for a second, but she stayed sound asleep.

There was no way I could help myself.  When I leant over her, my hands placed themselves on her hip, and it was the first- and so far last -time I ever touched a girl in so little clothes.  I wanted to put my hands all over her, even though her skin was sticky with sweat.  I took a picture on my phone- okay, several pictures -and just left her there, at least having the courtesy to keep the other staff who came in that morning from going into the storeroom.

In my head, however, she woke up.  I handed her my jacket, but she threw it aside, unclipped her bra, slid out of her panties, and unzipped my flies.  She took my penis in her mouth, and mumbled through it that she'd always loved me, and she was glad I'd found her like this, because she was amazingly horny.  What can I say, I'm not the most creative of people.

She sucked my cock in my head while I tended to it in reality.  I had no idea how it felt, but I imagined it was about the same as masturbating in the shower.  I pictured that sensation, and then I took her head away from my cock.  She lay back on the flour, pulled my apron towards her, then wrapped her legs around my back.  I knew my cue- partly because I was imagining it myself -and slid my cock into her.

First she gasped, then remarked at how big I was.  She told me how she'd never had anyone go so far inside her before, and that she'd had a lot of men.  As I fucked her, she moaned like a banshee and panted like a dog.  She pulled my hair- so did I in reality -and dug her nails into my skin.  I was like a god inside her, she told me.  I imagined her orgasm.  Twice.  Three times.  Then finally, it was my turn.  She put her hands on my ass and told me to cum inside her.  I did.  It went all over my bedsheets, and I swore as I realised I'd have to clean them now.

Part 3 – The part where I realise I'm insane

I climbed out of bed, deciding to clean it later on, and threw on some trousers.  A long day of job hunting was ahead of me, and I really wasn't looking forward to it.  As I headed for the shower, I gave a thought to my situation.  What was I even doing?  I was looking for a job, but for what?  Well, money, I guess, but there was nothing interesting in my life.  I was getting on fine alone, and I was okay with that.  And there was the problem.  I was fine with it.  All my life, I'd been bullied and picked on and hated.  Not without cause, either; I was such a pathetic wretch, and I'd have bullied me too.

I hated people, and that's where my problem lay.  What good were videogames, movies, a television, hell, even the flat, if I had them to myself?  With a hefty sigh, I shrugged my clothes off and stepped into the shower, flinching as the cold water hit me just before it warmed.  I'd had guys in the past who I could bare to hang out with, but that hadn't lasted very long.  I'd had girls in the past who I've had crushes on, but none who I could actually see myself with.

As the water ran over me, I had the same mini-epiphany I had every morning.  I needed to be more sociable.  I wasn't going to do anything about it though.  I never did.  Once I was washed my body, I moved to my hair.  It was just short of shoulder length, and the remains of a long-ago applied black dye were brushing the tips.  The rest of it was an oak mess.  Maybe I'd be more employable if it was more presentable?  Again, a thought I had every morning and never acted on.

I stepped out of the shower and pulled on the same clothes I'd just taken off, then grabbed a coat and an umbrella and headed out into the cold.  I hated England like this.  Yesterday it had been bright sun, the day before torrential downpour.  Now it was... well, just cold.  Why couldn't I be in some Carribean island somewh...

Error.  User not in range.  Session saved.  ThoughtJournal auto-deactivating.

ThoughtJournal activate. Scribe mode on.

So it seems that this has been on all night.  And lucky thing, too, with that dream.  The best thing is that as I was reading it, I could actually remember the dream in full, as if I was there, and it had actually happened in the middle of the night.  Hold a sec, this sounds crappy, I prefer the author mode.

Author mode on.

As I commanded the machine to make my thoughts legible, I wondered briefly if there was a way to keep it that way.

Author mode added to default settings.

Pleasantly surprised, I set my thoughts back to the dream.  I vaguely recognised the girl.  It felt as if I'd known her for a long time, and just dropped out of contact with her.  Maybe I'd just dreamed of her before.  I knew one thing for sure- I was mortified that the dream had to end.  She was actually perfect in every way, and no matter how hard I thought, I couldn't think of a way to improve her.

