End of the Day

Nancy Clerk 5 yrs

The front door clicked closed as Ellen collapsed against it, exhausted and tired of the heavy air outside. The final two hours of her work day had stretched into meaningless eternity, made worse by the humid, thick blanket the weather was casting over the city, promising a storm any moment but never delivering the goods. All she needed now was to be alone and in a peaceful place to decompress. She sat there for a good five seconds, back against the barrier to the outside world, and with immense relief she untied her shoes, pulled them off, and delighted in the coolness that the motion of wiggling her toes allowed in, now confined only by tights.

For maybe a minute more she sat with closed eyes and heavy limbs, then with theatrical effort for an invisible audience lifted herself up and moved into the bedroom, where she intended to sleep until either the end of the world or she got hungry, whichever came first. She went through it to the bathroom, stopped at the sink and regarded herself with a long, weary look. Her mirror-self's unsmiling face gazed back at her with the haggard, sympathetic gaze of shared hardship, and they both agreed not to judge the other for the perfunctory hygiene routine that followed for all of about thirty seconds. Giving her teeth a once over with a brush and splashing water on her face, she then slunk back out the door and into bed, leaving her sweater, t-shirt and bra on the floor behind her as she peeled them off one at a time on the way.

She had leaden eyelids and had been yawning almost rhythmically since she entered her apartment, and nothing now would stop her rest. The orange evening sun still vainly attempted to intrude through heavy curtains still closed since the morning, but Ellen paid it no mind; now as she entered the cool, soft embrace of her bedsheets it was no external force that stopped her sleeping, but a suddenly uncooperative and insomniac brain that was being fed exhaustion stimuli by every aching inch of her body and yet chose now to awaken and review the day. Specifically it chose to review Will.

Her handsome colleague had consumed her thoughts for about two months after he got hired, and Ellen had spent as much time around him as she could find excuses for. He was funny, fit, witty, intelligent, disarming, and wore smart, well-put together outfits with trousers just tight enough not to leave his muscular caboose to the imagination. They had laughed and joked and mildly flirted together, and Ellen was a day away from taking the initiative and asking him on a date when he casually dropped that he was seeing the willowy - and frankly flat-chested - Amy from the office above. Ellen greeted the news with a smile and congratulatory hug which she had held on to for too long while she felt his hard, powerful body against hers, and a swelling ache in her ribcage that told her she was never going to be happy. She had then excused herself to the restroom, and tried desperately to think of handsome celebrities instead of Will as she directed her frustration into nearly an entire break's length of distractedly fingering herself.

That was her preferred method of stress relief, and thinking about work stressed her out, so that was where she went now, hoping it could also do something about the insomnia. Raising her knees and moving her thighs apart was an action well-practised enough to be a reflex as she slid her hand between them and gently began massaging her clitoris, her heartbeat starting to feel as heavy in her chest as her eyelids. She imagined herself in her local coffee shop, enjoying a latte and a book as David Tennant walked in. She caught his eye immediately and he smiled a charming smile, walking over to her and telling her she was beautiful. Her middle finger dipped slightly below her clit and inside her to briefly lubricate herself before resuming its tight circular motion. He sat down and ordered a cappuccino, they chatted for a while about his career and hers, and how she admired his work, and how he found her to be intelligent and witty and incredibly well-dressed, and then he invited her back to the house he was renting while he was in town. It was only five minutes away and he was just in the coffee shop exploring the local neighbourhood.

Ellen shifted slightly, inhaling sharply as a bright, warm tinge of pleasure emanated from the pressure under her middle finger up towards her abdomen, and she wondered vaguely, as she had done many times, if most peoples' fantasies had this much of a run-up. They exited the café and strolled along a pleasantly leafy and sunlit fictional avenue, laughing and joking, and after a few dozen steps he took her hand in his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a temperate day to match his warm, dry palm, and her heart leapt at the casual intimacy. Now they were in front of his door, and David turned to her and said "you really are beautiful, Ellen. I'd like to kiss you", and without even waiting for a reply, he lifted her chin with one hand and planted his lips on hers. The next few moments were a whirlwind as Ellen's slick fingers gained pace, now abandoning their circular motion in favour of a quick and twitching up-and-down.

Now they were in his bedroom, removing an item of clothing each in turn. Down to underwear alone, she was stroking his body, admiring the hidden power that seemed to whisper from tight muscles. And he was moving his hands over her, from a light touch of her neck, down her breastbone and between her breasts, then down to her belly, whereupon he reached around her into an embrace, and placed one hand on her buttock while the other unclasped her bra. They shared a long, deep kiss as he drew her in close, his tongue as powerful as it met hers, and they teased and circled each other within their joined mouths. A soft blossom of comfort and bliss radiated through Ellen's lower body, but she did not slow her movements. Rather she pushed her head back further into the pillow as she stretched and murmured, and redoubled the quickness and strength she applied to her small, increasingly-present nub.

Now the fantasy gained pace, and David pulled down his tight boxer briefs to reveal a penis that curved upwards to point at the ceiling. If classical statues had erections they would look like that: perfectly smooth the whole length except where it enlarged at the end, but even that followed a shapely contour pleasant to the eye; a dignified and respectable size that would definitely fit inside Ellen and didn't dominate the view as she admired his naked body; hard as a marble sculpture too as she reached out to daintily place a hand around it. David's face swam out of view in her mind's eye, and as fantasy Ellen lay back to adopt the same pose as real Ellen, and as real Ellen fumbled for the toy on her nightstand behind the alarm clock and under her bedtime book, she realised with mounting annoyance that it had just been Will wearing a David Tennant mask. Her left leg kicked as another, larger pulse moved through her, making her feel light and giddy as seemingly every pleasurably sensitive nerve inside her flared, and with her left hand she tossed the book to the floor and gripped her dildo, bringing it under the covers to slide inside her as Will did the same and her mind tried vainly to paper the Tennant mask back on. That failed and a heavy, comfortable sensation of being filled caused another wave to break within her torso and curl her toes. Her brain was in open rebellion.

While her right hand reached vibration speed and her left hand moved the weighty silicon penis in and out of her, Ellen tried frantically to find a suitable celebrity crush for it to represent. Ryan Reynolds, Mads Mikkelson, Tom Hiddleston, and Bradley Cooper tried and failed. Daniel Craig, John Legend, Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp all gave way. Her mind betrayed her as Will's face kept returning over and over and her body betrayed her as it greeted him by twitching and shaking and glowing warm within from her prolonged orgasm, ebbing and surging. Eventually she admitted defeat and gazed into his ice-blue eyes, no less able to will his face out of her mind than she was able to will the comfortable pressure of her faithful dildo out of her vagina. Eventually she became oversensitive and slowed down, heavy breaths matching a thumping heartbeat as she held the length of the toy inside her for another few timeless moments, enjoying the intimate pressure. Her right hand lay still now next to her, and with a final physical jolt of sensation she slid the model dick out. Without any energy left, Ellen rested it back on her nightstand, rolled over, and went into a deep sleep in her large and empty bed.