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Exploring The Emptiness pt3


Exploring the Emptiness pt3/final

Walking was interesting, to say the least. As my legs moved ahead, I
could feel the neck of the bottle protruding between my legs, brushing
against my thighs as I walked. When this happened, I could feel the bottle
shift inside, pressing against the sides of my cavern. I found this quite
funny and giggled as I made my way to the bedroom, finally walking with my
legs farther apart than normal to keep from bumping the bottle. It would
have been quite a sight for someone to see I imagine; me bow legged
traversing the living room, a few inches of clear beer bottle poking out in
the center of legs, and me giggling the whole time. In front of my bed I
stopped and looked at my reflection, or part of my reflection. Because I
had taken the mirror off the closet door and leaned it against the bed, I
could only see just below my breasts and down of my body. I stared at the
neck of the bottle, poking between the lightly flared pink lips of my sex,
a small drip of my fluid dangling on the rim. It was interesting and a
little exciting to see myself impaled by this foreign object, lodged and
held within my pussy. My clit stood proud, fully engorged, pushing its
hood back. I still felt very little, just a fullness. Even in my
heightened state of arousal, the glass was just that; glass, smooth and
perfect My body had gotten accustomed to the feeling now, the sense of
completion within my body. I gently ran my hand across my stomach, feeling
the tightness in its center where the bottle lay inside. This of all
things turned me on, the fact that I could feel externally what I had
internally. I lowered my hand, brought two fingers to my clit and brushed
it lightly, savoring the tingles that rushed up my spine. More pressure,
and the feeling intensified until it became too much. With a beer bottle
stretching my pussy as nothing ever had before, none of my moisture could
escape, and my bud was far too electrified to be manipulated without
lubrication. My fingers went to my mouth, and I sucked them in, swirling
my tongue around them. My eye's closed, and John came to the forefront of
my thoughts, how this must feel to him when I took his cock in my mouth.
Instead of withdrawing them, I pushed my two fingers a little deeper in,
twirling my tongue in a circle around them, feeling the soft roughness of
my tongue, its warmth and wetness. Pulling them out slightly, I flicked my
tongue over the tips, imagining how this must feel to him on his most
sensitive parts. I have always given blowjobs, taken his, or whoever's
cock into my mouth, as deep as was comfortable and sucked. Like everything
I was discovering, I had never really thought about what I was doing, I
just did it, almost in a removed kind of way. I didn't stick my fingers
down my throat. I was feeling too good to try and stop gagging; that was
something I will have to practice on John. Find out what he likes, if he
wants me to take all of him into me, down my throat to the base. I'm
curious if I can do it, and I am pretty sure he won't mind me trying. But
right now is about me, and the reverie I was in was broken by the bottle
stuffed in my sex shifting. As I had "blown" my fingers, I had brought my
legs together, and the neck of the bottle protruding from me had bumped my
leg. My now moistened fingers went back to my clit and rubbed circles
across its peak, exploding from between my folds. Again my eyes closed as
the tingles became a constant rush of energy up my spine to the center of
my head. As I stood rubbing my fingers across my clit, I began to sway my
hips, mimicking the motions of my fingers. The bottle deep inside my
passage was just slightly out of synch with my other actions; the feeling
of it moving within heightened the pleasure emanating from between my legs.
I felt the not yet familiar but no longer unknown building from the center
of my stomach. The feeling of need, indefinable but driving, began to take
over conscious thought, my mind clearing of all thought but urgency, until
there was discomfort. Shit! My fingers had rubbed themselves dry against
my clit, and I quickly moistened them from my mouth, a faint taste of my
own secretions upon them, and resumed my attentions on my bud. As I got
closer, I felt my knees collapsing, squatting as I rubbed and swayed, my
body opening itself in a primitive way that I was powerless over. The
building continued, the motions of both fingers and hips increasing tempo
as the need increased. My thighs began to spasm or contract and my body
began thrusting up and down, as if trying to ride the bottle inside me. My
orgasm was like being overtaken by a wave in the ocean, swept under and
engulfed, not by water but of physical pleasure. All of my muscles fluxed
between tense and complete relaxation in immeasurable flicks of time;
relief from an unknown pressure surging through my arteries as I stood
contracting. Somehow, in the middle of this orgasm that swept over me, I
heard and felt my pussy. As with all the sensations I had felt, I noticed
all this in a fraction of a second. I heard a whoosh of air, like a door
being thrown open, followed by a dull thud and a pattering, like water
spilling on a counter. My sex felt empty, clutching at nothing, spasming
with its new found strength, but catching only emptiness, not even itself.
