A Few of My Favorite Things

Ray Bradbury once said you should make a list of all the things you love, all the things you hate, and all the things you fear. Those three lists will provide topics and story ideas for the rest of your life.

Now being an erotica writer, I tend to gravitate to the things I love. Every time I make my list, I end up adding a few things. Just for fun I am going to make a new list. I find that I do better if set a timer for ten minutes and just crank them out. If you are a writer, I suggest you crank out your own. Later when you think you have nothing to write about, refer to the list and see what you haven’t written about in awhile.

Things I love

Smart Women
Pirates {no snickering}
Bondage
Game Shows
Glasses
Purple lingerie
Spanking
Begging
Athletes
Pulp Stories
Magic
Secret Lives
Service Industries
Gambling
Boots
Corsets
Hair-Pulling
Superheroes
Robots
African-American Women
Boats
Statues
Books
Comedy
Photographs
Detectives

I’m sure I can write a few things from that list.

Climax

Flat on her back, my slut looked up at me. Her face was flushed from fucking all day. My collar was snug around her neck. Red handprints decorated her tits where I had squeezed and pulled them. Her cunt was glistening from where my cock had just been moments before. She stroked herself, masturbating to replace the void I had left. I hadn't told her to do that but that was okay. I'll punish her later.

I straddled her shoulders. My knees were on either side of her. I stroked my cock above her face. She looked at my cock and moaned a long needy purr.

We had talked about this so many times. In e-mails, dirty phone sex and so many instant messages, we had talked about this very moment. Now we were finally going to do it.

I kept stroking. Gods, I was so aroused, but I had already climaxed twice today. Once in her mouth because I just couldn't wait. Once inside her sex, because I just wanted to ride her. And now, after a long dinner and an even longer spanking, I was ready again.

"Please," she said. A jolt went through me.

"Come right on my face," she said.

"Use me," she growled.

I kept stroking. I was in a state of euphoria mixed with disbelief. My slut was begging me to spill myself on her face. She was begging me to commit an act so many people find offensive. She wanted me to do something that I had only seen in porn up till this point. I didn't think people really did this unless it was for a camera and a studio. This beautiful woman was begging me to ejaculate right on her while she watched. Unbelievable.

It was the eyes that did it. Her eyelids closed halfway as her own orgasm approached but those pretty blue eyes kept on me. They were filled with so much love at that moment. Looking into her eyes, I felt like the sexiest, greatest and most magnificent lover ever. She worshipped me with those eyes while her mouth adored me with prayers.

"Let me taste you again," she prayed. "Mark me, make me smell like you, just give it to me. Please. Pretty pretty please. I am yours to come on."

I climaxed. I growled as I splattered onto her face. I remember every spurt and where it landed but what I remembered most was her smile.

She was smiling with gratitude.

Half Nekked Thursday Again

Man, has it been a long unproductive week. Right after my birthday, I had a friend come from out of town to stay with us for the afternoon. Her car broke down and long story short, we had a house guest from Monday to last night. That doesn't seem a long time, but it's hard to do any real blogging, erotica writing or pictures of oneself. It also doesn't help that my job is a mess right now as our clients can't figure out what they want us to do, but they want us to keep doing something. I feel like I have been working non-stop all week and have nothing to show for it.

So here's a picture that I took last week and liked. Go ahead, take a peek.

Fiction -Cell Phone Slave Part 2

Amaya woke from a strange dream and turned off her alarm. Helen hadn’t budged from her bed. Amaya took a moment to wake up and realized that this was the first morning in weeks that she didn’t have to have crackers for breakfast. That was when she remembered everything that had happened yesterday.

When she rolled out of bed, she felt her thong tug on her pubic hair. For a brief second she wondered if her memories of yesterday had been a dream but the thong dispelled that idea. While waiting for her financial aid, Amaya had dreamed of receiving her money almost every night. The disappointment that accompanied waking up had become a habit. Now, as Amaya dug into the take-out box of refried rice that was left over from last night, she realized that she didn’t have to wake up disappointed ever again.

On the other hand, there was the disappointment of last night. Amaya had gone to the restaurant that Wesley had recommended but she didn’t see him. Well, she couldn’t even be sure of that. She saw one handsome guy sitting alone at a table but he never looked at her. Amaya kept waiting for Wesley to appear and come to her table but after a half-hour, she had to admit she wasn’t coming. At least the food was good.

She selected a purple bra to wear today along with a black Sailor Moon t-shirt. Amaya picked the shirt in case Wesley had her getting sweaty again. The thong tugged against her sex and she was surprised to find herself already wet. She briefly wondered if Wesley would make her get sweaty on a more intimate level.

Amaya’s eyes widened as she realized where her thoughts were headed. It was foolish of her. All she knew of Wesley was that he was willing to give starving co-eds money in exchange for their underwear. She remembered how he knew she used to be in the tennis squad, which meant he had done some research on her. All of Amaya’s common sense told her that Wesley was a stalker at the very least if not something meaner and potentially nastier.

“But he had such a nice voice,” Amaya whispered in the early morning. He did have a nice voice. Deep, kind and just a little Southern, Amaya had warmed up to him instantly despite his strange commands. He was encouraging and he didn’t gloat at having her do things. Amaya felt like he was pulling for her, even though he was the one setting the game.

“God, I must be lonely,” Amaya said. She reminded herself that this was just a game and that she was going to quit as soon as it got weird or dangerous. Three hundred dollars was enough to carry her till her check came in. There was no need to get any more involved than she was with this stranger.

Amaya headed to the showers and tried to put Wesley in the back of her mind. All the money he could offer wasn’t as important as getting her mind back onto her classes. She reasoned that he might not even call today, he certainly didn’t specify.

Amaya took the cell phone to the shower anyway, just in case.

The classes dragged that day. Amaya was usually an excellent student but she found her attention wondering. Professors talked but Amaya didn’t hear what they were saying. Each professor was a possible suspect for the mysterious Wesley. Was it Professor Gering who always called on her first? Could it be Professor Rendell who had the same accent as Wesley? Amaya watched each one carefully but couldn’t find any clue that they might be her benefactor.

The thong was another sweet distraction. Amaya didn’t know how women wore them everyday. For her, the thong’s constant tugging of between her buttocks and the tight pull against her pubic hair was like foreplay. By her second class, Amaya was squirming in her chair and fighting the urge to slip a finger between her thighs.

All day long she kept the cell phone on her hip but it never rang. Amaya was tempted to call Wesley herself but she didn’t know if it was allowed. She was too afraid of jinxing the game to try.

Amaya hated how badly she wanted him to call. She knew that it was her fault. Most of her friends had gone to State but her scholarship was from here. Amaya had entered this college without friends and despite what popular television would have you believe, making friends in college was not easy. Most students assumed she was a foreign exchange student and treated her more like a curiosity than a person.

She had lunch at McDonald’s just because she could afford it. French fries never tasted so good. As a child, Amaya had horrified her mother with her preference for chicken nuggets. Now with a purse full of money that she had earned, Amaya ordered a twenty pack just so she would have more than she could possibly eat.

When her classes were over, Amaya headed back to her dorm. She had high hopes for what might be in her mailbox. It could be another package. It could be a mailed request to start her on another game. Amaya checked her mailbox and sighed when she didn’t see anything from Wesley.

It was halfway up the stairs that she realized that there wasn’t a financial aid check either.