Perfect body, young yet mature attitude, hypnotising hair, deep eyes, and most importantly, she actually liked me.  It was kind of sad that it was true, but the only person I've ever actually liked enough to talk to properly has been a product of my imagination.  An imaginary friend.  What was her name again?  I flicked back a few pages past grumbling about a job, the fantasy this morning, and then the speech she gave just before I woke up.

“Luchette Lotela.”  I remember the name.  Of course I remember the name, I invented it.  Her earliest memory was our first day of school.  Our first day.

When my mom dropped me off that day, I wasn't anywhere near as cynical as this.  In fact, after the teacher had introduced us to school, I went up to the first classmate I saw and said hi.  My life went downhill from there.  I grabbed her hand and shook it, but she screamed and punched my face.  I tried not to cry, but the teacher came over, saw her crying and asked what had gone on.  She told the teacher I grabbed her and scared her, and I was whisked over to the corner of the room and made to face the wall.

No-one was allowed to play with me that day, so I made up a friend of my own to play with.  Luchette Lotela.  We couldn't do much, but she kept me company.  By the time the next day came around, and I tried to make friends with people, everyone already had already picked their toys out of the toybox and gone to the friends they'd made the day before.  I spent the day playing hide and seek with Lucy.

So now Lucy's back?  It takes a lot for a man to realise he's insane, but dreaming about having sex with my old imaginary friend was surely more than enough.  So why was it that I wanted to get back to sleep already?

Part 4 – The reuniting of old friends

I'd not found a job, but to be perfectly honest, I wasn't surprised.  I'd already been to ninety percent of the shops in the town center without luck.  Today was just confirming what I already knew.  I'd been paid one thousand pounds for testing this ThoughtJournal upfront, and that would keep me going for a while- or at least until I decided d be better spent on a new games console and t.v.  I was terrible with money, so I wouldn't be surprised if I was broke again within the week.

I didn't want to put too much stress on myself for unemployment, so I put it out of my head to the best of my abilities and reached for the sketchpad ever present on the coffee table.  The most recent page held a half-finished girl.  I'd drawn her face and shaded it, and I'd outlined her pose, but I couldn't decide on the clothes.  She'd been pencilled naked; with a maid dress; in a bikini; in tight leather; even with a corset and stockings, but all of those had been rubbed off in irritance.  I looked at her features and recognised instantly who I was drawing; all that was missing was the long, perfect hair.

With a slight smile, I drew in her hands and legs from memory, almost growing hungry for them as I outline the smooth curves.  I work quietly, quickly, and carefully, losing myself in my work until about an hour later, when I put the pad back down on the table- a near-perfect image of Lucy in that t-shirt from last night.  And then I had nothing to do again.  The drawing could have done with more shading, but I didn't want to overdo it and ruin her.  Throwing myself back on the sofa, I figured I may as well just take a nap.

Suddenly, I was in a place I vaguely recognised.  I turned around and sure enough, the door was there.  Without thinking about it, I pushed on the door and stepped hastily into the room. It was the same as I remembered, right down to the glass of water on the table beside me.  Lucy was even still sitting on the bed waiting for me.  She beckoned, and I crawled over the bed to get to her.

“Lucy!” I exclaimed, a smile on my face for the first time in a long while.  “You're here!” I was filled with too much excitement to contain my thoughts.  I didn't even know why I was so happy to see her again.  She'd been my best friend for years, but I'd stopped talking to her eventually, gradually weaning off her company as I realised, well, she was an imaginary friend that I was still talking to.  Lucy glared at me, but there was something behind it.  Something animal...  Something sexy.

“You abandoned me, Cy.  I loved you, and you just stopped.”

Her tone had changed from last night, but I suppose I deserved it, really.  A wave of guilt swept me over, and the smile was washed from my face.

“You weren't real.  I needed real friends.”  She looked at me, and for a second I thought she was going to hit me.  Then she did hit me.  My cheek lit up, and I rushed my own hand up to nurse it, but she stopped it.  She raised her hand again, and I flinched, but this time she ran it smoothly over the fiery pain, dousing it amazingly well.  Before I knew what was going on, she moved my hand to her chest, over her breast, then leaned in and kissed my lips, knocking me back onto the bed so she was on top.

