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The star of the show A subtle yellowish light was sneaking through a small crevice in the curtains. In her exhaustion, Camille had forgotten to close them properly.

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The invading light slowly covered her skin as the sun came out; it had been a warm night and she had taken her clothes off.

The light started at her feet, exalting her long legs. At 6 a.m. the lower half of her body was bathed in a golden light; her lace panties clearly outlining the shape of her pussy. She was damp and her clit hinted through the material. Her eyes were shut, her lips were slightly open, and her breathing was soft and light. As the sun hit her face she woke up: "Ugh, I can't believe this.

Noooo, ugh. I need sleep!" She opened one of her eyes and looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was 6:23, she still had 40 minutes of sleep. She rolled over, trying to escape the light, but as hard as she tried, she just couldn't go back to sleep. She wasn't ready to get up, though. Also, her pussy was craving for attention.

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Camille slowly traced the outline of her neck and kept going down. She drew a circle around one of her breasts with her finger before pinching her nipple; it was so hard. She let out a small moan and then reached for her pussy. As she cupped her pussy through her panties, she felt how wet she was. "Fuck I'm so wet". Camille turned her body and laid on her back. She raised her knees and slid-off her panties.

The light made her skin glow, and the curves of her body created pliable shadows that framed her pussy. A thin streak of pussy juice hanged from her lips, a hint of the wetness inside of her. With one of her hands she opened her pussy, while the other dextrously captured some of the moisture.

She licked and sucked her fingers; she loved her own taste, it made her so horny. She coated her finger with her saliva and went back to her pussy. She smeared the thick saliva onto her clit and her pussy lips; as she moved her fingers it began to look more like a white foam.

Soon she was dripping wet, her fingers buried deep inside of her and moving as if she was taunting someone to come and play with her. As she withdraws her fingers, her pussy juice forms an arc between her fingers and the entrance to her pussy; she takes her hand to her mouth, her fingers covered in her thick and creamy cum. She licks her fingers, she smiles, she loves how wet she is. "Dessert before breakfast". She goes back to work, this time she is moving her fingers more furiously while rubbing her clit with her other hand.

She wants to cum bad. Soon she is panting and moaning. She lets out very soft moans and inhales deeply. Twenty seconds pass before she exhales, her breathing is heavy and raw, broken by gasps as if trying to inhale more air than she is capable of taking inside of her. She takes her fingers out of her pussy and sucks them one last time. With the sun now blasting through her window, the white linens disperse the light in all direction and her tanned body seems caught in an orb of the softest glow.

The alarm goes off, time to get up. Camille turns on the water, it hisses as it touches the floor; heat and steam quickly rising and thickening the air.

The graduates the temperature and slips right in. She loves the sensation of the water on her body. Lines of water flow from her hair, her lips, and her neck. The water reaches her breasts and breaks into microscopic deltas that spread through her skin. Some of the water reaches her nipples; she can feel it, the water flowing and stimulating the millions of receptors that give meaning to touch.

Her nipples become hard, she is aroused, she is purposefully directing her breasts towards the water stream. She bites her lip. She grabs her nipples, she wants more; she arches her back and pushes her pelvis forward. Now the water is crashing on her mound, she lets out a gasp and a muffled moan. She snaps back to reality; not time to waste. She quickly washes her body and turns off the shower. Each drop of water on her skin is a prism that bends and reflects light; she is a tapestry and each molecule adhered to her flesh a hidden star.

As she is getting dressed she notices she is wet again. "Why am I so horny today!? Oh, I wish I could cum one more time, I'm so late. Ugh!." As she is leaving, a little piece of yellowish paper is slowly falling towards the floor of her apartment. "Where did you come from?" She catches the paper mid-air.

"That's odd, what the hell is this?" The paper is slightly smaller than her hand and the only thing printed on it is a Star of Vergina. "Pretty". She leaves it on the table by the door and heads out. As she is walking towards the subway station, a TV on small shop has the news on. As she is trying to decipher what the news is about, she notices that at the right corner of the screen it says "anal sex". She is perplexed, she looks at the screen again; it says "Channel 6".

She grimaces "I'm going crazy." She heads to the subway. As she enters the train she takes every morning to go to work, she realises she is very wet. She can feel some of her pussy juice slowly making its way down her thighs and past her skirt line. She sees an open seat, she makes a run for it. She sits down and covers her legs with her purse.

She tries to clean herself using her hand; she hopes no one noticed. As the train starts to move, she can feel every bump, every change in speed, even the vibrations from the cart are making her horny. "What is going on? This never happens", she whispers. She finds a place to stand, she doesn't want to have wet spot on the back of her skirt. The 20 minute subway ride feels infinite, she is so wet. Her juices have made a little puddle between her shoes, she wonders if anyone else has seen it.

