Don’t ask me to behave myself. Not again.
I’m done being the good girl. Done behaving like I don’t want you - and like I don’t know that you want me.
They say to dance like no one’s watching, but I know you are. And so I will.
Don’t ask me to not get close, lips inches away from yours, so that you don’t forget that they are there, waiting for you to taste them.
Don’t laugh and pretend like you don’t know I’m serious when I say I will have you. Because you know very well that I am, and that I will.
It’s all a matter of when.
Don’t ask me to stop flirting, asking you to take what I’m freely offering. What I am willing to give you. Very willing.
Don’t back away when I’m pressing against you - retreat is a sign of weakness, and we both know you are anything but.
Don’t look away when I gaze into your eyes, silently asking if tonight is the night.
Don’t deny what is between us now, or what could be if we’d let it.
So please, don’t ask me to behave myself.
Not with you.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Don’t ask me to behave myself. Not again.
Friday, September 17, 2010
I have a question for my writer friends. Exactly how do you manage to organize your WIP’s?
I have about sixteen notebooks, most of them with little snippets of stories, conversations, characters, or plot lines. And it’s so hard to keep them all together.
Do you have an organizing system? I try to type them out and have a flash drive with them on it, but there are days that the mood just demands writing it out by hand the old fashioned way. I know some people staple their scraps into another notebook, in random order. But if that’s done, then when you want to continue it there’s no where for the subsequent notes to go.
I like the idea of trying to keep all my stuff together. I hate having to search my books to find which one has the story I want to continue. Often when I have to do that, I tend to lose what I wanted to write in the first place.
So, all you wonderful wordsmiths - how do YOU organize? Got any tips for me?
Monday, September 13, 2010
Me did! I mean, I done it. I mean I won Round Five of Project Smutway! I was in a first place tie with the lovely, talented and totally preeeeverted May Deva!
And this was the story that left 'em wanting more.
Fucked to Death
There were a thousand stories in the naked city. Hers was just one.
Her unseeing eyes lay staring at the ceiling, the events of the night evident on her thighs, as police questioned the guests in attendance. Faces tear stained, bodies cum stained, voices strained with grief – all claimed innocence. But one had to be guilty. Which one poisoned the naked socialite?
She strode into the dimly lit ballroom, voice carrying as she moved to the centre of the room, where her guests were in various states of undress and intoxication. “My friends, I hope you are all enjoying yourselves, and …” her scarlet lips turned up in a smile, “each other.” They all laughed. Katherine’s pussy dampened as she observed her husband licking Kitty Carrington’s shaved mound, his strong hand pumping his cock in rhythm.
She beckoned Jasper, her faithful butler, to her. She smiled, stroking his cheek with her hand, kissing him gently on the lips. She removed her nightgown, sinking down into the middle of the group, thighs spread wide, ready, willing.
Her husband smiled, plunging two thick fingers into her already wet hole. She arched in pleasure, reaching for the nearest cock. Paul Styles volunteered, groaning as her hand encircled his engorged shaft. Her pulse accelerated.
Katherine’s mouth hung open as her husbands fingers pounded into her. James, her ex-boyfriend, saw opportunity and fed his ten inches between her lips. Katherine’s heart pounded as she took his meat into her throat, her eyes focused on his. He winked as he held her head, gently fucking her mouth.
Paul’s cock grew under her skillful hand, his breathing becoming laboured as he approached his climax. Her grip tightened, her strokes hurried as he came with a groan, shooting off all over her luscious tits. Shaylene, Katherine’s best friend, was on it in a heartbeat, lapping up the cream, paying close attention to her nipples, which were hard and aching. Katherine’s breathing became laboured.
“Someone fuck her.” A disembodied voice reached her ears, and she nodded eagerly. Jasper stepped up, sliding his prick into her dripping cunt. She gazed into his bright eyes and nodded. At that, he quickened the pace, ramming into her, hitting the spots he knew intimately, his finger flicking her clit.
Katherine’s pussy clenched, her orgasm tearing through her like a hurricane. Her heart felt like it exploded, as she stiffened.
Jasper groaned, collapsing on top of his mistress. As he noticed she wasn’t moving, his eyes filled with tears. “Goodbye m’lady.” He whispered into her skin.
The start of the night...
As Katherine surveyed the skyline from the darkened study, she caressed the snifter of brandy she carried, before draining it viciously. She wanted this. She would live in infamy.
They’d all be found innocent, eventually. And she’d be beautiful forever.
There were a thousand stories in the naked city. And hers would be one they’d talk about for years to come.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
DING -Round five of Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon is up and votable (is that even a word?)
It can be found HERE.
The theme, was mystery. A who-dun-it if you will. And I have to admit - I'm not quite sure I like mine best anymore. In keeping with the theme, Alison has not only hidden our identities, BUT she's also hidden the results of the poll.
SO GO VOTE PEOPLE. LOL.
You never know who's going to be behind - or ahead - in this one. Yes, I know I'm behind - after all it's been up a whole two days and I haven't gotten over here to pimp it out. But I've been busy.
There's also news about the Smut Marathon - but I'll leave that until the end. I want to see how long I'll last. LOL.
See y'all soon!!
Fantasized by Miz Angell at 1:51 PM