Daydreams & Distractions ☼ Tentacles

Tentacles
A Daydream & Distraction by Redbud

• To all our readers: I have added a new erotic category with this story – Married Sex. Much erotica, if not most, is about cheating, sex with strangers or  non-consensual sex (which is fun to read and write) but I love being married and there’s a lot of fun in married sex. So, here’s a category for all of us who are married and like it that way.

Tentacles, 2009 Royal mail stamps and envelope 110 x 220 mm

It’s been too long.

Too long since your husband looked under the bed. Where is he? You knew better.

You know. You will face your fear. Again.

And that’s when you feel the first tentacle wrapping softly, flannel-like, around your right ankle. You want to yank your foot away, but another tentacle is already wrapping itself around your other foot. You grip the cover sheet and bite your lip. You can’t look. You don’t dare. You stare at the ceiling. Then, slowly, inexorably, the tentacles begin to draw your ankles apart. Your knees part and then your thighs. There’s only one reason for your legs to be opened, “What did you do to him?” you ask, your voice strained.

Your legs continue to part until the powerful tentacles hold them at opposite corners.

“What did you do to my husband?” you ask again, but the monster won’t answer. Instead, you feel more tentacles wrapping softly but imperturbably around your wrists. You test their strength but your slender arms are no match. They’re already drawing your wrists upward, apart, and to the top corners of the bed. Ever since you were a girl, not a young girl, but just becoming a woman, you hid from the monster under your bed – suspecting what it wanted to do to you – dreading it but also secretly desiring it. This time you won’t hide under your covers.

Your wrists are held tightly now. Another tentacles draws the covers off your naked form. The cloth slips achingly over your nipples, then slips down your breasts, over your flat belly, belly button, then down your hips and lower until you feel nothing but the warm air of the bedroom. You’re helpless. You still refuse to look, afraid of what you’ll see. You close your eyes.

You feel an unexpected warmth engulf your nipple, then suction that draws your nipple and breast upward . You gasp and arch. Then the mattress sinks as the bulk of the monster slinks between your open legs. The entry to your flat belly is defenseless. You shake your head, then cry out when a narrow tentacle easily penetrates you. You feel it slipping further and further into. You pant. Then you feel the tip of it press upward against your spongy G-Spot. You inhale and groan. Your monster moves to your other breasts while the tip of the narrow tentacle moves like a vibrating finger against your G-Spot. It’s not fair! Your defenseless! You groan. You twist. “Put a sheet under me!” you gasp. “I just cleaned the sheets!”

The monster hesitates.

“Please!” you beg.

Then the tentacle flutters against your G-Spot. Your breast feels like it’s going to be swallowed. “Please…” you beg. “I can’t stop it!” You feel your orgasm starting from the inside out. You stiffen. You gasp as you try to prevent it. “Please,” you beg. “It’s not fair!”

Then your belly tightens and lifts off the bed. Your ankles and wrists pull hard against the monster’s tentacles. Your head arches back against the mattress, and you exhale as your body responds to the monster despite your clean sheets. You spurt again and again, grunting, bound and helpless as the tentacle draws out the last of your gasping orgasm.

Finally, the tentacle withdraws.

“Please,” you beg, “no more.”

But then a much larger tentacle presses against your opening. “Uhn!” You pant and hold your breath, then exhale as the thickest part of the monster forces apart the lips of your sex and begins to fill you. You groan your belly is filled, inch by inch.

“Please, no,” you beg, “not again.”

You grunt and your eyes roll as you’re filled to the depth of your narrow belly.

“Please,” you beg again, “I want my husband’s baby. Tonight was supposed to be his turn, not yours. Haven’t you bred enough children in me? They leave messes everywhere! They slime my…” You grunt as it thrusts. “…they slime my furniture. They wipe their noses on their sleeves. They’re little…” You grunt with another thrust. “…monsters.”

But the tentacle isn’t listening. It never does. Your soon grunting with every thrust. You tug with wrist and ankles but the large appendage never quiets sliding in and out of your defenseless belly. And then you feel the familiar, helpless tightening in your penetrated muscles. “Oh God,” you groan. “No!”

But the thrusting doesn’t stop. Once again, your mouth is opening, your back is arching off the bed. Your sex clenches once, twice, ready to be ecstatically inseminated. Then you groan and the convulsions are quick and sharp, gripping the appendage again and again. The monster answers the milking of your needy belly. You feel its first hard pulse, then a pause, then the quick, hard spurting of its juices. It fills you even as your abdomen milks it with fading spasms.

The appendage withdraws. The monster’s juices flow out of you, mingled with yours.

You’re hardly move when the tentacles release your wrists and ankles. There’s a long silence. The bed shakes.

“Is that you?” you ask. “Where have you been?”

:Will Crimson
January 18 2010

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