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Tentacle Dreams

Tentacle Dreams

I will paint you a picture. I will try to be brief, but please don’t skip anything.

Imagine a girl who has gone downstairs in the middle of the night. She wears a long, frilly, cotton night-gown and nothing tumblr_m9scvtX28h1raeqvqo1_500underneath.

You don’t know why she’s gone downstairs. Maybe for a glass of milk? But if so, she never made it to the kitchen. She is on the floor.

But first let me describe the stairs. In this moment, this brief vision, they are behind her and to the right. They are Victorian stairs. The wood is a darkened oak. The newel post is a thick square post, divided, top and bottom, into two narrow panels. On the top of the newel post is a solid round wooden ball. The railing is also wooden with elegant balusters underneath, three to a stair, and individually turned.

A brown and rust red carpet is tacked to the center of the stairs and turns, with the stairway, to the left, above and further behind the girl. You guess, perhaps, that she had just walked to the bottom of the stairs or that she had been in the hallway and was about to climb the stairs.

A closed and tall paneled door is also to the right of the girl and at the bottom of the stairs. It goes into a room you can’t see. Maybe it’s the living room? The left of the girl, and across from the closed door, is another one. It’s open, but from your perspective you can only see the white, painted jamb and the worn, bronze strike plate. The room to the left is dark. There is another door to the left and further down the hallway.

As the hallway itself: the walls are plaster and white. A single dim lamp, which you can’t see, lights the hallway somewhere
directly above the girl. There is a painting on the wall between the two doors to her left. The subject is difficult to see, but you can just make out waves, a three masted ship, and the menace of the foam, great plumes of foam, breaking on rocks.

The girl herself is beautiful.

You guess that she is young but also old enough to be in this story. She faces you as though she crawled toward you. One hand is in front of the other, but you can see that she finds no purchase on the hardwood floor. The elbows and hands of both arms are flat to the floor. You notice that the neck of her white night-gown reveals her right breast. Her nipple almost seems to touch the floor. The curve of her breast is beautiful and smooth. The skin of her aureole is just a little darker than the breast, and the delicate nipple is darker still.

Her hair is brunette, her eyes are green, and her full lips are red. Her skin is pale.

What did you say? You think that her hair should be braided? Two braids? Yes, that’s very innocent. I agree.

Remember that she is flat on the floor. Her belly, which you can’t see, is also flat on the floor. You imagine it, perhaps: it’s tautness and the dimple of her belly button. You imagine how the single muscular line of her abdomen vanishes smoothly at the V between her legs and maybe you imagine a little more. Her left knee is visible, almost at her left elbow, as though she tried to crawl forward, to raise herself on one knee. But there is something pulling her.

Now you see it.

There is a tentacle wrapped around the ankle of her right leg. It pulls her away from you. It pulls her toward the dark and open door, the door tentacle dreamsthat I haven’t described yet, at the end of the hallway, under the leftward turn of the stairs. There is a Persian carpet that has been crumpled upward and behind her by her efforts to pull herself away from it.

Just to the left of her slender neck, and behind her, you see that her frilly nighty has fallen away from her buttocks. Her ass is lifted by her failing effort to rise to one knee. You can see the lovely curvature. You see that other V that makes a dark cut between her heart-shaped buttocks. You imagine that if you could see behind her, you would see her pussy, the entry between her thighs, dark, raised and vulnerable.

You would think she would close her legs.

But perhaps she doesn’t see or never saw the other tentacle, muscular, rising like a powerful S in the black doorway. The bulging tip, like the head of an eyeless snake, already drips. The giant, broad head is already slick with clear and white semen.

She looks at you. Her forehead is creased. Her eyes plead. Her parted lips are rounded into an O of – what is it? – shock, exhaustion, desperation? What is it about her agony that reminds you so much of another kind of agony, one that will make her eyes turn upward. The difference is so subtle that you can almost imagine her after she has been pulled – how long will it take? – to the giant tentacle in the shadowy doorway.

I leave you with that image.

I leave you to imagine whether she will crawl away afterward on hands on knees, hand on her belly, thighs dripping, head bowed tentacle dreams-2low and lips apart; or whether I will pull her into the vile creature will pull her into the stone cellar to hang her from a dusty beam, to fill her, as only a young woman can be filled, over and over again.

But surely, you know, what is erotic is not the same as sex. What is erotic is the bare ankle, the frilly nightgown, the braids, the slippery hardwood floor, the black doorway and the giant, dripping tentacle that awaits her unsuspectingly parted thighs. And yes, the pull, the unstoppable tug and tug, the long and the slow pulling toward the inevitable.

Why don’t you help her?

Oh, I know. No need to explain. There are some readers who imagine they are the girl.

And there are readers who imagine you are the girl.

Do, please, enjoy.

Sincerely,
Tentacle

(Or With, as you tasty beings like to call it, Love.)

