Night of the Vanguard
By Rosa de le Pussy-Organista [not a real name]
[Editor’s note: The following story is fiction. It is an awful, plagiarizing mixture of romance writers’ submissions to the Purple Prose Contest and platitudes from the New Age Bullshit Generator.]
His masculine fingers, with well-trimmed, clean nails, started a journey down the buttons of my shirt. I leaned back, away from the table and let him do with me as he wished. My breathing became a hungry panting, as he shoved my skirt up around my hips; my ivory thighs were bared.
With a groan, he ripped open his pants and exposed his red-white-and-blue Tommy Hilfiger jockey shorts. I nibbled at his chin, his ear, touching his face with my fingertips.
“The quantum soup is approaching the tipping point,” he said. “There will soon be invocations of growth the likes of which the quantum soup has never seen.”
My pulse was beating madly as his hands traced the lines of my back and lightly gripped my scantily covered fanny.
He whispered into my hairline: “Only a traveler of the quantum matrix can reveal the all-encompassing astral energy.”
He bent forward to lightly kiss my pouting lips, dark curls tumbling into his eyes. The combination of that tender kiss and the sudden gleam in his eyes made my knees give way. He bent forward to kiss me again. First my soft mouth, then the rapid pulse at the base of the hollow of my elegant throat, then finally his lips and hot tongue glorified the mounds escaping from my brazier.
“You and I exist as sonar energy. Do not let the turbulence extinguish the knowledge of our path,” he said.
One of his hands touched my silvered breasts, baring them further. Soaring high, I daringly kissed him, fondled his tongue with my own and nearly screamed with the sudden surge of pleasure as he suckled my lower lip. He looked at my creamy breasts and pulled his writhing tongue back into his mouth.
“The stratosphere is calling you via ultra-sentient particles,” he said.
He kissed me quickly on dewy lips while his hands roamed lower. I buried my hands in his dark mop of beard and rasped gently with elegant nails against the sensitive maze of his ears.
“This life is nothing short of a rekindling of astral presence,” he said, as I purred as his deft fingers scaled my moistened peaks in magical circles. I arched my back to put my wanton protrusions more firmly into his hands.
He took off my bra to roughly tease my nipples and trembling lips with it.
[To be continued]