Helen was folding clothes in their room when Amaya arrived. They didn’t say anything to each other. Helen was a blonde that was half Amaya’s weight. They had tried talking the first week of college but it was doomed to failure. Helen was an ex-cheerleader with a hobby of underage drinking while Amaya was still a book-reader who abstained from alcohol. Those differences were enough to keep them strangers. Helen also had arrived at college with a steady check from her parents while Amaya scrapped by. Helen never offered to lend Amaya money and Amaya suspected that Helen felt guilty about it. Not guilty enough to actually offer anything, but guilty enough to avoid Amaya in case the Asian ever made an issue of it.

Amaya ignored Helen and tried to read a book she borrowed from the library. Helen looked at her reading and rolled her eyes before returning to her clothes. Amaya smirked. She wanted to tell Helen about the adventure she had yesterday just to show the arrogant blonde that Amaya lived an interesting life. Amaya was tempted to show Helen her new underwear, just to dispel Helen’s preconceptions and see the look in her face.

In the end Amaya didn’t do anything but read.

The phone rang and Amaya groaned when she realized it was the dorm phone, not her cell phone. She didn’t bother to answer it. It was for Helen, it always was.

Helen talked with one of her girlfriends long enough to arrange another gathering. It was only Tuesday but there was already a party for the night. Amaya wasn’t sure if she felt scorn or jealousy. There really was a hedonistic college lifestyle but Amaya hadn’t made up her mind on whether she wanted to be a part of it. It seemed so pointless and yet ten times better than sitting in this room all night again. What Amaya really wanted was the chance to choose.

The next best thing to going somewhere happened when Helen left for her party. At least now the quiet hostility was gone. Amaya, still flush with her sudden wealth, debated ordering a pizza.

The phone rang.

Not the dorm phone, her phone.

She couldn’t speak at first but Wesley could.

“Hello Amaya, enjoying the evening?”

“Yes,” Amaya answered. She wanted to say that she was now, but she couldn’t be that forward.

“Where are you now?” Wesley asked.

“In my room,” Amaya said. “My roommate just left for the night.”

Amaya blushed. Why had she added that? She reminded herself that she didn’t know this guy and her hands clenched as she promised to behave.

“I’m glad she did,” Wesley said. “Yesterday was a game of fitness but today I will be more intellectual. I’m going to ask you some questions. If you can’t answer them, then the game is over. Answer all of them and you’ll get your three hundred dollars.”

“Questions? Like a trivia quiz?” Amaya said. She got very nervous. What if she just wasn’t smart enough? Being out of shape was embarrassing but she hated to think she could lose the money just from not being smart enough.

Wesley laughed. “Yes, it is a quiz of sorts, but not trivia. You know the answer to every question I’ll ask. You also have the option of passing on a question, but there will be a penalty. Refuse the penalty and the game is over. Understand?”

“I think so.”

“Good, then the first question is this, what is your favorite color?”

Amaya relaxed. She could do this. “Purple,” she said. She stopped herself in time from answering “like the bra I’m wearing now.”

“What was the best thing you ate last night?”

“The sesame chicken,” Amaya said. “God, I ate too much of that.”

“I’m sure you needed it,” Wesley said. “Next question, how do you like your roommate?”

It was Amaya’s turn to laugh. “I don’t. All she does is drink and hang out with her friends. She is like one of those bimbos that you see on TV but don’t actually believe exists. Well, she does.”

“There are a lot of them here,” Wesley said. “Next question, who was your first sexual partner?”

Amaya swallowed hard. That was unexpected and out of the blue. She didn’t know what to say at first.

“Are you declining to answer?” Wesley asked.

“I think so,” Amaya said. She knew she was being foolish. Who cares if Wesley knows it was John? Amaya was just too shocked to be open right now. Plus, she was a little curious to see what the penalty might be.

“Then I’m going to have to ask you to go to your window. Do you have the shade pulled?”

“No, it’s open,” Amaya said. She looked out the window, curious if Wesley was watching. The dorm was shaped like an ‘H’ and Amaya’s window faced another section of the building. There were several guys sitting in their rooms, but none of them were on phones or looking at her.

“Good, just stand at your window then for now. Next question, what kind of music do you listen to?”

“Don’t tell any one, but I have the biggest crush on Sheryl Crow,” Amaya said. “My mom keeps pestering me to try out her classical favorites but I just love anything Sheryl does.”

“A woman needs her own favorites,” Wesley agreed. “Does your mother have a lot of opinions on what you like?”

“She used to,” Amaya said. “It's weird. Once I graduated High School, she sort of lost interest. She didn’t even help me pack for college. I think she considers me a grown-up now.”

“Do you miss her?” Wesley asked.

“Yeah,” Amaya said. Now his earlier question about sexual partners didn’t seem so bad compared to now. Mercifully, Wesley changed the subject.

“What is your shoe size?”

Amaya told him. She also told him her dress size, her bra size and her favorite nail polish color (peach) without hesitation. It was far better than talking about her mom.

“Have you ever performed oral sex on a man?” Wesley asked.

The bluntness of the question surprised her but she recovered. “Yes,” she said.

“Swallow or spit?”

Amaya blushed. “Spit at first, but I hated seeing the look on his face. He always got so disappointed. I tried swallowing, and it wasn’t too bad.”

“I bet he appreciated that,” Wesley said.

Amaya blushed deeper. “He would have married me that night if he could.”

Wesley chuckled. “Are you seeing anyone now?”

“No,” Amaya said. Her heart was racing. “I guess technically I’m still seeing my boyfriend, John, but he is in Georgia and I haven’t heard from him.”

“Hard to be a couple with that kind of distance,” Wesley said. “If he called tonight, would you forgive him?”

Amaya felt a lump in her throat. She would. She knew she would but she didn’t want to admit it, not to Wesley or herself. Amaya said nothing.

“I am assuming that you are declining, right?”

“I rather not say,” Amaya said. She didn’t want to lie. For some reason, that was very important.

“Then I will have to ask you to take off your shirt,” Wesley ordered.

“In front of the window?” Amaya said.

“Of course,” Wesley said. “You are wearing a bra, right?”

“Yes, but,” Amaya said before stopping. It was his game and his rules. She didn’t want it to end so soon. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her shirt over her head. The shirt snagged on her glasses and she felt foolish for forgetting to them off first. By the time she tossed her shirt to her bed, she was blushing from her mistake before she realized her she was in her purple bra standing at her window where any one can see.

“I did it,” Amaya said.

“Very good,” Wesley said. “Next question, what is your favorite movie?”

“Pride and Prejudice,” Amaya said. “The A&E mini-series.”

“Who is your favorite living author?”

“Kim Newman,” Amaya said. “Oh shit!”

“What’s the matter?” Wesley said. There was concern in his voice and Amaya smiled briefly before explaining.

“There’s a room across from me with two guys and they are staring right at me! Oh god, I am so embarrassed!”

“Don’t be,” Wesley said. “You are a lovely lady and they are getting a visual treat.”

“What if they report me?” Amaya asked.

Wesley laughed. “You don’t know boys very well. Trust me, getting you in any sort of trouble that stops your behavior is the last thing they would do. What are they doing?”

“Just staring. Wait, one of them waved.”

“Don’t wave back,” Wesley said. “Just keep talking on the phone like you haven’t seen them. If you wave, then you start an exchange. Are you nervous?”

