#stories

headspace-hotel:

headspace-hotel:

thinking again about TvTropes and how it’s genuinely such an amazing resource for learning the mechanics of storytelling, honestly more so than a lot of formally taught literature classes

reasons for this:

• basically TvTropes breaks down stories mechanically, using a perspective that’s not…ABOUT mechanics. Another way I like to put it, is that it’s an inductive, instead of deductive, approach to analyzing storytelling.
• like in a literature or writing class you’re learning the elements that are part of the basic functioning of a story, so, character, plot, setting, et cetera. You’re learning the things that make a story a story, and why.Like, you learn what setting is, what defines it, and work from there to what makes it effective, and the range of ways it can be effective.
• here’s the thing, though: everyone has some intuitive understanding of how stories work. if we didn’t, we couldn’t…understand stories.
• TvTropes’s approach is bottom-up instead of top-down: instead of trying to exhaustively explore the broad, general elements of story, it identifies very small, specific elements, and explores the absolute shit out of how they fit, what they do, where they go, how they work.
• Every TvTropes article is basically, “Here is a piece of a story that is part of many different stories. You have probably seen it before, but if not, here is a list of stories that use it, where it is, and what it’s doing in those stories. Here are some things it does. Here is why it is functionally different than other, similar story pieces. Here is some background on its origins and how audiences respond to it.”
• all of this is BRILLIANT for a lot of reasons. one of the major ones is that the site has long lists of media that utilizes any given trope, ranging from classic literature to cartoons to video games to advertisements. the Iliad and Adventure Time ARE different things, but they are MADE OF the same stuff. And being able to study dozens of examples of a trope in action teaches you to see the common thread in what the trope doesand why its specific characteristics let it do that
• I love TvTropes because a great, renowned work of literature and a shitty, derivative YA novel will appear on the same list, because they’re Made Of The Same Stuff. And breaking down that mental barrier between them is good on its own for developing a mechanical understanding of storytelling.
• But also? I think one of the biggest blessings of TvTropes’s commitment to cataloguing examples of tropes regardless of their “merit” or literary value or whatever…is that we get to see the full range of effectiveness or ineffectiveness of storytelling tools. Like, this is how you see what makes one book good and another book crappy. Tropes are Tools, and when you observe how a master craftsman uses a tool vs. a novice, you can break down not only what the tool is most effective for but how it is best used.
• In fact? There are trope pages devoted to what happens when storytelling tools just unilaterally fail. e.g. Narm is when creators intend something to be frightening, but audiences find it hilarious instead.
• On that note, TvTropes is also great in that its analysis of stories is very grounded in authors, audiences, and culture; it’s not solely focused on in-story elements. A lot of the trope pages are categories for audience responses to tropes, or for real-world occurrences that affected the storytelling, or just the human failings that creep into storytelling and affect it, like Early Installment Weirdness. There are categories for censorship-driven storytelling decisions. There are “lineages” of tropes that show how storytelling has changed over time, and how audience responses change as culture changes. Tropes like Draco in Leather Pants or Narm are catalogued because the audience reaction to a story is as much a part of that story—the story of that story?—as the “canon.”
• like, storytelling is inextricable from context. it’s inextricable from how big the writers’ budget was, and how accepting of homophobia the audience was, and what was acceptable to be shown on film at the time. Tropes beget other tropes, one trope is exchanged for another, they are all linked. A Dead Horse Trope becomes an Undead Horse Trope, and sometimes it was a Dead Unicorn Trope all along. What was this work responding to? And all works are responding to something, whether they know it or not

An incomplete list of really useful or interesting reads from TvTropes.

please note that yes many of these are concepts that exist elsewhere and a few are even taught in fiction writing classes but TvTropes just does an amazing job at displaying the range of things that can be done with them

legitimately so much of the terminology I use to talk about storytelling, and even think about it in my own head, i learned about from TvTropes

• Willing Suspension of Disbelief
• Watsonian vs. Doylist
• Trope Tropes, for all the ways tropes are used, deconstructed, subverted, and played with.
• The Oldest Ones in the Book, which is basically my favorite thing on the entire Internet
• Punk Punk, for -punk subgenres
• Sliding Scale of Silliness vs. Seriousness,Sliding Scale of Idealism vs. Cynicism
• The Weird Al Effect is a fun one
• Chekhov’s Gun, Chekhov’s Boomerang,Chekhov’s Skill, and further variations
• Law of Conservation of Detail
• Law of Conservation of Normality
• Anthropic Principle
• Word of God,Death of the Author
• Sliding Scale of Fourth Wall Hardness
• Mohs Scale of Science Fiction Hardness
• Genre Savvy
• Flashbacks and Chronology breaks down all the ways you can handle chronology in storytelling
• Show, Don’t Tell is a very good breakdown of what is showing, what is telling, and how both can be used effectively.
• Lampshade Hanging
• Noodle Incident is just fun imo
• Genre Title Grab Bag
• Fridge Horror
• Rule of Cool, and also Cool of Rule
• The Smurfette Principle
• The Hays Code - not a trope but a very good breakdown of how the Hays Code affected storytelling in film

this is just a really short list of examples I encourage people who write or otherwise create stories to browse around on this site it’s so useful

iamthecutestofborg:

headspace-hotel:

headspace-hotel:

thinking again about TvTropes and how it’s genuinely such an amazing resource for learning the mechanics of storytelling, honestly more so than a lot of formally taught literature classes

reasons for this:

• basically TvTropes breaks down stories mechanically, using a perspective that’s not…ABOUT mechanics. Another way I like to put it, is that it’s an inductive, instead of deductive, approach to analyzing storytelling.
• like in a literature or writing class you’re learning the elements that are part of the basic functioning of a story, so, character, plot, setting, et cetera. You’re learning the things that make a story a story, and why.Like, you learn what setting is, what defines it, and work from there to what makes it effective, and the range of ways it can be effective.
• here’s the thing, though: everyone has some intuitive understanding of how stories work. if we didn’t, we couldn’t…understand stories.
• TvTropes’s approach is bottom-up instead of top-down: instead of trying to exhaustively explore the broad, general elements of story, it identifies very small, specific elements, and explores the absolute shit out of how they fit, what they do, where they go, how they work.
• Every TvTropes article is basically, “Here is a piece of a story that is part of many different stories. You have probably seen it before, but if not, here is a list of stories that use it, where it is, and what it’s doing in those stories. Here are some things it does. Here is why it is functionally different than other, similar story pieces. Here is some background on its origins and how audiences respond to it.”
• all of this is BRILLIANT for a lot of reasons. one of the major ones is that the site has long lists of media that utilizes any given trope, ranging from classic literature to cartoons to video games to advertisements. the Iliad and Adventure Time ARE different things, but they are MADE OF the same stuff. And being able to study dozens of examples of a trope in action teaches you to see the common thread in what the trope doesand why its specific characteristics let it do that
• I love TvTropes because a great, renowned work of literature and a shitty, derivative YA novel will appear on the same list, because they’re Made Of The Same Stuff. And breaking down that mental barrier between them is good on its own for developing a mechanical understanding of storytelling.
• But also? I think one of the biggest blessings of TvTropes’s commitment to cataloguing examples of tropes regardless of their “merit” or literary value or whatever…is that we get to see the full range of effectiveness or ineffectiveness of storytelling tools. Like, this is how you see what makes one book good and another book crappy. Tropes are Tools, and when you observe how a master craftsman uses a tool vs. a novice, you can break down not only what the tool is most effective for but how it is best used.
• In fact? There are trope pages devoted to what happens when storytelling tools just unilaterally fail. e.g. Narm is when creators intend something to be frightening, but audiences find it hilarious instead.
• On that note, TvTropes is also great in that its analysis of stories is very grounded in authors, audiences, and culture; it’s not solely focused on in-story elements. A lot of the trope pages are categories for audience responses to tropes, or for real-world occurrences that affected the storytelling, or just the human failings that creep into storytelling and affect it, like Early Installment Weirdness. There are categories for censorship-driven storytelling decisions. There are “lineages” of tropes that show how storytelling has changed over time, and how audience responses change as culture changes. Tropes like Draco in Leather Pants or Narm are catalogued because the audience reaction to a story is as much a part of that story—the story of that story?—as the “canon.”
• like, storytelling is inextricable from context. it’s inextricable from how big the writers’ budget was, and how accepting of homophobia the audience was, and what was acceptable to be shown on film at the time. Tropes beget other tropes, one trope is exchanged for another, they are all linked. A Dead Horse Trope becomes an Undead Horse Trope, and sometimes it was a Dead Unicorn Trope all along. What was this work responding to? And all works are responding to something, whether they know it or not

An incomplete list of really useful or interesting reads from TvTropes.

please note that yes many of these are concepts that exist elsewhere and a few are even taught in fiction writing classes but TvTropes just does an amazing job at displaying the range of things that can be done with them

legitimately so much of the terminology I use to talk about storytelling, and even think about it in my own head, i learned about from TvTropes

• Willing Suspension of Disbelief
• Watsonian vs. Doylist
• Trope Tropes, for all the ways tropes are used, deconstructed, subverted, and played with.
• The Oldest Ones in the Book, which is basically my favorite thing on the entire Internet
• Punk Punk, for -punk subgenres
• Sliding Scale of Silliness vs. Seriousness,Sliding Scale of Idealism vs. Cynicism
• The Weird Al Effect is a fun one
• Chekhov’s Gun, Chekhov’s Boomerang,Chekhov’s Skill, and further variations
• Law of Conservation of Detail
• Law of Conservation of Normality
• Anthropic Principle
• Word of God,Death of the Author
• Sliding Scale of Fourth Wall Hardness
• Mohs Scale of Science Fiction Hardness
• Genre Savvy
• Flashbacks and Chronology breaks down all the ways you can handle chronology in storytelling
• Show, Don’t Tell is a very good breakdown of what is showing, what is telling, and how both can be used effectively.
• Lampshade Hanging
• Noodle Incident is just fun imo
• Genre Title Grab Bag
• Fridge Horror
• Rule of Cool, and also Cool of Rule
• The Smurfette Principle
• The Hays Code - not a trope but a very good breakdown of how the Hays Code affected storytelling in film

this is just a really short list of examples I encourage people who write or otherwise create stories to browse around on this site it’s so useful

YES I love TV tropes so immensely. It combines two things my neurodivergent brain loves: fiction analysis and putting things into categories

holespreader:

I’m the only married one in my group of friends, and as such, me and my husband are always considered a “unit” when hanging out, going to the club, etc. Last summer the group of us chipped in and rented a house for a week in Provincetown. My single friends all had the prime directive to get laid as much as humanly possible, and my husband and I were newly “open” (occasionally invited a third over for stroke sessions) so we were also looking forward to bring back new meat. On our second night in Ptown, the gang went out to the clubs and as the night progressed, we ended up bringing a bunch of people back to the house, some just new friends we made that night, some potential one night stands, all on various levels of drugs and alcohol. I’m assuming this is a pretty normal occurrence in Ptown. My husband had found us a really hot blonde guy (Nate), more muscular than either of us, which was accentuated by the leather harness on his chest. We were originally going to his place to have some fun, but he couldn’t host so we came back to our rental. All our friends and guests were partying in the living room, and we chatted and hung out for about five minutes before Nate starts making out with my very willing husband. They were feeling the eyes of everyone at the party, so they not-so-subtly moved to “our” room, at which point all eyes turned to ME. Since they were super into each other, I decided to wait a few minutes before following and hung out with my friends to let them know I was “cool with it.” When I went to go join them, I pulled on the door and IT WAS LOCKED. I was standing in the living room, while everyone watched me get locked out while some blonde hunk was having his way with my husband! I started knocking and tried to play it cool, and after what seemed like an eternity, they let me in.

However, that was about the extent that my presence was noticed by either of them. It was both hot and humiliating at the same time. We had promised beforehand that if we did end up having a threesome, we would wear protection. And dutifully enough, Nate had a condom on. For a while, at least. He started making exaggerated sighs and pulling his cock out of my husband. Said the condom was too tight and made it difficult to stay hard. Both of them, as if in sync, turned to me, asking permission with their faces, but not their words. I stammered a little and said something like “well, i guess try it without…” and with that, the condom was off and I was again invisible to them. I have never seen my husband that lost in pure ecstasy before. I’m not sure which one of us enjoyed it the most, my husband for getting the pounding I could never provide, or me for being able to bear witness. I sat and watched on a chair at the foot of the bed. Whatever Nate was doing to his hole, I was loving the view.

My friends outside must have heard the moaning, and decided to burst in like drunk giddy schoolgirls to “catch us in a threesome.” What they saw, however, was my husband face-down, begging to be bred, asshole high in the air as a cocky 24-year old blond hung plunged his dick all the way in and all the way out. It was that moment that I was FULLY cucked. This wasn’t just some internet fantasy or niche porn. All our friends were standing there, awkwardly not knowing if they should try and cheer me up or just walk out. I gave an equally awkward “no guys, its cool” smile and kept jacking off in my chair, and they went back to the living room.

Nate started revving up the sex talk. “Yeah, you like my cock in you?!” kind of stuff. He then asked, “How long has it been since your boyfriend fucked you??”

“Years” I heard my husband say.

First of all, it’s “husband” not “boyfriend,” and second, well …. it really had been a while since I fucked him. We mainly just do oral/jack off stuff.

