Strange Web by dionysosaulos

Literotic asexstories – Strange Web by dionysosaulos

The ancient floorboard creaked underneath her thigh-high black suede boots as she perused racks of vintage clothing. The antique shop was quaint and sleepy, just like the last half-dozen shops they had visited along the market street in this quiet northern Pennsylvanian town. There were signs of life as tourists strolled the streets, but many were also visitors from the city; coming to the country to look at fall leaves and wander through corn-mazes, sipping hot cider and spicy lattes.

She ran her long French-tipped nails along the dresses and blouses on a mismatch of hangers, mostly things that belonged at a church potluck or in the closet of a frill-loving grandmother.

She gathered her long dark hair into a loose ponytail and pulled it forward over her right shoulder. Left alone, it almost reached her jeans, and pulled forward it reached below her breasts. Sometimes in summer she liked to free a nipple from the deep v-cut dresses she usually wore, cover the bare breast with her long tresses, and watch as wandering eyes tried to figure out where her hair ended and her ample bosom began.

But today she was dressed almost conservatively. Her pear-shaped bottom stuffed nicely into a pair of blue jeans, a rust-colored mock turtleneck sweater underneath a light double-breasted leather jacket. She wore something underneath to amuse herself, but that was only for her and her lover.

Gospel music crooned out of some tired dusty speakers high on a shelf in the back, while the shopkeeper gossiped with a couple other older women at the front counter. She tried to imagine how these pieces could be used for a naughty photoshoot for her subscribers, but she really wasn’t seeing anything that struck her fancy.

She made her way down a crowded aisle, lined with dressers and side-tables, wardrobes and other “primitive” furniture. She paused at an antique spinning wheel, feeling something odd in the pit of her stomach — as if she was being watched. Then she realized that behind the wheel was a mirky, full-length mirror. But even looking at her reflection, she still couldn’t shake the odd feeling there was someone else watching. But at least the mirror and wheel made for a good photo for Instagram. She did a quarter turn and snapped a few photos with her phone, making sure to accentuate the spinning wheel and her shapely backside. Then it hit her.

She felt a deep vibration in her pants that she recognized immediately. She caught her breath and braced her hands on her thighs, her eyes almost rolling back as her body trembled from the sudden stimulation. An outside observer might have thought she was struck with a sudden urge to pee, but the man standing behind her knew better. He released the button on the app on his phone and watched her relax and straighten up, catching her breath. She looked across the back of the store for him, and coming up empty, she turned toward the front. She was surprised he had gotten so close without her hearing him, but she gave him a crooked grin and shook her head.

She breathed out a few long exhales to calm her breathing, then embraced him, nuzzling his neck. He wrapped one arm around her lower back, and with his other hand stroked the app a few more times. With each pulse, he felt her body tense and her hands grasp at his chest. After a couple more pulses she put her finger to his lips as if to shush him. “That’s enough, for now.” She was exhaling slowly again, even wiping away a tear from her eye. “Damn that little thing is strong…”

She looked warily around the store, “I don’t want to attract too much attention in this small town, I feel like we’re being watched.” He looked over his shoulder at the shopkeeper and her friends, but they were engrossed in conversation and paying them no mind at all.

He wondered if these ladies even knew that people sometimes recorded themselves in public wearing a remote vibrator, filming their reaction to be being stimulated by a lover or total stranger. But then again, who know what these ladies kept in their bedside table. People have been creatively pleasuring themselves for as long as there have been smooth stones and polished wood or bone.

He looked back at her, but she was transfixed by the mirror. “Babe, you alright?” he asked.

“What’s that?” She pointed in the mirror and then turned to find whatever she saw in a high shelf along the wall. He followed her through the maze of oddities and helped her find a stepping stool to reach a shelf above their heads. She paused a minute at the top before delicately lifting and then bringing down a glossy dark wooden object.

The item was something like the rootball of a tree that had been smoothed and polished. There was one central opening, probably where a root had grown out and then back into the main body of the trunk. It looked vaguely sexual, with a nub like a clitoris at one end, and some vague lines traced around the oblong, labia-like opening. The ends of the roots were rounded and bulbous where they terminated, vaguely phallic, but with the multiple limbs curving and spreading in multiple directions. The whole thing resembled an abstract octopus or tentacled alien.

