I squirted all over my mother's garden at 2am.

It’s Sunday night. I’ve just finished writing a big piece, I came like 4 times writing it, and I should go to sleep now cause work tomorrow morning. But it’s 2 am, I’m still up, I’m still horny.

And I mean devilishly horny. Riding my pillow while I’m typing this out, taking breaks to set down my phone, grab my headboards and really thrust into my bed. It feels even better with the butt plug: the tightness, the heat, my asshole throbbing around its metal body. And I’m all covered up in coconut oil (I massage it over my entire body each night after I shower and before I go to bed). So every time I inhale, I get a lungful of the aroma, I feel the butt plug up my ass, and the monstrous heat within my ribcage. I’m like a tropical thunderstorm bearing down on my bed. My wet hair flying this way and that, a wild dance as I get sweaty and flushed.

And I shaved last night for the first time in two years. Usually, I just trim, but I wanted to hit a reset button and now my pussy is so soft and smooth and I just want to press it to things.

I roll up my t-shirt (which is a pink shirt with kittens btw) so that I can put it in my mouth. Must stifle the moans cause everyone’s asleep! But all I fucking want is someone to pulverize me.

Another orgasm blossoms up within. I squeeze the pillow with my thighs, my entire body vibrating from the sensation, before collapsing on my side, trying to catch my breath. Everything is so hot. My fingers can’t type this out fast enough. And my hips won't stop moving, even as I’m on my belly, tapping away on my phone, panting.

What is going on with me? My mind’s been feeling like it’s been rippling.

Like when you toss a stone into a lake and all those millions of circles race away from the point of impact. But imagine each of those circles was a wave, rushing towards the ends of the lake to crash against the shore, growing as it spreads until they’re all tidal waves. And the shore is my body. And every little naughty thought is another meteor crashing into the darkest corners of my mind. And I respond like this, trying to fill the insatiable abyss.

Well, it looks like I’m not sleeping tonight. Will I ever sleep again?

I get out of bed and grab my headphones and play one of my favorite albums. Crywolf’s latest album Widow [Oblivian pt 1]. It’s so dark and gritty and vulnerable, it’s addicting. It’s one of my favorite things to listen to at night, with all the lights off, just some streetlight coming through the windows. When I feel immensely alone and broken and unraveled.

At some point, I start dancing when the song “Foreign Tongues” comes on. It might be my favorite track off the album. There’s this wild energy, it’s breathtaking. I don’t know what he meant by the title or the lyrics or anything, but it’s everything to me. “You stumble until the edge of the world appears,” he sings in my ears, and I dance in the dark, alone, with only a t-shirt on and my asshole spread by a butt plug. “You'll find me in the broken folds / I’m never leaving you alone.”

It starts off slow. Gentle movements until the drums come in, pulsing, pounding. And it’s as if the night time is pulsating around me, trying to suffocate me, or trying to rejuvenate me.

The song gets progressively wilder, building and building, and I’m falling apart. I’m crumbling. Moving to the rhythm. Something in the fabric of the universe clutches me, its gravity all around me, pulling me, spreading me, filling me, embodying me.

I’m hurting. Can’t you feel it? It’s so much.

Tears stream down my face. Hot, salty tears that I catch with my tongue. Eyes shut tight, holding onto the headphones, swaying my hips and moving. I’m alive. Can you feel me? I’m here, breathing. My heart is beating.

Each chord. Each note. Each drum beat. Crashing. My heart, racing. My body, moving. Moving. Feeling. The vocals in my ear like water rising, and I’m sinking below sea level. Losing the light and finding the dark, my hands tracing my curves. Teasing my hard nipples. Finding myself, palms sliding down my waist till both hands are between my thighs. Sinking, my lungs filling with cold saltwater, thick and condensed. And by the time the song finishes, another orgasm crackles through my body and I feel like the Red Sea, split in half during Exodus. I double over, clutching myself, feeling visceral pleasure forcing its way up my insides and into my limbs. My heart, pounding, pushes it through every blood vessel, into every muscle. And, gasping for breath, I have this idea that I cannot shake off.

For a while today, it thundered like crazy but did not rain. The sky grew bloated with dark clouds, and there was so much raw potential energy. I felt as if my lungs were filling with it, sizzling, inside me. When it finally poured, I sat with my window open, feeling the spray on my face and arms, thinking of ancient cultures and how they thought the rain was the sky fertilizing the earth. Did she get on her hands and knees and submit? Or was she lying on her back, her legs spread, touching herself, begging the sky to cum?

I sneak through the dark living room, only the t-shirt, I can still hear Foreign Tongues playing in some corner of my mind. I pass by my parents’ room, make my way down the stairs, and then through the kitchen and out the backdoor into our garden.