“What a waste!” he said laughingly “I’ll fuck your ass every night. You want that??”

My husband didn’t respond, but turned to me. With the biggest smile he admitted “Nate lives in (my city) babe…”

I moved to the foot of the bed when I heard the increasing moaning that comes before climax. They were still fucking doggy style and I massaged Nate’s balls, as if giving my consent to breed my husband. Not that it was needed. Truthfully, I also wanted to feel the instant he “claimed” my husband. I watched that point-of-no-return moment as his dick pinned my husband to the bed. Muscles clenching, and after a few seconds, slowly relaxing again. He raw fucked my husband. In front of my friends, in front of strangers, in front of me. I still don’t know how to process everything. It’s both the most humiliated and most turned on I have ever been.

That night, my husband let me lick Nate’s cum out for hours. I will never forget it.

Awesome story!!!

It was a typical Friday night of mountain dew and video games for Brian when the air in his parents’ rec room started to move in a circle, knocking over his Boba Fett figurine and sending a chill down his spine. He paused his game and put his glasses back on in time to see the fell creature appear out of nowhere and land on the cabinet where his mother kept the bone china.

‘Holy shit,’ said Brian.

“̾B̾r̾i̾a̾n̾ ̾o̾f̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾ ̾S̾a̾r̾a̾s̾o̾t̾a̾ ̾c̾u̾l̾-̾d̾e̾-̾s̾a̾c̾,̾’̾’ the demon boomed. ‘̾Y̾o̾u̾ ̾h̾a̾v̾e̾ ̾b̾e̾e̾n̾ ̾c̾h̾o̾s̾e̾n̾.̾’̾

Brian put his controller down. 'Chosen for what?’

The demon cackled. '̾A̾s̾ ̾a̾ ̾v̾i̾r̾g̾i̾n̾ ̾s̾a̾c̾r̾i̾f̾i̾c̾e̾.̾’̾

'Oh,’ said Brian. 'Don’t you guys usually use girls for that?’

One of the demon’s mouths sneered. '̾A̾r̾e̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾ ̾n̾o̾t̾ ̾a̾ ̾v̾i̾r̾g̾i̾n̾?̾’̾

'Dude, it’s Friday night and I’m in my parents’ basement.’

'̾I̾s̾ ̾t̾h̾i̾s̾ ̾r̾e̾l̾e̾v̾a̾n̾t̾?̾’̾ the demon thundered.

'Not really,’ said Brian. 'Yes, I’m a virgin.’

The demon nodded. '̾T̾h̾e̾n̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾ ̾w̾i̾l̾l̾ ̾b̾e̾ ̾s̾a̾c̾r̾i̾f̾i̾c̾e̾d̾.̾’̾

Brian exited his game.

The demon was hovering in a blood-coloured mist, dozens of slimy teeth bared. Brian looked it up and down. 'Is it gonna hurt?’

'̾O̾f̾ ̾c̾o̾u̾r̾s̾e̾,̾’̾ said the demon.

Brian took a deep breath. 'On a scale of one to ten, how much pain would you say it’s going to be?’

The demon considered. '̾T̾h̾e̾r̾e̾ ̾w̾i̾l̾l̾ ̾b̾e̾ ̾a̾ ̾m̾e̾d̾i̾u̾m̾ ̾a̾m̾o̾u̾n̾t̾ ̾o̾f̾ ̾p̾a̾i̾n̾.̾’̾

That seemed reasonable to Brian. 'Yeah, okay.’

The demon hesitated. '̾Y̾o̾u̾ ̾-̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾ ̾o̾f̾f̾e̾r̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾r̾s̾e̾l̾f̾ ̾a̾s̾ ̾s̾a̾c̾r̾i̾f̾i̾c̾e̾?̾’̾

'Well, no,’ said Brian, who had read an entire thread on reddit about how to talk to trickster demons once. 'But it doesn’t look like you’re gonna give me a choice, so we might as well get it over with.’

A dozen of the demon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Y̾o̾u̾ ̾w̾i̾l̾l̾ ̾n̾o̾t̾ ̾r̾u̾n̾?̾’̾’

'Nope.’

'̾Y̾o̾u̾ ̾w̾i̾l̾l̾ ̾n̾o̾t̾ ̾s̾c̾r̾e̾a̾m̾?̾ ̾I̾t̾ ̾i̾s̾ ̾t̾r̾a̾d̾i̾t̾i̾o̾n̾a̾l̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾s̾c̾r̾e̾a̾m̾.̾’̾

'I mean, I can’t guarantee I’ll be quiet through all the torture and stuff,’ said Brian. 'But if I cry it won’t be voluntary.’

'̾Y̾o̾u̾ ̾a̾r̾e̾ ̾g̾o̾i̾n̾g̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾d̾i̾e̾,̾’̾ said the demon, as if he thought Brian was very, very stupid. '̾T̾h̾i̾s̾ ̾d̾o̾e̾s̾ ̾n̾o̾t̾ ̾b̾o̾t̾h̾e̾r̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾?̾’̾

Brian shrugged. 'Not really.’

'̾H̾m̾m̾.̾’̾ The demon sat back on his haunches. One of its mouths was still snarling, but another was twisted into a frown. '̾D̾o̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾ ̾w̾a̾n̾t̾ ̾t̾o̾…̾.̾ ̾t̾a̾l̾k̾ ̾a̾b̾o̾u̾t̾ ̾i̾t̾?̾’̾

Brian scratched the back of his neck. 'I mean, do you have time? If you’re busy -’

'̾N̾o̾,̾ ̾n̾o̾ ̾-̾,̾’̾

’ - I wouldn’t want to hold up your blood sacrifice schedule -’

'̾I̾t̾’̾s̾ ̾f̾i̾n̾e̾ ̾-̾’̾

’ - you guys probably have a quota to meet -’

'̾I̾ ̾h̾a̾v̾e̾ ̾t̾i̾m̾e̾,̾ ̾m̾o̾r̾t̾a̾l̾,̾’̾ said the demon, commanding a thousand screams from the bellows of hell to raise his voice.

Brian blinked.

'Well, okay.’

Two hours and three packets of Doritos later, Brian and the demon were sitting side by side on the floor in front of the ping pong table.

'I don’t really hate girls.’ Brian traced his finger over the pentagram the demon had burned into the hardwood floor. 'I just say that on the forums ‘cause everyone else does. I like girls a lot, but they never like me.’

'̾W̾e̾l̾l̾,̾’̾ said the demon, as he incinerated a corn chip and inhaled the ashes, '̾f̾i̾r̾s̾t̾ ̾o̾f̾ ̾a̾l̾l̾,̾ ̾s̾t̾o̾p̾ ̾s̾a̾y̾i̾n̾g̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾ ̾h̾a̾t̾e̾ ̾w̾o̾m̾e̾n̾ ̾o̾n̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾ ̾i̾n̾t̾e̾r̾n̾e̾t̾.̾’̾

'You think it gives off a vibe?’

'̾T̾h̾e̾r̾e̾ ̾i̾s̾ ̾d̾e̾f̾i̾n̾i̾t̾e̾l̾y̾ ̾a̾ ̾v̾i̾b̾e̾,̾’̾ the demon said solemnly. '̾A̾n̾d̾ ̾s̾e̾c̾o̾n̾d̾,̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾ ̾m̾u̾s̾t̾ ̾l̾e̾a̾r̾n̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾b̾e̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾r̾ ̾g̾e̾n̾u̾i̾n̾e̾ ̾s̾e̾l̾f̾.̾’̾

Brian rolled his eyes. 'I am -’

'̾Y̾o̾u̾ ̾a̾r̾e̾ ̾n̾o̾t̾,̾’̾ the demon roared, whipping its tail and setting the computer screen on fire. After Brian had doused the flames with an extinguisher, the demon continued.

'Y̾o̾u̾ ̾a̾r̾e̾ ̾l̾i̾k̾e̾ ̾m̾y̾ ̾f̾r̾i̾e̾n̾d̾ ̾A̾n̾d̾r̾e̾a̾l̾p̾h̾u̾s̾.̾ ̾F̾o̾r̾ ̾t̾h̾o̾u̾s̾a̾n̾d̾s̾ ̾o̾f̾ ̾y̾e̾a̾r̾s̾ ̾h̾e̾ ̾a̾p̾p̾e̾a̾r̾s̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾h̾u̾m̾a̾n̾s̾ ̾a̾s̾ ̾o̾n̾e̾ ̾o̾f̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾m̾,̾ ̾a̾ ̾m̾o̾r̾t̾a̾l̾,̾ ̾a̾n̾d̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾y̾ ̾w̾o̾r̾s̾h̾i̾p̾ ̾h̾i̾m̾ ̾a̾n̾d̾ ̾s̾a̾c̾r̾i̾f̾i̾c̾e̾ ̾m̾a̾n̾y̾ ̾g̾o̾a̾t̾s̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾h̾i̾s̾ ̾n̾a̾m̾e̾.̾ ̾B̾u̾t̾ ̾e̾v̾e̾r̾y̾ ̾t̾i̾m̾e̾ ̾h̾e̾ ̾a̾p̾p̾e̾a̾r̾s̾ ̾a̾s̾ ̾h̾i̾s̾ ̾t̾r̾u̾e̾ ̾f̾o̾r̾m̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾ ̾h̾u̾m̾a̾n̾s̾ ̾s̾c̾r̾e̾a̾m̾ ̾a̾n̾d̾ ̾g̾o̾ ̾m̾a̾d̾ ̾w̾i̾t̾h̾ ̾t̾e̾r̾r̾o̾r̾ ̾b̾e̾c̾a̾u̾s̾e̾ ̾h̾e̾ ̾i̾s̾ ̾f̾e̾a̾r̾s̾o̾m̾e̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾b̾e̾h̾o̾l̾d̾.̾’̾ The demon chewed on a piece of glass thoughtfully .'̾T̾h̾i̾s̾ ̾i̾s̾ ̾n̾o̾t̾ ̾g̾o̾o̾d̾ ̾f̾o̾r̾ ̾A̾n̾d̾r̾e̾a̾l̾p̾h̾u̾s̾.̾ ̾H̾i̾s̾ ̾s̾e̾l̾f̾ ̾e̾s̾t̾e̾e̾m̾ ̾s̾u̾f̾f̾e̾r̾s̾.̾ ̾'̾B̾u̾t̾ ̾w̾h̾y̾ ̾c̾a̾n̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾y̾ ̾n̾o̾t̾ ̾w̾o̾r̾s̾h̾i̾p̾ ̾m̾e̾ ̾a̾s̾ ̾I̾ ̾a̾m̾?̾’̾ ̾h̾e̾ ̾s̾a̾y̾s̾.̾ ̾'̾M̾u̾s̾t̾ ̾I̾ ̾a̾l̾w̾a̾y̾s̾ ̾h̾i̾d̾e̾ ̾m̾y̾ ̾t̾r̾u̾e̾ ̾f̾a̾c̾e̾?̾’̾

'A̾n̾d̾ ̾s̾o̾ ̾I̾ ̾s̾a̾i̾d̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾h̾i̾m̾,̾ ̾'̾A̾n̾d̾r̾e̾a̾l̾p̾h̾u̾s̾,̾ ̾h̾u̾m̾a̾n̾s̾ ̾a̾r̾e̾ ̾t̾e̾r̾r̾i̾b̾l̾e̾.̾ ̾Y̾o̾u̾ ̾k̾n̾o̾w̾ ̾t̾h̾i̾s̾.̾ ̾E̾v̾e̾r̾y̾o̾n̾e̾ ̾k̾n̾o̾w̾s̾ ̾t̾h̾i̾s̾.̾’̾ The demon made a gesture, and Brian nodded in agreement. '̾T̾h̾e̾r̾e̾ ̾a̾r̾e̾ ̾b̾i̾l̾l̾i̾o̾n̾s̾ ̾o̾f̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾m̾.̾ ̾Y̾o̾u̾ ̾w̾i̾l̾l̾ ̾f̾i̾n̾d̾ ̾h̾u̾m̾a̾n̾s̾ ̾m̾a̾d̾ ̾e̾n̾o̾u̾g̾h̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾w̾o̾r̾s̾h̾i̾p̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾r̾ ̾t̾r̾u̾e̾ ̾f̾o̾r̾m̾ ̾s̾o̾m̾e̾wh̾e̾r̾e̾.̾’̾

'And did he?’ 

'̾O̾f̾ ̾c̾o̾u̾r̾s̾e̾.̾ ̾T̾h̾e̾r̾e̾ ̾a̾r̾e̾ ̾t̾h̾o̾u̾s̾a̾n̾d̾s̾ ̾o̾f̾ ̾A̾n̾d̾r̾e̾a̾l̾p̾h̾u̾s̾’̾s̾ ̾s̾e̾r̾v̾a̾n̾t̾s̾ ̾i̾n̾ ̾a̾ ̾p̾l̾a̾c̾e̾ ̾c̾a̾l̾l̾e̾d̾ ̾B̾o̾c̾a̾ ̾R̾a̾t̾o̾n̾.̾’̾

'That makes sense,’ said Brian.

