India Homemade V

The thing took a chitinous step forwards. It tilted its head to one side as it examined me and I felt a tingle — the sort of sensation you get when you feel a sneeze coming on — but this was inside my head. I mean right in the middle of my brain. The vile, obscene bastard probed me somehow. I felt whatever power the beast possessed ripple through my thoughts. More than a physical sensation, I tasted metal and could smell something like burnt toast. A second or two later a chasm opened in my guts and I experienced the same dreadful ache I’d known when I lost my parents, the terror I’d felt at fourteen, bereaved and all alone. Then, it stepped back a pace and melted into shadow. The next I knew it had gone and I’d managed to stagger into the temporary comfort of the street. Then I became aware, like waking from a bad dream, that I was crying, sobbing really, and that I’d wet myself. The residue of that event, like a sigh from the sewers, stayed with me. I can smell the stink of it now.. Standing in the doorway though, I could see everything with ridiculous clarity. Lisa sat on top of Mike, her bare butt bouncing lightly in the moonlight, her slim body blocking me from Mike's undoubtedly well distracted eyes, and vice versa. The immediate picture was one of sensuality rather than sex. A mutual joining of egos, rather than a panting grubby sexuality, a fuck. The seeming innocence didn't last long.I stood in the doorway and watched silently. I wanted to get away from this embarrassing scene, but at the same time I wanted to stay and watch, even to take part. I compromised by keeping silent by the door, and watching the action with a swirling mixture of guilt, embarrassment and excitement. Slowly the excitement took over, and my other feelings were banished for the time being.Lisa had been hushed when I walked in, the only noises I could hear were the breathing of the two of them, and the bedsprings, which had obviously been suffering from a terminal illness for some.
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