Chuck Tingle
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My Overwhelming Gratitude And Appreciation For The Grand Cosmic Rarity Of My Own Existence Gets Me Off
🕑 Added 2023-11-15 16:06:10 +0000 UTC
Kira and her friend are torn over where to eat lunch, and they finally resort to flipping a coin. The result sends this pair out for a great meal, but on the way back home they discover their other restaurant of choice was overrun by a terrible rash of food poisonings. In other words, they got lucky.
Kira is grateful, but she quickly starts obsessing over just how grateful she should be, calculating every variable that lead them to this fateful moment. Soon enough, the fabric of the universe is folding in on itself, and Kira is coming face to face with the physical manifestation of her gratitude and appreciation for the grand cosmic rarity of her own existence.
Now Kira and this physical manifestation are locked in an erotic, lesbian tryst, learning together that it’s okay to be thankful in your own way.
This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling human on lesbian gratitude action and hardcore living concept love.
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MY OVERWHELMING GRATITUDE AND APPRECIATION FOR THE GRAND COSMIC RARITY OF MY OWN EXISTENCE GETS ME OFF
By Chuck Tingle
“Where are you thinking for lunch?” I ask Daisy as we greet one another with open arms. “You pick.”
Daisy laughs, shaking her head. “I was hoping you would. I’ve got a couple of cravings but, honestly, I can’t decide. I’m too hungry to think.”
She’s taking the words right out of my mouth.
Either way, I’m thrilled to see her, struggling to remember how long it’s been since my friend and me had a classic lunchtime meetup to gossip and chat. We used to do this all the time, but lately I’ve been so busy with work that I haven’t had time to see much of anyone.
I want to make this afternoon count, to choose the perfect café where we can conduct our little get-together. I’ve narrowed it down to a pair of perfect choices in my head, old hangouts we used to grab meals at all the time but have since fallen by the wayside.
Daisy locks eyes with me, a curious smile breaking out across her face.
“What ‘couple of cravings?’” I ask.
“You first.”
“Same time,” I suggest, then count down from three.
We erupt with our selections in unison, the words syncing up perfectly. “Borson’s Café or Tingle Town!”
We both start laughing hysterically, blown away by this unforeseen mind-meld.
It’s not that surprising, I suppose. These two restaurant have both served up some of our all-time favorite meals over the years. They’ve got completely different vibes but are somehow equally as nostalgic.
The two of us stand awkwardly in my driveway, not quite ready to head back to Daisy’s car because our concrete destination remains elusive. We’ve found ourselves in a strange sort of mealtime purgatory.
“I could really go either way,” I insist. “I’m fifty fifty.”
“Me too,” Daisy retorts.
Suddenly, an idea strikes. I reach into my pocket, searching for a coin but coming up empty.
“Do you have a quarter?” I ask.
Daisy checks her purse, discovering a single quarter that slides around at the bottom. She pulls it out and hands it over to me. “Here you go.”
“Heads we go to Borson’s. Tails we go to Tingle Town,” I announce.
My friend nods in confirmation. I hesitate, making sure this coin is placed in exactly the right spot for a prefect flip and tucking my thumb under my finger. I’m ready. My thumb pops up and sends the coin rocketing skyward, flipping end over end as it glints in the afternoon sun. When the quarter plummets back down I catch it, then slap it down onto the top of my other hand.
I slowly reveal our result, smiling and calling it out with confidence. “Tingle Town it is!”
The meal is incredible, and as I chow down on my heaping plate of fresh spaghetti, I find myself incredible thankful for the way things turned out. Don’t get me wrong, Borson’s Café is fantastic, but for whatever reason this particular meal just hits the spot I was looking to fill.
It appears fate was kind to us today.
We finish our food and pay the bill, then rise from our patio table.
“Ready?” Daisy questions.
I nod.
We stroll back through the restaurant and out onto the sidewalk, Daisy’s car waiting for us on the nearby curb. We climb in. Soon enough, the two of us are cruising down the streets of Billings, gazing out her windows as the city passes us by.
I know this route like the back of my hand, aware of every subtle pothole and cement crack that zig-zags through the road like a lighten bolt. On this particular trip home, however, something usual catches my eye.