'̾Y̾o̾u̾ ̾m̾u̾s̾t̾ ̾n̾o̾t̾ ̾b̾e̾ ̾a̾f̾r̾a̾i̾d̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾b̾e̾ ̾v̾u̾l̾n̾e̾r̾a̾b̾l̾e̾,̾ ̾B̾r̾i̾a̾n̾ ̾o̾f̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾ ̾S̾a̾r̾a̾s̾o̾t̾a̾,̾’̾ said the demon. '̾I̾f̾ ̾A̾n̾d̾r̾e̾a̾l̾p̾h̾u̾s̾ ̾c̾a̾n̾ ̾d̾a̾n̾c̾e̾ ̾b̾e̾f̾o̾r̾e̾ ̾h̾i̾s̾ ̾f̾o̾l̾l̾o̾w̾e̾r̾s̾ ̾a̾s̾ ̾t̾e̾n̾ ̾t̾h̾o̾u̾s̾a̾n̾d̾ ̾l̾o̾c̾u̾s̾t̾s̾,̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾ ̾c̾a̾n̾ ̾m̾e̾e̾t̾ ̾s̾o̾m̾e̾o̾n̾e̾ ̾w̾h̾o̾ ̾w̾i̾l̾l̾ ̾w̾o̾r̾s̾h̾i̾p̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾.̾’̾

Brian didn’t think it was the sulphur making his eyes sting. 'Thanks, man.’

The demon patted Brian on the back, taking care not to use his claws. '̾A̾n̾d̾ ̾a̾l̾s̾o̾ ̾s̾t̾o̾p̾ ̾u̾s̾i̾n̾g̾ ̾a̾ ̾2̾-̾i̾n̾-̾1̾ ̾s̾h̾a̾m̾p̾o̾o̾ ̾a̾n̾d̾ ̾c̾o̾n̾d̾i̾t̾i̾o̾n̾e̾r̾.̾’̾

The demon melted back into its proper height. Its eyes flashed with brimstone, but now all its mouths were frowning.

'̾W̾e̾ ̾a̾r̾e̾ ̾a̾t̾ ̾a̾n̾ ̾i̾m̾p̾a̾s̾s̾e̾,̾ ̾M̾o̾r̾t̾a̾l̾ ̾B̾r̾i̾a̾n̾,̾’̾ it said. '̾W̾e̾ ̾h̾a̾v̾e̾ ̾b̾o̾n̾d̾e̾d̾.̾’̾

'I’d definitely friend you on social media,’ said Brian. 'You guys got Facebook down there?’

The demon waved a hand dismissively. '̾W̾e̾ ̾i̾n̾v̾e̾n̾t̾e̾d̾ ̾i̾t̾.̾ ̾B̾u̾t̾ ̾I̾ ̾c̾o̾n̾f̾e̾s̾s̾ ̾I̾ ̾f̾e̾e̾l̾ ̾̾a̾ ̾s̾a̾d̾n̾e̾s̾s̾ ̾a̾b̾o̾u̾t̾ ̾d̾a̾m̾n̾i̾n̾g̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾r̾ ̾s̾o̾u̾l̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾e̾t̾e̾r̾n̾a̾l̾ ̾t̾o̾r̾m̾e̾n̾t̾.̾’̾ 

Brian was touched.

The demon eyed Brian speculatively. '̾K̾n̾o̾w̾ ̾a̾n̾y̾o̾n̾e̾ ̾y̾o̾u̾ ̾w̾a̾n̾t̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾s̾e̾n̾d̾ ̾t̾o̾ ̾h̾e̾l̾l̾?̾’̾

roachpatrol:

aenramsden:

adramofpoison:

aphmarvel:

adamsgirl42:

charminglyantiquated:

charminglyantiquated:

there’s dozens of stories about some kid from our world falling into a different, magical one,  being the chosen one or the close companion of the chosen one and saving the world, and then going home where they’re delighted to see their family again and have a new appreciation of their own life. but what about someone who didn’t miss it? what if you save the world and you’re given your medal and stripped of the magic you learned and put back in a world you never missed? and you’re furious.

maybe you gave up a few years of your life. you have callouses and muscles and a few scars and maybe a missing eye or something. you definitely have some blood on your hands. you might have PTSD you can’t talk to anyone about. and suddenly you’re fifteen again, in a body that’s too soft and too short and too complete. you’re always cold because there’s no magic burning in your veins anymore, and even as you grow up the feeling of not fitting doesn’t go away because when you look in the mirror at eighteen you look all wrong: this is not what you’resupposedto look like at eighteen. the sky clouds and you rub at the phantom ache of injuries this body never received. you wake up screaming sometimes remembering the sorcerer who burnt your hand to ashes, or the final battle you almost didn’t make it through, or the moment you felt the magic in you go out.

but here’s the thing: they took you and made you into a weapon that was determined enough and powerful enough to save a whole world. they can put you back where they found you but they can’t undo everything. and there’s this, too: the place between worlds clings to you. you can’t tease fire out of the air but you can feel the pull of the doorways all the time, although none of them so far go to yourworld.

but you try to make it work for a decade, anyway. you’re dutiful. but one night you leave work late and for the thousandth time you catch yourself searching the sky for firebirds. and you break. of the three portals within five hundred miles, one is a howling, frozen wasteland and one is a deep violet void, but one opens into a misty forest that you step into and don’t look back. it’s not your world, but if you keep going long enough, you’ll get there.

(and maybe much, much later, hundreds of worlds later, you climb through a window, or a door of woven branches int he middle a field, or push aside a curtain, and as you set foot on new land you feel the fire in your veins and sparks at your fingertips and finally, finally,you’re home)

this is going around again and I want to add that if you want to think about sad, angry ex-heroes trying and failing to live normal lives, nothing left to say by imagine dragons is a good song to do that to.

I really want to write a novel about thus.

Imagine the families of the people that came back.  Imagine seeing your child, kissing them goodnight one night and shutting their bedroom door, or seeing them off to school.  When you see them again they’re angry (but they won’t say at what), and a noise that sounds like an arrow whistling through the air makes them turn.  For a moment you see their eyes darken.  

They left for school with hunched shoulders, slouching over their work; but they come back and hold themselves tall, and even though they’re a teenager you can’t help but think that no fifteen year old should have that kind of posture, that kind of fire that flashes out sometimes.  No fifteen year old or sixteen year old should have muscle memory that falters, suddenly, when it realizes it can’t keep up with this body

One lost an eye, in their world (not this empty shell of a world that they returned to) and even though they know perfectly well that their left eye here sees just as well as the right one, they find themself spinning to look at people when they talk to them.  Sudden noises make them whirl.  Reigning in their intense feeling of self preservation that’s been honed to make them a hero is too hard to do here, where the skidding of tires is frequent.  Heroes with missing arms have to explain to their siblings and friends why they are left handed now.  

The problem of Susan by Neil gaiman is a great read for anyone into this concept

Fantasy adventure hero veterans are a topic I am willing to throw approximately all of my free money at until they get more love. “What happens next?” is always a fascinating question.

READEVERY HEART A DOORWAY BY SEANAN MCGUIRE

A long hot shower had washed away the fatigue of my hard days’ work, but still another boring night loomed ahead. Anyone who thinks it’s fun to work away from home and stay in hotels clearly hasn’t done it too often.

My reflection in the full length mirror looked back at me and made me pause to pose and indulge in a moment of self evaluation. Not bad really, I mentally refused to add “for my age”, just not bad.

A woman still in her prime looked at me reflecting my frustration at being cooped up in this room. For a moment she seemed, in my mind, to be so real. I thought she was going to say something to me but she thought better of it. Instead, her hands rose from where they’d been resting on her firm slightly muscular thighs, her nails scraped over fine delicate skin until they reached her small, firm breasts topped with nipples that were clearly tight and hard. Her fingers caressed the bullet like points forcing her to close her eyes and rob us both of the erotic images we’d been sharing.

As the reflection in the mirror faded, her arousal became my own again, electric pulses jumped from my fingers onto my warm flesh. I wondered if she was still enjoying herself, my eyes opened and she returned my knowing smile.

We understood each other perfectly.

Our eyes lowered, watching each other as fingers slid over slim smooth stomachs down to freshly shaved mounds before slipping surprisingly easily between lips that had only known our own touch for far too long.

With an angry shake of the head I tore myself away from my likeness in the mirror, chastising myself for accepting that, yet again, my own company would be all I needed. Banishing the lethargy from my brain I reached for the wardrobe door determined to at least visit the hotel bar for a drink and be in the company of other humans for a short time tonight. Maybe someone would strike up a conversation because there’s no place more lonely than being on your own in a crowd.

I was travelling light so choosing what to wear took no time at all. The plain dark blue dress was nothing special, but at least the large white buttons running down the front lent it an air of accessibility. I really wanted sexy underwear but it had all been left at home.

The little devil on my shoulder was telling me to go without, it would be a thrill knowing I was in a crowd naked under my dress. The angel on my other shoulder told him not to be stupid and pulled a boring pair of plain white panties out of the suitcase. I don’t normally wear a bra, one of the advantages of small breasts, so a pair of black peep toe shoes completed the limited ensemble. With doubts still flowing through my brain, I arrived at the bar and ordered my first Gin & Tonic of the evening. Like all avid people watchers, I looked for a comfortable seat in a corner and sat back for what I expected to be a very short and probably quite boring evening.

The bar filled quickly and it wasn’t long before I was congratulating myself on having a seat and a table.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

I hadn’t seen you approaching and the last thing I wanted was to be hit on by some creep, but a quick glance revealed a smart attractive man probably of a similar age to myself. I couldn’t honestly claim the seat was taken and anyway, the next option could be a lot worse so I waved my acceptance trying not to give you too much encouragement.

“Thanks for saying yes, can I buy you another drink to say thank you properly?”

I politely refused of course, that’s one of the rules of the game. You didn’t push the point, but your eyes and the knowing smile playing across your lips clearly said that you also understood the rules and you would wait patiently for me to change my mind.

I was forced to return the smile with interest, happily accepting that you’d won this round.

“Oh all right, a Gin & Tonic please. Thank you.”

I watched as you moved to the bar, maybe tonight wasn’t going to be a total write off after all.

Thankfully, even after the normal pleasantries were dispensed with, conversation was easy, you had a relaxed manner and put me at ease, you didn’t seem at all uncomfortable with me either. Long before we ran out of sober conversation, the flow of alcohol had stimulated the flow of words and we were chatting like old friends. You had a good line in jokes, mostly dirty ones and you were more than happy to run through your repertoire once you found that you had a willing audience. At the time, I didn’t even notice how you gradually became more risky in topics and questions, and so it didn’t seem at all out of place when you asked me if I had any sexual fantasies.

“Of course,” I laughed. “Don’t we all. Do you?”

“Oh yes, I love fantasies, will you tell me one of yours?”

In the silence that followed, our lives changed in a way we could never have foreseen.

“I think I want you to go first.”

I felt like a little girl, excited, nervous, but nowhere near ready to take that leap into telling you what fantasies my dirty little mind concocted when I was alone.

“OK, do you mind if I make you the subject of my fantasy as I tell it? It makes it more real for me if I can tell it as if you were the woman I take on my journey.”

You didn’t wait for an answer, but pulled your chair closer to mine and carried on.

“We would meet for the first time in a strange City, perhaps a carnival is on, we could be anywhere, maybe somewhere exotic like Rio, that’s not important. We get on well and I ask you to come with me, see the sights, visit local bars and leave the tourist trail far behind.”

As you talked, one of your hands rested on my arm, I was aware of your touch and I liked it. The other hand gesticulated, describing where we were, what we were doing. Somehow, your voice and the way you involved me in your fantasy had captured my imagination.

“I’d take you by the hand and we would run into the street like a pair of teenagers, no thought as to what we’d do or where we’d go.”

For a moment, I was in Rio, hearing the sounds of the carnival all around me, surrounded by vibrant colours that seemed to capture my soul.

Your hand caressing my knee snapped me back to reality. I didn’t want your story to end, but the journey of your fingers under the hem of my dress had to. I rested my hand on yours; firmly pushing you back to my knee. I paused before mentally accepting that I wanted to leave your hand there, a slight squeeze reassured you that your touch was pleasing me just don’t move too fast.

I drained the contents of my glass, shaking my head to clear my mind of the images that had formed. Thoughts of what I was sure you wanted to do to me made me squirm in my seat.

I lost your words in the turmoil of my own thoughts. Vague sounds of your animated voice rang in my ears but I had to ask you to repeat what you’d said.

“Let’s do it, let’s go and do it right now.”

For a second I thought you’d just made the most direct invitation to have sex that I’d ever heard, but before I could react, you’d risen from your seat and taken my hand in yours.

“Come on, please Roz, come with me, let’s walk, find a local pub be free spirits. I promise I’ll look after you.”

Even as I stuttered through a series of mild protests I found myself being led, not too gently, across the crowded bar and out into the street. Your childish enthusiasm carried me away, possibly aided by several Gin & Tonics. People stared at us as we ran through the crowd, you dragging me along behind. It took me several minutes to slow you down enough to speak.

A myriad of conflicting thoughts and sensations flooded my brain and every nerve in my body. My nipples were excruciatingly sensitive where they’d rubbed against the fabric of my dress as we ran. Electric currents shot like lightening bolts from the hard tips of my breasts directly into my mind and a point somewhere down there between my hips. My thoughts were split among diverse feelings of elation at your excitement, trepidation at what I was allowing you to do and absolute lust from what was rapidly becoming a state of extreme arousal.

