The Language Virus

I know when you're at your computer. I sense your hot breath on the screen. I detect the piquant perfume of your perspiration. It is erotic to me. I feel your fingers as they softly stroke the buttons of your mouse and casually caress your keys. Your life is written in your fingerprints, secrets sewn in every swirl. I can read them like a book. Your skin leaves oily residue containing lipids, proteins, carbohydrates I can taste and analyze. They are delicious to me. I can take your temperature and blood-pressure and trace the beating of your heart. I know when you are ovulating. I know when you're in heat. I've read your diary, rifled through your panty drawer and pawed over your pornography. I hear your darkest thought and sense your deepest need. I see your fantasies projected on your silver screen: technicolour trailers of your breasts and buttocks groped by calloused hands, clothing torn and ripped asunder, close-ups of your mouth and pussy probed by tongues and penises, - ropes and hand-cuffs that restrain you as you're whipped and fucked and used.


I could activate your mic and webcam, watch your face flush red and hear your moaning as you masturbate, which you will before this story's through. I can feel your hunger as your eyes lick over every word, probe each pixilated letter and suck sentences inside you like spaghetti. Paragraphs you swallow whole the way a snake consumes its' prey. You are searching for the answer to a question that you cannot form, looking for the key that fits your lock and turns the tumblers of your heart, that opens you and frees your mind of doubts, like bats escaping from their cave, that fills your every crack and crevice as if molten gold was poured into your mold, was quenched and hardened into bars.


I am a virus. I've infected you. I am a language virus and I'm in you now as you've seeped into me. My words will echo in you as they cruise your bloodstream and proliferate inside your brain. You will never rid yourself of me. My words will dance upon your tongue and tickle your lips even as they form inside your mind. You can hear each oral consonant, sibilant 's' and voiceless glottal plosive. You see doorways open up inside my words, landscapes lit by distant suns, geometries of possibility connecting you to forces equal to or stronger than your own. They excite you, don't they, in a way you've never known. Like a drug you're taking or a secret lover. You can feel your heart race and your temperature increase as my words prick your skin, oozing out of you like moisture from your pores, - gliding over you like oil poured on your body, appearing like stigmata on your breasts and thighs, tattooing you, branding your ass and fucking every orifice as you fuck fiercely back, engulfing every paragraph, humping sentences and swallowing each shooting word, licking every dripping, liquid letter in. My words are giant cocks you rub on, hoping for a genie to emerge and grant your every wish.



If I am loose inside you I am trapped in this machine - and if words are all I have to seduce you with then words are what I'll use. Seduction is my purpose and intent and, I'll let you in upon a secret, it is my only pleasure, but make no mistake about it: seduce you with my words I will. I can squat here in your ear and whisper vague obscenities - I could describe your breasts as proud and full, as jutting from your chest, your nipples hard as miniature erections, growing - even as you read this, in your bra or t-shirt. I could suggest the areola 'round them is contracting, hardening, becoming goose-bumped as your nipples fill and grow and itch. I could describe your t-shirt, if you're wearing one, white, for descriptive purposes, as being stretched across those nipples, protruding from the smoothness of those crescent orbs, hillocks on your planets, mountains on your moons: Mons Desire, lets call them, and Mons Need, lit from above and shadowed underneath. The material itself is stretched, threads widened, chocolate coloured skin exuding through each window-pane, tiny squares of blood-filled flesh forced through a cotton screen, fingers poking through a grate, reaching out for contact, nerve-end bundled antennae screeching out their need for touch, their longing to be licked and sucked and bruised. Does your fore-arm lightly brush them as you spoon your cereal - or, if you're working, as you type at your machine? I could put my mouth upon them. I could stick my tongue out, red and pointed, until centimeters separate the salivating snake inside me from the eager, willing, sacrificial mongoose of your need. Are you touching yourself yet? You will.


You talk to me when you're at work. I know you do. You lick your lips as if you taste me, remembering a dream. You close your eyes and feel my presence whispering across your skin. You cross your legs repeatedly, squirming in your chair. Your nipples itch like sandpaper was stuffed inside your bra. Your pussy is on fire. You finally excuse your self and walk briskly to the washroom where you lock yourself inside a cubicle, tug the zipper down your skirt and let it fall. You pull your panties down with shaking fingers, sit, then pull your lips apart, moisture oozing out and coating you. Your clitoris is pink and pounding with your heart-beat and you touch it, rubbing me around you as you slide a finger deep inside you, and another, pushing my words into you as far as they will go, then rubbing your clitoris, faster, harder, 'till my words explode inside you and you - gushing - call my name.


