Chapter One

 

Simone liked books. She liked fantasies. She liked stories which carried her away from the dull routine of her boring life. She dreamed about being a princess, or a wizard. Hermione Granger was her hero. She had bought a wand from Amazon which was just like the one Hermione had used in the Harry Potter movies and hung it on her wall.

She liked to draw, and liked poetry, but didn't think she was very good at either. She liked to read poetry, though, and look at art - well, some kinds. She didn't think much of modern art. But she definitely liked drawings and paintings of people and animals and nature scenes.

Since she doubted her drawing she had taken up the idea of becoming a photographer and tried to capture artistic pictures on her phone's camera. She would have liked to have bought a real camera, but those, unfortunately, cost money she did not have.

Although she read a lot, she avoided romances like the plague. It was all she could do to not roll her eyes at the stream of middle-aged women who came into the shop every day searching out used books in the gigantic romance section. Though at least they weren't buying them new...

Working in a bookstore was something of a dream job for Simone. It didn't pay well, but she loved the atmosphere of the crowded, comfortable used bookstore owned by Mrs. Cooperman. The floors and bookcases were real wood, and the place was crammed with books up to the ceiling.

Also, fewer stupid people came in than when she'd worked at Banana Republic. And there were far fewer dumb bimbos and bimbettes coming in to annoy her by endlessly trying on clothes which were way too small and tight for them.

There were fewer guys, too, and most of the ones that came in were adults. The teenagers who came in tended to be nerdy and scared of women. Neither group bothered her much.

She liked to not be bothered.

She liked things to flow along predictably, without interruptions or surprises to throw her off her pace. She liked lists and neatness and having everything in its place. She had been accused of being somewhat OCD, but disagreed. She simply liked to have everything arranged in its proper order.

She very much enjoyed the fact that she could check the file on the computer and know whether she had a given book and where it was. She was very pleased whenever anyone asked and she could check the file, then lead them straight to the shelf and pull out a requested book.

And, of course, she liked being able to read books for free. Not that she couldn't at the library, as well, but they had a limited supply of fiction. And an even more limited supply of the kind she liked. The used bookstore was always getting in new things, and there were more than she could possibly read.

Simone had a very active imagination and often thought about what her future might hold in store for her. She supposed she'd find some man and get married and... stuff. And she'd probably get some sort of job which was better than where she was. One that paid better, preferably. But she had no idea when or how this would come about.

It wasn't like there were a lot of calls for people who had no skills other than reading a lot. And it wasn't like boys were breaking down the doors to ask her out. Nor that she wanted them to, for that matter. Simone found boys very confusing. And found her reaction to them even more confusing.

The kind of boy she liked was one who read a lot, like her, was intelligent, like her, liked fantasies and science fiction and other such stories. He'd be very knowledgeable and interested in learning more. He'd probably be a genius or something, though she didn't think she was even close to that.

He'd be kind of bookish and nerdy, in other words, much like her.

The problem was the kind of boy who excited her whenever she looked around was nothing like that. The kind of boy who excited her tended to have broad shoulders but not a very big vocabulary. He tended to have a large, powerful chest rather than a well-rounded education. And he tended to not read much, nor have much interest in anything but sports and cars, and of course, sex.

But she had literally nothing in common with such boys, other than, like her, they usually thought they were very sexy and handsome.

Which was... irritating. After all, she'd have loved to have had Harry Potter for a boyfriend! Yet, like Hermione, if given a choice, she'd have plucked up that Victor Krum in a second! Yet Krum was a dolt!

It was not easy to think of herself as shallow, and so, lately, she had simply admitted to herself that her biological instincts differed from what her intellect told her. Her instincts came from a hundred thousand years of needing a big, strong man to hunt and provide for her and protect her from lions and tigers and bears.

She didn't think that was really necessary anymore, even if her instincts thought otherwise.

"Mrs. Cooperman? I'll be heading home now, shall I? Unless you want me to stay later?" she called into the back.

"No, no, dear, you can go now," Mrs. Cooperman said, emerging from the back area where she had a little office. "I don't expect a lot of customers this evening."

She was a plump, gray-haired woman who had owned the bookstore for longer than Simone had been alive. She treated Simone well, in no small part because she was reliable, unlike most teenage girls.

It went without saying that teenage boys were even worse.

Simone went out the rear door of the converted old house and unlocked her bike, then drove it out onto the street and headed the eight blocks to her home. Her dirty blonde hair flowed out behind her as she rode, for the wind was picking up and she was heading into it.

She was wearing a loose, dark blue rugby shirt with a T-shirt underneath, the more to keep certain things from being noticed by people. On her face were a pair of glasses which were the nearest she could find to Harry Potter type glasses. Hers were somewhat larger, however.

She reached her parents' house in no time at all, really, and rolled into the small backyard, putting her bike next to the porch, then climbed up and unlocked the back door.

Her parents lived in an old red brick Victorian house. Which was great, as far as she was concerned. She thought it had style and class, unlike so many of the boxy houses today. On the other hand, it had small windows where she would have much preferred the big ones of newer houses which let in so much more light.