While intense, and quite pleasurable, this orgasm still paled in comparison
to my first of the evening. It also was much quicker; I found the world in
only a few seconds as I stopped the ministrations to my clit and opened my
eyes. I stared back at myself in the mirror, and saw the flush of my
cheeks, the fullness of my lips and flared nostrils as I regained normal
breathing. Between my legs, I saw the bottle lying on the ground in a
darkening patch of rug. Moving my gaze from the mirror, I looked below,
and caught a flicker of light, like rain in the headlights of a car. The
rug was dark, and I realized, damp! The bottle had plugged me so
completely that none of my moisture could escape, instead had built up
inside, and when my hole contracted, expelling the bottle, all the fluid I
had generated had rushed out behind it. And I was still dripping. Every 3
seconds, a fresh drop fell from between my legs, hitting the side of the
bottle and rolling down its side to the floor. It was amazing, the
knowledge that I could do such a thing. I admit to being somewhat
mesmerized by the sight, my juice glinting in the light as it fell from me.
My amazement increased when I brought a hand between my legs, and found my
lips spread, almost obscenely wide, as if I was penetrated by something,
knowing I was not. I moved a finger between the flared folds, and pressed
in, waiting to feel the slick sides of my tunnel grasp my invading finger,
but found only space. My hole was dilated to the point that it would not
close! Panic rushed through my head, and I willed myself to flex, to close
myself up, my finger still pointed inside. With undeniable and admittedly
ridiculous relief, I felt my cavern collapse around my finger, and in fact
apply pressure as great as I had been able to a short time earlier when I
"discovered" these muscles. Sense finally overtook my still lingering
panic as I remembered that besides providing pleasure to myself and those I
choose to share my dark passage with, it is also the way a child enters the
world; the bottle on the ground below me in no way comparable to a baby. I
sank to the floor, and propped my knees up, feet on the floor, leaning back
on my hands. I was still in front of the mirror, and I looked at the
reflection before me, my pussy looking back at me. My inner folds were
still spread open, like French doors thrown open, welcoming you to a party,
but also drooping slightly, as though tired. My inner thighs glistened
from the secretions leaking out, and my button had returned to the cover of
its hood. I felt contentment, as well as a little tired. I had been going
at myself for almost two hours now, and had been taught so much that I
needed to relax and just let it all sink in. A cigarette and a bath were
next, but my curiosity was still aroused. Pulling one arm from behind me
and sliding my hand to my dampness, I captured the inner folds between fore
and index fingers, marveling at how full they were, bulging out pink and
swollen from between my digits. They looked almost twice their normal
size, elongated and full. Releasing them, I just rubbed my palm over my
entire crotch, not focusing any attention, just pressuring it, like a
massage. Reaching forward, I picked up the bottle from the damp carpet, and
looked at it. I couldn't believe I had had this inside me, and cum around
it. It seemed so strange, but also exciting, like stealing cookies from
grand-ma's cookie jar. I spun the bottle in my hand and placed the top of
it between my lips, which had fallen open again, and pushed just the tip
into me. It was like moving your fingers through a bath or puddle, just
the barest of resistance. I let go and just looked at the bottle nestled
into my opening in the mirror. I flexed, working the new muscles I had
found and watched. Nothing happened. Moving my hand from my thigh, I
pushed a little more of the neck inside, and flexed again, waiting to see
it slide back out. Just the opposite happened, releasing the contraction,
my stomach rippling, the bottle actually moved upwards, or inwards a
fraction of an inch! Like a little girl who's just discovered that a boy liked her, tt was just cool. I tried again, and the bottle receded a
little bit more inside. A few more times and I had sucked the neck of the
bottle up to where it flared into my pussy. I guess I can't be all that
stretched out I remember thinking to myself. Concentrating, I pushed, and
this time was rewarded with the bottle sliding back out my hole. When it
reached the end of my tunnel, it popped free, and dropped to the ground.