Her lips were delicious.  I could taste some weak hint of apple-flavoured lip gloss, and I closed my lips around hers to try and get more of it.  She parted them and slipped her tongue inside my mouth, running it along my own.  Just as I went to glide mine into her mouth, she smiled- I could feel it rather than see it -and pulled back.

“Feel real enough now?”

I just nodded, dumbfounded.

“Come on, you, I can't stay mad at you for very long.  I've been so lonely for the past few years.”

“Lucy, I'm sorr-”

“No, you stupid dick.  Don't apologise.”  I realised here that I was still cupping her breast.  She grabbed the arm and pushed it towards her, forcing me (though I didn't exactly resist) to press against the flesh.  “Just make up for it.”  I could feel her nipple pressing into my palm, even though I knew I was in a dream.  I didn't dwell on it though.  When you have the perfect girl in just a t-shirt on a bed, and she's asking for you to make up for years of neglect in one night, things like that don't bother you too much.

It might have been my dream, but I was still a little socially inept.  I stroked the nipple with the shirt, debating whether to go underneath.  She seemed to sense my indecision and leaned in to kiss me again.  As our tongues rubbed together, she lifted the shirt slightly and guided my hand inside.  It was amazing how she felt.  My hand glided up to the breast, perfectly rounded and delicately warm.

I hungrily devoured the sense of being close to someone, and she apparently did the same.  Her hips were rubbing against my jeans, and combined with her soft body and delicious lips, it was more than enough to make me hard.  Her mouth drifted backwards, then she flowed down my body, her hands unfastening the buckle of my belt.

As my jeans came off, I put my other hand on the rim of her shirt and pulled that up, revealing her beautiful body.  Definitely a ten.  Clean-shaven groin, and more than perfect breasts.  She had just enough meat on her body so that her ribcage didn't stick out, but no more.

“Impressed?” she grinned.  I just nodded.

My hand slid down her body, relishing the soft feeling of pure health.  It drifted along her skin before finally finding a moist slip and pushing itself inside.  My index and middle finger stroked inside while the thumb massaged her clitoris on the outside.  She collapsed on top of me with a harsh gasp, and I took my chance to roll on top of her.

“Ooo, eager,” she mocked with a wink.  I responded by pushing my ring finger in alongside its brothers, and she bit her lip as she suppressed a moan.  She grabbed the tshirt that was around the top of her breasts and pulled it up and over, tossing it aside, then wrapped one hand around the back of my head and pulled me in for another kiss.  She got more and more wet with each one- and I loved it.

She rolled back over again, and back on top of me, then she shot her hand into my boxer shorts and pulled out my cock.  Still biting back her enthusiasm, she wrapped her hand around it and started stroking, and a world of pleasure opened up between my legs.  I tried to focus on my fingertips rubbing against the walls of her vagina, but she was overwhelmingly good at teasing me.  Within seconds I was nearly paralysed.

She stroked my manhood- the first time anyone had touched it but myself -and I melted in her hands.  So soft and delicate.  So gentle yet quick.  Our lips pressed together, but mine didn't move.  I just let her snake her tongue in and invade my mouth as she played with my cock.  Everything about this girl was amazing; only in my dreams could a girl be so good with my cock after never doing it before.

The pleasure began to build up inside me, and after what seemed like an eternity- the most pleasuring eternity imaginable -I released myself.  It covered her abdomen and some flecks of it scattered her breasts.  Her face washed with pleasure, even though I'd barely moved my fingers; it must have just been the feeling of my orgasm that got her off after so long alone.  My breathing was laboured and drawn out, but she kissed me anyway, and I weakly kissed her back, not even caring about my own sperm being rubbed against my chest- because it was her outstanding chest that did the rubbing.

End of Chapter 1.
:owlfly1:

Want to play DnD?  Check out: The Lost Treasure: A TC DnD Campaign
Don't want to play DnD? That's fine too, here's a short set in the world instead: A Tale of The Darkest Tome
How about helping me build a world From the Ground Up?

Offline Phoenix

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Re: Aphrodisia
« Reply #3 on: March 23, 2015, 08:52:15 AM »
Yeah, this isn't my scene. But I figure you're not just narrowing yourself to one story on here so...