The store was by no means dirty, but most of the kitchenwares and furniture wore a thin protective coating of dust. And yet there was not a single mote of dust anywhere on this strange artifact. Even the base was not flat but rather concave. and was probably where the main tree trunk was severed from this finely worked stump. Into the indented surface was burned an intricate spider’s web and an unfamiliar rune.

They turned it over in their hands a few times, almost speechless and pointing out the different features. They looked at each other, both already knowing they had to have it.

“It’s just perfect for the shoot I have planned,” he said.

She ran her finger around the rim of the suggestive opening and said barely above a whisper, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

They took it to the counter with some trepidation, unsure how much this piece would be or if the shopkeeper would even part with it. They assumed the magnetic pull they felt toward it was universal, but the shopkeeper barely glanced at it except to look for a price tag while the shopkeepers’ friends continued their banter uninterrupted.

His lover began to explain that she didn’t see a tag anywhere, but the shopkeeper just waved her hand, “I’ve had this and moved it around so many times I’m sure it just fell off.” She hefted the item in her hand and shrugged, “What’s it worth to ya?”

They looked at each other and seemed to both arrive at an agreement in a moment, “One hundred?”

The shopkeeper shrugged, “Works for me.” And she went back to chatting with her gal pals, wrapping the peculiar item in tissue paper and processing the sale with hardly another word.

Stepping back out onto the street they agreed it was time to head on to their destination -backcountry camping in a state park to the north. She stowed their find in the back of the SUV, by their tent and sleeping bags, cooking gear, and bundles of climbing rope. Grabbing a few items from her backpack, they hit the road.

Once out of town she unzipped her boots and slid her jeans down to her thighs. She fished out the pink tail of the remote-control toy he had buzzed her with in the store, sighing as it came out with a wet pop.

“You’re not going to leave it in the whole day?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and clearly squeezing his own stick shift through his pants.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It’s too distracting. Besides, I want to save something for the shoot. You’ll have plenty of time to torture and tease me.”

She pulled her pants back up and put her feet on the dash, leaning back to watching roadside flash by. A strange mix of churches and fast-food outposts, dreary looking adult bookstores and cheerful but tiny churches by the dozen.

“So does that mean no road head then?” he pointed at his fly hopefully.

She grabbed a handful of the fabric and manhood in his lap, giving it a good squeeze. “Not on these narrow roads buddy,” she retorted, “I don’t want to end up like that chick in American Gods.”

She loosened her grip and patted his disappointed trouser snake, letting her hand linger as he started stroked her thigh. They gently teased each other and resumed listening to the spooky podcast they had started on the way out of the city.

Over the course of an hour, rural farmland gave way to steeper mountain inclines and descents, mostly on a two-lane road with non-stop cars and 18-wheelers zipping by in oncoming lanes. Sometimes there was a concrete barrier between the lanes and sometimes a passing lane, but often not.

Eventually they descended into a valley with a wide river and skirted around a medium-sized town that apparently once was home to more millionaires than another place on earth at the height of the logging boom. They continued up into the mountains and the highway widened to a multi-lane freeway. She could have indulged him now, but their passion had cooled to a simmer and they just held hands.

They made it to the trailhead by early afternoon. She changed into capris and hiking boots, and they hiked their camping gear, bundles and bundles of rope, and camera gear about two miles into the woods. A few friendly hikers on the way out commented there was no way they needed that much rope, but somehow didn’t seem to notice that she and her man didn’t have many of the harnesses, pitons, cams, and safety gear that rock climbers typically carried. Or if they noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Arriving at a waterfall at the end of the trail, it was almost tempting to jump in. The water was so clear and the hike had certainly warmed them up. But the cold bite of autumn was almost giving way to winter, and so warming up afterwards would be beyond unpleasant.

They departed from the trail and continued downstream into a small gully until they reached nice flat spot by the stream, close to a rock wall, and with two grand old oaks about 5 meters apart that they had discovered earlier in the summer. Here they would make camp, build a fire, and prepare for a long day of tying and shooting tomorrow.