As the doors open she rushes out, she just wants to get out of there as quickly as possible. As she is walking past a sign she reads "Your pussy is dripping". She is in shock, she reads the sign again; there is not even a remote resemblance to what she just saw, it reads "The Lion King" and underneath it "Minskoff Theater".

She laughs, "I am so horny, that I am going crazy". As she is leaving the subway station she notices a little paper floating on the air. She grabs it with some apprehension. Her eyes widen, it's the same star she saw at her house "This is definitely a weird day." As she arrives to the antique book store she works in, she is soaked. She is flustered, breathing heavy, and is seeing blurry. She quickly opens the shop and gets in. She locks it from the inside and rushes to the bathroom.

As she closes the door, she raises her skirt, she needs to cum bad. Thick lines of cum cross over from one thigh to the other.

She quickly washes her hands, at this point she is desperate. She collects the cum between her thighs with her hand; it's so thick and sticky.

She tastes her juices, she closes her eyes; she has never tasted better. She pulls down her panties, now she can see the real damage. Thick cream cum covers the crotch of her panties, her underwear is completely damp and her pussy is dripping thick transparent streams of cum.

Camille steps out of her panties and brings them to her nose; she has never smelled this sweet before. She begins to lick them, slowly, enjoying every drop, sucking every last bit.

She stuffs her panties in her mouth and beings to stroke her clit. She is so close. She puts to fingers in and beings to pound her pussy. She feels her orgasm getting closer. She is about to cum. She continues to stroke her clit and finger herself, but nothing happens, she can't cum.

She is in agony, she needs this. Camille tries to bring herself to an orgasm for another 10 minutes until she begins to sob; this has never happened before. "Fuck I need this, I need it so bad!" She is frustrated. She snaps back to reality, "What time is it? Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She needs to open shop. Her panties are now a mix of saliva, cum, and a little bit of fabric. She puts them on, she feel cold and damp, no time to figure out a solution. She cleans her thighs with tissues and lowers her skirt.

She hopes work will distract her, she needs to do something "Yes, something, anything". Camille starts by cataloguing a beautiful illustrated edition of the One Thousand and One Nights. As she opens the book, she finds another piece of paper with a Star of Vergina on it. "What the fuck! What the fuck! What is this? What's going on!?" As she was screaming she could feel her pussy contracting, her juices leaking and coating her thighs. She falls to the floor. Her skirt is raised just above her pussy, there is already a puddle under her.

She is producing deep moans, her hands go to her pussy. She buries two fingers deep inside while she plays with her clit.

There is something standing outside, surely they can see her, if not certainly they can hear her. She is practically screaming; the squishing sounds become more frequent, she is possessed, there is only though on her mind to cum.

She is so close, her pussy muscles open her up, inviting, accepting, she can almost fit her entire hand; her dried juices have begun to form a layer of thick cum on her hand and a milky foam is forming on the brim of her pussy lips. She can't cum: "No, no, no please!" She cries in frustration, "I can't take this anymore, I need it, I can't, I have… I am going crazy!" Her lust burns through her, pricing her mind and breaching all her thought, sequestering any sanity that she has left.

At that moment she finds herself on all fours, her pupils so dilated it's hard to tell the colour of her eyes, her mouth slightly open, and drool dripping from the edges of her mouth. Her body sways as if fucking an imaginary object, she produces deep and sharp pants; she continuous to thrust her ass into the air, asking for relief. She is directly in front of one of the lower shelfs of the bookstore. A white spine reads The House of Sleeping Beauties, Kawabata's masterpiece; suddenly the letters change, now they say "Play, let go, cum".

She screams at the book, "I am trying!" Tears run down her eyes. Camille is now crouching, her pussy lips slightly parted, her clit projecting outside its hood. Her pussy still leaking cum.

She begins to feel better, she slowly comes down from her arousal. She realises where she is, what she has done. There is a puddle of cum on her chair, another a few feet from her, and a smaller already forming under her. The air is heavy with her scent and a few people are gathering at the door. She hides behind a bookshelf, she is so embarrassed; she hopes they didn't see her. After an hour of obliviously starring at a wall, waiting for people to leave, she decides to pull her skirt down and clean-up.

Her pussy has stopped leaking and she has fully regained her composure. Still a part of her is so afraid, and so in need of cumming. "Am I sick? It could be a tumour, people do all sorts of crazy shit when they have tumours; I remember that book by, what's his name, ah, yes, Ramachandran, where a woman starts to laugh hysterically and then dies.