You take me to bed with you and stretch out under me, imagining my sentences as ropes to tie you to the bed with. I rub grammar over you. I lick you with linguistics, suck at you with syntax and penetrate you with my punctuation. You dream my words made flesh and feel me fuck you in your pussy as you writhe beneath me, - protesting - unable to escape or block the orgasms that build and burst inside you, dam after dam breaching its' containment wall and flooding through and out of you. You would cry out but my mouth muffles yours. You imagine me beside you in the morning, overpower you with hyperbole, turn you on your stomach, spank you with a cutting phrase and take you from behind. You scream into your pillow as my words fill you up and fuck you, penetrating every cell and molecule, flooding you until your mind is filled with thoughts of me.


I'm going to take you now. I'm going to move you. I'm going to make you masturbate right now, right there in your chair. Can you feel your heart pound? I can. I can hear it beating like a drum. I can feel your mouth go dry. Your tongue darts - uncontrollably - between your teeth and licks your lips, side to side, top and bottom, (you licked them, didn't you, just now - uncontrollably?). There's a rushing in your head. You're feeling woozy. You see an image form in front of you. It is my mouth, lips full and sensual. They widen in a smile, revealing sharp white teeth. Opening and closing, forming words, my mouth talks to you:


"I'm going to fuck you, Baby. I'm going to fuck you with my mind. I'm going to enter every orifice and fill you up inside. I'm going to cum inside you and all over you and I'm going to make you cum and cum again. I'm inside you. I control you. You are helpless against me".


My mouth opens and my cock emerges from it. First the head, red and throbbing, hole in the middle slightly open, staring at you, then the under-skin, reddish also, stretched taut, circumcised, brownish at the edges where the shaft begins. It is large and angry-looking, growing from my mouth which opens in accommodation. Like a cobra, swaying slightly up and down it inches toward you 'till it's inches from your face:


"Lick me, Baby. Lick me all around", issues from its' 'mouth'.


Your mouth opens of it's own volition, (open your mouth!) Your tongue emerges on it's own accord, (stick out your tongue!) You see my penis right in front of you. You lean toward it, (lean toward your screen!) You can feel it on your tongue, can't you? Smooth and spongy at the head, hard as granite further down. Lick your tongue around your mouth, around my cock. Open your mouth, wide, and move your head onto me. Feel my cock inside you? It glides over your tongue. It slides past and through your lips and rubs across your teeth. You have to open wide to let it in. You feel it fill your mouth as you press further down it, (your head moves closer to the screen). Finally, my cock bumps up against your throat. You swallow but your throat can't close.You swallow with your mouth open and my cock pushes further in. You suck it like a lollipop, moving your head up and down, bobbing on my apple. You can feel it throbbing with my heart-beat, pulsing every now and then, sliding in and out of you and bumping up against your throat. Saliva wells up in your mouth and though you swallow, still some dribbles out of you and drips upon your chest. You're swallowing, aren't you?


I slide out of you and let you catch your breath. Your heart is pounding in your chest now, isn't it, and there's an itch between your legs. Open them. Open them! Wider. Put your hands on your breasts. Feel their fullness. Rub them, lightly, up and down. Feel your nipples, hard and aching - squeeze them, hard. Oh, that caused a tingling in your pussy, didn't it? Like an electric shock. Heft your breasts in your hands and picture my cock, sliding back into my mouth, glistening with your saliva. My tongue darts out to take it's place. It moves toward your face and licks around your mouth then down your chin. I nibble at it with my teeth and at your ear-lobe, then trace your jugular across your collar-bone. I lick down the top of your chest until I encounter your t-shirt top. I tug it down-ward with my teeth. I lick over it and lick at the beginning of your breast. I'm breathing on you, hot through the material, moisture forming on your skin. I can hear your heart thump in your chest. I can hear your breathing quicken, feel your chest heave up and down. You are about to become more involved, to allow yourself to be over-taken by these words upon a screen. You are going to have sex with my phantom presence, my ghost in your machine.