“Is that a question?” she joked. “Yeah, I am.”

“Is it turning you on?”

Amaya almost didn’t answer but she realized what his next requirement would be. “Yes,” she confessed.

“How many boyfriends have you had?”

“Just one,” Amaya said.

“That’s unbelievable,” Wesley said. “You are very attractive and intelligent. Are you holding off on dating for some reason?”

“Not by choice,” Amaya said. The two guys were still staring at her. She crossed her arm over her bra but she couldn’t hide her massive breasts without looking like she was covering herself. Amaya just couldn’t believe they were staring at her. She wasn’t thin like Helen or posing. She was just shirtless but yet they seem to be fascinated by her.

“Do you do any kind of art or writing?” Wesley asked.

“I draw,” Amaya said. “I haven’t painted since coming here though. I don’t have the supplies right now and I doubt Helen could let me draw without saying something.”

“Have you ever drawn nudes?” Wesley asked.

Amaya blushed. “Yes.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“My boyfriend, John,” she said. “I asked him to pose for me once. He couldn’t sit still.”

“Was he erect when you drew him?”

Amaya blushed deeper. “Yes. Very.”

“Did you enjoy playing yesterday?” Wesley asked.

“Yes, I really need that money,” Amaya said.

Wesley laughed. “I knew that. I was asking if you enjoyed the game. Running from place to place, stripping part way through, and knowing how exposed you were, did you enjoy that?”

“I’m not sure,” Amaya said. She looked across and saw that there were three guys now in the same room. Did they go get a buddy?

“Why aren’t you sure?” Wesley asked.

“It was humiliating to run braless like that but . . .”

“But you liked having guys look at you, right?”

Amaya knew better than to deny it. “Yes. It was flattering.”

“Did it turn you on?”

“Yes,” Amaya confessed.

“Did you masturbate last night?” Wesley said.

Amaya forgot about the staring boys and closed her eyes. She had masturbated. Several times and each time had been bliss. All she had to do was say it but she couldn’t bring herself to admit how much yesterday had aroused her.

“Pass,” Amaya said, not caring about the consequences.

“Then I must ask you to take off your bra,” Wesley said.

“I know,” Amaya said.

She summoned the courage. The boys were looking at her and Amaya knew this would drive them wild. Her heart beat faster and her thighs were tingling. Amaya knew deep down that she wanted to do this and that humiliated her even more. Without thinking about it any more, she reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She dropped it on the desk beside her and lowered her eyes so she shouldn’t have to see the boys.

Amaya couldn’t ignore how hard and dark her nipples were.

“Have you ever had anal sex?” Wesley asked.

“No, but John wanted to,” Amaya said. It was funny how she had no problem telling him these things now. “He said it would be a better form of birth control. I told him to find someone else’s ass to fuck.”

Wesley laughed. “Anal can be humiliating if not done right. Tell me, what are the boys doing now?”

Amaya peeked. “Oh God, there’s at least six of them now! I’m going to have the whole floor staring at me!”

“Is the three hundred worth it to you?” Wesley asked.

“No, yes, I’m not sure,” Amaya said. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to explain. Amaya didn’t know if she could.

He didn’t.

“Do you want to cover up?”

“Yes!” Amaya said.

“Do you want to quit the game now?” Wesley said.

“No!” she said with just as much conviction.

“Very good,” Wesley said. “Have you gone grocery shopping yet?”

“No. Helen has a very small fridge that she also fills most of it with beer. I was thinking about renting a fridge like hers before buying any groceries.”

“Good plan,” Wesley said. “Doing anything tonight?”

Amaya gulped. “I’ve got nothing planned,” she said. Amaya hoped Wesley couldn’t tell how much of a bait that was. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he did offer something.

“Are you wet right now?” Wesley asked.

She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“Are you going to masturbate tonight?”

“Yes,” Amaya said. There was no doubt of that; no need to lie or deny it.

“Would you masturbate right now if I asked you to?” Wesley asked.

“Would I have to to stay in the game?” Amaya asked.

“No, I’m just asking if you would.”

Amaya stalled. “I rather not,” she said. She frowned and stomped her foot. Her breasts jiggled from her stomp and she was sure the boys across the way got an eyeful but she didn’t care. Amaya was mad at herself for turning Wesley down before he had really officially asked.

Wesley chuckled. “That’s okay. In fact, that was the last of my questions. You can pull your shade down now.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Amaya quickly pulled down the shade. She noticed however, that the boys across from her had swollen to about a dozen.

“Congratulations, Amaya,” Wesley said. “You performed quite well. I am very pleased with how open and fair you were. You have played the game with flair.”

“Thank you,” Amaya said. She almost tried to engage him in more conversation. She wasn’t quite ready for him to go just yet.

“If you will look outside your door, you’ll find your reward. Until next time, good-bye.”

He hung up. Amaya bit her lip and sighed. That didn’t quite go the way she wanted. She had hoped for some clue as to what he wanted out of her but instead, he had just tested her again. Amaya’s thighs ached with another need that she wasn’t willing to put into words.

She remembered what he said about her reward and was halfway to the door before she realized she was still topless. Amaya put her shirt back on and groaned as the thick cloth rubbed her hard nipples. Frustrated and excited, she cautiously opened her door.

Sitting in front of her door was another package. This one was bigger than the one that held her cell phone. Written in a flowing scrip was her name.

Amaya looked both ways down the hall but she saw no one. Could Wesley have left it himself? She discounted the idea. The floors that the women lived on were forbidden to men. It was possible for him to get here, but not likely.

She sat the package on her bed and opened it. A red envelope was inside and Amaya quickly opened it. There was no note, but there was three hundred dollars in twenties. Amaya’s fingers shook as she counted them. She wouldn’t need a fridge now, she could just eat out every night!

Amaya saw a white box inside the package and pulled it out. She blushed as she opened the box. Sitting in a sealed plastic bag was a pretty six-inch purple vibrator. It looked just big enough to be comfortable. Amaya tore it out of the plastic wrapping and touched it. It was made of a gel-like substance and was very flexible. The rest of the box was six sets of batteries and a simple note. The note read “Keep the vibrator with you always. Also, be outside the student theater at noon tomorrow.”

“That answers one question,” Amaya said. A vibrator was a very clear statement of intent. Amaya was relieved because it meant Wesley had sexual designs on her that went past just exhibitionism. Amaya was also nervous because she still didn’t know a thing about him. She was excited and anxious to the point that she didn’t care what happened next as long as something did.

Amaya slipped two batteries into the vibrator and turned it on. It had an adjustable dial that ranged from slight tingle to numbing. She ran it along her thigh and moaned as the sensation swept through her.

She wanted to use it. She wanted it inside her right now. She had never touched a vibrator before much less owned one and Amaya was dying to use it.

She didn’t. It was tempting but she couldn’t bring herself to. It was from Wesley and it was one thing to take his money and to wear his clothes but it was another to use his sex toys. Some last bit of resistance was inside her and it brought tears to the lonely girl’s eyes. She knew if she used his toy, then she was committing herself to him. It wasn’t something she just couldn’t do yet.

The note bothered her too. The student theater was near by but the fact that he told her what time to be there nagged at her. He obviously wanted as much of her hour as possible. Considering how much of his games had centered on exposing herself, the idea of a theater terrified her. Amaya realized she might be reaching the end of her limits and that saddened her. As much as Wesley intimidated her, she didn’t want to stop so soon.