22 comments on “Tentacle Dreams

  1. paul1510
    January 6, 2013

    Will,
    you are busy this new year, it’s much appreciated.
    Paul.

    • willcrimson
      January 6, 2013

      I was wanting to write another Tentacle, but was out of ideas. This one occurred to me right after posting Falling. Had to squeeze it in. I’ll have no time the rest of the week. :-)

  2. sassyfrassylassie
    January 6, 2013

    :) Made me smile, over and over.

    • willcrimson
      January 6, 2013

      And that’s what I’d like all of my erotica to do. :-)

    • sassyfrassylassie
      January 6, 2013

      I never really thought about it much, but a tentacle on each ankle, one pulling back the wrists, and three to tend to other parts…yeah.

    • willcrimson
      January 6, 2013

      Hmmm… yes, is that how the story should go? =)

    • sassyfrassylassie
      January 6, 2013

      In my mind that is the way it goes. :)

    • sassyfrassylassie
      January 6, 2013

      I stand corrected. Kind of. They have six arms and 2 legs. I was wondering about that just now as I took a bath and fantasized. I guess I need to update the fantasy. One on each wrist, one on each ankle, one choking me with three to spare. Perfect.

    • willcrimson
      January 6, 2013

      Yes, but that depends on what kind of “tentacle” you are talking about — the homegrown kind (which are harmless) or the scheming kind from an (as of yet) undisclosed and unspeakable corner of our galaxy. They look very much like our homegrown tentacles. They also have eight appendages, but they use each one. Women are their perfect prey. Four of their tentacles are for a woman’s wrists and ankles. Three are for the three ways inside of a woman. The last tentacle is for holding her hair, for lovingly encircling her slender neck or, most horrible of all, to tickle her while she is inseminated.

    • sassyfrassylassie
      January 6, 2013

      I’d much rather be choked. I hate being tickled.

      Inseminated you say. Hmmm… :)

    • willcrimson
      January 6, 2013

      //Inseminated you say. Hmmm… :)//

      Well… yes, that’s the whole point of these vile and despicable creatures. Not being a woman. I can only imagine the secret and unspeakable fear of a bedroom’s unclosed closet door.

    • sassyfrassylassie
      January 6, 2013

      Unclosed closet doors. Yes, that is a fear I have faced many times, usually with a baseball bat in tow. I felt a lot better after getting a dog (or two).

      Is that the point of these creatures? To inseminate? Maybe that is the point from their perspective. They are highly intelligent. Maybe they are just well trained accessories.

    • willcrimson
      January 6, 2013

      //Is that the point of these creatures? To inseminate?//

      Yes, but if you have read Tentacle’s other stories, then you know that as long as a woman doesn’t orgasm, she can’t be impregnated by a Tentacle’s inseminate. It is in the well-trained accessory’s fine print… somewhere.

    • sassyfrassylassie
      January 6, 2013

      Well, that would leave me out. I am a cumming machine. It’s in my fine print. Somewhere.

  3. sassyfrassylassie
    January 6, 2013

    “Her hair is brunette, her eyes are green, and her full lips are red. Her skin is pale.

    What did you say? You think that her hair should be braided? Two braids? Yes, that’s very innocent. I agree.”

    :)

  4. vanillamom
    January 6, 2013

    Gezzus Will!

    You are fucking brilliant…you pulled me…uh…he pulled me…uh…i got sucked in…

    *sound of fingernails clenching around the thin edge of doorframe, then slipping….*

    • willcrimson
      January 7, 2013

      Ha!

      That was my… er… the vile creature’s intention all along!

      um… hey. those fingernails are sharp.
  5. thartac
    January 7, 2013

    Fucking tentacle¡ Mine’s…..

  6. Windowbox
    January 8, 2013

    Right up there with your best stuff Will.!
    I like the idea of her crawling away afterwards. Hanging from a dusty beam like a carcass does nothing for me.

    • willcrimson
      January 8, 2013

      Thanks Windowbox! I certainly don’t think Tentacle would “hang her like a carcass”. I think she would be kept quite busy. But that’s the fun of this story. You can finish it however you like. :-)

  7. wordsmithingimp
    January 9, 2013

    //I leave you to imagine whether she will crawl away afterward on hands on knees, hand on her belly, thighs dripping, head bowed tentacle dreams-2low and lips apart; or whether I will pull her into the vile creature will pull her into the stone cellar to hang her from a dusty beam, to fill her, as only a young woman can be filled, over and over again.//

    A daunting task, but since you asked I suppose I can force myself to oblige. I will go imagine both options, and conduct some thorough tests to see which is the superior ending. For eh…*ahem* science.

    • willcrimson
      January 9, 2013

      Ah, yes… science. I expect a… thorough… report once your tests have been “conducted” for purely… academic purposes. I might even post it for the benefit of the, of course, intellectually curious.

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