It's a good start though, but personally I prefer the thought journal entries better, with his sense of humour it would be interesting to see where more inserts from it end up.


Also, this may be personal preference, but cock sounds a little immature to read in a forum post like this. I personally despise the word myself, there are so many better words than that.
A good start though, well done.  :)

Offline HelenNightengale

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Re: Aphrodisia
« Reply #4 on: March 23, 2015, 12:21:59 PM »
Good so far Saint.

I, too, like the journal entries; they add in the humour and it's quite a good contrast. Comedy and sex, where can you go wrong?

As Pho's comment to 'cock', I think it depends what you're going for. As a general rule, you tend to find that it's hinted at, as opposed to explicitly stated.

So instead of 'she wrapped her lips around my cock'
'she wrapped her lips around me'

But using it makes your passage a bit dirtier. And if that's the way you're going then I'd say it's fine to use.

Either way, good so far! :)
I love how there is still the option for an MSN address...

Offline Angel

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Re: Aphrodisia
« Reply #5 on: March 23, 2015, 10:43:48 PM »
I read this earlier but wasn't able to comment at the time. I remember reading this before the fall and being curious to how it was going to turn out as it was such an interesting concept. Hopefully now I'll get to find out!

Enter Helena's world of light.
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Offline Saint

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Chapter 2
« Reply #6 on: March 28, 2015, 11:33:10 PM »
Chapter 2

Part 5 – The ThoughtJournal gets a new feature

I was rudely awoken by an ominously loud beeping to the side of me.  Groggy at first, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, stretched, yawned, then decided the beeping was immensely annoying and tried to search out what it was.  I was still on the sofa downstairs, and as I looked around for the source of the annoyance, I realised it was coming from the ThoughtJournal, at which point the beeping stopped.

Above the current page of the book was a red light which flashed at me, and underneath this, 'eMail' was written.  I didn't even know I could get email on it.

Author Mode off.  Session saved.

Opening eMail viewer.  One new message.  Opening message.


From: development@thoughtjournalteam.com
To: cymariatrueman@thoughtjournaluser.com
Subject: Address Book
Attatchments: AddressBookApp.tja

Mr. Trueman,
As part of the terms of your testing of the ThoughtJournal, we agreed to send updates as and when they are developed.  We have worked out a bug in a feature that was initially planned to be released with the version you're testing for us, so we're enclosing a file to install this on yours.
Thank you,
The ThoughtJournal team.

Closing eMail viewer.

Opening .tja file.

Installing Address Book Application.

Opening Address Book Application.


Welcome to Address Book.  With this feature, you can scan the ThoughtJournal for possible contacts, and record detailed summaries of them.  Would you like to scan the ThoughtJournal now?

Yes.

Possible Contacts found.  'Cy Maria Trueman.'  'Lucy.'  'Luchette Lotela.'  'Jenny Little.'  Select Contacts to add.  Adding 'Cy Maria Trueman.'  Adding 'Luchette Lotela.'

Address Book Application closed.  Session Saved.

Author Mode on.


So I had a new feature to play with.  It might prove useful, but I hadn't got the patience at that point to go and check any data it had on us.  It was light outside, and I guessed it was about ten o'clock the next morning.  [Time is 1132]  Okay, half eleven the next morning.  Wow, I'd slept well.

I felt a little like spending some of the money I was getting for testing out the ThoughtJournal, and according to the eMail I got after agreeing to do so, then it was due to be paid into my account today.  By pure co-incidence, the new Tears of Death game was out today too.  And I could finally get a new controller for my PlayBox.  I could also finally get the copies of MangaMangazine that the newsagent had been holding back for me for three months now.

ThoughtJournal Deactivated.  Session Saved.

Part 6 – The part where I waste my money.

ThoughtJournal activate.  Author Mode on.

After showering for the first time in a while, I decided to take the ThoughtJournal out with me, so I shoved it in a backpack and left it in there to read my mind and write it all down.  Locking the house up, I stepped out before realising I'd left my coat inside and having to unlock the door again to retrieve it.  Once that was on my back, I locked up once more and set out for the town, which was only five minutes walk away.