Amaya read her book and did her homework with a dedication that came from frustration. She went down stairs to the cafeteria that was located in the basement of her dorm and had a little of everything. When she was done, she went back to her room and did some extra homework before she went to bed.

In the middle of the night, she awoke to the ringing of the phone. Amaya’s first thought was that she hoped it was Wesley. She was disappointed when she realized it was not the cell phone but the room phone. It kept ringing and Amaya got up to answer it. She was surprised to hear Helen’s voice.

“Amaya, I’m sorry to wake you,” Helen said.

Amaya became worried. Helen was never sorry for anything.

“Where are you?” Amaya asked.

“I forgot my keys and I’m in the lobby,” Helen said. “Can you come down and let me in?”

Amaya closed her eyes and let out a breath. Helen was slurring every word. It was more likely that Helen had her keys but was too drunk to find them.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down,” Amaya said.

She threw on some clothes and headed down the stairs. The dorm was eerie and quiet at three in the morning. Amaya found it hard to believe there were actually people sleeping in their rooms. The place seemed deserted and abandoned.

Amaya walked into the lobby and saw Helen standing at the door with some blonde guy. The guy looked more wasted than Helen. When she opened the locked door, she was alarmed to see the guy follow in behind Helen.

“Where is he going?” Amaya asked.

“To our room,” Helen said. “Look at him. He lives in Verner, there’s no way he’ll be able to make that walk in his condition.”

“No,” Amaya said. “We can’t let him in our room. It’s against the rules!”

The blonde guy snorted with laughter. Helen punched him.

“Look, Amaya,” Helen said slowly. “This is my boyfriend, Rick. He won’t come anywhere near you. If we get caught, I’ll say I snuck him in and you didn’t know about him. God, don’t be such a prude.”

Amaya flinched at being called a prude. She wanted to tell Helen about her striptease earlier just to see the look on her face. Amaya looked at Rick and saw that he was pretty harmless. She doubted he could walk up the stairs by himself. As much as Amaya knew she shouldn’t agree, part of her wanted to prove to Helen that she wasn’t the prude that Helen thought she was.

“Fine,” Amaya said.

It Helen ten minutes to get Rick up the stairs. Amaya went ahead and unlocked their dorm room. She didn’t want to be seen with the couple. Helen pushed Rick onto her bed and crawled in with him. Neither of them took of their shoes.

“Thanks,” Helen said.

Amaya turned out the light and went back to bed. Her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She was upset with herself for letting Helen bring her boyfriend up here but she didn’t feel like she was without guilt herself. How could she criticize Helen when just a few hours ago she had stripped and stood at the window at the request of a stranger? Amaya felt like a hypocrite but at the same time, she knew that what she did was different. Helen was a drunk making bad choices. Amaya made her choices of her own free will. She didn’t know which was worse.

Across the small room, Helen and Rick started to fuck. Amaya didn’t see or hear them start but she could see them going at it now. The dorm was equipped with huge lights that kept the outside very well lit. This was nice and safe but the rooms inside were equipped with thin shades that did nothing to keep out the lights. At night, the room was bathed in a dim orange that resembled a night-light. Even without her glasses Amaya could clearly see that Rick was on top and that the sheets were slipping down his back. She watched with fascination as Rick thrust into Helen with a mechanical rhythm that was hypnotic. The sheets were still covering where they joined but the sheets couldn’t cover the noise. The wet sound of sex filled the room.

Amaya moaned. At first she was pissed that they were having sex with her in the room but now it she was just jealous. God, she missed John. No, she missed fucking John. Amaya felt lonely, aroused and outraged at the same time.

She watched for a few more minutes before making up her mind. Silently, Amaya reached for her backpack that she had set by her bed. She worried that they might hear the zipper but they were making too much noise. Rick was grunting now and Helen was making small whimpers. Amaya pulled out the vibrator and quickly pulled it under her sheets.

It was tricky to pull down her thong without making the bed creak but she did it. Amaya paused when she heard the two whisper. They had stopped fucking and from what Amaya could hear, they were debating on whether they should continue. She wanted to scream at them to continue but instead she kept quiet.

Rick and Helen started to fuck again. Amaya smiled and pushed the vibrator down between her legs. She didn’t have the courage to turn it on; she just wanted that girth inside her. Amaya knew she was wet but she was amazed by how easily the vibrator slid inside her. She pushed the vibrator in completely and shuddered as it filled her. Laying almost perfectly still, Amaya began to fuck herself.

Amaya watched as Helen rolled on top of Rick. The blonde was topless now and the orange light illuminated Rick’s hands on her small breasts. Amaya reached for her own breasts, mauling her nipples like John used to. She continued to pump her pussy with the vibrator as she watched Helen ride her boyfriend. Amaya imagined herself riding Rick and sometimes John.

She bit down hard on her lip as her first climax hit her. Amaya wanted to moan and scream but she kept quiet. She didn’t want Helen and Rick to stop. They were getting louder as they approached their own orgasm and Amaya felt like she was in an orgy with them. Amaya wanted them to climax, fuck and climax again so she could ride their sounds.

Amaya thought of Wesley and this time she did moan. What would he think about her right now? Would he like to hear Rick and Helen or would he want to hear her? If he called right now, Amaya knew she would let him hear her masturbate. She would give him a narration if he wanted it. Amaya was so aroused; her earlier inhibitions just seemed silly. She wanted Wesley right now and not just on the phone. He needed to be inside her, fucking and riding her as they watched the other couple.

She had another climax just thinking about it. Amaya gasped and choked back a whimper just in time. Rick and Helen had paused to roll back over again. Amaya laid still as they looked over at her, but her pussy clenched her vibrator in spasms.

Rick humped Helen again and now the sheets were down to their knees. Amaya couldn’t see his cock but she did see Helen’s legs wrapped around his buttocks, pulling Rick deeper in. Rick was about to come and Amaya smiled as his groan filled the room.

They stopped fucking when Rick came. Amaya was terribly disappointed. She kept masturbating as Helen and Rick quietly cleaned themselves up. Somehow, Amaya knew that sex with Wesley wouldn’t be over so quick. She came twice more before finally putting the vibrator back in her backpack. The couple was already beginning to snore.

Amaya rolled over with a big smile on her face. Tomorrow might bring the last game with Wesley but for now, she was fucked and satisfied. The thought that she might have had better sex than Helen delighted her until she fell asleep.

To be continued,

Writer's Kryptonite

Birthday was great, thanks for asking.

One of the presents I got was Jay Mohr's hilarious cancelled television show, 'Action'. I have the complete series, all 13 wonderful episodes on DVD. I think they may have shown 4 on television before Fox cancelled it. It's about a Hollywood producer who is an evil asshole, but not nearly as evil as the town he works in. If you ever wonder why movies stink so much, this is the show for you.

My favorite character is the writer, Adam Rafkin. Adam has written the script to an awesome movie and is then forced to rewrite it every single damn episode as more and more people add their changes. He is the hardest working person there and of course he gets the most shit dumped on him.

I was watching the show with my friends and poor Adam was being buttered up so that he would switch agents. My friends could not believe the shameless open ass-kissing that the agent was giving Adam, and more so they couldn't believe that Adam was buying it. Ahh, I knew exactly why Adam was buying any lie they fed him. It was because of Writer Kryptonite.

