And Then No More of Thee and Me
by Vinnie Tesla

The door to his bedroom was ajar, but, maddeningly, not quite wide enough for her to pass through. Pushing herself through solid objects was still hard work, though she was getting better at it. The feeling of the heavy wood composite sliding inside her was intensely, indefinably uncomfortable, as if her entire body was one complaining funny bone. At one point she was seized with panic that she would be stuck there, unable to muster the strength to pull herself off in either direction.

Eventually, though, she made it inside the room. It looked just as she remembered. The pile of dirty clothes in one corner and the massive wooden dresser were vague, familiar shapes in the dark. A streetlight by the open window illuminated his nude, sleeping body. His torso looked pale; his cock lolled, a little swollen, against one bent thigh.

She shook her head, dazed with longing. I don’t know what I miss more–sex or sleep she said to herself.

After a moment’s hesitation, she climbed onto the bed and sprawled across him. Goose pimples rose on his arms as she pressed herself along his length. She kissed his cheeks, pressed her lips against his, and felt his breath pass through her. Then she lowered herself; tongued one nipple, which tightened just as it would have when she was alive. His cock twitched and slid along his thigh.

She slid down once more, ran her mouth over his cock, licked the head, loving its heat against her tongue, feeling its crinkled texture smooth as it continued to swell. She couldn’t take him into her mouth because she couldn’t lift his cock, but she continued to lap at it as it stiffened, encouraged by the faint undulations of his hips.

When his cock stood out, bouncing in the breeze through the window, she boldly pulled herself up on him, leaned forward, and sank herself onto him, feeling faint echoes of pleasure when he penetrated her.

He murmured and arched his hips for a moment, and her eyes filled with mist that she was able to do this with him, and then he rolled on his side, still asleep, moving through her insubstantial body though she remained in place, and began working his hips against the mattress.

“Death sucks,” she murmured aloud.

–

Vinnie Tesla is the author of The Erotofluidic Age, Ota Discovers Fire, and a few other works of whimsical filth. He lives in Medford MA and thinks you should subscribe to the Circlet Newsletter.

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