Oh wait, she didn't have a tumour I think it was an aneurism, fuck! I could have an aneurism! Fuck! I need to make an appointment with my doctor. All I have to say is 'Hi there, so I basically went crazy at the bookstore, lost all my self-control, almost fisted myself, and still I was unable to cum, oh and yes, my brain is exchanging words I read on the street with sexual messages'. Yep that's about right, straight to the nut-house after that." Camille finished as much work as she could, and headed home.

As she walked to the subway station she remembered all that had happened. It all sounded so foolish. After gets home, she takes a shower, she needs to rinse some of the cum from her thighs and legs. She quickly dries herself and puts on a pair of very skimpy panties.

They barely cover her mound, and have just a thin strip of fabric in the back. She turns off the light and goes to bed. She drifts to sleep almost instantly. Camille wakes up mid-morning. She has decided to stay home, she blames all that has happened to stress.

She just needs a day of rest and all will be well. She stretches and then goes to fix her panties that have ridden up her crotch. As she is rearranging them, she catches a glimpse of the odd tattoo on her above her mound. A few seconds later, her palms are sweaty and she is pressing her thighs together. Her heart begins to race, she can barely breathe.

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Why is she so horny all of a sudden? Camille starts to panic, it's going to happen again. "No, no, no. This can't be happening, I am really loosing it." Five minutes later Camille is ripping through the kitchen, she wants something to fuck herself with, then she sees it. One lonely zucchini. "Not for long." She begins to slowly drive it into her pussy, soon she is so wet that it slides easily. She pulls it all the way out, the tip of the zucchini resting between her inner lips and then pushes it all the way in.

She uses her muscles to open her pussy as much as she can, the zucchini is completely inside of her. She does this 10 minutes, until she begins to feel frustrated again. She just can't cum. As she is staring at the kitchen table, one of her cook books has "ANAL" for a title. Suddenly she gets it, she needs to put it in her ass. She pushes the zucchini from her pussy, it slowly comes out glistening with her cum. Camille crouches and aligns the zucchini with her asshole.

It slowly goes in. The feelings is incredible, when the Zucchini is halfway in she hears a trickling sound, her pussy is a river and doesn't stop flowing. When there is less than a couple centimetres, her doorbell rings. "Fuck! No, fuck" She just remembered, she scheduled an appointment with the landlord.

She grabs a t-shirt that's lying on a chair, she grabs a skirt. She dresses quickly. She is still dripping. "Fuck the zucchini!" The door rings again. She goes to the door and opens it. She greets him politely. The landlord knows something is up. "Are you okay". "Yes, yes, was just doing some exercise." She invites him in.

He walks towards the kitchen, Camille is just that she didn't forget to cover something important. "Is this from a leak? Oh my!" The landlord is point at her pussy juice on the floor. Camille is slowly losing it. It demands all her self-control and restraint not to fuck herself with the Zucchini inside her ass.

"No, no, that was me… I spilled something just before you came in, the doorbell startled me, let me clean that up." The landlord asks if is okay that he inspects the house. Camille had complained that a paint job was due so he was checking how much work had to be done. As Camille went to get a mop, she relaxed her asshole. A part of the Zucchini came out of her. She gasped, she pushed it back in while the landlord was busy looking at some discoloration in the celling. It was too much, she can't take it anymore.

She begins to push the zucchini out slightly and then push it back in with her hand when the landlord is not watching. She is sure she can cum this way. She keeps doing it for 15 minutes while the landlord inspects the apartment. She pushes it out half-way then sits down on bed to push it back in, she almost cums right there. Her juices being to drip into the zucchini lubricating it each time it comes out.

The landlord is finally leaving. When the door closes behind him, Camille goes to her knees, she begins to push out the zucchini. Slowly it leaves her body, when it is almost completely out, she rams it back in with her hand. Her pussy responds, her lips are swollen, her pussy slightly open.

Thick cream hangs from her pussy like a pendulum, it slowly reaches the floor and begins to form a thick glaze. Its neither liquid nor solid, Camille looks at it with lust, she wants it in her mouth. The zucchini is again almost completely outside of her, she pushes it back in. More cum oozes out, she is making a mess and she loves it. She pushes the zucchini back in four more times, she is ready to cum. She puts two fingers inside of her and scrapes as much of her cum as she can.

She places atop the thick gelatine under her. Camille then moves back and begins to pull and push the zucchini, when she is on the brink of her orgasm she lowers her mouth to the pool of cum she has made. As soon as she cums, se beings to lick and suck the floor making slurping noises between her moans and grunts. Saliva drips from her tongue and is replaced by her cum. She saviours it, plays with it in her mouth, increasing the intensity of her orgasm tenfold. Her ears become clogged, the world is a muffled sound and there is nothing in it.

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She can hear heart pounding, her lungs working. She hears her voice as if she was an observer within her. Finally the orgasms stops. She has made another pool of her cum; this time less thick.

