Round Six - Overheard at the next table...

So, as usual, I'm late getting this up. LOL. Story of my life.

Round six of Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon, is up and running. The voting ends at midnight on Sunday. Which means you still have three days to go and see which conversation would get your blood boiling, in a good way.

Anyone who's been following Alison knows that our little Trollop is a voyeur at heart. And she picks up the most random bits of conversation and turns them into incredible tales. So our assignment this time around was to work eavesdropping into our stories - and tell what happens next.

250 words. If you've been reading me often, you know that I often curse the flash story. It takes way more talent than I have to turn in something that is interesting in 250 words. And, if you're a writer like me, you tend to be a tad verbose when setting a scene.

That being said, follow the link above to check out the six remaining contestants. And be sure to vote. And then tell your friends. And make sure they vote.

You know the drill.

(Pssst - this pic ain't mine. Found on the interwebz, but who doesn't love NPH?)

Round and Round We Go

It's time for Round 4 of Alison's Smut Marathon. For those of you that have been playing along, I've managed - through the grace of God and lovely voters - to stay in the game.

For those who haven't, well, here are links to the first three rounds. Obviously voting is over, but don't deprive yourself of some wonderful reading.


Round One - Once Upon A Time challenge. Pen an opening line. Just one. We all know how important that opening line can be when grabbing a readers attention.


Round Two - Take two. Using a line from the previous challenge, one other than your own, pen a 250 word story start. The line didn't have to be the opening one, just as long as it was in there. Talk about tough!


Round Three  - The musical challenge. To write 300 words inspired by a song, any song, but not to reveal what it was (silly me - my song title wound up being the title of the piece - D'OH!)


And now here we are at Round Four. For this round, Alison gave us this story as inspiration. There is no summing it up - well, I'll try anyway. Cindy Sherman, artist, found this note card in a trove of old photos that she had bought in a junk shop some years ago. It's an interesting card, a telling of a lovers deception discovered before her marriage was to take place.

Her challenge was for us to pen a "notecard" that would intrigue someone enough to keep it around for almost a century, to be found by a treasure hunter, such as Cindy.

So go on over, take a look, and as you read, imagine which one you would pick up years later, and wonder...

what's the story behind the note?

Inspirational Tunes - Round Three

Ok hotties and heaux. It's time to vote in Round Three of Alison Tylers Smut Marathon.

This one was a hell of a challenge. Not only was it 300 words - max! - but she asked to use a piece of music that inspires us.

I have a LOT of music that inspires me to write. But to keep it to 300 words is a real problem sometimes. That's when you use the KISS rule - keep it simple stupid. LOL.

So head on over - read them all (they're all seriously hot stuff so maybe reading at work isn't the best idea), and then choose your favourite.

If you know me, you can figure out which one is mine, but only vote if it's your favourite.

Follow the link for sexy snippets of song-inspired smut.

The pic is from Women's Health Mag. Figured it might play into the theme....and hey, let's talk. Do you agree with these?

And here we go again....

It's that time of year again. Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon, the 2014 edition. As Alison herself describes it "For those just joining in, "The Smut Marathon" is a contest I invented about five years ago. A group of writers all (amazingly) agree to fulfill one (bizarre) challenge (I come up with) every month. I post their work here and readers vote for the favorites. There are winners for each round and one writer (or several writers, depending on ties) leaves after each voting period ends."

I must be a sucker for punishment to keep participating. The competition gets more and more intense as the Marathon gets older and writers get wise to how much fun it is to take part.

So - sigh - here I am again for another round of getting my arse kicked. Come on over and meet this years line up. Some familiar faces, some new to the game.

But all immensely talented.

You'll see what I mean when you stop by Alison's for Round One. Every great book I've ever read has started with an incredible first line. There are fifteen (yes, you read that right fifteen) amazing ones to choose from.

But be careful! You can only vote for one. Heartbreaking I know, but it's the way it goes.

But share and compare with your friends. Do it in pairs, hell, do it in groups. Just vote and show these writers that you appreciate the fine art of the first line.

Poll closes Thursday so be sure to visit on Friday to see if your fave made the cut.

I spy....

Sex. It's not just for couples anymore.

What I mean to say is, it's not just for two people. I mean, there might just be two people HAVING sex, but in today's society - there might always be someone watching.

Hence the topic for the next round in Alison's Smut Marathon - which is now up and running.

Here was our assignment:

Where do we find inspiration? I like to say that I see sex everywhere I go. (I don’t just like to say this because the words feel good in my mouth. I say this because it’s true.) So here is your assignment. Look out the window—I don’t care what window. Any window. Anywhere. And see sex.

That accomplished, write me a piece up to 500 words that describes an erotic scene featuring a window.

As a result, there are seven hot, sultry different ways to spy on your fellow man .. and woman.

Grab a cold drink, your binoculars, and sit by the window.

You never know what you're going to see.

I spy, with my little eye....

Next!

That's right - next round of Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon has hit the ballot! (What round are we on anyway? I'm losing track of things so easily lately).

This assignment was a free-for-all. Sort of.

A story. A short, smutty, sexy story - with only 500 little words.

And as I've stated in several of her challenges - it's a hard thing to do, to tell a complete story in 500 words. They come - and go - so fast it's like a blink. (DON'T BLINK!)

