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The Adventures of Cheiri
The Adventures of Cheiri
Night settles in early this time of year. Colder and generally more damp than what’s comfortable for a southern born girl. Cheiri was contemplating the cold and dampness, and glumly considering the poor quality of heat sputtering from the dash of her eighty eight Ford Tempo. She was driving home to her equally under- heated cold and damp apartment in Ghent, and what she was really contemplating was what in Gods great creation had possessed her- what demon had slunk into her otherwise splendid and highly accomplished brain- that she should have decided to move to Norfolk from her beautifully warm, and womb damp home in New Orleans.
As she pulled into the parking lot behind her apartment building she told herself to stop with these dreary thoughts. This was not made easier by her location, for the back of her building was possibly the dreariest most unpleasant place she could imagine.
“Shake it off,” she told herself, as she got out of her car, found her house key and grabbed the grocery sack from Seven-Eleven. She headed up the fire escape to the back entrance of her apartment. “What I need is a hot bath, a cold glass of whiskey, and a good hour long fucking.” She thought on the way up the stairs.
Thinking this cheered her up a bit and she kicked her well endowed imagination into gear. By the time she got the door open she could feel warm anticipation in her belly. By the time she walked through the kitchen, she had considered and rejected the idea of calling her sometime boyfriend to see if he was up for a romp. He was good enough in the sack, but he was duller than the razor she had scraped the hair from her legs with the other day, duller than this dull ass miserable cold damp shitty day... “ No” she thought aloud “that will not do. Thinking it already has me loosin’ the mood.”By the time she had walked through the living room- shedding her clothes along the way- to the bathroom, the plan that would undoubtably mend her lagging spirits had taken shape.
She started water for her bath, and returned to the kitchen for the whiskey. She poured herself a tall glass of Blackbush Irish, and added a few cubes of ice. Stirring her whiskey with her finger to cool it she considered her next step. Bath now, or the computer search she had in mind. A sip of whiskey, and the subsequent chill she felt decided her on the bath.
“Ahh” she sighed as she saw the thick cloud of steam rising from the tub. She smiled sunshine on a showy field, her fear of a luke-warm bath dispelled. Tentatively she stuck her toe in the water. “Excellent... OH! HOT!... Yes, good” The water was that temperature you could just stand, but must be entered gingerly, like walking barefoot into a dark room. She opened the medicine cabinet and withdrew her waterproof vibrator, and carefully began the process of acclimation to the hot water. One foot to the bottom, wait, the other foot, wait, and cautiously now lowering herself the rest of the way in.
“And ahh again” she whispered, as she lay back, the water up to her neck, her nipples and knees the only part of her still exposed to the air.
She lifted the vibrator and switched it on to check the batteries, momentarily concerned that she would have to get back out of the tub to scrounge for some fresh ones; relieved when it hummed its pleasing tune. She switched it back off and lay it on her belly. A sip of whiskey, followed by another, and then by a third, and her insides began to feel the same warmth that the water was achieving outwardly.
With her left hand she began idly fingering herself. With her right she brought the whiskey to her lips, sipping, enjoying the sensations of inward and outward stimulation. She finished her drink and set the glass aside. She took the vibrator, turned it on and pulled it up under her left breast. She loved the sensation of it, round smooth, gently humming, caressing the crease between her ribs and boob. That place where the under-wire of her bra chafed and tenderized her skin over the course of a day.
After treating her other breast to the same voluptuous pampering, she moved the vibrator to her vagina, tip end down, playing it over the lips of her opening, then pressing it firmly with both hands onto her clitoris. This never failed to send an electric shock up her spine. Her back arched, her breasts emerging from the water, her nipples erect in the cool air. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she settled back into the water, removing the pressure of the vibrator on her clit. She turned it off and set it aside, knowing that its part in tonight’s festivities was complete.
She began playing herself with her hand again, just enough to keep a spark alive from the fire she had just started. Laying her head back and closing her eyes she took three long slow deep breaths, and consciously relaxed the muscles in her face. This accomplished, she performed the same three breath, relaxation of each part of her body from her neck to her toes, all the while gently tickling her clit with her left hand. Now the only parts of her body not entirely at ease, were the muscles on her left forearm, hand, and middle finger, as well as an almost imperceptible clenching of the muscles in her vagina and upper thighs.
Her relaxation ritual complete, her mind could now let go, relinquishing all thought of her day, and to an extent even, of herself. The water, now cooled to just over her body’s temperature, felt almost sensation-less on her skin. Her body, buoyed by the weight of the water, able to maintain its relaxed state without the participation of her mind. Her only connection to her conscious self was the dull throbbing of her vagina, pulsing in rhythm with the efforts of her left hand. Indeed her vagina and hand were almost a single sensation, two parts combined to create one feeling. And there was nothing for her except that one feeling. She was now centered.