Invisible

When I was younger, you know what I'd do, sometimes? I'd close my eyes real tight, and then, as if that weren't enough, I'd put my hand over them. I'd pretend that made me invisible, that if I couldn't see anyone, they couldn't see me. That was my special power. I could do it anytime I wanted, even in the middle of Math class. Now, what does an invisible girl do? Fight crime? Give me a break. Why would she do that when she could creep into Mommy and Daddy's room at night, and watch them do what Mommies and Daddies do in the dark? Or go spy on her brother when he's lying in bed playing with his big boy's cock? But see, I couldn't really do that either, since the thing that made me invisible in the first place was my closed eyes. It's no good playing voyeur with no eyes. No, I used my power for something else - I used it as a shield, a magic curtain to hide what I did every night in my room. When I was invisible, I played with my pussy. The minute I shut my eyes, I would start getting wet, glorying in my freedom. Nobody could see me. Nobody could yell at me for pleasuring myself. My fingers would find my slit seeping and I'd start stroking it there, that sweet little crack in my middle with its bouquet of moist curls. I'd tease it until it loosened enough for me to slip a fingertip in - just a fingertip. God, that was magic in itself; my finger stroking over my inner walls. Twin sensations: touching and being touched all at once. Then it was time to get serious; I'd spread my fingers gently open against my pussy, clasping and holding it, making little happy noises because I knew it was mine-sweet-mine, something no-one could ever take away from me. I'd reach the tip of my thumb up and rub it against my clit. Oh, honey, I'd have to be real careful. I knew by then that my clit was power. If shutting my eyes made me invisible, that little tap-tap-tap on my clit gave me superpowers for real, filled me with electricity and juice and sent me flaming up into the air. I got a real education those nights, lying in my room all safe and invisible. I learned things about my body they would never have told me in Health class. I learned what an orgasm was. I learned how to give myself three of them, one after another, until I was shaken and sweating. I got to know my pussy better than my own face those nights. My pussy became my best friend. It still is. You know what? I still make myself invisible every night. Why? Why do I still play this little childish game with myself when I'm a grown woman? You could ask that. After all, nobody will yell at me now if I do myself in the privacy of my own apartment. I could spread my legs in my bedroom, living-room, my kitchen even. But it's so much better when I'm invisible. It concentrates me, that little imaginary curtain I draw over myself. That darkness is my own special place, and that's where I spend time with my best friend. I think I'll do it now. Would you like to watch? I won't mind, because I won't see you. You won't be there. Even if I hear you breathing, it won't mean a thing. That's just the wind in the trees, honey. I'll shut my eyes now, and take my top off, nice and slow, relishing the sudden flood of sensation on my tits and shoulders. I don't have to see my breasts - I know my nipples are getting hard. I can feel them. All I've got on now is my little bit of a skirt, and my little friend is getting nice and wet under it. I never wear panties when I'm alone in the apartment, and I never wear shoes. When I'm alone, when I'm invisible, I want nothing between me and my body. Even the rasp of the carpet on my bare feet connects directly with my pussy, making more juice. I'll put my hand over my eyes now, making the darkness darker. And here goes my other hand, lifting my skirt and zeroing in unhesitatingly on my wet pussy. My play-toy. My power-button. My best friend. Hello baby, I'm back. Did you miss me?