And speaking of quick - my time is up on the blogger-verse for the moment. Work demands are getting in the way.

But I wanted to direct y'all to go on over and VOTE VOTE VOTE.

As usual, it's all anonymous. But really, with entries like this - everyone is a winner.

SWF, w4m, FWb?

Have you ever written a personal ad?

Me neither. Never thought to. But I do seriously enjoy reading them. So much so that I actually follow my city's Casual Encounters on twitter. Just for the hell of it. And in the name of research. Yes, research.

Especially for this round of Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon.

You do recall the lovely, sensual characters penned in Round Two? If not, why not pop back and familiarize yourself with them once more? It's ok. I can wait.

Wonderful aren't they?

So, our assignment this round was to write a personal ad for one of those delightful, sexy people. Just not the one we created.

What resulted was entertaining, amusing and all sorts of LULZ. And wet panties. Yep. Because they are all of the above, and they are sexy too. Just like they should be.

So grab a coffee, or beverage of choice (hell it's five o'clock somewhere right?), and find yourself a match. And then tell your friends.


Because that's what friends do right? Share?

Fall in Lust...

Fifteen times if you please.

Round two of Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon is up and running. This was our challenge.

Choose a location described in Round 1. Any location. Except the one you wrote. Keep the location in your mind as you write a 200-word (max) character description of someone who might venture to the location.

Keep in mind that while creativity counts, you can expect (those of you with a little foresight) that you might be asked to include this character (male, female, trans, etc.) in an erotic story in the future. So please, a) no underage. And 2) consider penning a character your readers might like to have a literary romp with. (I mean, you might enjoy describing the next hunchback of Notre Dame but will you want to see him fuck? Maybe. That’s up to you.)

Give your character sketch a title. Makes it easier for me with the poll. That doesn’t have to count in the 200 words.

What else? Oh, yes, you won’t know which locations the other writers have chosen. I don’t mind doubles, triples, etc. We’ll all find out who chose whose when the stories post and the authors are revealed.

So there you go. Challenge accepted. And it really was a challenge. 

Like the first, the different takes on characters are compelling and exciting. So go ahead.

Go fall in love - as many times as you like.  

But only one can get your vote. 

Spread the word, tell your friends. Voting is open until the May 30. And then come on back to see who won, and who was the first to fall.

Thank y'all. 

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late...

AGAIN.

Ok, this time I have an excuse. I pulled double shifts this weekend at the second job. By the time my weary bones made it home, it was an effort just to crawl into bed.

But there is still time! For what? you ask.

To vote in round one of Alison Tyler's Smut-A-Thon. :D

Our first assignment seemed to be a piece of cake (double chocolate fudge if you please). What our perfect setting for an erotic story would be. No people, no action, just the setting. In two hundred little words. Simple right?

WRONG. So very, very wrong.

But what came out were fifteen very different, very special ideas.

So, on that note, voting ends at midnight tomorrow. So follow the link, vote for your favourite (no I can't tell you which one is mine but that's ok - they're all awesome!), and tune in to see who advances.

Kind of like The Voice and American Idol, except without the nasty judges or the super-fine bromance between Blake Shelton & Adam Levine. You know, these two gorgeous pieces of man-flesh.

Did I really just say that? Oh boy...

Make sure to follow the authors, even if they don't make it through every round. Because they're chosen for being talented. And awesome. And super, super sexy.

Did I mention talented? And awesome?

Ok, good.

What's in a Name?

That which we call smut by any other name, would still be as hot, and sexy, and steamy...

In this case, it's Alison Tyler's Project Smut-way. Or Smut Marathon. Or Smut-A-Thon. Well, whatever you call it, it's time for the 2013 edition!

The last time we did this, I made it so close to the end, only to be ousted in Round Eleven. But let me tell you, I'd never had so much fun writing.

We had a stellar line-up of contestants back then, including May Deva, Dorla Moorehouse, Joss Lockwood, Monocle, Vida Bailey, Scarlett Greyson and Willsin Rowe to name a few.

This time around, the competition is doubly fierce as more smutters want to participate in the fun and games.

So, pop over to Alison's Smut Marathon blog, and meet the contestants. And keep your eyes peeled for the challenges and entries.

The first time around was amazingly fun and challenging. And what's the saying about things being better the second time around?

I can't wait!

Well, it was a good run....

...but in the end, I was ousted by a very HOT and sexay story by Joss Lockwood. So there are now three finalists in the first annual Project Smutway.

Alison's challenge to us was to take one of our shorter pieces, and expand on it. Total word count? Between 2500 - 3500. So, without further ado, I present to you my final entry for Alison Tyler's Smutathon ....


FUCKED TO DEATH. *please hold your applause until the end*

There were a thousand stories in the naked city.  Hers was just one.

Cops milled around the penthouse apartment, in the most exclusive residence in the city. Many of the uniformed officers gazed in awe and wonder at the twenty foot high ceilings, forgetting, for just a moment, that they were there to investigate a crime. A fact that Detective Johnson wasn’t about to let them forget.

“Parker!” One of the rookies jumped at the sound of Johnson’s bark, blushing beet red at having been caught studying the artwork that adorned the walls. “Get your rookie ass over here.” He rushed over to stand in front of him, slipping briefly on the glossy wood floors. He righted himself, looking down at what he could have slipped in. Johnson bent down, marking the spot for the CSI team to follow. But a closer glance told him what he needed to know – semen.

