Thinking of You [Scifi][MF][ENF][voy][oral][reluc][nc]

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**Warning:** This is a scifi / fantasy story that includes non-consensual sexual acts, groping, embarrassed nude females, voyeurism, oral sex, regular sex, and reluctant participants. To be clear, it’s about mental fantasies, and there’s back-story to drive it, but non-con is non-con, and I don’t want anyone to be surprised.

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**Thinking of You**

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Anna woke up around midnight feeling a cock slide into her, slow at first, but it started increase in pace after thirty seconds or so. She’d gone to bed around ten, hoping to get a little sleep, but it didn’t feel like she’d slept much at all.

“Fuck.” She hissed. She wouldn’t mind so much, especially as—at least, in the moment—it felt pretty good but she also *really* wanted to get a solid six to eight hours of sleep, and she barely managed that twice in the past two weeks. “Ahh!” She gasped, her nipples teased to hard points, and she was so wet she knew she’d be feeling it in on the sheets afterward. Another two minutes of intense fucking went by and then she felt warm spatter of come on her belly, her tits, even a little on her face. “Too fast.” She muttered, sitting up and looking down at her naked body. There was nothing there, of course, just the lingering sensation, a little of her own wetness on the bed sheets, but the rest? That was just part of the new reality.

She leaned over to her nightstand and grabbed her vibrator. Anna knew she wouldn’t be able to easily get back to sleep unless she eased her own sexual tension. To her credit, it only took about three minutes for to reach climax, and she was careful not to think about anyone while she was doing it. She just enjoyed her own body, her own self. She didn’t want to be rude and wake up some guy she might randomly start fantasizing about. She was polite.

—-

“It happened again last night, Kara.” She told her friend at work. They were commiserating over mediocre coffee in the office café.

“Someone has it bad for you, Anna?” She glanced over her coffee. “I mean, yeah, I know one or two guys occasionally masturbate to me a week, but every day? That’s a lot. Like, *obsessed*, a lot.” She thought about it moment. “Wait, are you sure it’s the same guy?”

“Pretty sure. It *feels* the same.” She lowered her voice. “And he always finishes by coming on my stomach and tits.”

“Well, that’s nice at least.” She smirked. “He doesn’t want to imaginarily knock you up.” She stretched. “Considered yourself lucky, some guy—who I’m pretty sure I saw wearing bike shorts on the subway yesterday—jerked off while imagining fucking me up the ass. Like, I *know* it’s not real, not in the physical sense, and there are also no real consequences, but you know as well as I do it doesn’t feel that way in the moment. That guy had a big dick.” Anna giggled but stopped short.

“*Who* had a big dick?” Kara glanced up and rolled her eyes, seeing who it was.

“Certainly not you, George.”

“I take it you didn’t sleep well last night?” He grinned at Kara. “You must have caught the eye of some swinging dick out there.” He laughed.

“Just because the world decided to get all Twilight Zone-y on us last, and everyone can feel when people masturbate to them, doesn’t mean you get to talk to me—or anyone—at work like that, George.” Kara snapped. “I can report you to HR.”

“The café is not part of the workplace, and *I* haven’t even started work yet. So, go ahead, report me. See what happens.” He started to walk away, but turned back. “I’ll give you a hint: nothing.” He chuckled. “See you at work, ladies.”

“Christ, what an asshole.” Anna said, after he was out of earshot.

“You don’t think it’s him, do you?” Kara asked.

“Him who, uh, who fucked you in the ass?”

“No, dummy, whoever keeps spanking it to *you* every night.” Kara said.

“No, it’s not him.” Anna muttered. Kara raised an eyebrow in question. “Because he already did that to me shortly after the Event.” The Event being shorthand for whatever changed in the world to create the present, as Kara put it, Twilight Zone-y environment.

“But how do you know he’s not at it again?”

“Because I…” She trailed off.

“Because you what?” Kara asked.

“Because I fucked him.”

“Jesus!” Kara didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for her friend. “Really? I thought that was just a myth.”

“As far as I can tell, no, and I’ve tested this five times already. If you fuck a guy—a person, I’m assuming—the psychic connection, or whatever you want to call it, no longer works. I can’t believe you haven’t fucked someone since the Event.”

“Jesus, Anna, I never said *that*. I’ve fucked guys, just, you know, not on a repeat basis. And, well, I never have any clue who is whacking it to me…and it *apparently* doesn’t happen quite as often as it does to you.” She grinned. “Five different guys, huh? All at work?” Anna shook her head. “Well, that’s a relief, I gue—ah!” Kara nearly spilled her coffee and put a hand up to her mouth.

“What’s matter, are you choking?” Anna asked, worried.

“No! I—*guk*—I—*guk*!” She grabbed the table. “I-think-George-is-fucking-my-face!” She said in one breath, and then proceeded to make more throat sounds that, now that Anna was hearing it, did kind of sound like a rough blowjob. Anna watched her friend blush as this went on for another minute until she started twitching her face as if being hit by something. “That motherfucker.” She said, standing. “I *should* report him to HR. Not only did he just jerk off to me, make me feel his fucking cock in my throat, but then he came on my face and slapped me with his dick.” Anna saw a few faint red marks on Kara’s cheeks. Anna looked around.