“Oh my God!” I blurt.
The car slows with a jolt, Daisy pointing out her window at one of the many restaurants that line this commercial strip.
I recognize the place immediately. This is Borson’s Café, our other potential eating spot. The café itself has a relaxed vibe, tucked away and modest with its advertising. If you didn’t know where to look, you just might miss the place, but this afternoon it’s certainly making itself known.
People are staggering around the front of the restaurant like zombies, wobbling from side to side as they seize and convulse. They’re groaning loudly, coughing and sputtering as their moans fill the air. One of the patrons actually collapses to the ground as we watch, a truly frightening sight.
We roll to a stop, my window dropping as I lean out and call over to them. “Are you alright? Do you needs some help?”
One of the closest staggering people waves me away. “We’re fine, the ambulance is on its way.”
“Uh… what happened?” is all I can think to say.
The man I’m talking to opens his mouth to speak, but before he has a chance to get to words out he lurches sideways and bends at the hip, hurling his recently consumed food into a nearby bush.
“Food poisoning!” he calls out from the foliage. “We’re okay. We’re okay.”
Behind the man, more people are stumbling out of the restaurant, wrestling with their own health code violations turned intestinal demons.
Daisy and me exchange glances. “Let’s get out of here,” I blurt.
My friend hits the gas and we tear away from the curb, rolling back onto the street and creating as much space between ourselves and the restaurant is possible.
“Whoa, that was intense,” Daisy sighs, glancing one last time over her shoulder as the chaos disappears behind us.
It sure as hell was, but as all that drama fades away in the rearview mirror I can’t help the other, slightly tangential thought that begins to simmer within my mind. That was almost us back there, heaving and moaning as the sickness overwhelmed our bodies. But it wasn’t our intelligence that helped avoid this disaster, it was pure, unfiltered luck.
“I can’t believe we almost eat there,” I say. “If that coin would’ve landed on the other side then our afternoon would’ve been… a lot different right now.”
Daisy nods along, considering this.
“I’m so thankful,” I continue.
“What are the odds?” she asks, a rhetorical question posed only to herself. We know the odds, a fifty-fifty shot at severe food poisoning, but the second I come up with this answer I realize it’s not entirely correct.
Yes, our coin flip was an even split, but we almost didn’t even have a coin to flip in the first place, which poses a whole new set of questions. The odds are certainly skewed by this new variable, and every other variable that spins off from it.
Of course, all these hypothetical mental rabbit holes have little bearing on the rest of our day, but for some reason I can’t seem to shake myself free from their mysterious depths.
I’m so thankful we didn’t end up at Borson’s Café this afternoon, but exactly how thankful I should be remains unknown.
“Where did you get that quarter?” I finally ask my friend.
She glances over at me, confused. “What do you mean?’
“Do you remember where you got change?” I press.
Daisy doesn’t immediately reply this time, giving herself a moment to actually consider my question and sort through the steps that lead her here. She furrows her brow, thinking deeply, then finally snaps her fingers when the realization comes.
“Oh yeah! I got a little fun-size candy bar at the gas station!” she recalls. “I had a dollar and they gave me a quarter in change.”
“Which gas station?” I press.
“It’s only a block or so from here. Just up this road,” she explains. “I was going to pick up-”
“Pull over,” I blurt.
Daisy reluctantly slows, glancing over at me with expressions of sudden concern. “Are you alright?”
I nod. “I’m sorry, I just need to figure something out. I’m not sure how thankful I should be, so I wanna get to the bottom of this.”
I can tell my friend has absolutely no idea what this means, but she humors me all the same, pulling over to the side of the road and stopping her car.
“I’ll call you later,” I assure her, hopping out and waving goodbye.
Soon enough, I’m all alone, traveling deeper into this mysterious neighborhood by foot. I’ve seen the gas station she’s talking about, but this part of town isn’t all that familiar to me, especially when it comes to these lesser used side streets.
I should probably be paying more attention to my surroundings, but instead I find my brain utterly preoccupied with the question at hand.
A rare, fortunate event deserves gratitude, but just how much gratitude is a delicate thing to consider. If I give too much thanks, I risk losing my thankfulness for other rare things, and if I give too little then I’m, well, ungrateful.