He stood, fixing Officer Parker with a pointed stare. “Parker, this is a crime scene. Need I remind you?” Parker vehemently shook his head. “No sir; not at all sir.”

“Well then stop looking like a kid on a field trip and GET MOVING!” Parker scurried off to speak to the nearest guest, and Johnson turned to M.E. Dawson. “Joe, what the hell happened here?” Dawson shrugged.

“Beats me Lou. But I don’t mind saying I wish I’d been invited.” They both stood in silence as the paramedics rolled the body by on the stretcher. Her unseeing eyes lay staring at the ceiling, the events of the night evident on her thighs. Joe spoke again. “T.O.D. is approximately two hours ago. Levitity hasn’t set in yet. No signs of violence on the body. There’s no reason to suspect foul play.”

Johnson almost sighed with relief. Natural causes would mean that he could avoid the publicity and scandal that the murder of a high profile figure would bring. He was breathing normally, glad he could avoid pulling out his ever-present pack of antacids (incredibly cliché he knew but the job was hell). Until, with almost comedic timing, one of the uniforms came rushing up to him, a brandy snifter cradled carefully in his gloved hand.

“Detective! I found this in the study. At first I thought it was no big deal, but take a whiff.” Johnson carefully accepted the glass, sniffing the interior. He almost groaned out loud. Beneath the scent of the very expensive liquor, was a trace of bitter almonds.

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself, passing the glass back to the uniform. “Joe, make sure you do a complete tox panel. Looks like it might have been murder after all.” 

Johnson looked around at the scene before him, and shook his head in disbelief. Throughout the room, officers had separated the guests, questioning each one as to the events of the evening.

Faces tear stained, naked bodies cum stained, voices strained with grief – all claimed innocence.  But one had to be guilty. 

Which one poisoned the naked socialite? And why?

Earlier....

Kathryn DeLong lounged in the entrance way, a slight smile on her ruby lips. Her nipples hardened under the silken folds of her robe. The scene in front of her was one of decadence, of debauchery, of blatant sexual fantasies.

Tonight was going to be her finest party ever.

The invitations had caused quite the stir, just as she’d intended; simple black on white, with the big, bold letters at the bottom – CLOTHING OPTIONAL. She’d left instructions downstairs with the concierge to keep them all waiting in the lobby until the entire guest list had arrived. Then, and only then, were the dozen special friends allowed into the private elevator which brought them up to paradise.

The looks on their faces when they entered the ballroom was priceless to her. The video cameras set up around the penthouse captured everything for her personal entertainment. Her staff, dressed in only silk robes, approached them, removing their outerwear and revealing all of them in their beautiful, naked glory. None were shy – the swingers club they all belonged to had taught them long ago to be comfortable with their bodies.

Two other staff members appeared, armed with Kathryn’s version of kiddies loot bags. She had tailor made each one to fit. The cries and laughter as they were opened were classic. Dildos, vibrators, lubes, restraints, ticklers – it looked like she had bought out the entire sex shop.

Once everyone had a drink in hand, Kat’s husband Roger hit a few buttons on the remote he held. The huge production began – the music started, the three screens on the walls started playing pornography, and the lights dimmed. “Ladies and gentlemen – pick your partners and let the games begin.”

They all stood around, suddenly unsure of themselves. Denise pulled a long deep purple vibrator out of her goodie bag, and moved to the center of the room. “Well, if no one wants to fuck me, I guess I’m going to have to do it myself.” She slouched down on one of the leather couches facing the large screen, where a woman was getting her pussy pounded by another woman in a strap on. “And now, THAT is inspiring.”

Turning the vibrator on low, she lightly ran it over her nipples, moaning at the sensations as they stiffened into tight peaks. Moving it down her body, she slid it up between her lips, teasing her moist hole with the tip. Her audience watched, enraptured by her facial expressions as she slowly inserted it inch by inch, only to withdraw it just as slowly. Tony approached her, kneeling in front of her, massaging her thighs, his faces inches from the action. His head bobbed in closer with every thrust, his tongue flicking out to lick her lips.

Everyone unfroze at that moment. Roger grabbed Kathryn, pulling her into a passionate kiss. His hands roamed her body, pushing the folds of her robe open. She moaned as his fingers made his way down to her mound, gently tapping at her clit. Her hands found his stiff cock, stroking it in the way that she knew would drive him crazy. She dropped to her knees, licking around his bulbous head, which was slowly turning the same colour as Denise’s vibrator. A drop of pre-cum appeared at the slit and she whisked it away with her tongue. One hand massaged his balls, which were tight against his shaft, and the other moved around to tickle between his ass cheeks.

He bucked, thrusting himself further into her mouth. Her tongue flattened out, licking him in broad strokes from base to head. His fingers tangled into her hair, holding her steady while he fucked her face. Her cheeks caved as she increased the suction. Swirling her tongue as he thrust, she could tell he was ready to explode. When it came to fucking her, he could go for hours, but for some reason, with blow jobs he turned back into a pre-pubescent teenage boy and was quick to come.