“He must be *really* close by.”

“Yeah,” Kara rubbed her face, “no shit.” She stood up. “You mind taking my coffee up to my desk? I have to go fix my bra and panties.” Kara’s bra was loose in her blouse, her nipples visible though the thin white shirt. Anna nodded saying nothing else as her friend went off to the ladies’ room to fix her clothes.

Anna had read a lot about the Event, its effects, the supposed rules, the myths, the suppositions. There was still no good explanation of how it occurred—or why—but most of the scientists cautiously referred to it as a psychic manifestation. The religious nuts had their opinions, the alien-believers their, too, but no one could measure the effects, they turned up no scanners, but they were much stronger with proximity. George had probably gone to the men’s room on the same floor for him to be able to leave marks on Kara or yank off her underwear to the extent he did. That was one of the reasons Anna slept in the nude these days. If a guy jerked off to her, they would usually fumble with her pajamas in their psychic link, weaker with distance, which only kept her awake longer, and usually ended up with pajama bottoms damp from her own arousal. She picked up the coffees and walked up to her floor, leaving Kara’s at her desk, and walking down the hall to her own cubicle.

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The coffee was barely enough to keep her awake through the morning, but she carried on, though still trying to keep an eye out for the guy who might be waking her up every night. She wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of sleeping with yet another guy just to silence his hold over her, but if it meant a solid night’s sleep, it might be worth it at that point.

“So, I took your advice.” Kara said, startling Anna from zoning out at her computer screen.

“What?” She blinked, looking up from her monitor. She’d been staring at the same email for at least twenty minutes. “What advice?”

“I fucked George.” She said.

“I did *not* advise you to—.”

“Well, I *blew* him. I’m pretty sure that will count, though, right?” Kara asked.

“I…I don’t actually know.” Anna said, rubbing her eyes. “Look, I’ve had actual sex with people, and…and they stopped being able to…you know.” Anna made a jerk off gesture. “To me.” She sighed. “I mean, I guess they still can jerk off to me,” she whispered the last bit, “but I don’t feel it anymore. I don’t know about just, um, blow jobs?”

“What? Are you fucking kidding me? So, now I blew George and I *also* might have to fuck him?”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Anna hissed. “What I’m saying is, *I* don’t know, okay? Maybe? Maybe not. You’ll see, I guess.”

“I *cannot* be in a presentation and have him decide to fuck me in the ass, Anna, I can’t!” She hadn’t liked George before, and Anna couldn’t imagine she enjoyed being targeted by him.

“Even George isn’t that brazen. Look, calm down, okay? You blowing him probably worked.”

“Yeah.” Kara said, sighing. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She started backing out of Anna’s cubicle. “A handful of us—*not* George—are going out for drinks after work. You wanna come along?” Anna shook her head.

“I’m wasted already due to lack of sleep. I don’t need alcohol to take me the rest of the way.”

“Well, try to get some rest, at least.” Kara said, and left Anna to her work.

—-

On the subway ride home, Anna nodded off, but was jolted awake when she felt a hand between her legs. She slapped at her skirt, but there was nothing there. As she had nodded off, her legs had spread apart, her skirt riding up a bit in the process. It was nothing too scandalous, especially after she adjusted herself in her seat, but it had obviously given someone an idea. She felt a hand on her breast actually felt her bra cup move, her breast slip free.

“Fuck.” She muttered. Whoever it was, they were literally jerking off to her on the train. The movements were pretty strong. She glanced around the train, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was pretty crowded, but barely anyone was even looking in her direction, and she could see everyone’s hands. Her bra was off completely now, unhooked, straps slid down her shoulder, her breasts hanging free in her blouse. Fortunately, she was wearing a jacket, but that didn’t mean she liked it. She felt her breasts being cupped, fingers tracing her nipples, and damn it, they tightened at the sensation. She didn’t *dislike* sex, and the anonymity of the Event was sometimes hot, but this—this was her commute! She stood up and glared around the train car. She just wanted to get home.

“Hey!” She snapped. “Whoever is masturbating to me, stop it!” She said loudly. Anna knew she sounded crazy, but this was hardly the first time something like this had happened to someone. She felt a tug at her waist and looked down, seeing her panties fall to her ankles. “Fuck you! This isn’t funny!” She was talking to whoever was doing this to her, but there were a few people laughing, though more were glancing around with nervous or angry looks on their faces. It could happen to any adult, anytime, anywhere. Most of them had probably experienced it at least once since the Event and knew what it was like. She tried to squat down to pull up panties, but as she did that, her skirt rose up to her waist. She quickly covered her bare ass and tried to pull down her skirt, but it was like fighting a real person. Invisible fingers teased the dark triangle of hair between her legs, tracing the lines of her labia. Damn it! Some college kid was filming her, too.

