The Stoned Chrysalis

The Woman - Erotic fantasy

Aimee Vincent

It was 7am and she had to go to work which meant actually getting out of bed, she extended her arms above her head and used the weight of her body to pull herself into sitting position, ran her hands through her hair in a failed attempt to brighten up a little. Indigo was beautiful in a way that confused people, long dark brown hair framed her face and almost fell down her body acting like a cloak when she wanted to hide. Porcelain skin and dark blue eyes people would say looked through instead of at you. Recently a man in the street had told her to smile. She imagined various ways he could humiliate  himself further like tripping on the gutter and being hit by a group of cyclists training for a triathlon, she imagined that every time he’d try to get up another cyclist would come flying towards him, knocking him onto the gravel. She often referred back to that image when she needed a laugh.

It was a warm morning, her favourite kind. She slid out of bed, wandered to the bathroom and hopped in the shower. The water hitting her body had always made her feel some type of way, she liked it cold to begin with, it would make her shiver and goosebumps ripple across her flesh. Water was like a drug for Indigo, a flowing natural high, a momentary erasure of all the things she wanted to erase. Her hands would slide over her skin, the curves of her hips and thighs, up onto her face and slowly down to the moistness between her legs. She loved herself in water, she could feel herself as a lover would. Sometimes she would grab the soft flesh of her own body, the mound of her breast, the hardness of her nipples. She would allow her body to experience itself. She would let her hand wander to the wetness between her legs.. she would.. she would…she would if she had time. Today was not one of those days. Indigo was running late. 

She jumped out of the shower, quickly dried herself and slipped a black dress over her head.

Her hair was still wet when she ran out the front door, the warmth of the morning hit her skin and she glowed as she walked down the street. Indigo was of those people who had no awareness of her beauty. People wanted to help Indigo while simultaneously being afraid of her presence, as though just by making eye contact she knew your little secrets; the time you whacked off in the toilets at school or got horny watching your older cousin get changed at the pool. In reality if you knew Indigo and you told her your secrets she would smile a knowing smile and tell you mostly nothing in life is worth feeling embarrassed about, that we are all scrambling through existence like fledglings, haphazardly falling from the nest.

The train was packed already by the time she arrived at the station, she managed to squeeze herself into the carriage and find a pole to hold onto. The warm breath of a stranger hit the back of her neck and she shuddered. The general public made her uncomfortable, she couldn't understand the way people looked at her or why they were always so afraid to speak their truth.

 Infront of her stood a woman that looked like her from behind, long dark hair that cascaded down her back, skin that looked so soft she almost wanted to reach out and touch her to see if she was real. The woman turned around, her eyes so brown they were almost black, her lips full and slightly dry. Indigo imagined kissing her, running her tongue along her lips, making them wet. She shook the image out of her head as they continued to make eye contact. The train pushing them so close Indigo could feel the warmth of the woman’s body against her own. 

“Hi” she said, concealing a smile which suggested much more than hello.


Their eyes studied each other almost of their own accord, darting from one to the other trying to understand what was behind them. The train came to a rough stop and the two womens bodies, both curvaceous and supple, pushed against each other. They didn’t resist. Indigo could feel the womans breast against her own, etiquette would dictate she move back a little but neither of them did. She wanted to touch her, she wanted to feel her.

Part of Indigo felt compelled to look away, she felt exposed, naked in a train full of people. She wanted to know this woman in a way she had rarely wanted to know anyone. She wanted to know her without words. 

“i’m getting off next stop” said the woman, with a pause and a stare so open Indigo wanted to jump inside it. They were as oblivious to the world around them as it was to them.

Her heart raced, she could feel the wetness of her underwear heating between her legs

The Woman leant in and whispered “Would you like to come with me?”

Indigo nodded “Yes..”

The Woman touched her arm as the train came to a stop, the doors opened and they pushed their way through the distracted crowd and out onto the platform. The doors closed again and the train sped off. The women were alone, the sun caressing their skin, each set of eyes boring into the other, both of their chests expanding and deflating with every laboured, activated breath. The chemistry was palpable.

“Can I touch you?” asked the Woman

Indigo was sexually confident and no stranger to chemistry but never had she experienced something so intense, nothing so public, nothing so free of context or words. Her instinct was to run, this isn't normal she thought, this isn't how people engage with each other; then she remembered how much she hated the way people usually engaged with each other, how she longed for truth, she longed for openness, she wanted more intensity, more risk. So she replied “yes..”