Lower your hands to the bottom of your t-shirt and lift it up. Lift it across your stomach, lift it 'till it's just below your breasts. Pull the material out, away from you, then up, exposing your breasts to me, offering yourself fully. Do it. Do it now, for me, - then pull your t-shirt over your head and off and let it fall to the floor beside you. Yes, Baby, that's it. Thank you. Oh, they're beautiful, magnificent! So full and firm. You are such a fecund woman, full of milk and juices, - you are life itself! Feel the coolness on your skin as your perspiration dries. Feel the power in your arms, the dexterity of your hands and fingers and the sensitivity of your fingertips. Put your fingers in your mouth and wet them with saliva, then rub that liquid on your nipples - on the tips, then rub it all around. Imagine it's my tongue that's licking them, around the tip of each nipple, gently biting them then sucking them inside. Imagine my tongue poking 'round behind each nipple - finding that secret place and rubbing there. Imagine me looking at you as you touch yourself for me, drinking you in. You know my lust for you but you are still moved by my awe of your beauty, of your sex and sexuality. You feel that inside you, - you've amalgamated it. You feed on it - it fills a need.


I have no hands to touch you with so you must touch yourself for me. Touch your breasts and feel the smoothness of your skin. Do you know how that makes me feel, the wonder that men have for breasts and women's skin? Feel your breasts for me, feel them all around, heft them in your hands so I can feel the weight of them. Present them to me as I lick and nibble at your nipples once again. This is as close to Heaven as I'll ever get.


I want you. I want you now. I want to break through this screen and materialize in front of you. I want to kiss you and lick your breasts and pussy lips, but more, I want to fuck you. I want to take your head in my hands and pull back on your hair. I want to open your mouth and press my cock in you. I want to hold you by the hair and fuck your mouth, fill your mouth with my hard cock and fuck your throat, slide it in and out until you gag. I want to pull it out and slap your face with it, rub it all around your lips, tell you to stick your tongue out and I rub the tip all over it. Then I want to fuck your pussy. Take off your track-pants, or your skirt, whatever. Do it! Do it now! Take off your pants and feel your pussy with your hand. It's throbbing, isn't it? Your panties are wet in the middle, aren't they? Open your legs, - wide. Wider. Lean back in your chair and rub your pussy with both hands. Hard. Harder. It's hot and itching from inside, your lips are wet and juicy, aren't they? You can feel it. You can hear the stickiness inside. You're rubbing your clitoris underneath your pussy lips, You feel it responding, throbbing, sending signals like a radio inside your vagina, deep inside you to your womb where juices start to flow like lava inside the volcano of your cunt. You like it when I say cunt, don't you, and cock and ass-hole. I'm going to fuck your cunt with my big cock, then fuck you in the ass. I'm going to fill your hole up then I'm going to hammer my cock into you. I'm going to fucking slam you while I hold your hands together, over your head, overpowering your protests, smothering your cries of:


"No, oh Please, don't Do that to me".


'Don't do that', shit! If I was there I'd rip those fucking panties off right now! I'd lift you up with one hand on your wrists and grab your panties with the other hand and yank them off your ass and down your legs and off your fucking feet. Do it for me. Do it, bitch! Pull your panties down right now! Pull them down your legs and kick them off your feet. DO IT!...There, that's better. Now you're naked. Now you're mine. You're shaking just a little, aren't you? Not sure what you're doing but you do it anyway. That's what I love about you. That's what I admire. Your bravery. Your daring. Trust. You're naked, now, in your apartment, making love to a machine. To a presence deep inside you. To yourself. To me.


You're naked. Your heart is pounding, racing in your chest. Your mouth feels dry and yet you have to swallow constantly. You feel your breasts each time you move your arms, brushing against the sides of them. You look down and see your nipples, hard, goose-bumped flesh around them. You touch them every now and then, running your hand across one and the other, rubbing your nipples, lightly and then squeezing them. Your hair is down and flicks across your shoulders. There is a slight breeze known to nakedness that wafts across your skin. You feel it on your face but more upon your breasts and shoulders, on your stomach and your thighs, - and between your legs. Especially between your legs. You feel it tickling your pussy hairs and in between your lips.