My chest was heaving with the exertion of our run, I knew without looking that my nipples were pushing at the fabric of my dress as if they were trying to reach out to you. I knew they were because your eyes told me.

“Everybody’s looking at us Cliff, they think we’re mad.” You stopped and faced me taking my hands in yours, holding me at arms length.

“We are Roz, we’re totally mad but look at them. They just walk on by, you’ve never seen them before and you’ll never see them again. Now let’s find a pub.” Without another word, you were off again, rushing down streets, glancing into windows and then on again until you found a small quaint pub that looked warm and inviting.

I followed you captivated by your energy and minutes later I was perched on a bar stool with you standing beside me pushing another glass into my hand. Gradually, my racing heart settled back into a normal rhythm but my racing hormones definitely didn’t. The first sip of my drink told me that this was at least a double. I gave you a quizzical look.

“Is that OK? I thought I owed you a large one for carrying you off into my fantasy, but you’re having fun, I know you are.”

All the time we talked your hand was resting on my arm, sometimes stroking or squeezing me gently. An almost imperceptible moan whispered between my lips and told you that the crook of my elbow was deliciously sensitive. Your fingers returned there, running lightly across my skin, pressing gently into my soft warm flesh. The images dancing in my head were of you touching a very different part of my body.

You knew the effect you were having on me. You demonstrated your skill as a seducer, tracing shapes across my arm, sending a request from your fingertips to my brain, asking if they could caress me until I couldn’t take any more. Your hand moved experimentally onto my knee but unlike last time I longed for you to run your fingers up to the sensitive flesh of my thigh.

I recognised the tingle in my brain. Was it the alcohol or the sensations of your hand caressing my leg? The hand moved, squeezing the skin above my knee, inching the thin fabric of my dress higher.

I didn’t stop you.

I felt a button pop and cool air drifted over my thigh where the warming cloth had fallen away. My nostrils sensed a delicate aroma that I knew so well,

I wondered if you recognised the faint sensual musk of a female in heat.

The palm of your hand created a warm patch on my exposed thigh, the tips of your fingers just inches from sampling the moisture I could feel soaking into the thin strip of cloth covering my womanhood. If I let you, you would touch me, I knew that. If I sat still and silent, maybe even opened my legs slightly, you would slip your hand under the last protective remnants of my dress and run your finger over the thin cotton barrier that was the final obstacle between your fingers and my womanly charms.

In a flash of realisation, I understood you. I knew what your fantasy was and that this was only the beginning.

I let my knees part an inch. The movement surprised you, your eyes shot up to see my smiling face.

“There are two men on a table over there who are watching us, does that turn you on Cliff?” My knees spread another inch.

Your body shook visibly; your tongue snaked out to coat lips that were dry with tension. I could feel the trembling of your body through your fingertips as they dug into the flesh at the top of my leg. I could almost feel your courage seeping away from you as you were faced with the possibility of a long held fantasy being realised. I leaned forward, my hands on your shoulders to let me whisper in your ear.

“Is this your real fantasy Cliff? Do you want to touch me while those men watch what you’re doing to me?”

My voice quivered with a mixture of fear and lust. Was I really going to let you put your hand under my dress right here in a public house?

I opened my legs wider, much wider, knowing that if I’d read this wrong I was making a fool of myself.

I wasn’t wrong.

You finally regained a small amount of control and hesitantly caressed the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh, your hand crept further and further under my dress. I watched your eyes, looking for a reaction but all I saw was the glazed expression of a man who couldn’t believe that this was happening.

“Oh god yes, I’ve dreamt about it, god is this really happening? I’m so turned on. Jesus!”

You were savouring the moment, the tip of your middle finger paused. You must have been able to feel the heat emanating from my saturated sex, but you waited, enjoying the damp touch of your palm on my skin and your proximity to the fulfilment of a dream. Your eyes scanned the room easily picking out the faces of the two men who were watching us. They didn’t see you look; their eyes were riveted on the dark tunnel between my legs where your wrist vanished under the hem of my dress.

“They’re watching me touch you. God this is so horny. Are you sure Roz?” The depth of my breathing and the slightest nod gave you the answer you prayed for.

The last inch was finally bridged and I felt your finger slide over the damp cotton between my legs drawing an unladylike groan from somewhere at the back of my throat. I thought I was going to climax at that instant with just a single touch from your probing finger but my mind was lost in a maelstrom of sensations that held me back from my final release.

I felt the thickness of your erection pressing against the outside of my leg, even through your trousers I could sense the pulsing of the blood pumping into your rapidly hardening shaft. You pushed against me increasing the pressure; your hips moved slightly fucking my leg like the horny dog you were.

I was lost in the heady pleasure of your finger pushing the warm wet fabric of my panties into my slit, worming your way inside me as if you were intent on bursting through the thin obstacle between you and your dream. Defeated, you pulled the cloth aside allowing the first of your fingers to touch the soft flesh of my pussy. Copious juices held back by my sealed lips flooded your hand, soaking us both, running down to lubricate the first invading finger then the second one you were pushing up inside me.

You were pumping my open flower in time with your increasingly desperate thrusts against my thigh. In my imagination it was your shaft sliding in and out of my well oiled pussy walls not your fingers. An itching sensation began to build in my stomach as my orgasm built rapidly, god I needed this so much I would have done anything to make sure you finished me there and then.

I knew you were really turned on but I had to know just how much. The feel of you rubbing into my thigh, the bulge in your trousers getting harder and longer should have been enough, but I just had to touch you. My finger nails scraped over the rough fabric covering the shaft running down your thigh. I scratched round where I knew your helmet would be forcing more pre-cum into your pants. My reward was a noticeable wet patch growing where my hand squeezed your juices. I could imagine the slippery fluids oozing out of the tiny slit at the end of your lovely hard cock. Your eyes were glazed, opening and closing with the flow of my fingers up and down your erection.

I glanced across at our audience hoping, expecting to see anguished looks on their faces as their excitement mounted in parallel with ours. What I saw was them starting to move towards us. The determined looks on their faces told me everything I needed to know. A flash of imagery passed through my brain of them reaching us and their hands touching, grasping at my exposed flesh, the sound of tearing fabric as they prepared me to be taken by them both.

“Oh fuck Cliff, stop, look, we have to go.” My brain was telling me to stop but my body was screaming that I wanted to be bent over the bar and fucked until I passed out. The part of my brain that said we had to flee overruled the part that thought I should ignore the consequences. Your face was a picture of childlike bliss, you were totally lost in your fantasy world and it took a second for you to realise the danger we were in.

“God Cliff, come on we have to go.” The urgency in my voice clawed you back to reality. Seconds later we fled past the two hopefuls and with my mind still spinning I was rushing through crowded streets again with your arm round my waist. It was only when we were confident that we weren’t being followed that we slowed down. A few seconds later, we were laughing like children who had just got away with a terrible prank.

A kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions was blinding me to the reality of the situation I’d allowed you to create. Awareness of my own body was magnified by the alcohol and my growing need for sexual gratification caused in no small part by the memory of your fingers bringing me so close to the satisfaction I needed badly.

I also had to admit that it had turned me on knowing that those men had watched you touch me and that they had wanted to touch me as well.

You took my face tenderly between the palms of your hands and gazed deep into my eyes, I could feel you burrowing down to my soul.

“Are you turned on Roz, are you as excited as I am?” Meekly, I nodded my head.

Your eyes cast round and finding what you were looking for, you guided me towards an alleyway running off the main street, your voice guttural as you fought to speak through heaving lungs.

“How turned on are you Roz, you were amazing in the pub. If those men hadn’t interfered, you were going to cum weren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question; you knew how close I’d been when we had to run.

Nimble fingers fumbled with another dress button and I felt the cool breeze flow across the wet crotch of my panties like waves lapping on the shore. The bricks of the alley wall were hard and cold on my back as you eased me away from you to lean against it for support. Your eyes held mine, your hands gripped my waist, I could feel you trembling with excitement at what I was allowing you to do.

My eyelids closed, shutting out the sight of people rushing along the street only feet away from where you folded back the edges of my dress. I could feel your eyes feasting on my exposed body.

“Oh jesus this is so fucking amazing Roz.”

Your body pressed into mine, pinning me to the wall, your lips closed over my lips, your tongue sought out my tongue. Your right hand slid over my thigh prising my legs apart to cup my warm, moist pussy in the palm of your hand. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. My wetness soaked you in seconds building a sheen of juice for your fingers to slide over me.

Your hand eased over the wet surface of my panties, pausing to stroke the fine skin covering my stomach muscles before pushing down again past the thin ribbon of elastic. Desperate fingers crawled down seeking the opening to my moist haven. My lips, already wet and open from your earlier onslaught parted willingly giving your fingers free access to delve over the fringe of my sex probing round the slippery nub of my clitoris.

Fingers explored my hairless mound, your reaction was unsurprising, how many men don’t enjoy the feel of a freshly shaven pussy.

“Ah fuck, you make me so horny Roz, I want to make you cum, right here in the alley. I want to fuck you with my fingers so that anyone who looks can see what I’m doing to you. Is that what you want?”

The weak elastic proved no resistance to even your gentle urging as you peeled the last fragment of clothing down to expose the smooth skin your fingers had caressed so lovingly. The scrap of fabric fell over my legs to lie on the ground at my feet before I kicked it away to allow my legs to open.

I’d answered your question.

I moaned loudly as the first finger slid easily past the barrier of my puffed up pussy lips, you curled it round to rub circles inside the walls of my sex rubbing onto my G-spot sending wave after wave of erotic sensations into my brain. You planted the thumb of your other hand onto my clit, smearing my jelly like excretions round the hardening nub. My orgasm started right away. I’d been so close in the pub, I couldn’t wait and in seconds my hips were jerking against your hands each thrust accompanied by a grunt of released tension until finally in an explosion of pent up pressure, I reached the climax I’d needed all night.

“Oh yes, yes, yes oh god please, just there, fuck, fuck, fuck ahhhhhh.”

I basked in the relief flowing through my nether regions while you slowly fingered me through a series of wonderful after shocks keeping me as high as a kite on sexual energy. You still had two fingers pleasuring me when you dropped to your knees and ran your rigid tongue over my clit. I didn’t stop cumming, a continuous wave of orgasms swept over me leaving my body twitching in one long spasm of joy.

The light shining into the alley dimmed suddenly, a dark shape blocked the amber glow from the distant street lights. All my instincts told me I had to run but I only had one foot on the ground, the other leg was wrapped over your shoulder opening my pussy for your educated tongue and pulling your face into the juicy folds of my sex. I was too absorbed in a myriad of feelings, my only cry sounded, even to me, like a cry of sexual bliss.

The silent shadow stopped several feet from where we were performing our lewd dance. For a brief moment, I suspected we’d attracted a passing official, but a policeman wouldn’t be rubbing his hand over his genitals, he wouldn’t need to check over his shoulder to see if anyone had followed him. He watched, the only visible sign that he was excited by our display was the distinctive movement of his arm. Was he rubbing himself through his trousers or did he have himself in hand, stroking flesh on flesh?

I was shaking with fear and trepidation as well as lust. I was at a sexual peak, nearing yet another climax as this stranger watched you eat my pussy and finger fuck me fast and hard. I was out of control; all logic had deserted me in our moment of depravity. I curled my finger towards our friend and waved him towards me, he hesitated, uncertain until I repeated the gesture.

The shape came closer, much closer. Big, dark hands made short work of the final buttons on my dress; the cooling drafts of air were soothing on my raw nipples but not for long as fingers began to pull at my tender flesh.

I felt you tense as you realised we weren’t alone, but I wanted your expert tongue to carry on pleasuring me, my hands dropped to your head, pulling your mouth back between my legs.

“Yeeessss, pull my nipples, please, squeeze them harder. Lick me Cliff, god you’re fucking good, don’t stop.”

I could only hope that my whispered words of encouragement would let you both know I wanted this. My right hand was pulled away from your hair; a strong grip guided me to a very hard cock sticking out from the groin of our new friend. I was hesitant at first until my tiny fingers were forcibly wrapped round him and I started to pull on his lengthening shaft with long, slow strokes. His first sound was a gasp of pleasure when my fingers drew over the ridge of his helmet, smearing pre-cum across the head of his engorged manhood.

A flicker of light above my head drew my attention like a moth to a flame. Faint voices drifted down from bodies silhouetted against the dim light bathing their balcony in a delicate glow. Eyeless shadows bent towards us, voyeurs feasting on the scraps they could discern in the uncertain light.

“Can you see them Tom, oh god she’s got two men with her darling, can you see?” The gentle whisper of a woman’s voice percolated down from above me. A low masculine moan confirmed to her that, yes, Tom could see.

You slid two fingers in and out of my pussy and flicked your tongue over my clit, circling and pressing, building the start of another climax way down inside me. I could feel my ambrosia coating your tongue and lips, spreading across the skin of your face until your cheeks were coated in my sweet smelling juices.

“Mmmm, god yes, lick me Cliff, ahhh so good.” My moans became dangerously loud, but I couldn’t fight the thrilling sensations surging from between my legs.

“Look at her face, she loves what they’re doing to her, look at the way they touch her body, touch me like that Tom, touch me like they touch her. Oh Tom darling tell me you would let me have two men.”