She moves toward it and licks it up. She is so happy, she was finally able to cum. Who would have known; she had always been so apprehensive about anal, now she loves it.

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Suddenly everything begins to fade. On the other side, Camille wakes up. It was a dream, or something like a dream. Yet it felt so real, perhaps more than real. She beings to feel scared she is hooked to a machine, cables attached to her head, her torso and her fingers. She hears a faint voice: "It's time to go to sleep". Camille wakes up in her room, she has a headache. She is not sure if it was all a dream. She is wearing the same panties as in her "dream". She takes them off, as soon as she does, she notices that she has a tattoo just above her clit.

When she goes to the bathroom to inspect it, she realizes it is a Star of Vergina. She panics, she screams. Suddenly she feels this urge to cum; her heart begins to race, her pussy is leaking. She remembers this feeling, it's just as when she was about to lose her mind. She leaves the bathroom, her anxiety is already taking hold of her. She throws herself on the bed and begins to masturbate, her breathing is so fast she feels dizzy.

She tries again and again, she can't cum, the despair is impossible. Her arms and legs move erratically, almost convulsive, she can't take it anymore. She is going insane.

Suddenly she sees one the bedpost. Without thinking she jumps towards it, in a split second she is lubricating the bedpost with her juices. She then spreads her ass and beings to lower herself. The bedpost has an oval tip three centimetres wide; after that there is another oval, much larger, of about six centimetres. Finally the pole is about two centimetres wide.

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As she gasps more and more of the bedpost goes in. She finally goes through the thickest part. Camille puts both feet on the ground and begins to do squats.

At the highest point, the thickest part of the bedpost is at the entrance of her pussy, the lowest she can manages places the tip of the post on her cervix. As she cums she feels her asshole tightening around the pole, her pussy muscles contracting furiously, cum squirting everywhere.

As she recomposes, she hears the door. "Fuck!" It's her boyfriend, he is back from his trip. As he enters the room and sees her, he gasps: "Are you okay, what happened, what on earth are you doing?" She looks at him, she is embarrassed but she is still driven with lust.

"I need help". Her boyfriend approaches her and starts to lift her to try and separate her from the pole. "No, no, stop! I don't want you to take it out, I want you to fuck me." Camille's boyfriend can't believe what he is hearing and seeing.

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He doesn't understand anything, but he is still taking his clothes off as fast as he can. Camille is waiting for him, she is licking her juices of her hand. As he is about to enter her, she acknowledges her situation "I've impaled myself on my bedpost, I have already cummed once; my juices are all over my room and now I am going to get fucked while still being impaled." As he enters her they both feel how tight it is.

With the bedpost inside of her, there is not much room left. They fuck for twenty minutes, at some point Camille wraps her legs around her boyfriend and he lowers her and raises her, forcing the bedpost to move in and out of her as he fucks her. Afterwards they are both spent, they barely speak to each other before falling asleep. Two hours later Camille wakes up, there is a book on her night table.

She doesn't recognize it. As she picks it up she realizes what book it is, Justine by the Marquis de Sade. She instantly knows it is a valuable edition; the biding and cover look 16th century.

Her hands are trembling.

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As she looks inside, she gasps, it's a first edition. She is speechless. Was it a gift from her boyfriend? As she scrolls through the book, she finds a letter. She opens it. Dear Camille, We hope that you have enjoyed yourself these past days both in the real world and also, might we say, in fiction.

Please take this book with our compliments, we hope that you appreciate it, it comes from our library. Surely you must be wondering what has happened. I am pleased to announce that you were chosen by The Academy to be one of our very special guests. You were with us for four days, and during this time you were connected to a machine that can navigate and alter your thoughts. We have done some rewiring to your brain, we hope that you find it agreeable. As you should have deduced by now, if you see a Star of Vergina you will be taken by uncontrollable lust.

If you do not want our gift, all you have to do is place this letter over the Star located above your clitoris and all will be back to normal.

The offer is valid for three days, otherwise you will remain like this for the rest of your life. Please remember, if you do decide to discard our gift do not look at the Star or you will be taken by lust and will be unable to place the letter above it. Sincerely, The Headmaster Camille was in utter shock. She obviously didn't want this.

She closed her eyes and moved the letter towards her body… Why was she stopping? A great sadness invaded her, a part of her wanted this, craved for this. She was always running away from opportunities, evading change, and stopping herself from taking any sort of risk.

The reality was that this was the most fun and sense of liveliness she had felt in a long time. Camille tore the letter, as she was going back to the bed, she peeked at her pussy and couldn't help stare at the Star.

"Fuck!" As her heart started to outpace her breathing, she smiled. She just remembered her boyfriend's old baseball bat: "I sure hope he is in the mood for another surprise."

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