No one was home yet but her, so she trotted up the back stairs and then down the hall to her small room overlooking the front street. She liked to get home ahead of her parents because it gave her time to quickly shower and wash her hair. She certainly wasn't going to compete with them for time in the morning!

Newer homes had multiple bathrooms, which she thought would also be a fine thing, but which the architect of the old house apparently hadn't considered.

She kicked off her sneakers, slid her jeans down and off, and then peeled her T-shirt and rugby shirt up and off in one motion. She wasn't wearing a bra and slipped her panties down and off

It was time to exercise. She liked her job at the bookstore but while it did involve more standing and moving around than a lot of jobs it didn't involve enough. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she gazed at herself in the mirror.

Her hair went half a dozen inches past her slender shoulders. It was, for the most part, blonde. Certainly, the hair which fell down the sides of her head was a golden blonde. The hair on top of her head was a darker blonde, which she found irritating. How could it change like that? Was it some kind of trick of the light? Her girlfriends had suggested she dye it but that seemed like a lot of trouble just to look more attractive. Attractive girls tended to attract... jerks.

And she attracted enough of them as it was!

Her breasts were always causing her trouble. They didn't fit the bras she'd tried, except for athletic bras, and those were ugly. Her breasts were round and full, but very, very firm. And she'd read that bras did nothing to really help breasts. In fact, she'd read they weakened the chest muscles which supported breasts so that they tended to more easily sag.

She certainly didn't want that!

And so long as she didn't move very much or wear something thin or tight they wouldn't bounce or jiggle around noticeably. So why wear a bra?

Even her style of exercise was not aggressive. She preferred yoga. It was fairly intensive yoga because she enjoyed it, but it didn't result in rapid movements.

There was no reason she could see to put on clothes to exercise. Not when she was alone in her room, after all. She flipped up the lid of her laptop (with the camera covered by a small post-it note just in case) and then brought up her favorite yoga routines on YouTube.

From there, she began to follow the routines, stretching and straining, making her muscles work, getting her legs and arms and back stretched out. Admittedly, some of the poses might be considered a little risqué while naked, but there was no one to see.

She did consider, though, what a guy would think if he could see, if one were peeping at her just that moment, like when she did the downward dog. Especially when she did the three-legged version, or the Extended Puppy Pose. Or the Wheel or Locust.

Simone was aware that her body was considered very desirable, the kind of shape men panted over. She took quiet pride in that even while she did her best to hide her body under shapeless clothes. Her body would be a delightful surprise to any boy she decided was worthy of doing something useful to it or with it, as the case might be.

But it was not, she thought, something she wanted to display to just anyone. She didn't want to be continually harassed by either fumbly nerds or arrogant jocks who only had an interest in the size of her breasts or the shape of her bottom.

It was difficult to turn such people down, for Simone liked to make people happy, not sad or mad or embarrassed. She hated disappointing people. Sending some boy away, red-faced, after he'd spent days working up the courage to ask her out was dreadful! And it could be worse if they got angry and started insulting her just to embarrass her in return.

But if she wore fairly shapeless outfits they couldn't exactly accuse her of having tempted them, of having led them on, of being a cock-tease. At least, not honestly.

Still, she did take pride in her body. And her sexual fantasies tended to revolve around men seeing her naked, sometimes peeping at her, sometimes barging in on her, sometimes tearing her clothes off to stare at her lush young body. She'd also had fantasies of being a stripper, flaunting herself on a stage while all those men stared and lusted after her.

Then again, she'd also had fantasies of having sex with a tentacled space monster who would drive her insane with endless multiple orgasms while its tentacles slid all over her body and drove into every orifice.

Her fantasies were not altogether very realistic.

All the guys in her fantasies were big, powerful, overbearing, sometimes savage men who would roughly manhandle her, yet also insist on giving her multiple orgasms by any means possible.

In her experience, such men in real life tended to have little concern for anyone's pleasure but their own. But in her fantasy world, she could make them be as she wished.

She knew she could have many men. She knew she was pretty enough and had the body to attract any man. But she was shy about displaying her body and very cautious about what kind of guy she risked getting involved with.

Most, in her admittedly limited experience, were only interested in sex without strings. And few of them were actually very good at it. She suspected they had little experience themselves. Or else their previous lovers had flattered them - as she knew girls tended to do - and sent them on the way happily convinced they were God's gift to women.

Which meant she'd have to train them. In order to invest that kind of time and effort, she needed a guy who would be grateful, rather than insulted in her telling him what he ought and out not to be doing. And before that, she needed a guy she would be interested in spending a lot of time with AND who she thought was sexy.

Exploring sex was very difficult and complicated for a girl, something which irritated her whenever she thought about it. Guys had it so much easier. They'd even have sex with a girl who was unconscious. It was all the same to them. They'd still have an orgasm. And probably pretty quickly, too.

She knelt and then arched slowly back, her arms going down and back until her hands could press against the backs of her feet. She felt her skin tighten across her breasts as she held the pose, and felt the blood starting to rush to her upside-down head.