“There!” Someone yelled, and pointed through the door at the end of the train. Just through the window in the door, she could see a young man in a hoodie and sunglasses *also* videoing the scene and clearly jerking off by the motion of his other hand. The invisible hands stopped their progress as the two men from her own car dashed to the door and pounded on the glass. The young man backed off, laughing, and disappeared into the crowd of his own train car. The two men who came to her rescue couldn’t pursue him, and everyone knew that. You couldn’t move between train cars. Anna took the distraction to quickly grabbed her panties, pulled them back on, and smoothed her skirt down. She got off at the next stop and took a cab the remainder of the way home.

—-

She wasn’t even that upset. Embarrassed, of course, not happy about being the target of someone’s lust or depraved prank, but the rules and norms of this new world were still in flux. She, among billions of people, just sort of felt resigned to the new ‘normal’, if you could really call it that. If it had been real—*really* real—it would have been assault, no question, but it was difficult when people were *imagining* things at you. She knew from news reports that some people even did it accidentally, and that it was rapidly changing celebrity culture given how often they were targets of lust. Yes, that guy was a creep, but the law couldn’t keep up with the new reality. According to actual case law establish over the past few months, he hadn’t done *anything* illegal, but that was only because no court could actually prove beyond a reasonable doubt that ‘Event activities’, as they were politely termed, were definitely conducted by an individual. Her situation was hardly the first time something like that had happened.

Fortunately, the cabbie ignored her, though she was disheveled, to say the least. She looked up recent Event activities as saw multiple reports of men and women being partially stripped, made to orgasm in public situations, even some celebrities being targeted in online-organized Event gang bangs. Nobody seemed to care, not really, especially as no one seemed to know what to do about it. No one was dying. No one was getting hurt in the traditional sense. A *lot* of people were having a lot of orgasms, too. Most people treated it as naughty joke. She read about how a lot the TV singing and dancing competitions that used to be live were now being taped to avoid embarrassing scenes for their stars or contestants. Hard to hit the high note if someone is shoving an imaginary cock in your mouth or giving you a tug job. All the major league sports were still debating how to handle crowd or home viewers from intentionally, or unintentionally, interfering with games.

What caught her interest were recent reports of proximity control, people claiming better control and strength of the Event effect. Sure, you couldn’t affect someone from more than a handful of miles away, but it still left plenty of people in range. It had to be sexual activity at its heart, the primary person had to be masturbating or having sex while imagining another person, but as she experienced on the subway, if someone was within ten *feet* or so, they could exert full on telekinesis, even if it was clumsy telekinesis, the story read. Anna hadn’t thought it was *that* clumsy. The guy managed to pants her, basically, *and* unhook her bra. She knew some guys who couldn’t do that with their actual fingers on the first try.

The cab ride nearly doubled the time of her commute, since she was in traffic most of the ride, but she got to her apartment high-rise only a half hour late. She over-tipped the driver, just to not have to wait for change, and carefully got out of the cab, hoping he wouldn’t notice her breasts. still braless, under her coat. On the elevator, just as the doors closed, she felt a hand slide down the front of her panties.

“Not again!” She said. She thought it might have been the cab driver at first, and almost stopped the elevator to run outside, but whoever it was, they weren’t close. The hands were ghostly, her clothing not even shifting as they touched her. And it certainly didn’t feel like the hands on the train, they weren’t as big, for one. “Ahh!” She gasped, leaning back on the elevator wall. “Oh, oh, fuuuck.” Whoever it was they were fingering her, teasing her clit, and they were being steady and smooth, which only made her get wet more quickly. Through her own early experiences, she knew they could feel the warmth and texture of her skin, even the soft curls of her pubic hair the hands occasionally teased at, and that in their fantasy, they would feel what they were doing as if they were in the elevator with her.

Hands shifted to her breasts, still mostly uncovered under her blouse, since she hadn’t been able to fix her bra in the cab. Her breathing was rough and heavy, her chest heaving. The elevator was slow. She had seven more floors to go and she wasn’t sure she would make it. She moaned with pleasure as the fingers started working her clit again, gentle but insistent. Her knees were wobbly as she reached under her skirt and quickly pulled off her panties, almost losing her balance as she stepped out of them. The hands were free to do more, and she felt two fingers slip inside her, fucking her, another hand still working her clit. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and started playing with her own nipple.

It was too good, too much, the wetness was rolling down her inner thighs. The elevator stopped at her floor and she nearly stumbled stepping into the hallway. Anna tried to compose herself. She knew she was a disaster, flushed, her skirt a wrinkled mess, her tits half on display. She fished out her keys and hurried through the door, closing it with a slam as her body trembled in pleasure. She struggled out her coat and top. Bare-breasted, she fell back on her couch, spreading her legs wide and letting whoever it was have their way with her. It felt so real, in her mind or not, but it was someone touching her, wanting, and they knew what to do. She enjoyed the feel of her own hands over her breasts, relaxing, letting the moment take her, letting the day fade.

“Ohh!” She cried out. “Yes, fuck, fuck, yes!” She started coming, her toes clenching, riding the orgasm as the fingers worked her. She closed her eyes, wondering who had done it, not even upset, just happy to have a release. She relaxed, listening to her own heavy breathing in the otherwise quiet apartment, and before she knew it, she was asleep.

**End**

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/eszoxl/thinking_of_you_scifimfenfvoyoralrelucnc