The woman moved toward her for what seemed like an eternity, Indigo closed her eyes as she felt the electricity of the womans body meet her own. She ran her hand down Indigos arm, down to her fingers, down to the part of her thigh she could reach. Indigo concealed a groan, something primal rose in her as the womans had slipped under her dress “Can I do this?” she asked “yes..” and her fingers ran across her underwear and pushed them aside. Indigo knew how wet she was, the woman inhaled deeply when she felt the juice on her fingers and sighed when she could sense Indigos body tensing from her touch. 

How was nobody around? The platform was empty. It didn't make any sense, but by this point neither of them cared. 

The Woman gently touched Indigos labia, then her clitoris, she slid her finger back and forth, up and down before sliding two fingers very slightly inside her “I want more of you” she whispered. The sun was strong now, beating on their bodies. All other things: Work, life, home, the man who told her to smile: none of it existed anymore. Nothing existed but this woman whose fingers glided inside of her, sending ripples of “MORE!” through her body. She needed more. Indigo took the womans hand, bought it up to her face, looked into her eyes and licked the wetness from her fingers. The woman smiled a delighted smile and with Indigos hand in hers led her across the road and up the stairs of an apartment block. The woman fumbled for her keys while Indigo stifled her racing thoughts; her desperation to rip her clothes of right now, her dripping pussy. The key slid into the lock and they were inside. It was a small studio apartment with a big red velvet couch, plants hanging in every corner, it smelt of incense and reminded Indigo of good wine, smooth and crimson. The woman wasted no time, she grabbed indigo and moved her to the lounge, kneeled before her as she slid off her underwear. Indigo realised how truly magnificent the womans face was was; golden, open, thoughtful, streaks of the dappled sunlight hit her beautiful high cheeks. “Fuck I want you” said Indigo and with that the woman began kissing and licking the inside of her thighs, working her way upwards, when she reached her pussy Indigo could not contain the primal groan any longer, it heaved up from her body and out into the room. The womans mouth was so warm, so soft, it was as though she was kissing Indigos mouth in the way she moved. Combining the movement of her lips and her tongue to create total fire between Indigos legs, she could feel herself dripping, the smell of pleasure permeated the room. Every lick was electric. She grabbed the back of the womans head and pushed into her, the groans becoming deep, emphatic sighs, then short and laboured breaths. The womans mouth made love to her, the fingers that had been tracing indigos body gently began to enter her open pussy, answering her invitation, moving with the rhythm of things. Everything was rhythmic, interacting with her breath. Indigos body ached with desire, her back arched as she writhed and clutched the womans hair in her hands while her pleasure rose like a current through her body, from her toes, to her thighs, from her head to her breasts, there was no thought, no time, only NOW, this feeling rising throughout every fibre of her being, the beat becoming deeper, quicker, more urgent until it could no longer be contained and Indigo orgasmed so hard she didn’t recognise herself.

Her legs began to shake. 

...she looked like an old painting, voluptuous, goddess like, the curves of her flesh moving with every wave of pleasure, her breasts with big round nipples heaved with their rhythm. Indigo could feel the womans clitoris getting harder against her own, the wetness dripping down onto her ass, she had never felt anything like this.

The woman gently licked her a few more times, slowly, like she was thanking Indigos pussy for allowing her inside, they made eye contact as she pulled her own underwear down, pulled her dress over her head and positioned herself onto Indigos body, they're legs entwined, both their vulvas perfectly aligned and she slowly began to grind against Indigo, their wetness melting together, their pussies gliding against each other. The woman moaned, her head fell back and her mouth opened as she gave in to the feeling. She looked like an old painting; voluptuous, goddess like, the curves of her flesh moving with every wave of pleasure, her breasts with big round nipples heaved with their rhythm. Indigo could feel the womans clitoris getting harder against her own, the wetness dripping down onto her ass, she had never felt anything like this. The Woman rode her, pushed into her, ground into her pussy, moans escaped from them both until her rhythm changed, from slow and methodical to quick and firm, Indigo reached out and grabbed her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers, massaging flesh in her hands, she let her hands slide down her waist and rest on her thighs. Watching the woman fuck her from below  was like a dream, she was mesmerised. Grinding, harder, firmer, rhythmic, both their clitoris’ hard against each other, two waves of pleasure connecting to become one pulsing orgasmic wave, two strangers cumming together like life long lovers.

Gasping for air the woman fell into Indigo, into the big red velvet couch and they both laughed the way lovers do when they have reached a new level of pleasure. The couch was wet beneath Indigos ass, the woman leant over, kissed her mouth with those soft, full lips and warm tongue. She said “My name is Ava”

The woman had a name.