My week involved bus crashes, dog bites, death, and general mayhem. To the point where I was afraid to even ask people about their days for fear of what I might hear.
Which is why I love smut. (Ha. Look at that segue!) I mean, smut takes your mind off dismal news and slips your thoughts right back where they belong—in your pants. Now, if I've done this right, the poll will run until Monday at midnight. I'll post a new contest shortly—once the coffee has kicked in.
Hope your week was less "Capital C" Crazy than mine. Feel free to share here if you'd like. And remember to read the seven stories below and vote!
Entry #1: The perils of e-sex
I want you. I want the skin at the back of your neck when you’re bent over your work.
I want to hook my fingers into your jeans and pull you to me, I don’t care how cheesy the gesture is
I want to slide my tongue down the smooth, warm expanse of your stomach, trace the line of hair that that leads into your jeans as I crack them open, button by button down to your cock
I want to inhale the smell of you, run my hands under your balls, over your ass, slide my hands up your cock til it’s hurting with need, and then tease you, til I know you’re thinking just do it just suck it please,
and I take you in as far as I can go, my cheek against your hot skin as I look up at you
I want to feel your hip bones under my hands, hold on as you thrust into my mouth, the skin silk smooth over the bone
My hot wet mouth pulling and sucking and swallowing you til your hands tighten in my hair and it hurts, and your legs are spread and you’re telling me
Oh wait, the phone, gtg babe
Entry #2: Art Lesson
“How ‘bout we check out Van Gogh’s work next?”
“Sure, but Max, look—the Tiffany panel—doesn’t it look real?”
Max felt her fingertips gently stroke his arm as he looked toward the forest scene, heard her whisper, “Doesn’t it make you wanna get naked, fuck behind the waterfall, and walk off on that path to forever?”
He stiffened immediately. “Jessie—I told you up front—there’s no ‘forever’ to this.”
“Oh, calm yourself, Max, I was just kidding. Besides,” she said, glancing down at his crotch, “the water would be too cold for us to do anything.” He relaxed, aware of her soft lips brushing past his ear as she murmured, “How ‘bout we just do it later in the motel shower.”
Her raw candor was exciting. Max recognized the now familiar flush of horny crimson as it flared up in her pale cheeks, heard her sigh, as they moved toward the escalator, toward his favorite crazy man’s world of starry nights, cypress trees, and sunflowers.
Halfway up, the ache swirled inside his groin again. He pulled her amenable body closer, bent to kiss her neck a dozen times; lingered in the scent of her hair. God, he loved the smell of her, the taste of her. Too bad to have to let this one go.
Later, hot water rained down on his body, the steam from the motel shower fogging the sink mirror. “Ready?” he called.
Naked, Jessie hesitated; traced “bff” in the silver mist. “Yes,” she replied.
And raised the gun.
Entry #3: Office Interlude
"What are you doing?"
My fingers flutter across the keyboard.
I hit send, and wait.
"Jeez, Wyn, I'm working," he rasps.
"I'm well aware of that." The keys click again, a steady stream of innocuous words strung together just so. "If you weren't," I hit send, "I wouldn't be sending this to you."
His exhale hits the speaker of his cell phone explosively, as if I'd hit him in the gut. "Oh fuck."
My lips curve, an expression he would recognize if he were to see, one that would find me quickly bound with cuffs, spread for his pleasure. With careful composition another grouping spins out.
"Goddamn-it-all-to-hell, Wyn," he snarls.
Ahh, that's it.
"Can't I tell you how much I miss you, lover?" More words, and I wait with a curl of dangerous anticipation curling up my spine.
The next response is a wordless feral growl, then silence and the chime of the cell disconnecting. 'GTG' pops up on the screen.
I jump from my chair when my office down flies open. His eyes are black, lips twisted into a cruel smile, and I shudder, soaking my panties.
He shuts the door, flips the lock, and yanks his tie from his shirt. "Bend over. Now." He briskly ties my wrists behind my back before sliding my skirt up my hips. He tsks. "Damn. And I liked those." His fingers sear into my flesh as he tears the silk from my ass.
"You never learn, Wyn," he growls and slams his cock home.
Entry #4: OMG
“And the latest trends this summer seem to be mini dresses in all the bright colours. And O-M-G Katie Perry is bringing retro back...”