Everything is wet, and I can smell the aftertaste of rain in the air. As if the earth was sighing, the sky relaxing, their love still everywhere for us to see. The lights of my neighbors are off, and on one side of our backyard, there’s a high fence for a bit of privacy. I step out, barefooted, unclothed, and so pale that I assume I’m glowing like a ghost in the moonlight. Gentle meowing resounds from the shed, and I can sense the neighborhood cats somewhere in the dark. They were born here, in our backyard, and they recognize my scent. But they stay out of reach. it’s only when I bring food and water that they’ll come closer, but I don’t have a meal for them today. Not one meant for them, at least.

My heart beats wildly as I step deeper into the yard till I’m standing at the center of the garden, my toes curled up in wet soil, careful not to trample any of the plants. There are tomatoes, peppers, squash, and other things, and I feel as if I’m in the center of a forest with all the vines and leaves that have climbed the fence, the nonstop music of crickets and other hidden insects. Are there monsters in here? Ghosts? Find me, please.

The world smells strongly of sensuality, that’s the only way I can describe it. That heavy aroma of wildlife and wetness. I slide the butt plug out, and a moan slips through my lips into the quiet night. I shudder as I present it to the moonlight, its metal body catching the light. I can see a handful of stars, spread out across the vastness, and I wish I could see them all. But the city is too bright around me. Usually, people say they want a brighter future, but I hope it’s much, much darker so I can see the universe as it should be seen: naked.

I shut my eyes and feel the darkness swirl around me. I bring the buttplug to my lips for a kiss, tasting myself, tasting the coconut oil I used to lube it up. Feral and naughty. I close my lips around the base, feeling it my mouth, both hands up to my face as if I’m in prayer.

Moments pass, and when I’m ready to spit it out, I open my eyes to see two of my favorite cats sitting in front of our shed on their haunches, tails swirling, glistening eyes watching me.

Slowly, I sink down to my knees, atop the soil. They don’t move. They are guardians of the night as I get on my elbows, my ass in the air, the cool air teasing my throbbing insides. I offer myself to the universe, arching my back, tensing my muscles to spread my cheeks.

My wet hair falls forward and covers my face. I reach behind and slide the butt plug where it belongs, and the cats watch while I fuck myself. Sliding it in and out, feeling that expansion and release, like waves flowing and receding at the shoreline. My pussy is still dripping wet from how much I’ve already cum, and I feel my juices running down my thighs. My legs are growing weak, and I clutch the soil with my other hand, a fistful of the earth, and brace myself. I imagine the plug is the sky, fucking me, claiming me, and before I know it, I’m panting and moaning into the garden, wondering if this was how Eve felt the first time she understood her body, the first time Adam grabbed her slender hips and pounded her into Eden. Did they fall from heaven for tasting its purest fruit or for understanding its truest pleasure?

What would happen if someone got up and came out to see what’s causing all this commotion in the backyard? If my stepfather opened the backdoor and saw me like this, in the garden fucking my ass. Or if a neighbor got up to pee and happened to glance out a window? Or if a passing witch, flying overhead, spotted my pale form and descended upon me?

I’m humming the song, Foreign Tongues, thrusting the plug to the rhythm. Despite its chaotic nature, the song beats steadily, and I can feel tendrils of the darkness rising within me, curling around my rib cage and heart, clenching me tight. It fills my throat with moans and gasp, and the song becomes too loud in my head as I press my face into the wet earth and let out a wild, shuddering cry. It startles me. It feels like I’ve just given birth to the cosmos, restarted time itself.

The cats bolt away into the dark. My knees buckle and I’m left in the dirt. One arm is stretched in front of me, holding on tight. My knees are buried in the soil, but they are spread apart now, my hips inches off the ground as if I’m humping the planet. I push the plug deep, my mind spinning, drowning in starlight and moonlight as I cum. Gushing. Just as the sky inseminates the earth, a downpour.

Splattering the leaves and plants around me. My juices in the soil, sinking. Drunken up thirsty roots. When the storm ends, leaving my pussy throbbing, my body trembling, I collapse completely. On my belly in the soil, not caring as it smears my skin and ruins my shirt and gets in my hair. My legs are still shaking, uncontrollably, my insides throbbing with heat. And it truly feels as if someone had tossed a meteor into my mind and my soul was rippling, churning into a maddening storm.

I feel at one with the nighttime world, with nature and its heartbreaking beauty, and with myself and all these wicked desires that ravish my body.

I don’t know how much time passes before I get up. I try to wipe off as much of the dirt as I can, but it’s pointless. My skin was already wet from the oil, and everything sort of mixed and stuck to my pale skin. So, I take off my shirt, wipe down my feet and legs, then sneak back into the house like a dirty ghost. The only trace I’d been there was the disturbance in the garden soil, which I’d have to blame on the innocent cats. But they’d keep my secret, I’m sure.

A part of me wants to be caught hurrying through the house, naked and wet, dirty. “This is who I really am,” I’d say. But I grab clean clothes, slip into the shower, and let the cold water run over me, eyes shut, everything throbbing, dreaming someone would float into the tub and wrap their arms around me whilst kissing my neck and promising so much more. Then I’m back in bed, wrapped in blankets with a book on my lap, my plug safely in its hiding spot, and not a soul the wiser.