Which was fine with Kathryn. As hostess, there was much still to do, and some important details she couldn’t leave to the staff. She would come later. With a strangled cry, he thrust one final time, and she tasted him as the milky stream hit the back of her throat. Without losing a single drop, she drank him all in. He helped her to her feet, kissing her passionately once again, his tongue sweeping the inside of her mouth for remnants of him.

She smiled coyly at him as he sank into the sofa next to Denise, who had abandoned the vibrator for the real thing. She was bent over, her hands resting on the sofa back, as Tony rammed into her from behind. Roger lay beneath her, his fingers ticking her clit, and his mouth fastening to her nipples as her tits swung free.

In another corner, Larry's wife Tina and her best friend Sarah were engaged in a rather hot soixante-neuf, with their husbands watching, while stroking the other’s hard on. It made for an incredibly erotic tableau, and Kathryn wished she could keep that image with her forever. Then she gave a little laugh. She would.

She sat and watched the debauchery unfolding before her. There were dildos and vibrators strewn all over the room, glistening with juices and lube. She watched with great interest while Maxine got set in her strap on, using a generous amount of lube. She pushed her boyfriend Ken onto all fours, kneeling behind him. Massaging his asshole, she then forced the lubed up cock into his tight tunnel. Kens face contorted in pain for a brief moment. Then, as Maxie developed a slow rhythm, his jaw went slack, and his eyes glazed over in pleasure. Kathryn could hear him grunting as Maxie muttered to him "You like this? You like me fucking you?"

"Yes." He gasped. She reached forward, entangling her hand in his shoulder length hair. Pulling his neck back, she thrust harder. "That's my bitch. Take it you slut." Kathryn giggled.

She beckoned Jasper, her faithful butler and constant sexual companion, over to her side. He had provided many nights of pleasure to both her and Roger over the years, but he held a special place in her heart. In fact, she would say she loved him. But Jasper was British, and extremely proper. Providing services for his employers was in his job description, and yes, perhaps he had grown fond of his lady over time. And although he knew of her feelings for him, he would never, in a million years, admit to loving her back.

But it was there, in his touch, in his eyes, in the way he bowed his head as he said “As you wish” after she would ask him to do something for her. “Jasper.” She whispered into his ear, and led him off by the hand. No one noticed as they slipped out of the room. She brought him into the study, closing the door softly behind them.

The staff watched the scene before them in fascination. The DeLong’s often hosted dinner parties, and once in a while, had others over for a “couple’s party”, but never anything to this extent. Cocks swelled, pussies grew wet, and with raised eyebrows and exchanged looks, the staff sent the message that they planned on partaking of each other in the same fashion once the night was over.

Jenna, in the middle of the floor, humping her way to her fifth self-induced orgasm on the bearskin rug, noticed the silent communication between them, and the tents in the robes of the male staff. She beckoned the two closest to her, one male and one female, and raised herself onto all fours. “Kneel down behind me please.” She asked the male nicely, her voice dripping with honey. She indicated the female to lie in front of her. Looking over her shoulder, she wiggled her ass, and handed him a condom. “Fuck me honey. Use that hard on of yours. No sense letting it go to waste.” She then faced the girl in front of her. “Lie down and spread them for me. I’m dying to eat some pussy.”

They tried not to show their shock as they did as she asked. It was Linda’s first party here, having only been employed for two months, and she would never have expected this. Dante had been around for a while and was a little less shocked. But nevertheless, the help had never been invited to join in before. But it looked like it was to be a night for firsts.

Linda gasped as Jenna’s tongue touched her clit. It wasn’t her first time being eaten, but it had never been by a woman. And she moaned as that talented tongue delved deep into her cunt, fucking her like a mini cock.

Dante was absorbed by the scene that was playing out in front of him, so much so that he almost forgot what he was supposed to do. Almost. His cock head nudged Jenna’s lips open, timidly at first. But when she thrust her perfect ass up against him, he lost all thought and shoved his seven inches full into her. Once sheathed in her moist heat, he began shallow movements, rocking against her without withdrawing. She cried out, the sound lost between Linda’s thighs.

The door to the study opened again, and Jasper, his eyes wet, hurried from the room. Five minutes passed before it opened again. Kathryn stood there,taking in the scene before her. She closed her eyes, lost in the sounds of pleasure and lust. She took a deep breath, and glanced at her watch. Almost midnight. In twenty minutes, it would be Valentine’s Day.

She strode into the dimly lit ballroom, voice carrying as she moved to the centre of the room, stepping over Jenna, Dante and Linda, who were collapsed in a heap of limbs, lips and smiles.  “My friends, I hope you are all enjoying yourselves, and …” her scarlet lips turned up in a smile, “each other. I think it’s time the hostess had some attention.”  They all laughed.  Her pussy dampened again as she observed her husband eagerly licking Kitty Carrington’s shaved mound, his strong hand pumping his cock in rhythm. 

She beckoned Jasper, to her.  She smiled, stroking his cheek with her hand, kissing him gently on the lips.  She removed her robe, 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. 

Kathryn’s mouth hung open as her husband’s 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 skilful 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 please fuck me.”  Her voice was strained from the effort.  Jasper stepped up. “As you wish m’lady” he whispered, sliding his prick into her dripping cunt.  He moved tenderly at first, at an angle. His head rubbed her g-spot just perfectly. She gazed into his bright eyes, her mouth still working James' prick.  She clenched around him, coming hard.