Sometimes when I walked, I pondered various little things.  A small question like 'Why is that ant so far away from the others' would trigger a long thought process that lead to something abstractly different, like why cars were pretty much all that same shape.  There wasn't any of that on my walk though, just me thinking about Lucy's breasts.  The childish part of me that used to imagine her and play with her was thinking of her standing beside me, calling me a pervert.  That same part of me wanted to imagine her the whole way, but the larger, grown-up part wasn't ready for this.

Once I hit the high street, I turned into the first store I came across: Lamder Games.  The door slid open to accommodate me, and as soon as I walked in, I was greeted by a display advertising the latest release in the TAIEG series: TEAIG5-The Aliarks' Comeback.  I picked a copy of this up right away, then moved towards the PlayBox charts section of the store.  Already in the number one spot was Tears of Death, so I grabbed a copy of that, then put it back and picked up the platinum edition pack with the bag that has the game's logo on it, the wig styled like the main character, and the exclusive extra artwork pack.  Since I had the money, I may as well waste it.

With the two games I came in for obtained, I took another look at the chart.  At number three was Purity, and at number six was Laughter of Gods, so I added those to the pile- since the titles sounded promising -then and paid for them.  That was £200 gone already.  I left the shop before I spent the rest, and headed down a little further, to [desc=Bonus points to anyone who gets the reference]Kenoichi’s Comics and Manga Store[/desc].

“Long time no see, Cy!” I was greeted upon entry.  Old Kunoichi had always been a friendly person, and he knew off the top of his head each customers name, and what they came in for, and how much they had to spend, and all degrees of other useful information that made you think he was secretly toting a highly-efficient supercomputer behind those hazy brown eyes.

“Kunoichi-sempai, I've come for the MangaMangazine copies you've been holding for me for forever now.”

“Excellent.  I have them behind the counter.  You know, I've been asked on several occasions why I didn't sell those, but I always trusted when you said you'd come for them, and I kept holding them back.”

“I've finally come across some money.  Actually, while you're there, could I have the HeartEater boxset?”

“Certainly.”

He lifted it off the shelf as he walked past, and dropped it on the counter as he went around to get my pile of magazines.  After putting that on the counter, I realised exactly how long it had been since I had expendable money- the pile stretched up past his head, and the counter was only just past waist level.

“Right then, twenty-eight volumes of MangaMangazine at seven pounds each, and a HeartEater boxset at forty.  Two-hundred and thirty-six.  Shall we call it two-hundred?”  After being amazed at both his mental maths skills and his generosity, I handed over the money with a smile and walked out of the shop.  “I'll make sure to keep reserving them,” he called after me.

Back out on the streets, I felt a little empty.  I wanted to go home already, which was weird for me.  Normally I'd only have enough on me to get a cheap drink from Bargainland, and I'd go and window-shop for a good few hours, but now I had enough money to buy stuff, I just wanted to go home and play the games I'd bought.  Instead of turning around, though, I decided that I couldn't be bothered to cook for myself tonight, and headed to Colonel McTuck's Big Burger Shack.

After the walk to the other end of the high street, I pushed the door to the burger shack open to find it pleasantly uncrowded.  Above me, a bell rang, and from back I heard someone shout at a 'Torey' to 'hurry along to the tills' in a half-posh half-camp manner.  When I reached the tills, a girl came running out from the back room.

Torey, as her nametag advertised, was the sort of girl I could fall for.  Her hair was longish, reaching to about a quarter way down her back, and tied into a ponytail.  She obviously wasn't a girl who was obsessed with her weight, but she wasn't fat, either; I'd say about dress-size 12-14.  A smile was set in her face despite the rushed nature of her entrance, and it was covered in a very faint pink lipstick.  There was a spot on her cheek that had been squeezed and was in its final stages of life, but otherwise there were no blemishes.  The light blue shirt of her uniform was worn with the top three buttons undone, just enough to show her cleavage, and I could just about see an outline of a black bra behind it.

“Hello sir, and welcome to Colonel McTuck's Big Burger Shack.  May I take your order?”

Her voice was soft and cutesy, with no real accent to be recognised.