Then came the Wheel pose. She'd only mastered it recently. It was tricky balancing on her hands with one foot behind her on the floor and the other straight up in the air. She could only imagine some boy coming in and seeing her like this! He'd get an instant erection and want to slobber all over her!

Then came the extended puppy pose, which was supposed to be good for her back. It involved being on her knees, her chin touching the floor, her arms stretched out before her and her belly pulled in as close to her thighs as possible. And again she thought of what a boy would do if he came in behind her and saw her in such a pose!

All of them would get so excited just to see her like this! They'd all want to jump on her and stick their hard red cocks into her body! They got turned on so easily!

She changed the pose, shifting her knees to the sides, then more, imagining a boy coming in and seeing her like this, imagining if they were peeping at her through the window. She let her imagination continue, watching them in her mind's eye get wildly excited and then drop to their knees behind her.

Then they'd take her! Just like this! They'd thrust into her body and drive themselves against her in a frenzy, their cocks spearing into her body again and again as their hands raced over her, squeezing and fondling, grabbing and manhandling.

She'd never had sex in this position. Of course, she'd only done it twice, but it had always been face to face. Doing it like this would be more... carnal... like animals! It wouldn't be romantic but just lustful coupling. She could see Conan the Barbarian taking her like this! Rutting against her with his giant cock!

She slid a hand back under her body, her fingers stretching up to find her clitoris, and moaned softly as she rubbed. Her eyes closed, she imagined being taken like this by some ruthless, powerful man who would use her like a savage!

Breathing heavily, she rose up on her knees, a decision made. She was going to masturbate. She felt the hunger within her and wanted to do it fully.

She stood up and went to her closet, opened the door, then lifted a box off another box. She opened the lower box and in the bottom, lifted up an old pencil box. It was only about a half-inch thick, so nothing could be hidden there, nothing her nosy mother could find.

Except there was. Inside was a folded-up plastic tube with jelly-like studs all over it. She let it unfold. It was a french tickler, a sort of sheath for a man to slip onto his cock to give a woman added pleasure. She reached into the box again and took out the leg of a sofa. It was a simple wooden leg, wider at the base than the tip, with a little round metal stud at the bottom, and a thick screw on the top.

With these in hand, she returned to her bed. It was an older bed, with a scratched-up, often painted wooden frame. The bottom right leg had a neat round hole in it no one was likely to notice or pay any attention to even if they did.

Simone put the screw into it and began to turn, and before long the screw was firmly lodged in the side of the leg, the tip pointed at her belly. She slipped the french tickler over it, having to pull harder as the leg widened near the screw.

With that on firmly she turned her back to her bed and dropped down onto her hands and knees. She maneuvered herself back, feeling the tickler against her thigh and then her buttock. She raised her hips higher, drawing her belly in tighter, and reached back between her legs for the tip.

She moaned softly as she felt the pressure, as her makeshift dildo pushed slowly into her body. She was already moist, and as she dropped to her forearms and ran through her list of favorite sexual fantasies, she grew more so.

A large, handsome burglar had come into her bedroom. He ordered her onto her belly, his big hands jerking up on her hips, then he entered her from behind.

Simone let that image play out in her mind. It was an easy one because she only had to have the vaguest idea of what he looked like. In her mind, after all, he was behind her. All she had to imagine was how it would feel. And with the 'cock' inside her that was infinitely easier.

She moved her hips slowly in and out, at first, but each backward movement took more and more of the 'cock' into her already thrumming body. Simone had an excellent imagination, and of course, knew herself so was able to imagine how she would feel.

She drove herself back further, and since the sofa leg widened as she did she felt the strain on the lips of her sex, felt them aching. The ache didn't dissuade her, though. It aroused her further. At first, she kept her arms out before her, rolling her hips sinuously, patiently, sliding herself up and down the length of the cock, pretending it was the man behind her doing it and not her.

She let her swollen breasts grind against the carpet below, shifting her body deliberately to rub her stiff nipples against the rough material. As the heat swelled her breathing became more ragged. Her movements became faster, more frantic. She pulled one arm back and sent her hand down between her legs, her trembling fingers finding her clitoris, and as soon as she did the heat burst upon her with a roar.

Her fingers rubbed harder and her hips began to work faster and more frantically. She kept her voice down with an effort of will, gasping and moaning and whimpering as she rolled her hips in and out, in and out, jamming herself back further and further until her buttocks began to hit the side of her bed, began to hit the leg itself.

Every time she did that, the wide base of the leg slipped into her entirely and the lips of her sex began to close around the screw behind it. But of course, then she would pull forward and her opening would be forced wider from within. It was a strange sensation, but erotically charged given her current temperament.

She ground her nipples against the floor and fingered her clitoris and rode the dildo until the orgasm tore through her, then clamped a hand over her mouth just in case someone had come home and she wasn't aware of it. The odds were high against that happening but the consequences of one of her parents hearing her crying out in orgasm was simply too terrible to chance.

She moaned, gasping for breath as the orgasm faded. She dropped the hand away from her sex, pulling it out, and dropped the hand away from her mouth. She let her arms rest out to either side of her body as she knelt there impaled on the 'cock'.