Jasper quickened the pace, ramming into her, hitting the spots he knew intimately. Jenna laid next to her, her fingers finding Kathryn’s clit, rubbing it hard and fast.

James' cock popped out of Kathryn’s mouth as she cried out at the top of her lungs 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.

Thirty minutes earlier, in the study....

The party had been underway for a few hours. She had spent the last two enjoying Jasper's private ministrations. She was sure that no one had missed her. Cleaned up, and once again in her robe, she stood at the window.

“Kathryn, are you sure?” Jaspers voice was filled with tears as he wrapped his arms around her, the two of them gazing at the city skyline.

“Yes Jasper. I’m exercising my right to choose. And I’m leaving on my terms.” Her hand held a crumpled doctor’s report, and she tossed it into the fireplace, where it joined a set of x-rays. She turned to him. “Three months I’ve been planning this. You promised. Please don’t abandon me now.”

She placed her cheek next to his. “Let me hear it. Just once before it’s over.”

He gazed into her eyes, and kissed her tenderly, with all the passion he could. “I love you Kathryn. I always will. I made you a promise. And I will not abandon you.” With that, he turned to mix her a drink. Handing her the snifter, he kissed her again.

“I’d like to be alone for a minute please Jasper.” Her voice broke, and he longed to hold her, to tell her this wasn’t the way. But her mind was made up.

“As you wish.” And with that, he turned and left her.

She gazed again at the beautiful skyline before her, caressing the snifter.  She drained it viciously, resisting the urge to smash it in the fireplace.  She had to remember, that this was what she wanted. In the safe were all the documents they’d need. They’d know why.

Yes, her friends would go through hell, at first. Roger would be devastated that she didn’t share this with him.

But they would forgive her, eventually. 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. 

©2011

Round Nine is in the books!

I can't believe it. No, I really can't. I'm being serious. 

Well, I have NO idea how it happened (because I didn't even vote for myself), but I managed to actually win Round Nine of Alison Tylers Smutathon. I had some serious competition in this, from the lovely scribes May Deva, Joss Lockwood, Emma Hillman, and Dorla Moorehouse.The two winners (one chosen by the readers, and one chosen by special guest judge Lucy Felthouse of Erotica For All) are to be posted on the Erotica For All website shortly. Can you believe it? I'm squeee-ing on the inside.

The assignment was to find a picture that inspires you - and write 3,ooo words on it. Yep, you read that right - 3,000. My picture was taken by a very good friend of mine during the recent lunar eclipse. So, I give you to you...

Lovers Eclipse

Ali slammed her front door, shaking off her anger with her jacket. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, whipping the leather across the room. Of all fucking nights for her car to be a stubborn piece of machinery, tonight was not the night she would have chosen.

She glanced at her watch. Less than one hour until the lunar eclipse, and she couldn’t get to her destination.

Stomping up the stairs, she allowed herself to be a twelve-year old brat for just one minute. Two weeks planning this and it would all be for naught because her goddamned alternator belt snapped. She poured out a shot of Jack, tossed it back and poured another. 

Flopping on the sofa, she picked up the phone and dialed Brent. She didn’t look forward to telling him that their romantic night was going to be non-existent. He was going to be pissed. He’d warned her that the belt was going, but she figured she could hold off until the New Year. Yep, that was her - the procrastination queen.

He answered on the first ring. “Why aren’t you on your way here?” Her heart raced at the sound of his voice. They were new - THIS was new. She’d never had her heart race like this before, not from the sound of someone’s voice.

“I’m sorry. You were right. I should have listened. The car...” her voice broke and trailed off, and she shot back the rest of her drink. A sob hitched in her throat. She heard him sigh.

“Ali, relax. The belt went, didn’t it?” She nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her. She bit her lip, fighting back the tears. Tonight was supposed to be their night - their first time. By now she should be racing along the highway to his place, where he would have gotten the living room ready.

She could see the preparations in her mind - the fire burning red hot, the polar fleece blanket she gave him spread in the middle of the rug, with fluffy pillows spread out all over. The moon would be shining through his picture window, full, romantic. SIGH. He would have opened the wine, two glasses poured and waiting on the coffee table. She had the strawberries and chocolate in her car, all ready to go.

The plan was to have their first night together, under the lunar eclipse. He had these giant picture windows and an uninterrupted view of the night sky. She was dying to fuck him. They’d teased each other for weeks, not wanting to rush things, but unable to keep their hands off each other. And now, because she was such an idiot, it wasn’t going to happen. She felt like she could just crawl into a hole and die at that very minute.

“Ali? It’s ok. It’s not your fault. I mean, well, it IS since you wouldn’t listen to me and I was RIGHT...” his voice trailed off, realizing that he couldn’t tease her right now. 

“It’s just...I want to be with you so badly, and it would have been so romantic...” her voice trailed off again.

Sitting in his living room, Brent’s mind raced. He was waiting for this night for a long time too. But he didn’t drive and the cab wouldn’t get there in time. Was there still a way to pull this off?

“Ali.” his voice was soothing, slow, trying to keep her calm. “Breathe honey.” He could hear her fighting back the tears. “I’ve got this. Listen to me, and do what I say.” He outlined his instructions to her, making sure that she understood what he wanted. Making sure that she was calm. “When you’re done, and everything is ready, call me back.”