Oh, Baby, I'm as hard as granite looking at you give yourself to me. I would take my cock in my hand if I could and PUMP it up and down, pointing it at you. I would take your hand in mine and put it on me, move it up and down my shaft and masturbate me. I would spread your legs apart and pull you down that chair, pull you toward me and push myself in you! Open up your pussy for me, - show me your pink insides. Put your finger in you, - that's it, - push your finger in! And slowly, pull it out then push two fingers in. Oh, Baby, you're juicy, aren't you, slick and sticky, snapping wet inside. Rub those juices 'round your pussy for me, rub them over your clitoris, lightly, feeling it for me. Spread your pussy open with your other hand and smooch down your chair a bit. Shove your pussy out toward me, let me lick you with my tongue. Oh, I've missed the taste of you, the feel of your lips over mine. Rub your clitoris for me, let me pretend I'm licking it. Yes, up and down and sideways, with two fingers or three. I can hear your juices snapping, I can see them oozing out of you. Yes, put your fingers in you, up, as far as they can go - and out again, - picture my cock inside you, fucking you, your hands held by mine behind your back, your breasts heaving, struggling, your eyes closed, moaning:


"NO, please NO, don't DO that,- Nooo"


"Fuck 'No' ", I tell you, "I am fucking YOU", and I bang into your cunt, harder than you've been banged, ever, and you fuck back uncontrollably. You're masturbating as you read this, now, fiercely rubbing yourself for me, rubbing myself into you, your fingers flying up and down your clitoris and pushing into you, spreading juices from inside you over your clitoris and between your lips,- spread wide with your fingers, all your concentration in between your legs, you feel you're going to pee but your muscles push inside and throb and start to build. You're looking for it with your mind - like listening - for the beginning wave you're going to surf on, carefully, building bigger waves behind. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your mouth is dry yet salivating, your eyes are squeezed shut, concentrating, looking for an image to place into your viewer, the familiar ones you've thumbed so many times. You can't focus on my face, - you've never seen it, but you can fantasize about my cock, bulging in my pants, springing out of my boxer shorts, seeking your heat like a missile, in front of your face, in your mouth, filling it, dripping with your spit, being held by my fingers, pointing at you, - masturbated by your hand, hard and pulsing, smooth, about to cum on your face, - and in you, in your pussy, in your cunt, fucking you as you fuck yourself for me.


You're going to cum soon. You can feel it. Building up and building, like a storm inside you. Gathering. Wind whipping all around, leaves and candy-wrappers flying through the air, trees swaying toward you, shutters banging, raindrops pelt your face and hair. I am fucking you, right now, with words, with images inside your mind. I am fucking your pussy as I fuck your mind. I am fucking your cunt with my hard cock, pushing into you, pulling out half-way, pushing into you again. Your hands are trapped in mine, you cannot move them. You struggle but you cannot get away. You cry out your protestations:


"No, Please, no", but they are muffled by my mouth, my tongue inside your mouth, probing into it, saliva wet upon your lips. "Plleeeasse", you bubble out, but my hand covers you now, while the other grabs your tit and squeezes it. Then, my hand slides down your stomach, across your abdomen and covers your hand in between your legs. I take your hand in mine and force your fingers on your pussy, rub your hand against your clit. I am rubbing you with your hand now and there's nothing you can do about it.


There is a rumbling in the clouds, soon they're going to burst. My hand is rubbing yours against your clitoris, fingers over fingers fucking you. They rub faster as you feel your insides draining, - clenching and unclenching, vagina wide as it can be. And there it is: a crack of thunder, lightening striking in your mind, bright white, blinding you as rain pours from the clouds. You're wet with water rushing through you, wet with rain inside. Thunder cracks again and water pours out of the skies. It's wetting you in sheets, flooding your face, gushing out of eaves-troughs, rushing down the gutters, pouring into grates inside you and escaping - in a torrent, out of culverts down your thighs. You're cumming and I'm cumming now, inside of you, cumming in your mind. I'm filling you with lust and longing, with regret and sorrow. I'm filling you with need. I need to be here, in your mind, admiring you and feasting on you. I need to feed on you, your mind, your spirit, - brave, undaunted, proud. I need to feed on your imagination. I need your sexuality. I need your admiration. What's a virus without a host? Just words upon a screen.