My pussy farted! A little squishy noise erupted from my hole and I turned
around instinctively to make sure no one heard me. Ridiculous of course,
but I did it just the same. Assured that I was alone in my apartment in
the middle of a snowstorm, I flexed again, as if trying to draw the bottle
in, and saw my opening do just that, open just slightly, and close when I
relaxed. I pushed, and was rewarded, with the same noise again. Giggles.
Wait till John lets one rip in bed again, I'll show him! For some reason,
I had to know if the bottle would fit inside me again. I wasn't really
horny, just curious. Grasping it by the neck, I aimed its flat blunt end
at my opening and pushed, observing in the mirror. With a little pressure,
my pussy flared; darkness appearing in the center as the bottle began to
slide in. It was much easier, I had no need to squat over it and force
myself down. The clear glass penetrated me until my opening closed around
the neck as it had before, and savored the fullness in my belly. I didn't
feel any tingling, so I pulled, pushing with my pussy at the same time, the
clear glass emerging from within me. When it was half way out, I pushed it
back in, and out, and back in, fucking myself with it. It was nice, but
not exciting. Extracting it from my tired pussy. I set it upright on the
floor and stood. The bath and cigarette were starting to feel like a need
instead of desire, so I turned for the door to the living room.
Remembering the bottle I bent to pick it up, but changed my mind. I moved
to hover over it, and squatted, spreading my still moist folds as I did.
Aiming, I lowered myself until the neck began pushing up into me. When I
had fully impaled myself on the neck, thighs parallel to the floor, I
squeezed, and stood. I couldn't believe that the bottle came with me! I
was beginning to understand that my pussy was strong, surprisingly strong,
like my tongue, but with my hole being as used as it was and wet, I hadn't
thought I could actually lift something with it. I started to walk to the
door, but the effort of keeping myself contracted was too much, and the
bottle fell from the grasp of my pussy. I bent, picked it up and went to
the kitchen. The bottle went next to the sink, I went to the sofa, and the
fire. It had died down again, so I threw a few logs on it, thinking that
it would be nice to dry off by after my bath. Picking up my box of smokes,
I sagged to the floor and leaned back against the couch, feet on the floor,
legs spread and arms draped on top of my knees. I was tired, and achy,
inside. I opened the pack, not moving my arms from their resting-place on
top of my knees, and pulled out a smoke. Dropping the box, I bent forward
to take the cigarette instead of moving my arms, and lit it with my lighter
in the other hand. Leaning back, I inhaled the first gulp of smoke and let
it fill my lungs. Tipping my head back, mouth pointed to the ceiling, I
exhaled. I tried to organize my thoughts as I stared at the smoke curling
lazily towards the ceiling, dissipating before reaching it. I couldn't
fully grasp all that had happened. I felt a new sense of power, a new
awareness. My body ached, like after a good soccer game, but in places it
never did before. I didn't hurt, I felt like I had done something, a
satisfaction from accomplishment. The idea made me smile. Who would think
that masturbating for 2 and half-hours would give me the same feeling as
achieving at work or school did? I tried to force myself to think of a
list of all I learned, to tell John,or better yet show him. I couldn't
wait to see him; there was a longing for him in a way I hadn't felt before.
I just needed him. I wanted nothing more than to feel him next to me, to
hear him breathing as he dozed in the light of the night creeping in the
window. I took another drag, and concentrated on my sex, how it felt.