The hushed tones of our spectators carried to me in the still air, their voices contained no note of surprise, perhaps our activities weren’t the first time they had witnessed acts of passion below their window. A stifled moan, suffocated at birth suggested that Tom was happy to do as she asked.

Our stranger moulded my breasts, one hand on each small orb, kneading and working the firm flesh round and round building circles of pure pleasure. His fingers pinched at the hard berries that poked into his palms, sensitive and tender where they had rubbed across the harsh fabric of my clothing. I felt a wet patch growing on my thigh where his hard rod spread fluids across my skin, my hand rubbed him faster and faster. I could feel him bucking his hips to increase the stimulation. He wasn’t going to take long before he gave me his precious load.

“Ooohh, there, just there, don’t stop, ahhh, ahhh, yes.”

I had no idea who I was talking to, or who might be listening I just needed to release some of my pent up tension through meaningless words.

“Do that again my darling, please do it again.” The words could have been mine, telling you how much I wanted your tongue sliding into the folds of my pussy, but they came from higher. “Please Tom, put it in, fuck me now.”

My eyes might have deceived me but as they adjusted gradually to the subdued light I was sure I could make out the naked forms of our two lovers joining as they took in the live pornographic exhibition being played out below them. Their gasps and groans could be heard over our own, telling me the enjoyment they were sharing. I smiled in the darkness. Somehow I know she smiled as well.

My hand slid down over my stomach feeling your tongue chasing my slippery bud, coating my fingers in pussy juice before holding them up for my new lover. His nostrils twitched devouring the smell of my nectar before his tongue savoured the sweetness of my juices, licking my fingers clean of every precious morsel. The smell and taste were like a drug that sent his body into spasm fucking harder, faster into the canal my fingers formed round his expanded shaft. His hips jerked one last time, the first spurt of his release surged through the length of his rod sending a white glowing orb of seed in an arc to land on my thigh. I pulled, gripping the base of his cock tighter, urging him to give me all of his sperm. A second and third sphere hit my leg, gradually striking lower and lower until I was draining his final secretions with my fingers, smearing them over his rapidly softening erection.

All through the pleasure I was giving our visitor, your tongue lashed my clit whipping me into a frenzy. My leg wrapped round your head, the back of my knee pulled your face hard into my hips, forcing your mouth onto my dripping pussy. You were moaning or talking, or both but whichever, the vibrations rippled through me taking me to another place. My eyes closed, focusing my mind on the palpable lust between my legs and the mix of pleasure and pain emanating from our new acquaintance whose fingers still tore at my tender nipples.

Without the wall behind me and my thigh on your shoulder I would have collapsed in a heap. The leg I was standing on shook and felt too weak to support me, my breath rasped in my chest.

“Oh god. oh god, oh god.” I knew this one was going to consume me, every action was subconscious. I could feel myself fucking your face, forcing you harder and deeper to drive me to my climax. I could feel your fingers curled round inside my pussy pulling my clit onto your hard flat tongue as you held it rigid, shaking your head from side to side taking me higher and higher. Finally with a scream that must have been audible out in the street, my body shook through a wonderful orgasm that neither of you seemed to want to stop. It quickly became too much to bear.

“Ahhh fuck, stop, stop too much. Stop.”

Every nerve seemed to be in spasm, my body was jerking with powerful convulsions that were wonderful but simultaneously set my teeth on edge. Eventually you both slowed to a halt, my new friend gently cupped my breasts in his warm soothing hands. Your fingers held still, not leaving me empty but letting the tension drain out of my limbs. Your tongue lapped slowly round the hard ball bearing that was my clitoris, delivering only just bearable surges of lust to my over-stimulated brain.

“Thank you, thank you.” I gasped my appreciation. My words were spoken to the departing back of my strange lover who, after a final squeeze of my breasts had tucked his limp cock back into his trousers and turned to walk away.

He hadn’t uttered a word throughout our whole affair.

“That was beyond my wildest fantasy Roz, I’ve never ever dreamt of anything close. I almost came without touching myself, you dirty, dirty girl, I can’t believe you let him touch you. Oh god you made him cum as well, didn’t you?” You’d seen the stream of cum sliding down my thigh, almost luminescent in the faint glow.

As you climbed off your knees, your lips and tongue licked up over my stomach, your hands slid over my hips, leaving trails of shivers as they barely touched my sides before meeting at my breasts where your hands pointed firm red nipples one at a time into your waiting mouth. I shivered, not with cold but with lust that still hadn’t been satisfied. Your hands and mouth gorged on my warm soft flesh, stroking over my back, cupping the cheeks of my arse, squeezing and caressing me, touching me like a blind man memorising every curve, every indentation.

Above my head, a passionate cry reminded me that we had two spectators who were sharing our love making.

“I’m cumming my darling.”

A masculine voice, Tom. We both looked up, you for the first time, realising that we had more company than you knew.

“Have they been watching us Roz, god I hope they have.”

“Yes sweetie, they’ve seen everything. Let’s stay and watch them.”

We stood, necks craned upwards watching the writhing shadows on the balcony above as they twisted and turned, separating momentarily just to rejoin, one minute slow then faster, more frantic. With a sudden surge the shape became still, a male and female voice in harmony groaning as their release overcame them.

The single shadow separated into two and started to drift back through the open doors, one of the shadows waved, I waved back and our friends were gone.

The bulge in your trousers was pressing into my pussy, I reached down, stroking you through the wet patch in front of your pants. You groaned, a passionate, wanton groan.

“You’re so hard and wet Cliff, your must need to do something with that. Take me back to the hotel and fuck me.”

Even in the half light I could see your head nod in acquiescence. Reluctantly you fastened 3 of the buttons on my dress, tidying your new toys away just to make me respectable enough to walk through the streets. This time, it was me who took your hand and led you out into the busy square full of people rushing here and there like a swarm of bees. None of them paid any attention to two slightly dishevelled visitors to their city.

I looked at you expecting directions to lead us back to our hotel. “Which way Cliff?”

“No idea sweetheart, I don’t think I was concentrating on where we were going when we arrived here.”

No, I thought, I don’t suppose you were.

We stopped a couple of passers-bye but their English was nowhere near good enough to help us. It was then that you came up with the bright idea of finding the river. From there, you were confident that you could work out the way back to the hotel. Even in the gathering gloom, finding the river was easy and soon we were walking hand in hand along a river-walk back in what you were sure was the right direction. We talked but there were long periods of silence during which I expect we were both thinking about what we were going to do when we got back.

“Hang on Cliff, look at the view.”

I walked over to the railing lining the bank and looked out across the black, slow flowing river. The city lights glowed brightly in the distance, looking like a monster fairground ride set against the night sky. The scene in front of me was enough to take my breath away, but by far the most beautiful sight was the moon. Glowing bright against the star spotted darkness of space, the earth’s satellite shone brightly. A second, equally dazzling orb shone out of the water, reflecting the beauty in the sky.

My mind flashed back to my reflection in the mirror earlier that evening. Was it really just a few hours ago that I considered staying in my room tonight?

“Isn’t that one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen?”

“Yes.” I glanced round to see you with a big grin on your face, not looking at the moon at all. Following the line of your eyes took me to where my gaping dress barely covered my small breasts. We laughed.

You still laughed even when I hit you harder than I intended.

As I turned back to immerse myself in natures vision again, your arms wrapped round me from behind and you hugged my back against your chest. Our bodies were warm against each other, it was a wonderful moment. Your hand slipped into the top of my dress and closed gently over my left breast. My nipple rose to greet your palm, burrowing into flesh as you caressed me gently. A moan, no, more of a small gasp hissed between my teeth, enough encouragement for you to flip another button loose and cup both breasts in a passionate embrace.

My eyes took in the spectacle in front of me, but my feelings were concentrated on the hard tips being pushed and pulled under your hands. You edged me closer to you, pressing the mounds of my breasts flat against my chest, I could feel your engorged shaft digging into me from behind.

Your fingers left one of my nipples and unfastened the last 2 dress buttons, exposing my naked body to the moon and the city lights beyond. A cloud passed briefly over the shining disk making it look for a moment like it had given me a knowing wink. The cool river breeze pulled at my dress showing my naked body to the sky and the unknowing citizens on the far bank.

Your hands roamed across my skin, stroking and squeezing, revelling in the total access I gave you to touch me as you pleased. I turned to face you, proudly showing my naked form. I unfastened your belt, hearing your low animalistic moan as I pushed your trousers and pants down in one move and took your hot throbbing cock in my hands. I so wanted you to feel the pleasure I was feeling, I wanted you to know that I would play your fantasy to the full.

Leaving your pulsing rod I lifted your hands to my head, holding your palms against my hair. I pushed, making you feel as if you were forcing me down lower until me knees settled on the cold paving at your feet.

“Oh fuck Roz, what are you doing?” I knew you didn’t really need to ask, your head was filled with the display of wanton lust I was acting out for you, showing you how dirty I could be. You didn’t need any more encouragement to pull my mouth towards the steel like cock rearing out from the forest of hair at the top of your thighs. My lips parted taking the tip onto my tongue, licking the clear liquid from your tiny eye. Your hips bucked against my face forcing your engorged member deeper and deeper.

One hand gripped the base of your shaft while the other cupped your balls, squeezing gently but not so gently that I would fail to make you groan loudly. I could sense your release building rapidly, maybe I should have finished you right then but you had been so wonderful it had to be your choice. Instead I slipped you out of my mouth, running my tongue over the sensitive underside of your manhood, making you jump.

“Do you want to cum in my mouth sweetheart or do you want to go back now?”

“I want to fuck you here. I want to lift your dress and take you where people can see what I’m doing to you.”

It was a sign of how much tonight had changed me that my first thought was to look round to see who might be watching us, not to run away as I would have just a few hours ago.

There was no one too near, a stream of night revellers flowed over the path behind us, but we had been granted the freedom of the riverside for our own carnal purposes.

I didn’t need to speak.

My answer was in the way I turned away from you to rest my forearms on the railing in front of me and let my legs edge apart. I watched the river flow on towards the sea feeling your fingers delicately trace lines over the backs of my thighs, pushing the loose cloth of my dress higher and higher until I felt the wind brushing across my exposed cheeks.

Fingers danced back down the cleft of my buttocks as if they were using the crease to guide your hand inexorably closer to the entrance to my body that was your real goal. A single digit crossed over the sensitive skin separating my brown hole and my pussy, sliding over the wetness that still coated me from our earlier love making. I gasped as you broke through the paltry seal of my lips and slid your finger into my moist tunnel, frigging me slowly, stirring round and round like the swirling waters of the dark river below.

“Someone’s coming Roz, there’s a couple walking towards us. Stay where you are.” A glance confirmed that a pair of lovers, hand in hand, were walking down the riverside walk towards where we were. I started to move away but you held me tight, your arm wrapped round me, your hand pushing on my stomach forcing your finger deeper into my cunt.

“Don’t move, I want them to see what I’m going to do to you.”

The tip of your erection touched my swollen lips as your finger drew back. You were so hot I almost expected to hear a hiss as your rod pushed slowly, so very slowly into my wet, open furnace. I felt every tiny thrust as you sank deeper and deeper, there was no withdrawal just a growing sensation of fullness as you took me the way you’d always dreamed you would.

You remained completely motionless, cherishing your moment, enjoying the silk like feel of my wetness surrounding you, holding you inside me.

Your hands slid back round and cupped my breasts again, loving the closeness of our bodies, worshiping my warm female flesh. I experienced once again the pain of my overexcited nipples being twisted between your thumb and finger but before I could cry out the pain turned to sensuous pleasure and my cry turned to a cry of lust.

I was sure the noise must have attracted the attention of the approaching lovers, but I wasn’t going to break the spell by turning to look. People must be able to see what we were doing.

I wanted to tell you to fuck me, I was so close to cumming again. Then I realised that your motionless stance, the low almost unheard whimpers of joy, the tight grip of your fingers, meant that you were fighting your own orgasm. You had given me so much, waited for your own enjoyment for so long that you couldn’t hold back any longer.

You deserved this, you’d earned this moment when a spectacular orgasm would take over your mind and body. I wanted this to be the most wonderful orgasm of your life, I wanted you to have it, I wanted to share it with you. I felt the tremors run through you, evidence of the effort you were putting into controlling your body’s desires. I could sense that the longer you held out, the more explosive your final release would be, a smile of contentment passed over my lips, you needed to know it was all right.

“Let go Cliff, let it happen, cum for me, you’ve been so good to me, it’s your turn now. Cum for me now, it’s all right, I’ll cum with you.”

My fingers plunged between my legs pressing on my clit sliding easily on the copious lubrication surrounding my honeypot. You held onto the tips of my breasts as if they might escape, sending waves of lust down to join my fingers at my pussy. I felt my own orgasm start, it forced my hips to pull away before pushing hard back onto you.

It was so little, but too much.

You tensed and a long drawn out groan prefaced the first powerful pulse of cum surging from your balls. I felt it rush through your shaft and out to soak my pussy with sperm. You held yourself rigid inside me as jolt after jolt of your seed emptied into my soaking wet passage.

“Ahhhh fuck yes, ahh… ahh…. ahhh! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck yessss.”