Eventually, the gas station comes into view.
I stroll through the doors with confidence, approaching a triceratops in a yellow uniform who sits behind the counter.
“Hi there,” I start. “I have a question.”
“Sure,” the triceratops replies, sitting up a bit.
“How many people get coins for change on their transactions?” I ask. “Most people use cards, so there’s no change when that happens.”
The dinosaur just stares at me blankly.
“Also, do you ever run out of coin?” I continue, struggling to cover my variable bases.
“What the fuck are you talking about,” the triceratops finally blurts.
I suddenly realize just how bizarre and absurd this probably all seems. I step back a bit, both physically and metaphorically. “Sorry,” I offer. “I’m just trying to figure out the likelihood of my friend having a quarter when I asked her to flip a coin. I figured I’d come here and see, on average, how many customers leave with change, then compare that to the amount of customers who don’t.”
The triceratops cracks a bemused smile. “You’re taking it that far, huh?”
“I have to,” I explain. “I want to know how grateful I should be for this amazing day. I feel very fortunate right now, and I wanna know if I should.”
The dinosaur considers this. “Well, if you’re gonna figure out in the odds of your friend getting a coin here, then you’ve also gotta figure in the here part.”
Now it’s my turn to be confused. The dinosaur notices this, and explains a little more.
“What are the chances this gas station was even around in the first place?” he muses. “Yeahs ago, when this company was buying up plots of land and putting stations all over the place, they could’ve easily picked somewhere else. Your friend is lucky, not just because of the coin, but because of the place her coin was received. Of course, that only takes into account other gas stations could’ve taken this one’s place, but it could’ve also been a park, or a school, or a courthouse. You’d never know. If you really wanna get to the bottom of all this, you’ll have to look into the real estate history.”
I let out a long sigh, suddenly realizing I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew. Still, the answers I’m looking for are out there somewhere, and I’m not about to give up on this intellectual journey halfway through. I refuse to quit.
“Where could I find the real estate records?” I ask.
“Online,” the triceratops replies. “That might not be everything, though. If you really want the full history, you’d have to look through government archives. They’re all stored at the courthouse.”
My footsteps ring out through this massive, hollow structure, this rhythmic sound echoing over the smooth stone walls of the Billings courthouse. I’ve been here a few times, mostly just to pay parking tickets, but this basement area is entirely new to me.
I’m honestly shocked at the size of this place, a giant catacomb that weaves its way through the ground in a twisting labyrinth. These chambers are long and empty, not another person in sight as I travel from hallway to hallway, diligently searching for a door that says Deeds and Records.
At long last, I find the office I’m looking for. I open the door, greeted by a sight that causes my breath to catch in my throat. This room is much larger than I was expecting, a giant space crammed with aisle after aisle of filing cabinets in various states of disarray. Some of them are locked up tight, but many of these containers have popped open at some point during their long history, spilling over with endless reams of legal documents.
I certainly have my work cut out for me.
I slowly enter the room, making my way down one of these long rows in a state of sheer wonder. There’s so much information here, but that information only leads to more questions. Looking at all these pages makes me realize that my hunt for land records is only the beginning. Not only do I need to find all the potential buyers, but then I need to consider what brought them to Billings in the first place.
I need to consider the permits these people were able to get, and how difficult each one was to obtain. I need to consider whether or not the soil was good for construction, and what happened hundreds of thousands of years ago to create such conditions. How likely was that?
Then there’s even more variables in the field of astronomy. How likely was it that our planet would take this particular path, or exhibit this particular type of weather?
As I think all this, my head begins to ache. I can feel the throbbing pulse behind my temples, but I keep going. I push past the pain, allowing the cascade of questions to wash over me. These variables are near infinite but I keep going, keep analyzing this moment and following every path until it branches off in a thousand more.
I need to know the answer, need to understand just how thankful I should be.
The aisles begin to quake and tremble, vibrating with incredible power. At first I think it might be an earthquake, but as soon as I start calculating the likelihood of this geological phenomena I realize whatever I’m experiencing is even grander.
Soon enough, the trappings of the physical world have fallen away, leaving me in a strange, otherworldly space of rolling fractals and brilliant white lights. A figure is floating towards me, their body a never ending math equation of potential variables.