Let's pretend a little. Let's pretend, despite everything I've said so far, that you can see me, even though I know you can't. Even though I'm invisible. Do you think this is weird? Just a bit? Me standing here with my hand over my eyes, my fingers clawing away at my bush while my hips jerk up and down like this and I make noises like uh, uh, uh? Do you think this is undignified? Do you think I'm a bad, nasty girl, that I'll never get invited to the best parties now, I'll never get that promotion, nobody will ever want anything to do with me? Well fuck you, honey. I'd do it, but I'm too busy fucking myself. With my fingers? Wanna smell 'em? Huh? Wanna take one in your prissy little mouth and give it a good old suck, so you taste the sticky stuff my pussy makes when I'm horny? Do ya? Oh, I think you do. I think you're over there longing for it. I can't see you, and I think that gives you a little freedom, freedom you've never really considered, even though it's always been right there in front of you. You gonna jerk off a little yourself, honey? Aww, you gonna touch yourself through your clothes, smirking 'cause pretty little me can't see you? You thinking about touching me, even though you wouldn't dare touch me? You thinking about how sweet it would be if I shared my little friend with you? Ooo, but I'm not going to. No no. This is my time, and you're not invited to do anything but watch. I'm in power here, and I know it. See the way I stand up a little, on tip-toes, my mouth sighing open, my fingers moving quicker and quicker. I know. You don't matter. I'm here. My cunt is here. That's all that matters. And I'm gonna play with it. Oh yes. I'm going to rub the lips up and down, just a simple rub-rub-rub, and I'm going to thumb my clit exactly the way I told you before. I'm going to get a finger in there, and then another finger, and if I'm feeling specially good tonight, I may go for three. Why not? It's not like you matter. As far as I'm concerned, you're not really here, I've told you that already. My fingers are deep inside me now - or could you tell, from my gasping? Are you jealous? Do you wish you could coax this same reaction from me? Dream on. I'm my own lover. Nobody's better than me, nobody's more sensitive, man or woman. Nobody knows my creases and hidden, tender avenues better than I do myself. I walk those avenues barefoot, every step a delight. I love my body - can you say the same? I don't think so. You're too stiff, too educated. You've forgotten anything you ever knew, in an effort to get closer to falsity. Do you want me to teach you? Just watch me. I can't do anything else for you. Nobody can now. I can only offer suggestions: Go barefoot more. Beg strangers to tickle you. Lift your hand to your lips and kiss it, even if you're in a restaurant and people might be looking. Stretch your arms over your head now and then - doesn't that make you feel vulnerable? Doesn't it feel good? Now imagine your favorite person in the whole wide world coming up and kissing you, while you're helpless to resist. Look at yourself in the bath; touch yourself and let yourself cry out. I mean loud, without caring about whether the neighbors can hear you through the walls. Oh, you're giving me excuses now. You're telling me I have an unfair advantage, me being invisible and all. You say I'd behave differently if I weren't playing my game. You trot out all the old arguments: I can't really be enjoying this, not without another person's hand on my body. It might feel good, but it's not right. It's not the real thing. It's not like with another person. Well, okay. I'll call you on that, just this once. Because I thought you were kind of cute when I could see you. Because maybe you give my fantasies a little fuel. Just a bit, now. Not much. I'm going to lie down on the couch, the invisible girl reclining. Come here to my body and my little friend. Come here and show us what you've got, lover.

Oh, but your hands are soft. I'll give you that. Is it experience that's taught you how to touch a horny girl, or have I given that gift to you with my words? I tend towards the second guess, but what do I know? Your hands on my belly, stroking and smoothing it out so you can lean over and smother it with kisses, paying particular attention to the cup of my navel. Very nice. Just the way I'd ask you to do it, if I could see you, if you were really here. If I had you for my lover in truth and not fantasy. Oh, but my pussy's pounding. That's the real place. My little friend gets jealous, you know. She doesn't like to see the rest of me taking too much pleasure, getting too much attention. She wants to come out and say hello to you. You're not paying attention, are you? You think you're going to play it your way, rubbing my titties like that. You're still playing your little control-games. Well, I'll let you, just because what you're doing feels so good. After all, what's better than a tongue that wants to impress, hands that are so hot with longing to make me cry out that they start groping and fumbling in ways that are foreign to them, using nails and palms and fingertips with a fierceness they'd never use outside my door? Oh, baby. You think you're so fierce. So hot. And you are, but you're playing my game all along. And I love you for it. Yes I do, my little one. Does that make you mad, me calling you little one? It shouldn't. It's a loving name, even if your precious ego isn't particularly delighted by it. Come kiss the invisible girl, little one. You can't see me much in the dark, invisible or not. Come lick my titties, you love them so much. Oh, yes you do. Don't even try that. You've wanted them since the first minute you saw me. Bunch them up between your fingers and lick them. Feel the spike of my nipples against your tongue. Rub your face on them, smell them. They're not as pungent as my friend, but they smell good, don't they? A warm, mild woman-smell that drives you nuts. Especially the undersides. I can tell you always go for the hidden spots, the undersides, the cracks and soles and crevices, the places where smell and sensation gather. You didn't even know it yourself, but I did. The invisible girl sees all. Aww, I made you mad! Or at least frustrated enough to start working on my legs. My poor legs and feet, imprisoned in stockings during the day, long and fragrant and milky by night. Kiss 'em. I'm telling you to, kiss 'em hard. Lick my toes, smell my feet, move your nose to the undersides of my knees, so sensitive I might die if you kissed me there. Ooh, you did kiss me there! Oh, once more, honey, please. Just again, just once more for your pretty invisible girl, your superheroine. Are you getting the feeling you might have been manipulated a little? That I might have lured you here with talk of a silly fantasy, designed to prick your interest and get you crazy enough to go at me with mouth and fingers and make you the lover you never knew you were? No. I really am the invisible girl, and I'll use my powers to pleasure myself until the end of time. Nobody will ever change that, not you, not anyone. But I do love you. You do turn me on. You always have. And if you hadn't come to me tonight to watch me and listen to me, I might just have flown to your side and kidnapped you, hugging me to me as I flew you back here to my fortress of solitude to play my games with me. And now that you're already here, why not go all the way? Kiss me. Suck me. Push your sweet face between my legs and say hello to my best friend. Get her smell and juice on your face. If you do that, and lift your smeared and beautiful face to mine afterwards, I might just open my eyes. I might just give you a kiss. My favors aren't given to everyone. You should feel special. From this day forth, you should walk like a champion of the Forces of Good. THE END

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