"I loved your story"

BLAM! Any writer can not resist that line. Once someone, and Goddess forbid if it's a sexually attractive person, says that line, then the Writer will do anything to hear it again. Writer's Kryptonite is potent stuff. One use and the Writer will forgive anything, loan you money and be perfectly blind to the fact that you just took your car keys.

"I loved your story" = "You are the greatest writer that ever lived"

There is no in-between.

Sugasm #31

Sun 23rd Apr, 06

The best of the sex blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Categories shift around and change between editions depending on what you send in, and you can get in on the next one by using this form. Participants, repost the linklist by the end of Wednesday night and you’re all set.

This is one of the few online spaces where people from all aspects of the sexual spectrum, vanilla or kinky, amateur or erotic artist or adult professional, can come together and grow, network, and explore sexuality. Thanks for being a part of this!

Erotic Writing

Back to the Beach (luvsicpup.blogspot.com)

Bliss (sexblogthis.blogspot.com)

Closings and Openings (sadiedark69.blogspot.com)

The Delight Of Sexual Tension (thetastetester.com)

The Driver (pleasinglydebauched.blogspot.com)

First Time - Steaming the Windows in the Backseat of a Car (thestoryofrose.blogspot.com)

Five Minutes (barbiebaby09.livejournal.com)

How Would It Be? (easilyaroused.co.uk)

Illicit Liason (gentlygently.blogspot.com)

Low-Carb Foreplay (realadultsex.com)

masculine/Feminine (damnjezebel.com)

Stairs (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com)

Tara’s Private Diary: Sucking Him Dry (taratainton.com)

Taxi Cab Confessions (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com)

Thoughts on Sex: Sex Advice, Sex Commentary, Sex News, Reviews, Interviews, Sexual Politics

Burning Rubber Interview (sin.typepad.com/shauna_by_night)

CockBlogging Wednesday 22 + A Guest Review (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

The Future’s So AdBrite, I Gotta Get Paid (sugarbank.com)

Hand-Jobs: Things You Need To Know, Part One (cuntinglinguist.blogspot.com)

High-Frequency Masturbation (onaniajournal.blogspot.com)

Maenads’ Mantra (sexeteria.blogspot.com)

More Sugasm…

Join the Sugasm

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Sex in the News - Holla Back at Street Harassers (seskuality.com)

BDSM and Fetish

All Tied Up (theholidaylife.blogspot.com)

C is for Cookie (redvelvetropeburn.blogspot.com)

Dire Caning Technique (adelehaze.com)

Identity Crisis for a slave (masterenigma.blogspot.com)

Tease and Denial with pastorpaul (goddessjaguar.com)

NSFW Pics

Allie Sin, Naughty Nati Dichotomy Exposed. Plus nekkid pics. (internetisforporn.com)

Crystal Klein (pspporn.com)

Cute Spring Babe Cody Milo in Full Bloom (thesexblog.com)

Exclusive - Justine Joli, Ball (tgp.com)

Front Seat Sexy (eroticandy.blogspot.com)

Hair Goof (seska4lovers.com)

Marathon Progressive House Party… revisited in pictoral (danni654.blogspot.com)

A Saucer of Cream Please (shaysotherspot.blogspot.com)

Experiences (and a Funny)

Cock & Dumplings (nyc-urban-gypsy.blogspot.com)

Dick’s Sauce (janeluvsdick.com)

My first wank (wanklog.blogspot.com)

Sean luvs goths: Part 2 (seanandmel.blogspot.com)

Photo of dreamy Jessica Daguerre from talented photographer (and longtime Sugasmer) Eddie Ostrowski.

Updated: April 24, 12:32 am EST. Link edited.

Games We Play

I'm a gamer. That means I play videogames, tabletop games and even the dreaded tabletop role-playing game where you fight dragons and stuff.

I also have something of a game fetish. When I was a teenager stealing issues of Penthouse from my step-father's closet, I was more interested in the Penthouse Forum stories than I was the pictures. The stories, allegedly all true but of course just made up for your enjoyment, fascinated me. Even as a teenager I knew these stories weren't true, but I loved seeing what people did with sex.

My favorite story was about two couples that played with a deck of sexual commands. They drew a card and had to follow the instructions. Maybe it appealed to my blossoming dominant side, but I thought there was something awesome about a woman letting you cop a feel because, sorry, the card made her do it. I still love the idea, because as a gamer, I know that the rules must be obeyed.

As part of Birthday Week, I'd like to present a simple little game I made up and have played for entertaining results. Don't worry, it's terribly simple. All the need is a twenty-sided dice and a twelve sided dice. If the idea of going to a hobby store to buy sex toy equipment freaks you out, you can just cut up twenty numbers and put them in a cup.

The game is simple and well, favors the male. The sub rolls a twenty-sided dice and follows the instructions. Sometimes you are referred to other charts. If you are moved to another chart, keep rolling on that chart till you are moved to another. Keep making dice rolls till the dom decides to fuck the sub. Man, this is an easy game.

I offer my list as a starter. Add your own choice, modify the chart and include some new rules.

Dice Slut

Foreplay

1- One minute of kissing
2- One minute of finger sucking
3- One minute of breast groping
4- One minute of neck kissing
5- Five finger strokes
6- Six light spanks on the ass
7- One minute of cock sucking
8- One clothespin added
9- Three Medium spanks on the ass
10- One clothespin removed, or a quick nipple bite
11- Ten Finger strokes
12- Four HARD spanks
13- Two clothespins added
14- Go to Spanking
15- Two minutes of cock sucking
16- Three minutes of kissing
17- One minute of masturbating
18- Five tit slaps
19- Beg to be used
20 Go to Masturbation

Spanking

1-6 – That many times with the paddle.
7- Six times with the crop
8- Six times with the bare hand
9-- Six times with the flogger
10— Four times HARD
11--Two strokes
12—-Return to Foreplay

Masturbation

1- Climax
2- Count off two strokes and stop
3- Count off three strokes and stop
4- Count off four strokes and stop
5- Count off five strokes and stop
6- Count off six strokes and stop
7- Stop and one lick
8- Stop and get two licks
9- Turn vibrator up higher
10--Pinch one nipple
11--Kiss while masturbating
12--Stop and clench six times

Enjoy my game and your own but just have fun

Half Nekkid Birthday Week Thursday

Let's talk nudity.

Years ago, back when I was writing all the time on Asstr.org, I came up with the idea of really exposing myself as a person and posting a picture of two of myself naked. I was really grooving to the idea of writing what one knows, and being ready to take risks and expose perhaps more than people asked for in your writing.

I was so excited by the idea that I ran it by my long distance relationship at the time. She hated the idea. She told me that I would lose people's respect as a writer, that it was weird and that it was undignified. I didn't agree but she was more popular than me as a writer and I thought she knew best.

Now I think she is full of shit.

When I started reading erotica blogs, I was taken back by all the nudity. I felt it distracted from the writing. RopeGirl and AlwaysArousedGirl made me think about my post and I realized that they had some good points about the nature of feeling desired and turning that creativity inward.

When I thought about myself, I was surprised by negative my own self image was. I didn't want to take a picture of my eyes because I had dark bags under them. I didn't want to take a picture of my back because it was hairy. I didn't want a picture of my legs because I am too pale. I didn't want a picture of my chest because I have a belly. Everywhere I looked, I found faults and although I never think of myself as a total package ugly guy, I was discovering that I didn't like a single part of my body.