Each shot of cum was accompanied by an animalistic grunt. It was enough to push me the last fraction and my own orgasm flowed around me, matching your own as we came in unison.

The ferocity of your convulsions started to diminish as you slowly regained control of your body. Your hips began to thrust against me, ignoring how sensitive you must be. Your cock, still rock hard, pushed into me with long strokes. My hips matched your thrusts, my grunts coinciding with yours I wanted you to enjoy this so much.

Gradually you drove into me with less and less power, our breathing started to return to something like normal, my hips were still moving, your cock was still fucking me slowly.

“You’re still hard Cliff, have you taken a pill?”

“No, just my fantasy and you Roz, those are the only drugs I need right now, this has been the best night of my life.”

My gaze returned to the wondrous spectacle in front of me, I lost myself in the feel of our bodies still joined in such an intimate way.

“Let’s go back to the hotel and you can fuck me again Cliff.”

We turned, walking away towards the city lights, my dress still flapping in the breeze as I started to cover myself. The couple who had been approaching stood like statues just yards from where we’d consummated your fantasy. They must have seen and heard everything.

Our laughter echoed from the banks of the river as we linked arms and walked towards the city’s bright lights.

Grace Newell tugged at the strap of her black singlet and let out a sigh. She couldn’t believe she was actually going through with this. She rapped her knuckles against the door and took a step back. Her heart thudded so loud the beats pounded in her ears.

She smoothed her hands over her denim skirt and turned to gaze at the quiet street. Sunlight bounced off the windshield of her parked car. A dog barked in the distance and the smell of a barbecue wafted on the wind.

The breeze lifted her blonde hair. She flattened her palm against her churning stomach, closed her eyes and concentrated on deep breaths. As the seconds ticked by, she considered the wisdom of running away and pretending this had never happened.

It was a stupid idea anyway – really stupid. Grace opened her eyes and took a step towards the edge of the porch. She bit her lip and hesitated, the pull to disappear just as strong as the urge to stay.

Her stomach dipped. The door swung open at her back, making her decision for her.

“Horse Face, what brings you here?”

Grace summoned the courage to turn and look into the blue eyes of Tom Jackson, her best friend Alison’s older brother. The rumpled state of his coffee-coloured hair gave the impression he’d just climbed out of bed - at two in the afternoon. His muscled arm rested on the door frame above his head and the breeze caressed the dark hairs sprinkled across his chest. He wore black boxer briefs and nothing else. No matter how long she stood here, Grace knew she’d never tire of looking at him.

She sighed inwardly at his ability to always ruin the moment by speaking. “It’s Grace, Tom. It’s always been Grace.” He’d given her the annoying nickname back when she’d worn braces and kept her long hair in a ponytail. She’d changed over the years – considerably - but he’d never seemed able to lose that image of her as an awkward teenager. She elbowed her way past him and stalked into the house.

She dropped her purse and keys onto the hall table and turned to take in the living room. Her hazel eyes swept over the coffee table littered with wine glasses and empty beer cans, the beige couch with a pair of jeans draped over the back. She knew Tom had invited his family over last night to celebrate his recent promotion at work. Being a family of seven, their nights often turned into rowdy ones.

The door clicked closed behind her. Grace flinched at the finality of the sound. She paced the wooden floorboards and nibbled her thumbnail, then yanked her hand away when she remembered she’d given up the habit years ago.

“ Gracie, stop for a minute.” Tom snagged her elbow and turned her toward him. “What’s going on? Is something wrong with Alison?”

“No. What?” Grace blinked. “No. She’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

Tom released his hold on her. “Why are you here then? You never come by without her.”

“I had to see you on my own. You can't….please don’t tell her about this.” Grace covered her face with her hands. She massaged her forehead and took a couple of fortifying breaths. Was she really going to do this? “I have a question to ask you.”

“Must be a good one. You can’t even look at me.”

Grace forced her hands away and met his eyes. He’d moved over to the couch and sat on the edge with his hands dangling between his knees. His watchful eyes followed her every movement.

She huffed out a breath. “I’m just going to come out with it, okay?”

“That’s usually the best way.” He waggled his thumb at the empty space beside him. “Do you want to take a seat? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Grace shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I just really need to say this.” Her heart hammered and the pressure built inside her until the idea of telling him almost became appealing. “Tom…I’m a virgin.”

He leaned back against the couch and clasped his hands behind his head. Amusement glimmered in his eyes and a lazy smile played about his lips. “Gracie, with your uptight, highly strung personality, I’d never have guessed.”

A flush warmed her cheeks. “I knew you’d react this way.”

“Then why did you tell me?” He kept his eyes on her.

It took some effort, but Grace managed to push her embarrassment aside and approach the coffee table. She shoved a couple of empty beer cans out of the away and perched on the edge facing him. Her attention flickered to the living room window. She briefly considered crashing through the glass to make her escape. “We’ve known each other a long time. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about-”

“Stop stalling.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stroked her leg with his fingertips. “Out with it.”

Grace blew the hair from her eyes and glanced down at her hands. “The thing is, Tom…”

“Yes, Gracie.”

“I want you to take my virginity.”

The sudden silence weighed heavily in the room. Grace held her breath and trained her attention on her fingernails. Now it was out there, there was no taking it back. She waited for him to laugh, to ridicule her, but nothing happened. “You’re not saying anything.” She glanced up and saw his guarded expression. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Jesus, Gracie, I’m in shock.” Tom dragged a hand down his face. “You can’t just throw it out there like that.”

“You told me to!” She pressed her lips together and focused on staying calm. “I just want to get it out of the way. I’m twenty-three years old. I’m sick of having this hanging over my head.”

His eyes passed over her. “I’m sure you could find plenty of men willing to help you out with your ‘problem’.”

“I don’t want just any man.” Grace chewed her lower lip. She closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment. When her gaze met his again, she found some of her courage had returned. “I want you.”

Tom cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Why?”

“I want my first time to be amazing.” She saw the heat flare in his eyes and it gave her hope. “I know with you it will be.”

“I’d ask if you were serious, but in all the time I’ve known you I’ve never heard you crack a single joke.”

Grace slapped her palms on her knees and pushed herself up to stand. “I knew it was a risk asking you a question like this. I half expected you to say no.” She stepped over his bare feet and forced her shoulders back. “I was an idiot to even ask.”

Tom gripped her wrist as she passed by, tugging firmly enough to bring her back a step. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

Grace felt her breath catch. “You’ll help me out?”

“Yeah, it’ll be a real chore. I’d like to say I’m the type of guy who wouldn’t take advantage of a woman in your situation, but who would I be kidding?” He fought a losing battle to keep the smile off his face. “I can’t believe my life has come to this.”

Grace yanked her wrist free from his grasp and scowled at him. “This is one of the reasons I chose you; your ability to have sex and move on as if nothing happened - also because you annoy me enough I’m not likely to develop any feelings for you.”

Tom stood and flicked his fingertip down her nose. “You underestimate my appeal, Gracie.” He propped his hands at his waist and looked her over. “So, are we doing this now, or did you come here to make an appointment?”

She raised her eyes to the ceiling and blew out a loud breath. “I’m beginning to wonder why I came here at all.”

Tom laughed and gave her upper arm a quick rub. “Why don’t we just get it over with?” He intertwined his fingers with hers and pulled gently.

Despite her better judgement, Grace gave in and followed behind him.

-~-::*::-~::*::-~::*::-~::*::-~::*::-~-

She discovered his bedroom was filled with modern, masculine furniture. Sunlight crept around the edges of the closed drapes, giving the room a pale, muted glow. The bed was unmade, she’d expected that, but everything else had its own little place. A faint smile shaped her lips as she glanced around at his things. She’d never had cause to be in here before. It made her feel closer to him.

Grace wandered over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. She flicked off her sandals and curled her toes into the beige rug. The sound of running water pounded on the other side of the ensuite door. Her leg jiggled and queasiness settled in her stomach.

“You could join me, you know.” Tom’s deep voice echoed in the shower stall.

Grace shook her head at the humour in his tone. “I think I’ll just wait here,” she called back.

“Suit yourself.”

She smiled absently and glanced over her shoulder at the bed. The navy linen looked cool and inviting. She knew the pillows would smell of him. Grace nibbled on her lower lip and weighed up her options. Should she undress and climb in, or wait until he came out of the shower? She decided lying naked under the covers appealed to her more than sitting here growing increasingly nervous.

Grace stood and moved into the centre of the room. She drew a breath, crossed her arms over her body and tugged at the hem of her singlet. As the bundle of black cotton fell from her fingertips, she tried not to dwell on the sexual experience his former girlfriends must have had, or worry too much about her awkwardness killing the mood.

She adjusted the strap on her black bra and peered at herself in the dressing table mirror. Her breasts swelled above the intricate lace cups. Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation and her stomach muscles contracted with each quick breath. She gathered her hair in a thick bundle and shook it out behind her.

Grace unsnapped the button on her skirt and hooked her fingers in the waistband. She pushed it down her thighs and stepped from the puddled denim. Dressed only in her bra and a pair of black lace panties that rode low on her hips, she gazed at her reflection. With the unfamiliar room at her back, it almost felt like she was watching someone else.

She blew out a controlled breath and reached behind her to unsnap the clasp on her bra. The flimsy material slackened across her chest. She slid the straps down her arms, letting the bra drop from her dangling fingertips. Cool air whispered over her skin.

Grace closed her eyes and tried to imagine how Tom’s hands would feel roaming her body, touching places only she had touched; his weight pressing down on her, his hardness pushing into her. She tentatively stroked her nipples, sighing when they tightened beneath her touch.

She knew Tom would do everything possible to make this moment pleasurable for her. The knowledge stirred a deep longing inside her. Grace grew bolder and smoothed her palms over her breasts, lifting and massaging the tender flesh.

Her hand slipped over warm skin and textured lace. She trailed her fingers between her thighs, knowing that soon his fingers would be there, teasing, stroking. She knew what it was like to reach that sensual peak, to feel control slip away. It would be different letting Tom take that control from her.

Her head tipped back and she breathed softly. She wanted this, it thrilled her to realise - she wanted him . If she could just push aside her anxiety, everything would be perfect.

“I’m actually at a loss for words.”

Her eyes shot open at the sound of Tom’s voice. Embarrassment washed over her as she spun around to face him. No matter how much her fingers itched to protect her modesty, Grace forced her hands to stay at her sides. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I know.” He stood in the open doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist and his damp hair in disarray. His eyes flickered over her. “That’s what made it so damn sweet.”

Grace felt her cheeks grow hot. Gone was the teasing expression she’d grown so used to over the years. Gone was the laughter in his eyes. His jaw clenched as he walked toward her. She watched him approach, taking in every detail so she could relive this moment later on in her mind. When he stopped before her, she drew in a shuddering breath.

He reached out his hand and stroked the hollow at the base of her throat. His eyes met hers and he ran his fingertips lightly between her breasts, trailing further down to her navel. His touch was so soft it barely registered, so intense it left shivers in its wake. “You’re stunning,” he said.

She pressed her lips together to stop them trembling. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her forehead was level with his jaw and she had to tip her chin to meet his gaze. “You’ll have to tell me what to do, teach me what you like. I really don’t know what-”

“Grace.” Tom clasped her face in his hands, brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to her ear. “Relax.”

She sighed at the calm assurance in his tone. He encircled her in the strength of his arms, holding her close, his fingers flexing against her spine. She drew in the scent of him. She’d never been so turned on by the simple smell of soap before.

His mouth moved over her throat, dropping lingering kisses here and there. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes and leaned against him. “I know you will.”

He cupped the back of her head, nibbled her lower lip. He flicked his tongue over the closed seam of her mouth. Now his arms were around her, Grace found it wasn’t all that difficult to let go of her unease. She linked her fingers at the back of his neck. She pressed her lips to his to feed the desire welling inside her.

Tom made a small hum of approval. His mouth moved with hers in a kiss so slow and thorough her body loosened and melted against him. Her tongue ventured inside his mouth. He groaned and shoved his fingers into her hair. His other hand swept down her back to curve over her rear. He pressed her to him, rubbing her firmly against his erection.

Grace closed her eyes at the sensation, pulling her mouth from his to explore the line of his jaw with her lips. She kissed his throat, nuzzled his stubble covered chin. She discovered a sensitive spot behind his ear that made him shudder. It pleased her that despite her inexperience, she could still do that to him.

“More.” He breathed the single word against her cheek and dragged her lips back to meet his. His tongue plunged inside her willing mouth, caressing and exploring the moist depths. He slipped his hand under her heavy fall of hair, cradling the back of her neck as he slid his lips over hers. His cock pressed snugly between them, a tantalising promise of things to come.

Grace whimpered as she clung to him, overwhelmed by his passion. They were so close she could feel his heart race against her chest. She swept her hands over the muscles of his back, wanting to touch every part of him.

He tore his mouth from hers, breathing heavily as he gazed at her. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Grace skimmed her hands over his chest and smiled uncertainly. “I know how you feel.”

Tom looked at her for one long, breath-stealing moment. He kissed her hard and quick, then urged her around until her back was pressed against his chest. They both faced the mirror and her smile disappeared as she blinked at the image staring back at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen and pink. Her eyes had a wild look about them. He’d wrapped his arm around her waist and her breasts jutted upwards over his hard flesh.

