When Brooke saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show poster on the wall, she understood she was going to wank. It’s not like it should have amazed her; after all, she had actually spent her last two years in this home fetishizing that image, dreaming about that pout on Tim Curry’s face coming wickedly close to hers. She ‘d likewise invested a substantial part of her last 2 years in this house battling with her supposedly libertine mommy over that poster (” It’s not that I object, I just don’t comprehend why you would want to look at a photo like that every day!”) Mom had actually finally given in and shut up about it, but to the day Brooke went away to college, she ‘d avoided entering Brooke’s bed room.
Brooke dropped her bags by the door and climbed onto the single bed, inhaling the clean aroma of fresh sheets and looking around her room at the memorabilia of her late childhood: Edvard Munch blow-up doll; postcards from London, Prague and Amsterdam; Senior Civics last project collage of abortion center battles. She began her running shoes and stretched out, looking up at the Rocky Horror picture. It had actually been a full year given that Brooke had actually been home, having moved cross-country for an internship right after college, moving permanently when the internship turned into a task, avoiding Thanksgiving and Christmas because Mom was in Jamaica with her brand-new partner.
A year was a long period of time; perhaps that’s why the image of Tim Curry decked out in fishnets, bodice, makeup and a lavish mane of dark hair had such an effect on her. But she couldn’t help but think how that poster had actually been such a bone of contention in between her mama and her. In the year since she ‘d been gone, why had not Mom taken it down? Could it be that she ‘d finally overcome herself, perhaps chalked Brooke’s late-teen fascination with crossdressing men to some safe hobby like repeated watchings of Some Like it Hot? Fortunate she ‘d never found out about the drugs Brooke consumed at her 24-month binge of weekly midnight motion pictures– weed, vodka, Zima, Boone’s apple wine, generic tequila, laughing gas and drug. That, or the sex. Could you even really call it sex, Brooke questioned? She thought about it more as drunken leisure, and it never ever went extremely far. At least, not as far as her dreams did.
Brooke remembered her teen fumblings with Tim, who played Frank-N-Furter in the cast that re-enacted Rocky Horror every Saturday night in the flickering light under the screen. In her postpubescent hormone-drenched eagerness, she ‘d thought it was the coolest thing worldwide that the 19-year-old wannabe star was named “Tim,” just like Tim Curry, who played the character in the movie. However what truly amazed her was the method his legs looked in fishnets, the way his lithe body relocated a corset. Tim had actually been a pretty mediocre kisser and too intoxicated to do much with those long-fingered hands, however their three heated makeout sessions remained some of the most intense sexual memories of Brooke’s life. She would have lost her virginity to him in a minute if the idiot hadn’t constantly been too drunk. She questioned if the genuine Tim Curry would have been a much better lay.
That believed sent out a surge of satisfaction through Brooke’s body. All of a sudden motivated, she squirmed from the jeans she ‘d worn on the airplane, slipped off the baggy sweatshirt and unhitched her bra. She extended on the bed, vaguely irritated at the fact that there was so little room to stretch out– she ‘d bought a queen bed a year ago and had actually been enjoying it thoroughly. However then she got a wicked smile on her face and felt more than a little titillated, remembering all the times she ‘d wanked in this extremely bed thinking of Frank-N-Furter. Looking up at Tim Curry, Brooke delicately slipped her hand into her thong and gasped as she felt her finger slide quickly into her. Either Tim and his fishnets still brought an extreme charge for her, or her mind had actually been wandering on the airplane more than she ‘d noticed. She believed it was a little of both. Then she was seized with a sudden effective, erotic idea that sent a wave through her body.
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She bounded off the bed and dug through her backpack, pawing clean underclothing and unclean publications out of the way. She ran across her pocket vibrator and tossed it onto the bed for later reference. Near the bottom she discovered her portable MP3 player. It took her a couple of minutes of scrolling through tunes prior to she discovered it. She ‘d downloaded it months ago in a fit of fond memories, then without delay forgotten it until now: “Sweet Transvestite.” She set the player on repeat, put her headphones on and went back to the bed.
Normally Brooke masturbated on her stomach, but this time she wished to stare Tim Curry right in the face– and be able to run her eyes over the line of his legs in those fishnets, so she stayed on her back. The way he was placed in the poster, she couldn’t actually see his crotch, but no matter: in her dream, the fantasy she had actually had exactly what appeared like a thousand times considering that she initially saw the movie, her creativity submitted Tim’s crotch quite perfectly. That set of bulging black lace panties held a long, thin cock that sent Brooke’s head into a spin. She pushed “play” on the MP3 player and twisted the vibrator’s control.
” How do you do? I see you’ve met my faithful handyman,” crooned Frank-N-Furter independently into Brooke’s ear as the vibrator slid easily into her thong and touched her clit. Her action was immediate, quicker than it practically ever was: power rushed through her body, her stifled gasp sounding loud in the little room even over the breathy voice singing “… he believed you were the Candyman …” as she bucked and arched her back, her buttocks leaving the bed. Looking at the poster, she envisioned herself dropping to her knees in front of that crooning diva, slipping her hand into his lace panties and tugging them down to reveal his long, hard dick, the tip shining with pre-come. She might nearly taste it as she changed hands, opened her mouth and slipped a finger in, licking her own juices off and picturing that Frank-N-Furter’s pre-come tasted like her pussy. She envisioned her mouth on his dick, moving easily up and down with her hand cupping his balls as he sang to her: “I’m simply a sweet drag queen from transsexual Transylvania …”.
Now she was climbing to her feet, bending over one of those antique sofas and putting her ass in the air as Tim kept singing perfectly, never ever missing a note as Magenta guided his cock in between Brooke’s legs, tugging her thong out of the way. Brooke’s body reacted almost viscerally as she envisioned his long, thin dick parting her lips and sliding into her, finding her pussy as wet in the fantasy as it was in reality. She pressed the vibrator harder against her clit and rocked her hips in time with Tim Curry’s dick as it moved all the way into her, her hand lingering around the entrance to her pussy so she could feel his balls carefully rubbing her clit. Tim kept singing as he began to fuck her in long, rapid, even strokes: “… remain for the night? Or maybe a bite?” She could practically feel his dick striking her G-spot as she smothered herself in Magenta’s cleavage. She slipped 2 fingers inside her while the vibrator worked her clit, and opened her eyes wide to check out Tim’s gorgeous face as she approached her orgasm.
But one thing still stayed in Brooke’s fantasy; it was something she ‘d almost forgotten, perhaps in a fit of adolescent embarassment. She had invested a lot time throughout her Rocky Horror days worrying about getting pregnant– although she didn’t lose her virginity until the year she left for college– that even in her dreams she might never let a guy can be found in her pussy. Perhaps that’s why, in her vivid Tim Curry dream, Dr. Frank-N-Furter constantly took out prior to he came. Pulled out, and slid into her ass.
She ‘d never ever done it in reality, which is why she was so shocked when she felt one finger routing down her pussy, felt the abrupt pulse of bravery that informed her she was mosting likely to go further than in the past. She understood you were expected to use lube and everything, so she never would have really put it in, however naturally in the dream there was no lube involved. She touched her slick finger between her cheeks and, without pushing at all, felt an avalanche of sensation that set her off into an orgasm as she pictured Tim Curry’s dick moving efficiently and consistently into her ass, his singing lastly faltering as he blew up inside her, flooding her with his thick come.
Brooke could feel the remaining convulsions of her fading climax as she sang along softly with the MP3 gamer. “I’m simply a sweet transvestite …”.
Brooke smiled. It was going to be a long week in your home.