Well, here during Birthday Week, we are going to change a few things. Presented here is a picture of my cock, modestly covered by my boxers and encased in my fist.



You can see my belly, my hair and my pale skin. I like the fist though, it's very direct. It might be campy, I don't know, I'll let others decide. All I know is that it's me and right now I feel damn sexy.

Cell Phone Slave Part 1

Amaya saw the package in her mailbox and fought to rein in her hopes. More than likely it was for her roommate, Helen. She pulled the package out of their tiny dorm mailbox and looked at the address. It was for her! Amaya searched the package for a return address but there wasn’t one. The young college student checked the mailbox for any other mail, especially for her financial aid check that was a month late. There wasn’t any.

She didn’t open the package in the lobby although she was tempted. Amaya liked surprises and after a harsh three weeks of college, she was going to savor this one. When she was a little girl all she wanted for her eight birthday was the Barbie Dream House. A month before her birthday Amaya was looking through her mother’s closet for a pair of heels to play with. Barely hidden under a coat was the Barbie Dream House. Amaya was excited at first and she never told her mom that she knew what she was getting for her birthday but as the days dragged on, she found herself a little bored with her upcoming birthday. Knowing what she was getting had taken the fun out of the discovery and it was something she had never forgotten. The package could wait till she was in her room.

Amaya climbed the stairs of the co-ed dorm to her room. Her stomach growled. It did that every day now. Amaya’s parents were firm believers in letting their oldest daughter provide for herself. Her father was a marine and her mother was a Japanese native who never attended any sort of higher education. Both parents just assumed that a scholarship would pay for everything and that if Amaya needed anything else, she could get a job. They didn’t care that her financial aid was caught in some sort of bureaucratic limbo that none of the financial aid office people could explain. Neither parent could also understand that in a college town, the only job really available to a girl just out of high school was that of a waitress and even then, no one was willing to hire a half-Japanese girl with glasses when they could have a busty blonde co-ed. Her small amount of cash had evaporated quickly after buying her books and paying her lab fees. For the past two weeks she had been reduced to eating crackers and peanut butter for breakfast and dinner. Amaya’s parents kept telling her to “buck up” as if those magic words could solve anything.

Maybe the package was from her parents. Amaya wondered if they had finally taken pity on her and sent her a box of food or something. It would be just like them to send her food instead of money. The dorm room she had didn’t have a stove or even a microwave so Amaya worried that they might have sent her something she couldn’t even use. The package was kind of small, so Amaya was hopeful that it couldn’t contain food. Perhaps her parents had sent her money in a box because they didn’t trust stuffing envelopes with money?

Or maybe the package was from her boyfriend, John. Amaya bit her lip as she thought of him. He was her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first sexual partner and lately her first heartbreaking disappointment. Cuddling on the floor of his parent’s garage, John always swore he would look out for her. It must have been the sex talking because while she attended a college in state, he applied for one in Georgia. John swore they would meet again in the summer and Amaya tried to take his word for it. So far he had never written and called only once. She had written him last week asking, no, begging him to send her some money that she would pay back when she got her financial aid, but he had yet to respond. Maybe this package was his way of proving he still did care.

Helen wasn’t in their room, which delighted Amaya. She sat down on her bed and held the package in her lap. She made three wishes. One, she wished there was money inside. Two, she wished for something sweet to eat that didn’t involve peanut butter. Three, she wished it was from John. Amaya took a deep breath and opened her package.

The package was stuffed with a lot of filler paper but buried deep within was a cellular phone and an envelope. Amaya’s face broke into a grin. It had to be from John! He sent her a phone so she wouldn’t be so alone!

Amaya opened the envelope and squealed. There were five twenty-dollar bills! She could eat out tonight and buy some real groceries. The young woman was feeling giddy with delight. She checked the envelope for a letter and found a small piece of paper. All that was written was “Press redial.”

The cell phone was a top of the line model. It had a small display screen and a tiny keyboard. Amaya was amazed by how compact the phone was. It could fit easily in a pants pocket. As much as she wanted to believe that it was from John, she had to admit that he couldn’t afford a gift like this. It was also too expensive to be a gift from her parents.

Amaya smiled. This was exciting. She had a mystery gift with an equally mysterious instruction for her press redial. It was about time something interesting happened to her at school.

She pressed redial. It rang twice. Each ring made Amaya’s heart race. The tension was a nice distraction from her growling stomach.

“Hello, Amaya” a male voice said.

Amaya didn’t recognize it. “Hello, who is this, please?”

“You can call me Wesley,” the voice said. He was very relaxed with a trace of a southern accent. “Congratulations on taking the first step. I’m sure that hundred dollars will come in handy. Where do you plan to eat first?”

“I’m sorry,” Amaya said. “But who are you? And why did you give me so much money?”

He laughed. “You think that is a lot of money? It is just a small bit of what you can earn. I am something of a gambler, Amaya. Someone in your financial aid department made me aware of the delays you have had and knew I could help. I’ve helped out students in the past with my little games and I am willing to help you.”

“This sounds like a proposition,” Amaya said bluntly. She knew she should hang up now but she worried about the hundred dollars she had in her hand. Would she have to give it back? Could they make her give it back?

“Oh don’t call it that,” Wesley said. “I don’t believe in prostitution or being a sugar-daddy. I like to gamble on human nature. I will request a series of dares and you may quit at any time. If you quit I will never contact you again. On the other hand, play my game, and the reward will increase by a hundred dollars with each dare.”

Amaya swallowed hard. That was a lot of money. On the other hand, it felt a bit too surreal. She looked back down at the money and realized that it was real enough for her.

“What kind of dares do you have in mind?” Amaya asked. This was the important question. She had a bad feeling it might involve eating something gross or jumping off of buildings.

“That’s the spirit,” Wesley said. “I’ve been reviewing your file and I think we’ll have quite a lot of fun together. I see that you used to be on the Tennis team in your junior year but you didn’t join your senior year. That’s a shame. Tennis players are not only fit but also quite quick on their feet. They make excellent players. Why did you not join your senior year?”

Amaya tried to think of a lie. She was too embarrassed to tell him that she found sex with John to be ten times better than running around chasing a bouncing ball. Part of her wanted to tell him in hopes of shocking the mysterious voice but she refrained.

“I just wanted more time for my social life,” she said. “Are these games going to be time-consuming? I do have a heavy class load this year.”

Wesley chuckled. “I noticed. No, the games won’t take long at all. At any time of the day or night, I will call you via this cell phone. If you don’t answer, then the game is over and you will never be contacted again. Once you answer, you are mine for an hour. I may give you a command or I might guide you through a series of commands. Fail to complete a task before the hour is up, or flat out right refuse, and the game is over. Play to my satisfaction, and you’ll receive another cash award. That’s the entire game right there. Any questions?”

“One question,” Amaya said. “Are any of these dares going to be illegal?”

“Never,” Wesley said. “I prefer to keep my players, not see them go to jail. Where is the fun in that?”

“Okay,” Amaya said. She couldn’t believe she was agreeing but it seemed risk-free. She might as well give it a try. “Are we playing now?”

“I like your attitude,” Wesley said. “I’m looking at my watch and I’m saying it does start right now. My first game is simple. Dump your backpack out. You’re going to need all the space you can. I want you to take all of your underwear out of your dresser, panties and bras, and stuff them into the bag.”