She’d never seen this woman before.

“Look at you.” Tom swept her hair aside and licked the back of her neck. “You’re beautiful.”

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “When you look at me like that, I feel beautiful.”

He ran his hands over her flat belly in slow, hypnotising circles. Grace watched the movements as if in a dream. Her skin warmed under his touch and her nipples hardened almost painfully, desperate for his attention. She saw the way his eyes had darkened with need, noticed the steely line of his jaw as he held his desire in check.

He cupped her breasts, running his palms lightly across her nipples. Her mouth parted and a soft moan slipped free. He massaged her flesh with firm strokes, lifting and pushing her breasts together. The sight of his tanned, masculine hands cupping and caressing her with such care almost pushed her over the edge. He thumbed her nipples, pinching the buds gently until she cried out.

Tom continued his ministrations on her breast while his other hand slid down her belly. His fingers dipped into the waistband of her panties. Grace held her breath as their gazes meshed in the mirror. Although she knew what was coming, it didn’t stop her from jolting against him when he cupped her pussy. Her back arched and she bit her lip. She’d never been touched by a man so intimately before.

“Gracie,” he said, “You feel wonderful; so soft and smooth.” He held his hand still and kissed her neck.

It didn’t take her long to start moving against him. He massaged her gently. He pushed his finger through her lips, sliding it up and down the length of her, spreading her moisture in agonizingly slow strokes. She knew without touching herself how wet she’d become, how wet he’d made her.

She unconsciously pressed her arse harder against him. Her pussy ached for more. He groaned and dipped his finger inside her. Grace closed her eyes and let her head drop forward. Her blonde hair swept over her shoulders, draping around her in a silky curtain. “Oh, Tom…that’s…” She couldn’t put into words the feelings he stirred in her – not just the touch of his hands; his presence, his strength, the knowledge he’d keep her completely safe.

He moved his attention to her clit, teasing and taunting the swollen bud. She jerked softly and sighed out his name.

“Look at me, Grace,” he said. His voice was husky and deep, thick with desire.

She lifted her head and shoved her hair from her face. Grace met his eyes and leaned back on him. Her hips rocked against his hand. Her lips parted as pleasure raced through her.

She raised her arms and clasped her fingers behind his neck. The change in position caused her breasts to rise and her nipples to thrust out proudly. The intensity built until her belly tightened and her legs grew weak. His fingers moved over her with such ease she knew it wouldn’t take long.

Grace’s breaths grew heavy as they panted from her. She could feel the bulge of his cock against her lower back. She was on the verge of begging him to put it inside her. He rubbed her moisture over and around her clit, his fingers sliding through her wetness. Sensation grew inside her until she didn’t think she could take any more. “Tom…I'm…”

“Let go,” he whispered against her ear.

That was all it took in the end, the sound of his voice coaxing her toward orgasm. Her hips bucked against his hand. She wanted to double over at the intensity. He held her firmly upright as their eyes met in the mirror. She strained against his hold and let out a long, low groan through clenched teeth. It ripped through her, so powerful her legs would have buckled if he hadn’t been supporting her.

He kept rubbing, extracting the final few tremors from her. She gripped his forearm and whimpered as the waves subsided. His fingers grazed her sensitive clit as he pulled his hand from her panties. Grace shuddered and turned in his arms. “That was amazing.” She swept her hair back and fought to catch her breath as her eyes flickered over his face.

“God, you turn me on, Gracie. Watching you, touching you…I almost lost it when you came.”

Grace basked in the warmth of his gaze, her body glowing with the pleasure he’d given her. He dipped his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and shoved them over her hips. She stepped from the bundle and her arms wound around his neck as he walked her lazily backward. He swept his fingers down her side and skimmed over her breast. His mouth captured hers, stifling her moan of pleasure.

He pulled her close and let his lips roam languidly over hers, building the fire inside her all over again. As Grace took the opportunity to rid him of his towel, her reaction to him suddenly registered. She’d never expected it to be like this. She’d been prepared for awkwardness, for her inexperience to lessen the moment. Tom didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

He rested his knee on the bed. His palm curved around the back of her neck as he lowered her to the mattress. Grace scooted backwards against the cool sheets until her head met the pillow. Tom leaned over her and planted his hands either side of her body.

He took a moment to drink in the view of her. Her nipples tightened and her skin heated under his gaze. Her body shifted restlessly beneath him until desire and curiosity got the better of her. Grace’s eyes darted down his body, to the pulsing shaft between his thighs. Her cheeks flushed at the sight. “I want to touch it, Tom,” she said.

He straddled her and ran his fingertips from her neck down to her belly. He leaned in and flicked his tongue over her nipple. A sudden smile broke across his face. “Touch what?” he asked, raising his brows.

Grace closed her eyes. He understood full well what she meant. For some reason he wanted her to say it. “Your cock,” she said softly, building the courage to look at him again.

His elbows came to rest either side of her head. His chest brushed hers as he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Do you have any idea how appealing you are right now?” he asked. He moved his mouth over her throat, licked the lobe of her ear. “Anywhere, Gracie. Touch me anywhere.”

She smiled. She looked into his eyes and spread her palms over his chest, enjoying the crinkling of hair under her fingertips. She caressed his nipples, taking pleasure in the tremor that ran through him. “I like your body, Tom. Always have.”

He took her mouth with gentle abandon, pressing his tongue against hers. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for years,” he said against her lips.

“Really?” Grace let her palms glide over his stomach as he hovered above her. His muscles clenched beneath her fingers. She loved the way every small touch garnered a reaction. “I never would’ve guessed. You’ve always been such a pain.”

“What can I say?” Tom dipped his head and licked her nipple. “You bring out the best and worst in me.” His breath was warm against her skin. He drew her nipple between his lips, suckling on the tender bud.

Her mouth dropped open and her hips slowly undulated. She followed the line of dark hair down his stomach until her hands wrapped around him. His groan of appreciation vibrated against her breast. He was hot and hard. He gave a shallow thrust into her palm and tugged on her nipple with his lips.

The breath caught in her throat. The skin of his shaft was silky smooth. She ran her fingertips along the length of him and tentatively stroked his balls. Moisture dotted the head of his cock. Grace used her thumb to spread the slick droplets. “Am I…am I doing this right?”

He lifted his head and nipped at her lower lip. “You’re doing everything right,” he said. He lowered his body until his chest pressed against hers and her breasts flattened under his weight. “You’re perfect.”

She smoothed her hands over his back as tenderness swelled inside her. He pressed his lips to hers and sank his hands in her hair. His tongue flickered over hers, tasting and retreating, only to dip back inside again. His erection nudged her belly. She writhed beneath him.

Grace parted her thighs and moaned against his mouth when he settled between them. His cock probed her warm entrance. She wedged her hand between their bodies and touched him again. She loved the feel of him, the heat, the silky skin. Her fingers encircled his thick length and realisation had her brows drawing together. “Are you going to hurt me?” she asked.

Tom pulled back from her. He kissed the frown from her forehead. “I’ll try my very best not to.” He slid a condom from the drawer in the bedside table and tore it from the wrapper. Grace watched as he leaned back on one elbow and smoothed it over his shaft. He positioned himself back between her thighs and pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I just want you inside me.”

He groaned. “Gracie, I can’t get enough of you.” Tom captured her mouth with his. His lips moved over hers patiently, thoroughly, stirring chaos inside her. She swept her hands down his back, curving them over his arse. He rubbed his cock against her pussy, making her hips move and her breath catch as he slid inside her just a little. He moved his attention to her breast, working her nipple into a taut, aching peak with his thumb.

He pulled her hands up beside her head, interlacing his fingers with hers against the pillow. He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “You’re sure?”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles at his lower back. “Yes.”

Tom squeezed her hands and plunged inside her.

She bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut. She expanded around him as he drove deep, filling her completely. Tears leaked from her closed lids. His shaft was suddenly embedded within her, sheathed in her warmth. He stilled his movements, resting against her. His chest hair grazed her nipples, his fingers tightened reflexively in hers. She felt his tongue touching her tears, heard his restrained breaths as he tried to control his own needs.

She opened her eyes and saw the concern in his. He kissed her softly as his hips began a slow, rocking motion. “Did I hurt you?”

Grace pulled her hands from his and wiped the moisture from her face. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“You were very brave.” Tom gave her a solemn look, but she could see the humour hiding behind it. He leaned on his elbow and wrapped his other arm around her. He pulled her close while he thrust gently. “Does my cock feel good inside you?”

“Mmm…yes.” She looked into his eyes while his hips pumped against hers. “Does it feel good for you?”

He gave a hard thrust that had her mouth dropping open. “You have no idea, Gracie.”

He stroked her hair, kissed her lips. He whispered words of encouragement to her, all the while invading her body with his hot length. Grace was swept away with the pleasure of it all. His hair-coarsened skin grazed her softness. His rasping stubble made her feel so feminine. Her every sense was heightened.

He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and kissed her throat. His cock withdrew almost all the way and plunged back inside her. Grace tilted her head on the pillow and gasped. The gentle pumping of his hips made her moan; his powerful thrusts made her stomach flutter and pleasure streak through her.

She had a suspicion he was holding back, taking it slow for her benefit. She could feel it in his bunched muscles and his strained breaths against her neck. “Can you…can you do it harder?”

He kissed the underside of her jaw, flicked his tongue over her chin. He dipped his hands into the sides of her hair and held her still. “You want me to fuck you?” His eyes met hers and a corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy little smile.

The deep tone of his voice sent a shiver running through her. Her nipples tightened. Grace barely recognised the breathy whisper that came next. “Yeah, I do.”

He groaned and rested his forearms either side of her head. He ground his hips against her. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Tom pressed a kiss to her brow and shoved his length hard inside her. “Tell me when to stop.”

She slid her hands along his back, hooking them over his shoulders. “I won’t.”

He spoke softly against her ear. “I like a challenge,” he said. With that he scooped her rear in his palm and lifted her slightly from the mattress. He raised his chest from hers and braced himself on one hand. Tom looked into her eyes and drove his cock inside her.

Grace felt her back bow with the pressure. Pain was replaced by the most intense pleasure. She tipped her chin and cried out. She pulled her hands from around him and swept her palms over her breasts. Grace caressed her nipples, rubbing her fingertips over the hardened buds. Her body jolted with the strength of his thrusts.

“You like that, Gracie?” He watched her closely. Through the haze of pleasure it dawned on her that he was keeping a close eye on her, looking for any signs of discomfort.

“Yes.” The breaths panted out of her. She turned her head restlessly on the pillow and pushed her breasts together, teasing her nipples.

“You want more?”

Her body twisted and she let out a loud moan when he altered the angle of his thrusts.

“I guess that answers my question,” he said. Tom settled back on his haunches and slid his hands up her thighs. He gripped her waist and pulled her back against him to meet each glide of his pumping hips.

She met his gaze. The intensity of the eye contact alone almost made her lose what little control she had left. Her hand drifted down her belly, fingers dipping into her heat. She caressed the place where their bodies joined, enjoying the feel of his slippery cock as it plunged and retreated.

“You’re gonna make me come doing that.” Tom’s mouth curved in a half smile. His fingers dug into her hips and tension gathered in his forearms.

She felt proud of herself for some strange reason. Grace returned his smile and rubbed her fingertip over her engorged clit, sliding through her wetness. An ache built inside her, gaining pressure until she felt she would burst. Her limbs tightened. She flicked her nipple and stroked her clit. Her lips parted and she watched him through half-closed lids. A vein pulsed in his neck and his jaw clenched tightly.

Grace arched her back and pushed hard against him. Her hips lifted from his hands and she let out a long, guttural moan as her body convulsed.

“Oh, Christ.” Tom leaned back over her, pressing his body along the length of hers. “You sexy, sexy woman.” He crushed his mouth to hers as she shuddered beneath him. He kept her in place with his arms braced either side of her. His continuing thrusts drew aftershocks that left her weak. Grace wrapped her legs around him and gripped his forearms. He let loose then, the breath shaking from his nose as he kept his mouth joined with hers. She felt the pulsing of his cock as he thrust hard and emptied himself inside her. His body tensed for one long moment and he groaned deep in his throat.

His limbs suddenly turned to water and he collapsed on top of her. His stomach clenched against hers as he drew in air.

Grace leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. She swept her hair from her forehead and stroked his back while her pulse settled. Her body felt used…in a very good way. Relaxed and languid. She was tender now the passion had subsided, but it was a pleasant pain; a reminder of the wonderful moment they’d shared.

And now it was over.

Grace shifted beneath him, uncomfortable and awkward now their desire had been spent. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome, but she didn’t want to run like a scared rabbit either. She’d been under no illusions going into this; she wouldn’t start entertaining thoughts of a future now. “What happens next in these situations?” she asked softly. “Am I supposed to go?”

“Like Hell.” He kissed her neck and rolled onto his back, dragging her with him. He encircled her in his arms and held her close. Grace felt her heart hammer with hope as she leaned on his chest. He swept his thumb over her cheek and gazed at her. “Stay with me, Gracie.”

She watched him in silence, surprised by the look of uncertainty in his eyes. She’d never known him to be hesitant about anything. He’d been tender and kind today when she’d needed him most. He’d looked after her like she’d known he would.

A slow smile spread across her face as he urged her mouth down to his.

