29th
So I wrote this just now
“Bill, you are such a child. Grow the fuck up,” Joan said as she closed her phone and threw it to the floor. The battery case shattered, sending the battery flying under the couch. But Joan didn’t care. She was livid. Why does he care? she thought, Steve and I haven’t been together for two years. The adrenaline boost subsided, and Joan’s rage quickly turned to frustration. Feeling light headed, she quickly sat down on the couch. Frustration made it’s way to bitter tears. Joan knew that Bill and Steve had something of a rivalry going when she started dating Bill, and it wasn’t exactly as if she hid the fact that she had a relationship with Steve. It had just never come up. Besides, she reasoned to herself, when exactly *is* the best time to tell your boyfriend you’ve slept with someone they hate? Joan grabbed a throw pillow and buried her face in it. She had wanted Bill from the moment she had laid eyes on him all those years ago, and she finally had everything she wanted. Why does he want to let something so ancient get in the way of our love? she thought, trying to stifle her tears. After all, it was several years ago. It wasn’t as if Steve’s cock was sitll in there, she told herself. But just as she began to smile at her own cleverness, she felt the strangest sensation. Her labia began to shift in her panties. At first, Joan feared perhaps she had been too enraged to notice a roach had crawled into her pant leg, and she quickly removed her pants to swat out anything that may be in there. As she removed her panties and confirmed that no such thing had occurred, the sensation continued its way inside and she felt the walls of her vagina expanding as if inflated somehow. Terrified, she dove for her phone on the floor, but as she grabbed it, she recalled the battery sailing under the couch. She rolled over to the underside of the couch in an attempt to retrieve it, but it was just out of reach. As she began to stand up to move the couch away from the wall, she felt it. Something pushed aggressively into her, and she fell ot the floor in shock. She could not see what caused it. She tried to cry out in terror but nothing came out. The unseen force withdrew, and as she laid there pantless and terrified, she put voice to her wildest of fears. “Steve?” she whispered. She felt it enter her again, a wild pumping sensation ravaged her barrel of fish at the sound of Steve’s name. She tried again to stand amidst the invisible love sausage which penetrated her. She was held down not by force, but by fear. She could not move. And somewhere in her fear, she felt twinges of immense pleasure. “Steve,” she called out again, and it plumbed her depths ever harder. “STEVE,” she screamed again. The invisible piston increased its efforts. Forgetting her fear, she moaned uncontrollably. Steve was the only one who had ever given it to her in this way, and she realized that somehow he had managed to do so without even being there. She felt herself explode with pleasure, and the sensation dissipated as quickly and quietly as it had begun. Joan lay there for what felt like hours, gasping for breath and trying to understand what had just happened. Hours passed. Joan tried to reconcile her confusion in a cup of lemon tea, but it didn’t seem to help. She made an emergency appointment with Dr. Sorenson, but she could not help but dwell on it, searching for an answer. The doorbell rang, startling her like an unexpected gunshot. She ran to the door, desperate for anything to get her mind off today’s events. Joan opened the door to discover two men in trenchcoats, soaked to the bone. Joan hadn’t even realized it was pouring rain outside. “Joan Roberts?” the older man said. “Y-yes,” she stuttered, the scene only adding to her confusion. “I’m Detective Philips, this is Detective Brown,” he said as he quickly flashed his badge in her face, “we’d like to ask you a few questions about your fiancé, Bill Stewart.” “Is he okay?” she asked, having no idea what to think. “Earlier today, several witnesses claimed to have seen Mr. Stewart arguing with one Steve Ashton at Dean’s Bar and Grill,” Detective Philips said, “Mr. Ashton was found dead about an hour ago. We have reason to suspect your fiancé murdered Mr. Ashton.” “Oh my god,” Joan breathed as it came together in her mind. “If we could step inside and ask you a few questions, Ms. Roberts, we can-” “Oh, my GOD,” she repeated forcefully. “Ms. Roberts?” “I THINK I JUST FUCKED A GHOST.”