Amaya laughed. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Two hundred dollars say you don’t care,” Wesley said.

“What do you want with my underwear? And what am I going to wear?”

“That’s not my concern,” Wesley said. “I would hurry if I were you. There’s more to this game and time is a wasting.”

Amaya thought about it. All the bras and panties she owned were kind of old anyway. They was two black panties that John had bought her that she was fond of but other than that, most of them were plain and white. She never could work up the nerve to buy sexy underwear while living with her parents. Amaya also felt amused that some wealthy guy would want them. It seemed perverse but also harmless.

She emptied her backpack and went to work stuffing it. She hated to get rid of her bras. Her generous bust would be a problem without a bra but with a total of three hundred dollars, she could buy herself a few to hold her over. Amaya debated holding on to the black panties because they were a gift but she put them in the bag too. The guilt of cheating was stronger than she would have thought. For some reason, she wanted to earn Wesley’s money fairly.

“I’m all packed,” she said.

“Good, have your running shoes on?”

“Yes,” Amaya said. “Why?”

“Because you’ll need to get to the White dorm as fast as possible,” Wesley said. “Once you are there, hit speed dial ‘1’ and I’ll tell you where to go next. Hurry Amaya, I’d hate to see you lose so soon.”

He hung up. Amaya’s heart sank. The White building was in the middle of the campus. It had been a year since she did a run of that length.

Amaya ran down the stairs and nearly knocked down two giggling blondes. One of them said something rude but Amaya ignored them. Her heart was already hammering inside her chest.

She ran out of the dorm and down the long hill that her dorm was situated on. Amaya’s glasses slipped down her nose and she kept pushing them up. It had been a long time since she was on the Tennis team. She didn’t know where her sports glasses were anymore. Amaya made a note to herself to find them soon. There was no telling how often Wesley would send her on a run.

The White building seemed like miles away. Amaya’s lungs burned and her brown hair was bouncing around her shoulders. She was glad she was wearing jeans today because she knew she would never run this fast or freely in a skirt. The backpack was light on her back but the contents weighed on her mind. Amaya kept envisioning the zipper coming undone and sending her underwear flying everywhere.

Amaya shouldered past people and nearly collided with a cute black guy. She gave a quick apology and kept running. Sweat was forming on her skin, forcing her to constantly push her glasses up which only helped blind her to the people she nearly ran over. The young lady had to laugh. She had spent the last few weeks shy and trying not to stand out but here she was making a spectacle of herself for half the campus. She found it a bit freeing.

She reached the White building breathless. Amaya didn’t know if she was supposed to be inside or on the lobby so she brought out the phone out of her pocket.

He answered on the first ring. “Are you there?”

“I’m outside,” she said. “You didn’t say inside or not.”

“True,” Wesley said. “Are you wearing a bra?”

“Yes,” Amaya said. She bit her lip. Was this a trick? Was she going to lose after running out here just because she didn’t put the bra she was wearing in the backpack? Amaya had a bad suspicion that she was the butt of a joke.

“Good,” Wesley said. “Remove your bra and put it in the backpack. When you are done, tell me and I will tell you the next step in your race.”

“Right here?” Amaya said. A crowd of boys walked past her and she blushed. The young woman turned and faced the brick wall of the White building.

“If you are willing to waste time looking for a bathroom, go right ahead,” Wesley said.

He had a point. Amaya thought about it and realized that if this dorm were like hers, then it would need a key just to get past the lobby. She looked around and didn’t see a building that she recognized.

Fuck.

Amaya held the phone in the crick of her neck and went to work. First, she set down her backpack and took a deep breath. She hadn’t done this since that bus trip in the 11th grade. Amaya turned around so her back was to a wall and reached behind her. She unclasped her bra as fast as she could. A girl walked by and gave her a funny look. Amaya smiled back at her and looked away. She then reached up the sleeves of her shirt and pulled her shoulder straps down. Two guys walked by and gave her a knowing smile that made her blush. Amaya turned around and faced the wall as she pulled her bra through the sleeve of her shirt. Head down and her body shielding the backpack, Amaya stuffed the bra into her bag.

“I did it,” Amaya reported.

“Good for you,” Wesley said. There was an enthusiasm in his voice that reminded her of her Tennis coach. “Now head to Student Center. You should have gone there for orientation.”

“I know where it is,” Amaya groaned. It was on the far side of the campus from where she was.

“The clock is running,” Wesley said.

Amaya hung up and started to run. She realized immediately that running braless was going to be a problem. Her busty chest was bouncing like mad beneath her shirt. Amaya used to be proud of her chest because her American father’s genes had gifted her with a nice set in comparison to her mom’s flat chest. Now she was painfully shy of how much she jiggled as she ran. Every guy she passed did a double take and she got more than a few dirty looks from the women she passed.

There was no denying she was out of shape. The lack of food lately didn’t help but Amaya knew that it wasn’t completely to blame. Her lungs burned almost as badly as her calves and thighs. Amaya remembered how much pride she used to take in her endurance and health. As an Asian American, she had taken a lot of jokes about being a ‘Tennis Ninja’ but she knew that was an admittance to her physical ability. Gasping for air on a simple run was proof of how far she had fallen from her former standards.

Amaya slowed down as she reached the Student Center. She bent over and took some deep breaths. The sight that greeted her stunned her. She had been sweating so much, her nipples were as plain as day through her white t-shirt! Amaya had been running with a nearly transparent shirt!

She crossed her arms over her ample chest and called Wesley.

“I’m here,” she said. God, her breathing sounded so loud on the phone. Amaya realized she was doing the stereotypical dirty phone call voice.

“Not bad,” Wesley said. “You are making good time. Are you wearing panties?”
“Yes,” Amaya said. She knew what was coming.

“Then head toward the bathroom and remove them,” Wesley said. “Put them in your bag and call me back for your next destination.”

He hung up and Amaya slipped the phone back in her jeans. She was mad that she hadn’t seen it coming. Her body had hurt too much and the embarrassment of running braless had distracted her. Amaya didn’t hesitate. She headed straight for the woman’s restrooms.

There were three stalls in the bathroom and all of them were filled. Amaya groaned. Of course they were. It was the afternoon and the Student Center was packed. Time was running out and she was getting exhausted. Could she afford to wait for someone to come out? If the next destination was all the way across campus again, she would need as much time as possible to make it there with her body.

Amaya kicked off her shoes and unzipped her jeans. She kept her eye on the door and pulled her pants off. Her white panties were soaked with sweat and Amaya wondered if this was the whole point of today’s game. Did he just want some sweaty panties? Amaya stopped worrying about it and pulled off her panties. She stuffed them in her backpack and zipped it back up.

A toilet flushed.

Amaya fumbled with her jeans. Her eyes snapped between the restroom door and the doors to the stalls. She had no idea how soon someone would come out of the stalls and she didn’t want to be pantless when they did. Amaya pulled her jeans on as fast as she could but she wasn’t fast enough. A student came out right as Amaya was pulling her jeans to her ass. The woman just stared at Amaya finished pulling her jeans up and buttoned them. The student looked like she was about to ask a question but instead blushed a bright red. Before Amaya could think of a lie, the woman walked briskly out the door.

“That could not be any more embarrassing,” Amaya muttered. She put her shoes back on and called Wesley as she tied them.