She took a deep breath. “Ok. I’ll call you soon.” She hung up the phone, her eyes sparkling again. She wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but she couldn’t wait to find out.

When she called him back thirty minutes later, her living room looked like the oasis she had pictured in her mind. A fluffy blanket was in front of the sliding glass doors that led out to her back deck, with pillows, and a bottle of wine with a full glass poured. The strawberries were on a platter next to her, and in the background, Bruce Springsteen was crooning about everybody having a hungry heart. She nodded in agreement with him. Only it wasn’t just her heart that was hungry for Brent - it was her body too. Too bad it wouldn’t be satisfied tonight.

She lay down in the center of the rug, gazing up at the night sky. The moon was full and bright white, casting a spotlight on her naked form. But it wouldn’t be for long. She picked up her cordless phone, punched the hands free button, and dialed his number, her heart racing in anticipation.

“Ali.” 

“Hi. I’m ready.” She breathed. 

“Have some wine. I am.” She reached for her glass, sipping at the cold sweet liquid. He heard her gasp. “Should have sat up before drinking sweetie.” He could see the droplets running between her breasts as she laughed. “How did you know?”

“Because I know you. Now, see that moon? We’re the only ones in the world; it’s just for us. Lay back, close your eyes, and imagine I’m beside you. Really feel the heat from my body as I lie down.” She sighed. “Ok…”

His voice lowered.  “I can’t wait to touch you. Your skin looks so soft, so silky. My hand is caressing your cheek, my fingers tracing your full, plump lips.” Her eyes closed, her hands moved at his suggestion. “Can you feel me?”

“Mm hmm.” Her hand slid down the side of her face, fingertips feeling their way across her cheekbone to the edge of her mouth. His voice continued to lull her. “Those beautiful lips. One kiss will take my breath away. Kiss me Ali. Make me breathless.” Her lips parted as her tongue peeked out, moving from memory. Her neck arched up, as if he were laying there, waiting.

“I move down your neck, tracing my initials behind your ear, trailing across your nape. I can feel you shiver.” Her fingers followed his directions, pressing gently at the spot where her jaw met her earlobe, the spot guaranteed to make her moan.

Brent smiled at the sound. He lay there, sipping his glass of wine, gazing into the fire. With the moon out, there was no need for more light, and the balcony door was opened just a crack to allow the heat from the fireplace to escape. He pictured her lithe body, naked in the openness of her living room. If her neighbours had their binoculars out, they would be getting quite the show. Her breast, full and round, would be rosy with her excitement. Her nipples would be hard, straining and begging for attention. 

His cock throbbed in his boxers, and he forced himself not to touch it. Soon enough – tonight they would come together. He took another sip of wine, and whispered into the phone. “Your breasts are gorgeous. Look at those nipples. I can’t resist a taste. But, well...” he paused, “maybe I should play with them first.”

Ali’s palms smoothed their way down her neck to her breasts, her fingers instantly moving to her buds like a magnet. As she pinched them, rolling them between shaking fingers, she recalled the last time he’d done that. Lying on his bed, with his hazel eyes gazing into hers, his soft lips curled into his trademark smirk that she found so endearing. His fingers pulled at them, his palms flattened them, only to twist them back into stiff peaks before his mouth closed over them, sucking and nibbling on them until she was practically crying for release.

She whimpered again as her hands mimicked his from memory. He grinned on the other end of the phone. “Sweetheart, have some more wine. But don’t sit up to drink it.” With her eyes still closed, she obediently reached for the glass, squealing once again as the cold liquid dripped down her torso. “Hmmm, sloppy girl. I’ll bet the wine caused goose bumps. Am I right?” 

Ali nodded. “Yes.” She softly replied, her voice dreamy as her one hand continued to play with her nipple. “Well, we shouldn’t waste the wine. Let me lick it up. Where did it drip to?”

“Down my stomach, it’s pooling in my belly button, and dripping down to my ...” her voice paused, shy for some reason. He smiled tenderly at the phone. He would go easy on her – for now. “I’m thirsty. I’m just going to lick this wine up. Interesting path it’s taken. Use your hands; tell me where I need to go next. I’m at your belly button...”

Her hands shook as they moved through the rivulet of wine down her body. “Move further down. My...my pussy is so wet, and not just from the wine.”

“Good girl.” He murmured. “Are you hot?”

“Mmm-hmm. And so wet.” Brent’s cock shot to full hardness and length again. Fuck this – it was time he got in on the game. “Baby, I’m so hard for you. Can you feel it? Pressed against your thigh?” He removed his boxers, his cock cooling in the night air. He lay back down on the blanket, reclining against the pillows, the moon in his view as he gently ran his hand around the head. A drop of pre-cum stuck to his palm, leaving a trailing string as he pulled away.

“Stroking it against your thigh baby, just the way you like it.” His hand stroked it lightly, rubbing across the top with one finger. He shuddered, his other hand moving to play with his balls. He groaned, closing his fist around the base, and stroking up, using the pre-cum as a lubricant. 

“Ali...can you feel my fingers on your clit?” His voice was a little strangled, as he struggled to keep his breathing even. “Can you feel me flicking it?” Her breath came through the phone in a gasp. Brent smiled, picturing her fingers pinching and rolling that sensitive little bud, wishing that he was doing it for her. Instead he squeezed his balls, rolling his sack between his fingers, tugging on it.