“Big McTuck Burger and a large fries, please.”

“Coming right up, sir.”

As she turned back to the door she'd just come from, I peeked down at her backside.  Nicely shaped inside the tight-fitting black jeans, and the rims of her purple panties were winking at me from just above them.  A few seconds later, she emerged with my food, and I asked for a banana shake to shamelessly steal another look at her.  Her hips moved her bum hypnotically as she moved back through the door, and just as I was contemplating getting another burger, I noticed a sign on the door.

“Worker needed.  Minimum wage.  No qualifications necessary.”

When she came back, I pointed at the sign.

“Is that job still going?”

“Just about.  McTuck wanted the job gone by yesterday, but amazingly no-one's applied yet.  He's out now, but if you come back early tomorrow, he should be here.”

I grinned as I put a ten pound note on the table to pay for my food.

“Thanks Torey,” I said.  Maybe if I was lucky, I'd get to steal a few more peeks at her.

Part 7 – The many uses of the internet

I got home and went straight to my laptop, dumping my bags by the television as I passed it.  I wanted to play the games, of course, but I'd had a hard-on ever since staring at Torey's knickers, and everyone knows a man's cock is more important than videogames.  Escorting the laptop to my bed, I lay down as I turned it on.  As I waited for it to boot up, I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, and put my hand inside my boxers.

Once the machine had loaded up, I opened an internet window and went to one of the only sites I actually visited: [desc=No, C'ren, the site's not real.]nudegirlsearch.com[/desc].  I navigated to the 'search' section, and typed 'naked cute brunette teen' into the box.  It didn't take long for my page to be filled with naked cute brunette teens, but I knew what I wanted, so I scrolled down, massaging my penis with my free hand.  Nothing on the first page of results, and nothing on the second.  After similar results with the third, I went back to the top to try and narrow the search.  This time, I added 'masturbate in stockings and purple panties' to the end and deleted 'naked' from the start.  This gave me what I wanted.

About halfway down the first page was a picture of a girl who looked exactly how I wanted.  I clicked it, taking me to a set of pictures of her.  The girl was almost a dead-ringer for Torey.  In the first photo, she was wearing a little cocktail dress- black with white and purple lace crossing around it -with purple stockings and black dolly shoes. 

As the set of photos went on, the shoes came off, then the straps of the dress.  There were some photos with the zipper undone, teasingly showing her skin and advertising her lack of bra without actually showing the breasts, then the dress was shed completely.  The next few photos were her holding her breasts, hiding the nipples from the camera, then they were finally revealed, a dark pink that started to blend into the skin before it seemingly gave up, leaving a contrast where the colours met.  From there, her fingers went into her panties, then to her pussy.  The stockings came off, and finally her panties were around her ankles and she started biting her lips, stroking her breasts, messing with her hair, and in the last photo, she was sucking the fingers that had just come out of her.

I started masturbating, looking at all the photos on one screen at first, thinking of all the poses Torey could be in, putting her head on the model's body and imagining her crouching over me, breasts hanging down and stroking my body as her pussy rubbed my shaft.  As I was lying down, I pictured her on top and in control, riding me as I pushed myself further and further into her.  I moved my free hand to the touchpad and clicked on a picture with her in knickers and stockings.  She was lying with her legs open, stroking the top of the underwear.  I imagined my Torey reaching down and playing with her clitoris as she slid me inside me.

She bit her lip and leaned in to kiss me, and I imagined moaning in her cutesy little voice, begging me for more.  Begging for me to go further in, deeper, to move faster, to put my hands all over her body.  My free hand passed over my chest and pressed into my nipples, but I imagined it was her doing it, and I was actually touching her.  She leaned back to give me the full view of her body, and I focused on the image of her vagina quickly coaxing me.  I changed the picture on the screen to one of her masturbating without panties, and pictured that pubic hair on Torey.  Thin and sparse but unshaven for a while.

Finally, as I felt the pleasure building up, I didn't have time to switch the picture on screen, so I combined the memory of the picture with the memory of Torey handing me my Big McTuck Burger and the imagined Torey on top of me move her fingers from her clitoris to her mouth.  As she sucked them, I came right inside her, filling my imaginary slut up with my DNA.

