Friday, January 18, 2013

First Times

The following post may contain subject matter that might be considered inappropriate for minors.  Click at your own risk.

This one's a little's only a little bit fiction.

I lean back into the pillows, carefully arranged so that I am reclining easily, adjust my headphones, and press "play." A man's tenor voice instructs me to take a deep breath and hold it, then let it out, now do it again. And again.
I feel warm. I feel calm. The anticipatory nerves I have been feeling are completely gone. I am staring at a drip of paint on my ceiling listening to the voice explain to me that hypnosis is fun and healthy, that I must want to succeed, that it is me who decides if I will go into trance or not. I breathe. Deeply, in and out. I am in control of each breath.
I feel calm. I feel still. My eyes become heavy. I see my eyelids open and shut, moving so slowly that it's like a shutter is being carefully drawn up and down between me and the world. The voice tells me that there is no reason to keep them open if I don't want to and I watch them rise and fall once more, then let them close.
I feel still. I feel slow. The flow of time around me has begun to move like thick honey on a warm day, it oozes around me, caressing and comforting me, dragging me down. It is very, very warm.
I feel slow. I feel caught. I am caught in the flow of honey. The voice says "I will wait until you come back" and I am carefully removing my clothing, placing it to the side in case I need it later. My skin quivers against the sheets of my bed, my body writhes, letting the fabric stroke me.
I feel caught. I feel hot. The voice tells me that my hands are free to do anything they need, that I have no need to worry, that I can do everything that I am moved to do without fear of reproach or recrimination. My inhibitions fall away, my hands start to move, lightly tickling my body, and everywhere my hands move my nerves begin to tingle and burn. I touch everywhere that I have not been touched for so long. My hands trickle across my belly, my breasts, my collar bone, my neck, and back down again. I am content to lie there continuing this motion over and over until my nipples tighten and I begin to flick them gently, marveling at how the tissue becomes harder and more erect.
I feel hot. I feel afire. An electric current is moving throughout my entire body, an arousing circuit that starts at my feet and travels up to the crown of my head and back again. I leave my breasts behind and move lower, my fingers digging into the flesh of my mound, exposing my clit so that my other hand can have its work.
I feel afire. I feel aflow. I am a river of need moving smoothly through its channel. My currents rush forward as my fingers move, each motion making my muscles pulse. My fingers move faster and faster, my riverbed begins to slope downward, my river of fire now rushing in a torrent, a cascade heading inexorably forward.
I feel aflow. I feel abandon. I surrender utterly to this feeling, nothing exists except the fire flowing through me and the exquisite torture of my hands. I am in an unknown land, I don't know what will happen or how this will end, just feel every part of me more alive than ever in my life, every moment the only moment, every moment my only reality. The world tilts, my body writhes, there is fire before my eyes and in my lungs and through every fiber of my being. I drift.
I drift. I spin. I buzz. I cry.
This. This is what it feels like to completely let go.
This. This is what I have desperately wanted and needed and have never been able to do.
The voice says "if you want to feel this way again and feel the need please feel free to listen to this again. I will be waiting."
I am awake.
I am spent.
I am addicted.