Ali’s fingers were guided by Brent’s voice. She knew what he wanted her to do. Her hand slipped between her thighs, her middle finger running up her wet slit. As it skimmed over her clit, she paused, applying pressure on the tip. Her knees quivered. She opened her eyes, glancing at the night sky. The eclipse was starting. A shadow was moving just barely across the moon.

“Brent. The moon...” 

“I see it baby. See, I told you we’d be together.” His voice was warm. “Now, slip one finger into your cunt.” He heard her gasp at the vulgarity – he knew it turned her on though. “How hot are you?”

Ali’s finger penetrated her hole. A moan escaped her lips as her muscles clenched around the invasion. “So. Hot.” She managed to get the words out.

Brent fisted his cock faster, his hand sliding effortlessly up and down the shaft. His gaze went out to the moon, and the shadow sliding across. His voice was low. “Suck on your finger. Tell me how you taste.”

Ali didn’t hesitate. She plunged her fingers into her mouth, sucking off her juices. “I’m sweet, and a little salty.” He moaned, not having had the pleasure of tasting her himself just yet. “I can’t wait to find out. Since I can’t tonight, let’s make it a little more enjoyable for you. Take the biggest strawberry you can find. Get one that’s longer than the rest.”

Her eyes widened at his suggestion. Surely he didn’t want her to...? Her pulse raced, and she felt dizzy. She’d never done this before. As she selected the longest one, she sent a quick prayer of thanks to the organic gardeners that grew the berries she bought at the market. “Got it.”

His voice seductive, he gave her more instructions. “Take a bite. Is it sweet?” He knew she loved strawberries. “Yes.” His hand stilled on his cock, which felt ready to explode at any minute. He knew that if he kept stroking, he wouldn’t last too much longer, and tonight wasn’t a race.

“Now rub it up and down your lips honey. And I’m not talking about that gorgeous mouth.” Ali’s hand moved slowly, relishing in the exotic feeling of the fruit on her clit. “Are you done?”

“Uh huh.” 

“Move the phone to between your thighs. Then, I want you to mix the juices together. I want to hear every sound.” He could hear the bump as she set it down hard. Then...there is was. The squelching, the moaning, the unmistakeable sounds of a wet, invaded pussy. He groaned, his hand moving back to his hard cock, which was sore from holding back.

“Now, finger yourself again. And then, tell me how you taste.” He glanced out at the moon, surprised to see it blocked by half now. He lay on his stomach, rubbing his hard on against the softness of the blanket beneath him. It felt so good, and would help delay coming for a while. Of course, imagining that he was fucking her wasn’t helping. Imagining being enveloped in that sweet body was only making him crazy.

“Mmm oh Brent.” She cooed his name. “I taste so good – so sweet, so ... delicious.” He groaned again. She was playing now. She was done being the playee and wanted to jump into the game. He could hear her take a slurp from her glass. “And it mixes so well with the wine.” His movements got more frantic.

“Brent?” She practically whispered into the phone. “I’m dying to come. Are you?”

He glanced out at the sky and the almost eclipsed moon. “Oh yeah baby. And we’re going to come together. Watch the moon, and listen to me.”

Ali scooted further towards the door. Her legs were spread wide, her breasts heaving. “Imagine me inside you. My hard cock thrusting against you, feeling your silky pussy around me.” He gasped. “Can you imagine how good that will feel?”

Ali panted, her fingers fucking her hole, her juices flowing down over her wrist. Her other hand rubbed frantically at her clit. “Mmmm yes. Oh god Brent, I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

He leaned back against the pillows again, his prick in his fist, stroking hard, stroking fast. “I wish I was inside you right now. I want to feel you come. I want to feel how tight, how wet you are.” The moon was turning red.

“Bren...t. I’m going to...I need to...” Ali’s breath was coming in short gasps, and he could hear her on the edge of what he hoped was a gushing, cosmic orgasm. His hands flew and he gave her what she needed to hear.

As the last sliver of the pale moon disappeared behind the shadow, and the moon turned red, he felt his own load coming up. “Come for me Ali. Come with me Ali.”

As if triggered by his voice, her cunt spasmed around her fingers and she cried out his name. It was like a trigger for his own release. White hot jets of relief spurted over his stomach, and he collapsed on the floor, exhausted.

Ali was still panting. He pulled the phone over to his ear, clicking off the speaker phone. “Ali?”

“Brent?” She sounded exhausted. 

“Are you ok beautiful?”

 

“Yes.” And he could hear the smile in her voice. “But next week that damn belt is getting fixed.”


©2011

Under Pressure....

Round eight of Project Smutway is over and I survived once again! Thanks to all who went and voted for this piece.  Pressure is right!  Congrats to the lovely and talented Emma Hillman, who's amazingly hot and sexy In The Middle took first prize this round.  If you didn't get a chance to read all the entries, pop over to Alison's blog and check them out.

Decisions

No pressure. Right.

They’d been doing this dance for months.

I want you.

I want you.

Tell me you want me too.

Her eyes laughed at him, her mouth teased him.

She was waiting. Her v-neck sweater strained to keep her braless breasts inside, thin cotton skirt swirling above her knees. Head cocked to one side to reveal her neck, which she’d told him was her weak spot.