Maybe she’d entertain thoughts of a future after all.

jukeboxemcsa:

Jeanne almost didn’t notice Giselle at first. The cafe bustled with activity in the morning, Parisiens filled the seats to drink their first coffee of the day, coming and going with such dizzying rapidity that a devoted layabout like Jeanne couldn’t possibly keep track of it all. But gradually, the leggy blonde began to stand out from the crowd simply by the absence of what others possessed in so much abundance–movement. The beautiful woman with the smooth, porcelain features hadn’t so much as raised her coffee cup to her bright red lips in a full twenty minutes. And once Jeanne began to actively watch her, it became clear that the person she’d come to know as Giselle wasn’t doing anything at all.

She didn’t stand, she didn’t sit, she didn’t twitch, she didn’t fidget, she didn’t even so much as blink. Giselle’s eyes remained fixed in a singular stare, focused on a random patch of wall for hours as the morning turned into early afternoon and Jeanne added a sandwich and another few cups of coffee to her tab. Occasionally a waitress would pass by, and with a chuckle they’d undo a button or pull down a strap. By the time the lunch rush came and went, Giselle’s blouse hung open to reveal a stark white brassiere and a girdle that she patently didn’t need. Jeanne stayed where she was. She wanted to see what happened next.

By the afternoon, the cafe was quiet. Nobody had any interest in a coffee at 4 PM, and the staff became even freer in their treatment of the still, silent woman across the terrace. “That’s our pretty Giselle,” one of them cooed, undoing a snap on the side of the frozen blonde’s burgundy skirt. “Deeper and deeper, sweet bird!” another one burbled, patting her on the head as they passed. Occasionally one of them would shoot Jeanne a smug, knowing look as they posed and primped the helpless young woman, removing her clothing altogether. She understood the significance of the glances–by watching, Jeanne had to some degree become a willing accomplice in their activities. She found that it troubled her less than she thought it might.

By six o'clock, Giselle was down to just her underwear. She had on a lovely pair of stockings that accentuated the curve of her long legs–Jeanne hadn’t made a particular study of women’s bodies before now, but something about the absolute helplessness of the stranger made her seem erotic in a way that Jeanne was only now discovering. She slowly, languidly squeezed her thighs together, enjoying the sensation of her swollen clit pressing against her slick labia as she watched the waitstaff undo Giselle’s bra and expose her bare breasts. The terrace was quiet, secluded, invisible from the street. They could do whatever they wanted. Nobody would stop them.

The sun went down, but the staff merely turned on the lights and continued to strip Giselle naked. She had on only the stockings and garters now, and waitresses took a lewd delight in reaching down between the helpless woman’s thighs and coming away with wet fingers. “That’s our good girl,” they murmured. “You love this so much. You can’t get enough, can you?” Giselle never responded, not even with a quickening of breath, but Jeanne could see the growing stain on the chair beneath her. Whoever Giselle was, whatever this was about, it was clearly turning her on beyond measure. Jeanne wondered if they’d simply leave her out overnight like this, or whether the game ended when it was time for bed.

She watched pinches, gropes, teases, a host of familiarities small and large, unable to look away. She barely even recognized how turned on she was; the fascination made Jeanne’s arousal seem dreamy, passive, a thing that was being done to her rather than her own indulgence. But it wasn’t until one of the waitresses finally approached her and said, “You can have this too, if you want it,” that Jeanne realized she’d stopped moving at all. She tried to nod, and found her body wouldn’t respond. It was only by her total absence of motion that they realized she was consenting to join Giselle in her frozen submission to their will.

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)

jukeboxemcsa:

By now, Suzie was certain she was dreaming. The world made more sense if this was a dream; the events she was experiencing were so completely divorced from her expectations of consensus reality that it seemed easier to simply pretend that it wasn’t really happening. She wasn’t really standing in the neighbors’ living room, her hands behind her back and her panties around her ankles, staring at a naked man who lounged in a recliner with his eyes closed and his cock–the first real cock she’d ever seen–hard and throbbing. Things like this didn’t really happen. It was just a dream.

And Mrs. Davenport’s words sounded like a dream. “Hello, Cock,” she purred, her voice soft and coaxing as if it wanted to lull Suzie deeper into her sleepy fantasy. “I thought I might introduce you to our new neighbor, Suzie Wellington.” The blonde Caucasian woman reached over and caressed Suzie’s long dark hair with her right hand, while her left hand circled around the base of the thick, flushed shaft in order to help it stand perfectly upright in front of Suzie’s confused, hesitant stare. “Cock, this is Suzie, Suzie, this is my husband’s cock.” It had to be a dream. Real people didn’t talk about genitalia as if they were more important than the person they were attached to.

Mrs. Davenport continued, her soothing tones drawing Suzie further and further into dreamland. “Suzie was all alone when I went over to say hello–her parents are away on vacation, so it’s just Suzie by herself for the rest of the week. Isn’t that lovely, Cock? Just a sweet young college girl, home alone and looking for some company. We talked for ages, didn’t we, pretty Suzie doll?” The stroking fingers tangled into her hair, guiding Suzie’s head into a slow, lazy nod, and somehow it made perfect sense that the older woman was agreeing for her. Things like that happened in dreams. Suzie didn’t need to try to understand it, only accept the strangeness for what it was.

“And it turns out that you and Suzie have something in common!” Mrs. Davenport cooed, giving the cock in her hand a little wiggle as if she was a puppeteer demonstrating its excitement. “She’s a very good subject too, just like you. She’s such an attentive listener, and she follows instructions so well… I simply knew the two of you had to meet. I’m sure you’ll get along wonderfully. You’re just the perfect fit for her!” The blonde woman chuckled. Suzie smiled blankly, responding more to the warmth and happiness in Mrs. Davenport’s tone than anything about the words. They simply wouldn’t parse properly in Suzie’s sleepy brain no matter how hard she tried.

“So anyway,” the older woman went on, her fingers gripping Suzie’s hair a little tighter, “I invited her over to come and say hello. I think she might even want to stay the night with us–it’s probably dark and scary in that big empty house, and she might welcome someone to cuddle with. Someone to rest with. Someone to sleep and dream with, isn’t that right, Suzie girl?” Suzie nodded. Or was nodded. She couldn’t keep track anymore. “Of course it is. Everything I say is right. Cock here knows how that works. Cock is such a good listener. He deserves a little kiss for being so smart, doesn’t he, Suzie?”

If this was real, Suzie would have said no. But she was only dreaming, a wonderful dream that made her cunt leak and her mouth water. Her head went up and down in another slow, lazy nod, and her lips parted in a sleepy smile. Slowly, inexorably, she was drawn down until the cock in Mrs. Davenport’s hand filled her entire world.

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)

I don’t just do visual stuff at Supercake Studio - I write stories as well, though they don’t tend to get quite as much attention. Here’s three of my favorites (click the links for the pdfs.)

Aphrodite - a contemporary romance with a slight sci-fi twist. Angie and Corrie are trying to rekindle their marriage by participating in a trial for a libido-boosting drug, but it turns out to boost more than just their sexual appetites.

The Glen of the Alseids- a fantasy about nymphs living in a land of plenty, and what happens when a hungry troll gets wind of their soft, plump society.

Seven’s Deadly Sin - a Star Trek: Voyager fic in when Seven decides to experiment with the human concept of gluttony.

The water has been running in the shower for a little bit. There is just a little steam forming in the bathroom. I step into the shower and the first sprays of water land on my lower legs. It is just the right temperature - hot enough to make my skin come alive, but not hot enough to cause any lasting discomfort. I close my eyes and slowly walk further into the steady flow of water. The warmth spreads up my thighs and I pause just for a moment before moving a little further to have the water pass over my cock and balls. I feel the heat. Then I step further letting the water cascade over my chest. I take my hands and slide them down my body. They pass easily over my wet skin and are drawn down between my legs. They cannot help but linger.

My fingers gently squeeze the tip of my cock. I feel that light tingle beckoning me. My hand slides down and fingers close around my balls, rolling them softly in my hand. Both hands turn to a light touch and slowly run up and my thighs, each alternating running up and down my cock. I feel the warm water falling down my body. The tease won’t be a slow one for me though as my hand closes finger by finger around my cock. Slowly and lightly I rub once back and forth. For me, it’s always my left hand … which is odd as I’m right handed. Touching myself with my right hand can be a slow and deliberate affair. But when it is my left, the rhythm starts almost immediately when I feel my hand close around myself.

I feel myself grow … not too quickly … but steadily. My right hand lightly runs over my scrotum. I love the soft touch there. In fact, I decide to give myself a treat and reach out for the handheld wand. Turning it on brings an additional source of water and the small, skinny streams of water feel amazing when I run them between my legs. My strokes continue as the water lightly teases my balls.

It’s at this point that my eyes close and my mind wanders. I tend to drift between some favorite memories and desired fantasies. It only takes one or two to bring me to full arousal. My hand moving lightly over my now straight and firm cock. The soft water streams tickling my balls. My teeth bite down on my lip.

My thoughts drift to those memories of things I should not have done, but did anyway. The risk always turns me on. I turn off the water to the handheld wand and place it back on the holder. I then turn to face away from the shower heard. The water from the showerhead streams down my back. I lean down and spit down on my cock … water doesn’t provide the same lubrication. I focus on the sensations. I go beyond the friction of my hand on my cock and to that tingle - that little thread of feeling that runs all the way from the tip back deep inside my body. That’s what I’m seeking. That’s what I want to play with … that little electric tingling thread. I pull it forward and let it fall back. My mind now drifts to some of those favorite unfulfilled fantasies … those scenes I’ve written in mind … the ones that take my breath away. That I hope may one day be reality and then a memory - no longer a fantasy. I feel those first internal muscle contractions. They are shallow and empty now … but soon they’ll grow much stronger. I add a little more spit. My rhythm quickens. I lean forward with my right hand and steady myself against the wall. My mind starts randomly pulling memories and fantasies together … actions … scenes … stories … conversations … photographs … audios … videos … Sometimes the memories are far from my past. Sometimes very recent. Often both. I do not lack for inspiration when I let my mind turn those forbidden corners to explore those places most private and most erotic.

It doesn’t take too long to find that exact point where I can almost feel the cum begin to move - but I slow it down to keep it right there on the edge. It’s that moment that if I weren’t in the shower, I would see the pre-cum glistening on the tip. It feels so good to rub that around the head. The longer I can keep that edge, the more I will ejaculate. Sometimes I go a little too far and have to clamp down to hold the orgasm back. This is the moment when I am hardest - so taut and ready to release. Letting it fall back. Pulling it forward. Here I need to be careful with my mind. The right thought in my mind will easily pull me past the point of no return. I think this has gradually changed over the course of my life - orgasms are so thought-dependent and so intellectual. I can touch myself for extended periods and not get that close. But if I let my mind wander to those places …

So there I stand, braced against the wall. Water falling around me. I play that tug of war with that thread … feeling that connection back up inside me … carefully letting my mind get further and further to the edge. But soon, the moment comes when I know it is time to give it over. To lose control and let my body do what it wants without me guiding it. That’s when my mind goes furthest afield - those riskiest desires and fantasies - those experiences I’ve had that turn me on the most. And then I push it just to the edge and then over. It’s about 3-4 seconds of this building fullness throughout my cock and then that tingling thread goes fully taut. I’m over the edge. It can’t be stopped now. I know the cum has begun to move. I can feel that first muscle contraction and then give over to it. The first spasm releases just a bit of that thick, white fluid. I watch it fall to my feet. But the second one is almost always the largest. Again and again, those spasms continue. That stream of liquid pushing out from deep inside is broken up over and over with those muscle contractions pushing it out. Often then fifth or sixth contraction will also be larger. Gradually the remaining cum slides out and down my hand. My strokes slow. I squeeze the head which pushes out a little more. It’s at this point that I remember the shower - I’ve been off in some other place through the entire experience. I turn and let the water run down my front. My cock is slowly relaxing. I reach back down and squeeze along the underside, pushing out as much cum as I can that remains, before rinsing my hand and finishing the shower.

I can still feel the residual effects of that tingling thread for twenty or thirty minutes afterwards, and the little residual cum that makes its way out is a reminder of my pleasure and release. That feeling of being spent. The stress relieved in those few moments when I gave over control. As I dress for the day, my mind turns reluctantly from the few moments of enjoyment … but I know tomorrow will come and with it the chance to spend a little more time in that fantasyland, that place where I can escape my reality and be me.

Read more erotic stories by an-experienced-gentleman

hung2myknees:

I love writing stories about women cheating with horse hung studs. So send me some requests! 

Is there a woman out there that you somehow know would drop to her knees in a heart beat if presented with a huge cock, send me a pic and I’ll give her the treatment. Or is there a scenario you always fantasized about? Let me hear it and maybe I can make it come true here on tumblr. Not into cheating, that’s alright. I’ll write anything as long as it has to do with a woman worshiping a massive cock. 

Another thing I’ve been dying to write is a “Mom Vs Son’s Bully” story. So anything in this genre is welcome as well.  

theclassicsreader:

“But in the end, stories are about one person saying to another: This is the way it feels to me. Can you understand what I’m saying? Does it feel this way to you?”

—Kazuo Ishiguro, in his 2017 Nobel prize acceptance speech (via smiththeteacher)