“Who—who are you?” I stammer. “What is this?”
“An ultimate realization,” the figure replies. “I am the culmination of every variable that has led you to this moment, stretching all the way back to the beginning of time and continuing on until the end—overwhelming gratitude and appreciation for the grand cosmic rarity of your own existence… but you can call me Amanda.”
“Amanda?” I repeat back.
The swirling mass of variables nods. “It’s nice to mee you.”
“I’m Kira,” I reply.
The sentient concept glances around for a moment, somehow capable of seeing past the wash of glowing variables and witnessing the room just beyond. “This is… interesting,” she admits. “I can’t remember the last time I manifested in an office. Usually I’m on the top of a mountain or on a beach at sunset.”
“I’m pretty methodical,” I admit. “I was just trying to get to the bottom of something and… now here you are.”
“Here I am,” she repeats back with a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh, yeah,” I blurt. “I’m actually trying to figure out how thankful I should be for a coin flip. When I started calculating the odds it got a little confusing.”
“It always does,” she replies with an understanding nod. “Quantifying the universe can get a pretty intricate, especially if you’re trying to be exact in your calculations.”
“So what’s the answer?” I press. “Now that I’ve got you here, I might as well find out.”
“I mean, the variables are infinite, so infinite gratitude?” she replies.
I hesitate. “That’s not too much? I don’t wanna be too grateful.”
“Why not?”
“So I don’t waste it,” I reply.
Amanda laughs. “You can’t waste gratitude,” she replies. “Even if nobody else notices or appreciates your thankfulness, it doesn’t matter. Being thankful isn’t for anyone, it just is. It’s the state of the universe. It’s like light or gravity or entropy.”
“I… don’t really get it,” I admit. “I’m trying to be methodical, like I said, but at this point it just starts getting too abstract.”
“Well, it’s difficult for humans to wrap their minds around the infinite,” she explains. “That’s where art comes in. The best I can explain in words is this: you are infinitely rare, and while that might make you feel small sometimes, the truth is actually the opposite. You are endlessly special and important. There is no end to the gratitude one could have for their existence, because there is no end to the variables that gifted us with existence in the first place.”
“Wow,” is all I can think to say.
Amanda smiles. “I hope that makes a little bit of sense. Some folks can’t really get it until they’re mid-orgasm, but that’s a whole other situation.”
“Wait,” I blurt. “What?”
Amanda hesitates. “These epiphanies,” she finally continues. “Sometimes cumming helps pull things into focus.”
“Oh,” I reply, feeling a surge of arousal wash over me.
We stand awkwardly for a moment, this erotic weight hanging over us.
“Do you still need a little help understanding?” the physical manifestation of my gratitude and appreciation for the grand cosmic rarity of my own existence coos.
I swallow. “I think so.”
The two of us move towards on another, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss as we lose ourselves in the moment. I wrap my arms around her, immediately getting to work as I trace the topography of her swirling form. The physical manifestation caresses me in turn, starting her attention on my shoulders and neck then working her way down my breasts. Amanda massages me gently, taking her time before reaching down and pulling my shirt over my head. She tosses it to the side, then continues her exploration, drifting lower and lower.
I unbutton my pants as the physical manifestation of overwhelming gratitude and appreciation for the grand cosmic rarity of my own existence reaches my waistline, but it’s here that she hesitates. She teases me for a moment with the prospect of something more, tracing her fingers back and forth.
“Please,” I whimper into her ear. “I want to know.”
Finally, Amanda has mercy and slips her hand a little lower, blissfully tracing her finger across my waiting clit. The second she touches me a startled gasp escapes my lips, not entirely prepared for just how good this simple touch would feel.
My hips push back against her, yearning for more. The two of us begin rocking together, our bodies slowly falling into sync with one another as we grind harder and harder.
It’s not long before a warmth starts to build at the pit of my stomach, this wonderful ache slowly making its way out across my body and filling my entire frame with its pleasant hum. The sensation spills through my arms and legs, causing my muscles to tighten as they prepare for eruption.