Her scent permeated the air around them; musky, fruity.

Sex.

He had to make the move. He knew she wanted it.

But no pressure

His cock strained against his pants, demanding to fuck her. And he wanted to give in.

He wanted her sharp tongue bathing his shaft, wanted to look down at her on her knees while she sucked his prick into her naughty mouth.

His gaze travelled down, where her wet pussy waited for him to claim her.

Take her now, or never have the chance again. She was tired of waiting.

Her hands wandered to pluck at her nipples. Her eyes drifted closed as she licked her glossed plump lips. One hand wandered further down. She moaned, palming herself through her clothing.

He unzipped his jeans, freeing his aching erection. Stroking it with one hand, he pulled her skirt up, and spread her lips with his fingers, relishing in her heat.

Pulling her close, he thrust his tongue and his cock into her at the same time. She cried out his name as he made her his.

Decision made.

©2010

The Sisterhood

It was a close one.  This pervy piece got me through round seven of Project Smutway. The idea was to be inspired by sex toys from her sponsor Blowfish.  She gave us 900 words to weave our tales.  I was highly inspired by the glass dildos I saw on the site.  Tell me if this story inspires you.

ENJOY!

The Sisterhood

“Now Shannon, to begin your initiation ceremony, you must kneel before the altar, and speak the words of those who have passed through before you.  Allow the light to enter you freely and without prejudice so that you may go forth and spread his word in the ways of our sisters.  Remember not that which you are leaving behind, but look ahead to those lessons and experiences that await you on your journey.”

Shannon nodded, kneeling, hands tented.  Her eyes closed, and she felt a cool breeze caress her under the thin gossamer cloak, the only clothing allowed in the sanctuary.  Her nipples peaked in response, and a wave of heat shot through her groin. She licked her lips, and spoke, her voice trembling with the realization of the commitment she was about to make.

“Of my own choice, in sound mind, I open my body and my soul to you.  From this day forth, I am the mistress of my own pleasure.  From this day forth, no flesh shall touch my body but my own.”  Her hands drifted down her torso, over her chilling breasts and resting on her taut abs.  She raised her head, gazing at the portrait behind Matron Mary.  It was of Voluptas – the Roman goddess of Sensual pleasure, naked on a bed, one hand between her thighs, the other clutching a long, slightly curved stone phallis.

“As Voluptas before me, I shall not deny myself the pleasure that my body can give me, as it is truly God’s most magnificent gift to us.  I shall seek to bestow that knowledge upon myself daily.  When I am ready, I shall go into the world, and spread the word of these pleasures to my fellow women, and show them that self love is truly the most satisfying”

She stood, arms spread.  “Paradise was lost once, and it is within us to find it again.  We, indeed, are all we need.  We are our own Paradise.”

With that, Shannon was helped up onto the altar with the utmost care.  As she lay back, standing above her was Sister Caroline.  In her hands, she cupped a glass dildo, made in the very image of the one Voluptas held in her hands in the portrait.  The legend spoke that it was molded from the original.  Each girl was presented with one at her initiation. 

She shivered as Sister Lisette slathered it with lube, like it was a real cock.  Carefully and with reverence, she placed it in Shannon’s hands.  She glanced over at the rest of the sisterhood, all watching her with eager eyes.

As she slid the dildo down her body, she rested it briefly on her clit, which was plump with anticipation.  She moved it around slowly, allowing the sensations to build up.  She stroked it up and down, pushed it left and right.  It had been so long since she’d masturbated, in preparation for tonight, that she had to fight herself not to plunge the smooth shaft into her eager pussy.

Instead she circled it around her entrance, her muscles contracting.  She dragged it through the wetness of her slit, pushing the head just inside her.  She let it sit there, relishing in the weight of it, the smooth texture, the sheer thickness.  Her other hand moved up to her breasts, caressing them through her habit.  She pinched at her nipples, whimpering as they tingled.  Her eyes closed, she pushed the dildo in further, stretching her walls and filling her to the core.  She moved it faster, in and out, tuning out the squelching sounds it made as she fucked herself with it. 

Her back arched with every thrust, her breath coming out in gasps as she twisted it, thrusting it forward to hit her G-spot.  Her free hand abandoned her nipples and moved to caress her clit.  She moaned loudly as she felt her insides clench.  She rolled her clit, scratching at the tip with her fingernail, bringing her to the very edge.

She needed to come.  It was the final ritual of the ceremony.  The ladies below all waited, fingers tracing patterns around their own cunts.  Their arousal was evident, as musk permeated the air.  Once she came, they would all celebrate by fucking themselves, celebrating their own bodies, and her acceptance into their family.  They watched carefully, some stroking their own toys as if they could milk them like a real cock.  Some circled them with their tongues, deep-throating them like they had in past lives.  All were eager to come.

Shannon didn’t disappoint them, working her clit and the dildo in the same frantic rhythm.  She shuddered and came with a giant scream, her body stiffening right down to her toes.

It was all the encouragement the girls needed.  As her orgasm slowly subsided, Shannon turned her head to gaze at the bevy of beauties in the throes of their own personal fuck session. 

She sat up on the altar, a little disoriented.  Matron Mary helped her down, and then kissed her lightly on the mouth.

”Welcome to the sisterhood child.”

“Thank you Matron.  I think I’m going to like it here.”

©2010