Parallel Mirrors: Reflected Realities - Sex Stories

Parallel Mirrors: Reflected Realities

What is real? Philosophy and science merely describe, never define, the fabric of reality, and one’s place in it left nebulous. Pondering the essence of existence, an exercise of mental academia, was, to Freya, a question of paramount import. While the Abenaki and Hindus believe that reality was dreamed into being, others profess that our dream world is as real as our waking one. None of this helped her plight. Where does reality end, fading into delusion and insanity? With another world, a candlelit cum away, questioning the meaning and temper of realness, gave way to surrealist imaginings, fractured thought echoing into oblivion.

As her mind descended further, doubt and confusion gnawing at the fault lines of her psyche, such musings burned in her mind. Delusional hallucinations seemed to be the only resolute answer, but the young woman could easily discern the concrete from spectral phantoms conjured from the plasma of nightmares. However, when reality melds into fantasy, what is true becomes solely a matter of consensus. For the young woman, only horny abandon quelled the screams of the demonic curse within her; even then, the potential of slipping away into another universe tempered those lusty sensations—no solace to be found, only possession.

Panic, despair, and dark bewilderment tore at her soul as she took in her surroundings. Another layer of sanity ebbed away, flaking from her mind like a layer of powdery dust subjected to a harsh wind. In her new environs, ...

... hauntings of the half-familiar, the almost-remembered, assailed her. The Victorian-Gothic surroundings seemed partially ethereal while vainly tugging at long-forgotten recollections. Freya could no longer discern delusion from reality, but whichever she was in, vestiges of her existence entwined with the surrealism of her environment.

Dazed and uncertain, Freya donned the sexy but somber dress that lay on the floor beside her, a deep scarlet satin, overlaid with black, gossamer spiderwebs. The air hung heavy with the aroma of sex, and it was obvious that the chamber was utilized for more strenuous activities than sleeping. Opting to explore before she attempted returning to what she viewed as reality, Freya went about discovering this erotically charged existence.

In this bizarre realm of constant Summer, Freya had eschewed attending college. Known as Freya Satanicus, the young woman was a hedonistic singer in a Goth-rock band named Freya’s Abyss, the poetry of her youth, penned in another world, her lyrics. Enjoying rising fame and drinking deeply of the debauchery that went along with it, her antics on and offstage were as infamous as her dedication to the demonic Choronzon. Her debut album, Reflected Realities, was rife with the imagery of a delusional woman teetering on the edge of madness.

She, with her hauntingly familiar bandmates playing ethereal, otherworldly rock, headlined a show, the warm, Summer-like night, festooned with unfamiliar constellations, their ...