O-M-G? When did they start saying each letter instead of the words? When did they become that lazy, on television? Although looking again, that E! Reporter's perfectly painted red lips parted deliciously when stressing each of those letters.
I could just imagine those red lips getting smeared all over my cock. I could almost feel her soft tongue twirling around the tip of my dick instead of being precise on tv. I groaned as I thought about her gagging when I shoved myself deep into that lazy mouth. She’d have to work to say anything articulate then!
She’d look so much better with those red lips working up and down my shaft, drool reaching my balls, making everything so slick, so warm, so wet. I’d grab her perfectly set blonde hair and push and pull her over my throbbing cock. I’d make her lick each drop of pre-cum off slowly, making sure she didn’t miss a single spot.
I’d wait until she looked up at me, her beautiful face a streaky black mess. I’d smile down at her, thinking she looked so much hotter on her knees than on those 6 inch stilettos.
And when I came, I’d smear it over her pert little breasts.
Oh My God!
Entry #5: The Reunion
Confession: I hate netspeak. LOL especially makes me want to hurl Merriam-Webster's at the monitor. But there's one that goes back, in non-abbreviated form at least. Back to the days of hideous feathered hair, rainbow suspenders, and deely boppers.
That's why I'm not surprised when my best friend texts me from inside the reunion: "OMG, you'll never believe who's here!" We children of the eighties have rights to that one, I think.
And it's him. That unreachable one. God I lusted after him, but he was so out of my league it wasn't even funny. Then, a miracle: senior year he played Orsino to my Viola and he had to kiss me onstage, in front of everyone...but he didn't have to, um, suck face. The kiss was mandatory, but the mesmerizing swirling undertow of his tongue, perfectly slippery, shockingly intimate - that was his choice.
So now I give it back to him tenfold. Now I can reach him, grab him, pull him to me unthinkingly, blind with 20 years' worth of desire. And it's rampant hormones and roiling emotions all over again, and I kiss him, in front of everyone. His cock swells against me, remembering.
And I push him down and I undo him, and it's my tongue circling hypnotically now, slicking him with spit. And it's me who climbs him now, scaling the heights of the popular boy, my cunt gripping him like a fist. We both come fast and hard, gasping, shuddering. In front of everyone.
Entry #6: Binocular Vision
“What birds have you seen today?”
I’m home IMing my husband who's at work.
“Just titmice and junos.”
I like to watch the birds from by desk. When I should be writing.
Just then I see a flash of red in the woods, so I grab my binoculars.
“brb, I think I just saw a pileated.”
I scan the still-bare trees where I saw it last, near the neighbors. Movement catches my eye, but it’s not a woodpecker I’m seeing. I look away, then look back. Sure enough. I turn and type.
I quick explain about the window.
“She’s sucking his cock! brb”
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t keep from watching. There’s our neighbor, miss smarty-pants PTA, animal shelter, scouts, what-have-you, on her knees giving a blow job. I force myself to break away from watching her head bouncing and see something else.
“WTF – it’s not her husband! brb”
Feeling awful and exhilarated at the same time, I watch her pull away. I’m mesmerized, focus on his cock. Shit, I’m getting turned on. Shit, what if they can see me? I lower the binoculars, can barely see their window, much less anything else.
I refocus. They’ve in profile now. She leans on the edge of the tub, her ass towards him. Now he kneels behind her, his face buried. I’m breathing hard. He stands, grabs his cock and presses into her. I watch them fuck. Reach between my legs.
Entry #7: stfu
The roll of duct tape had me worried.
"Um. Mia? What are you planning to do with that?"
She smiled, in that way that always makes me nervous. "You tend to be a little loud, you know. And for what I have in mind today, I don't think loud is going to work."
I looked around. Maybe we should have discussed this before I agreed to be tied to the chair.
"I promise, it won't hurt. Nothing scary."
In for a penny, in for a pound. I let her tape my mouth shut.
"In fact, I think you'll like what I have in mind." Mia straddled my lap, and began to unbutton my shirt. I sighed through the tape, and tried to guess what would happen next.
Later, when we were both sticky and sated, Mia asked if I wanted her to take the duct tape off now. I shrugged. I guess I don't mind being told to STFU once in a while.