My hands frantically explore Amanda in turn. I move my attention down her swirling body, eventually discovering a wet, waiting pussy at her base. I immediately slip my fingers into her, causing the sentient manifestation of let out a satisfied moan in turn. She arches her head back, eyes shut tight.
The pleasure is moving back and forth between us now, building upon itself like some kind of erotic feedback loop. Larger and larger these feelings bloom within, but before they get the chance to explode, my lover changes her technique.
The swirling manifested concept pulls her hand back then helps guide me to the floor, stripping off my pants as we go. We fall to our knees, then push back even farther so that we’re laying on the hard ground as fractals spiral past above. The visions are breathtaking, but even this glorious display of cosmic patterns isn’t enough to pull my attention from Amanda’s smiling face.
The sentient manifestation kisses me gently on the lips, then begins to work her way across my cheeks and neck. Lower and lower she glides, kissing across every square inch of my body until she’s hovering directly above my pussy.
Amanda glances up, locking eyes with me and offering a playful wink. “Gratitude feels pretty good, huh?” she chirps.
I nod.
The physical manifestation dives in, eating me out with ravenous enthusiasm.
“Oh fuck,” I sigh, arching my back as my body reels from her touch.
She laps away at me with her tongue, perfectly matching the pace of her fingers that came before. The sensations bubbling up within me pick up right where they left off, an aching warmth that floods across me and threatens to erupt at any second.
“Just like that, just like that,” I begin to repeat, these words spilling out of my mouth in a blissful mantra. They grow louder with every passing reptation, until eventually I’m calling out at the top of my lungs. “Just like that!”
I reach down and place my hands on the back of Amanda’s head, pushing her even harder against me. This provides a sudden jolt in the progression of my impending climax, but what really pushes me over the edge is when the beautiful living concept thrusts two fingers deep, filling me up.
This new stimulation swirls together with the one that came before it, and suddenly the orgasmic tension breaks. I let out an unbridled scream as the orgasm pulses through my frame, my whole body quaking as it struggles to handle this onslaught of sensation.
Amanda doesn’t let up, carrying me through the entirety of this glorious experience. My climax stretches on and on for what seems like forever, until finally I fall back against the ground in a state of fucked-silly exhaustion.
I’m not done yet, however. The fatigue is potent, but there’s another emotion growing within me that’s much more powerful, a driving force to finish what I started.
“Get up here,” I command.
The physical manifestation of gratitude and appreciation for the grand cosmic rarity of my own existence doesn’t need to be told twice. She floats into position, drifting over my face and then lowering herself down to offer a perfect angle for my hungry mouth. I begin to eat her out, giving back every bit of the enthusiasm that she gave me.
Amanda grinds down onto my face as the variables swirl around us, a churning mass of events that shoot off into billions of unfathomable outcomes. There are so many of them, and the fact that it all somehow leads us to this very moment is impossible to wrap my mind around… so I don’t.
Instead of trying to calculate this impossible equation, I simply let it envelope me. I lay back and enjoy the moment, lapping away at this physical manifestation with everything I’ve got. I’m totally present, and in this astronomically unlikely and breathtakingly wonderous moment I finally push her over the edge of climax.
Amanda throws her head back and lets out a satisfied howl, her body shaking hard. I continue licking her, watching as she heaves forward under the weight of all this blissed out sensation.
Finally, the living concept finishes her orgasm and falls to the side.
The strange cosmic equations that once surrounded us has fallen away, revealing the cold government office that came before. I don’t mind, however. That other place may have been exciting and unique, but honestly so is this.
I pull Amanda close, the two of us resting in each other’s arms.
“That was wonderful,” I sigh. “I’m so grateful.”
“Me too,” she replies.
Out of habit, I think to ask her if I’m grateful enough, but stop myself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this, it’s that gratitude isn’t something worth measuring and comparing and defining. It’s not something you can just decide to feel more or less of, it just is.
I feel it right now, and that’s enough.
Instead of letting my mind spin out in another calculation, I pull Amanda closer. The two of us just lay here, basking in the afterglow and enjoying a special moment together—fully present.
Comments
Sarah Twist
As a statistician I cannot tell you how much I have wanted one of the concepts I was studying to manifest and eat me out. Be worth never finishing an ANOVA
Splendid Geryon
LOVE IS REAL