Used. That was the only way to describe it. I felt like I had run a
marathon, or had a marathon run over me. Almost unconsciously, I twitched,
inside, and felt my newfound muscles flexing. A new thought began to form
in my head. It shocked me that I even thought it, but my curiosity seemed
to have more pull than sense. Slowly, I lowered my hand with the cigarette
in it between my legs. Was this a good idea? Was it safe? I didn't know,
but I needed to know. Gently, very gently so I didn't burn myself in the
absolute wrong place, I turned the cigarette away from me, and brought the
filter to my receding, but still swollen lips. Wiggling it back and forth,
I slowly inserted the filter between the folds, right at the entrance to my
tunnel. Pushing until the entire filter was in, thank god I smoked 100's
and there was still a lot left, I relaxed and flexed myself. I felt my
insides opening, like when I had sucked in the bottle, as well as heat; not
hot, but warmth. I held the flex as long as I could, then withdrew the
cigarette from my folds. Instead of pushing immediately, I brought the
burning stick to my lips and inhaled a drag into my lungs, tasting myself
on the filter. When my lungs had filled, I moved my hand away, and looked
down, As I began to exhale, I squeezed, and smoke began to flow out of my
mouth, but from between my legs as well, curling up towards my head lazily.
I relaxed the contraction, and just let the smoke drain from inside. It
was like a fog, creeping out and obscuring my sex from the fire in the
fireplace. For about 5 seconds, tendrils of gray whispered from my pussy,
until I gave a finally squeeze, rewarded with a quiet little exhalation of
air, faint with smoke. I smiled, thinking that perhaps my pussy needed
that as badly as I had, and flicked the remainder of the butt into the
fire. Bath-time, enough playing around. In the bathroom, I turned on the
water to hot, and cleaned up some of the mess from shaving. As the tub
filled, I washed my face and sat on the toilet, letting myself pee,
realizing that I had needed to for awhile. I guess I had gotten
distracted. I sat there, letting myself drip dry, waiting for the tub to
fill, watching the steam rise from the water. Rising from the toilet, I
stepped one foot into the tub, savoring the warmth of the water, then the
other, sinking myself under until only my head was above. The water
immediately began to sooth the aches of my body. It caressed my skin with
warmth and washed the aches away. I lay still, just letting the gentle
lapping of the water move around me. Its warmth felt delicious between my
legs, a different heat from the fire that I had enjoyed so much earlier.
My hands wandered across my body, feeling the skin; my nipples, no longer
erect, and my shaved bare sex. My hair floated around my head, clinging to
my face. Even my toes seemed to be comfortable; I hadn't realized they
were getting cold. Grabbing a bar of soap I began to cleanse myself,
enjoying the slippery feel of myhands as they moved across my legs, and
arms, and chest. Satisfied that I was clean, I began to get out of the
tub, but stopped. I had smoked with my pussy, and pulled a bottle into it.
I wondered if I could suck water in. I felt exasperated with myself. When
was enough enough? I settled back onto the bottom of the tub and laid back
rationalizing that it needed to be cleaned, so why not? I flexed the tired
muscles of my hole and concentrated. As I dillated myself, I could feel
myself filling; water seemed to be pouring into me, between my legs, like
taking a drink from an upturned glass. I relaxed and pushed, feeling the
liquid ejecting out of me. It was pleasant, like the carpeting had felt on
my ass when I first sat naked on the floor. I willed myself open again and
felt the water rush inwards. Instead of pushing it out again, I raised my
hips, bringing my lower body out of the water. I watched this time as a
stream of water erupted from me, splashing onto the tile above the tub. It
was remarkable how powerfully it came out, not just dribbling, but like a
hose against a wall. Giving a few more squeezes to make sure I was empty,
I collected myself and pulled the stopper on the tub. My robe was on the
door, and I wrapped a towel around my wet hair. Into the living room, I
laid down on the couch. For the first time in hours I looked at the clock.
4:27 a.m.! I was exhausted, but relaxed. As I lay before the fire, my
mind told me to go to bed, but I was comfortable, and didn't want to move.
I thought of John, of the things I had to tell him, and felt hope that at
least some of the difficulties we were having could be fixed. As my eye's
closed, I repeated the biggest lesson I had taught myself,I just need to be
open to try new things.

That's my story. Its noon the next morning, I'm drinking coffee and
writing this down so I don't forget. I said at the beginning that I would
try something's again, and others I probably wouldn't. Some, I want to try
with John. But not today. My pussy is sore! I still can't believe that
I'm even using that word. Anyway, the city is still closed, and John can't
get here, but I told him to come over as soon as he can. I hope he does,
we have a lot to talk about.


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