When I released the fantasy, I reached for the tissuebox on my bedside drawer and cleaned myself up as well as I could.  I bookmarked the pictures for use at a later time, then shut the laptop down (Annoyingly, it shut down a lot faster than it loaded up) and moved over to my bags to check out what I'd bought.  I swore to myself as the ThoughtJournal bounced out of the backpack when I opened it.  After checking that it was damage free, I realised that I really must remember to turn it off.

ThoughtJournal deactivate.  Session Saved.

Part 8 – The best way to offend someone who might not even exist.

ThoughtJournal activate.  Author-mode on.

I know it's a bit of a fragile hope to want to see Lucy again, but I turned the ThoughtJournal on anyway, to hopefully record the encounter, before I lay down in bed.  Luckily for me, it seemed the fragile hope was enough, as after I'd flown off to the land of nod, I landed in the square, featureless room.  Without pausing to linger, I pushed through the door to find Lucy.

She stood with her back to me, leaning on a desk and looking out of a window that, to my memory, hadn't been there before.  Her back was lined by the scarlet ribbon that held together a black dress.  It threaded through the dress at the sides and laced it together, leaving her back mostly exposed.  The way she was leaning pressed her bum out, and the skirt was just thin enough the show the curves.  It was pleated and finished just above her knees, where the stockings began, giving a very marginal slip of her skin.  The stockings were dark, with flower patterns growing out of the shiny black heels.

“Hello?” I said as I walked in.  She jumped slightly, then turned around to face me, still leaning, but this time her breasts were pushed out.  The front of the dress had a lace mesh covering the silky material, with the ribbon that held it together at the back tied into a stylised bow at the front.  Her hair was curled ever so slightly, giving the black tips a bounce when she stepped towards me.

“I see you're back again,” she said sternly.

“I’m so glad I am,” I replied.  “Last night was amazing.”

“For you, maybe.  I had considerably less fun.  You came all over me and disappeared.”

“I woke up.  Do you even exist when I’m awake?”

In what I hoped wasn’t becoming a regular feature of our relationship, she slapped me.

“You slap me a lot.”

“You deserve it a lot.”

“Last time you slapped me, we had sex,” I mused hopefully.

“That wasn’t sex.  And I’m starting to regret it.”  She sat down on the bed with a huff.

I sat down next to her, and put my hand on her leg, but she shied away from it, so I took it back.  She reached for the hand and snaked her dainty fingers between mine.

“Cy, we used to be friends.  I was your imaginary friend, but it was more than that.  I was your only friend.  We used to do everything together, and eventually you just forgot about me.  Without you, I can’t exist; but I stayed hiding away somewhere in your mind.  We grew up together, I suppose.”

“So you’re offended that my first thought was sex?”

“No.  Why would I be?  I’m here to do whatever you want. Isn’t that the point of an imaginary friend; doing the things that no-one else wants to do with you?  No, Cy, I’m pissed because it was one-sided.  I never cared that we were always doing what you wanted, because I enjoyed it too.  But even imaginary girls don’t like one-way sex.”

“Don’t say imaginary like it’s a bad thing.  All that means is you’re so perfect in every way.”

Lucy was taken back by this.  I felt her hand grip mine tighter, and stared at me with bright orange eyes.  Her mouth opened slightly as she exhaled.

“Oh God, Cy, touch me.  Now,” she commanded, with such an untamed, animalistic look on her face.

End of Chapter 2.
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Offline Phoenix

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Re: Aphrodisia
« Reply #7 on: March 30, 2015, 04:30:05 PM »

“Long time no see, Cy!” I was greeted upon entry.  Old Kunoichi had always been a friendly person, and he knew off the top of his head each customers name, and what they came in for, and how much they had to spend, and all degrees of other useful information that made you think he was secretly toting a highly-efficient supercomputer behind those hazy brown eyes.


This part doesn't read too well for me, there are too many 'and's dotted around.

Also, to me it felt like Lucy changed her tune rather quickly, it was obvious she was annoyed. And the next second she seems to have completely forgotten why?

 Otherwise, another good entry. :read:

 

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