“I did it,” she whispered.

“That was fast,” Wesley said. “And a good thing too, you need to run to Perry building.”

“Where is that?” Amaya asked.

“It’s by the music arts building, beside the cafeteria there.”

Amaya’s eyes widened. That area was filled with people and as sweaty as her shirt was, Amaya wasn’t sure she could do it. It was also another long run.

“The clock is ticking,” Wesley said and he hung up.

Through the doors and out the Student Center, Amaya ran with all her heart. She was cursing as she ran, fully aware of how visible her breasts were under her shirt. When someone gave her a wolf-whistle, Amaya’s face turned to a crimson blush that spread down her neck.

Amaya also became aware of the problems of running without panties. The denim of her jeans was rubbing her sex as well as rubbing tightly against her ass. She felt naked despite her outer clothes. Every swing of her legs pushed and pulled the denim against her. Amaya’s desire was building from the constant stimulus and she worried that she might wet her pants with her sex. It was bad enough that she was jiggling so clearly but she would die if people could see how much this was turning her own.

She reached the Perry building and the place was just as crowded as she expected. Amaya slowed down and ignored the stares of the men she passed. Her dark nipples were almost entirely visible against her light shirt. Worse, they were hard from all the friction of the shirt. Amaya herself was getting aroused just from all the stares. It was the first time since she attended college that she felt people were looking at her for her body and not her Asiatic features. Amaya had to admit it was a welcome change.

She took out the phone and hit the speed dial. When Wesley answered on the second ring, she told him she was there. Amaya was surprised to hear him ask someone else if she was.

“Is someone watching me?” she asked.

“Of course,” Wesley answered. “A game like this requires a little observing to keep everyone honest. According to my source, you are quite the sight. I hope you are not too exhausted.”

“No, of course not,” she lied. Amaya looked around. She saw plenty of people looking at her but she couldn’t see anyone with a phone. Amaya felt very self-conscious. It made sense. What would be the point of making her exhausted and sweaty if he didn’t get a chance to see her? Amaya knew she should be outraged but all she could really feel was flattered. That, and exhausted.

“Are we done?” Amaya said. She could barely speak she was gasping so hard.

“One last trip,” Wesley said. He chuckled when she groaned. “Fear not, Amaya. You are doing amazingly well. All you need to go now is back to your dorm and around to the back entrance. Good luck.”

Wesley hung up and Amaya snapped her phone shut. Back to her dorm? She was at the furthest possible point away from her dorm and still is on campus. Amaya looked at her watch. She had twenty minutes to get there and she was worn out. Tears formed in her eyes as she realized how impossible that was. That two hundred dollars was as good as gone!

Amaya ran. No matter how hopeless it was, Amaya couldn’t find it in herself to give up. Two hundred dollars could easily hold her over till she got her financial aid but that wasn’t the only reason she ran. At this point she was angry with herself. If she had stayed on the Tennis Team instead of spending the year fucking John who ran out on her, she would have finished this run by now. Amaya felt like she had failed herself and she wasn’t going to let some pervert who wanted her sweaty underwear beat her. Amaya ran harder than she had all day long.

That state of her appearance was beyond indecent now. Her shoulder-length brown hair was plastered to her scalp and neck. Sweat was pouring so hard from her that she could feel it trickling between her buttocks. Her breasts ached from slapping constantly against her chest and her wet shirt was molding against her breasts. The glares of the women she passed were as embarrassing as the appreciative stares of the men. Amaya just prayed she didn’t run into any teachers.

A group of bicyclers cut her off at one point and Amaya nearly screamed at the delay. At another point, Amaya’s glasses slid completely off her nose and it was only through a miraculous catch that she prevented them from hitting the ground. One group of women walking in a long wide line stopped Amaya completely until she literally pushed her way past the chatting girls. They yelled abuses at Amaya but she kept running.

Somehow, Amaya made it to her dorm. A block away, she was reduced to walking but she still had seven minutes left. Amaya limped to the dorm and giggled with the elation of winning. An older student shook her head at Amaya’s clothes but the young Asian didn’t mind. She was going to win after all!

She got to the steps and looked around. Amaya began to wonder how she going to be paid. Exhausted but thrilled to have won, she called Wesley.

“Congratulations,” he said when he answered it. “Now all you have to do is set your backpack down and walk straight forward into the bushes.”

Amaya did as he said, feeling very weird at leaving her underwear on the steps. She wondered if it could be traced to her. Was it even a crime to leave a backpack of underwear? It would certainly be an odd thing to be expelled over.

She walked forward into the bushes that Wesley had specified. Amaya wondered if this was where Wesley was. An ugly thought occurred to her. What if the whole point of the game was to exhaust her so that he could attack her? Her heart began to pound again as she considered it. If he expected her to be easy, he was sadly mistaken. After humiliating herself for an hour, she would kick his ass if he tried to hurt her now.

In the bushes was a black backpack. Amaya was impressed. It was much more expensive than anything she could afford. Amaya told Wesley about it and he instructed her to open the side pocket. There were twenty ten-dollar bills.

“Yes,” Amaya hissed and Wesley laughed.

“Take the backpack, it’s yours,” he said. “Go back inside and leave your old backpack where it is.”

“Fine,” Amaya said. “Wow, thanks.”

“No problem,” Wesley said. “I would recommend eating at Peking Garden, its just two blocks down Second Street. They have a buffet and after your fast, I imagine you would want to eat as much as you can.”

“Thanks,” Amaya said. She still couldn’t believe she was three hundred dollars richer. It was embarrassing how much of a fortune it seemed.

“Wait, one question,” Amaya said. “Will all the games be this hard?”

Wesley laughed. “We’ll see.”

He hung up.

Amaya slung the backpack on her shoulder and went into her dorm. She still had reservations about leaving her old bag there but she wasn’t about to break the rules now. The young woman was feeling a kind of high that she hadn’t felt since winning a tennis match. It made the ache in her limbs only seem inconvenient.

Her unexpected victory today had another effect: it made Amaya incredibly aroused. Despite her bad shape, she had still won! It was the first really good thing that had happened to her since starting college and the best thing was, she had earned it all herself. She was feeling so turned on and excited, the adrenaline racing straight to her libido.

Amaya went to her dorm room and shut the door. Helen still wasn’t there and Amaya was relieved. She quickly stripped out of her wet shirt and put on a much darker shirt. Her nipples were aching and Amaya moaned as she felt the dry shirt slid over them. She hadn’t been this aroused since the last time she had sex with John.

When Amaya pulled down her pants, she was amazed at how wet she was. She touched herself and shuddered. Sensitive to the slightest touch, her pussy felt terribly empty. Standing in front of her dresser, Amaya stroked herself once.

She stroked herself twice and wondered what kind of a man Wesley was.

Amaya stroked herself and wondered what he would do with her sweaty panties and bra.

Amaya stroked herself and wondered if any of the guys who saw her today was thinking of her now.

She had a climax within a minute of stroking. Amaya cried out before remembering how thin the walls were. She bit her lip and kept stroking. She had another climax was almost instantly.

And another.

And another.

Amaya pulled up her pants and sat down on her bed with the reddest blush. She prayed that Helen wouldn’t walk in right now. The room smelled of sex and sweat and Amaya knew she wouldn’t be able to deny masturbating. She opened a window and turned on the fan and hoped the smell would fade.

The backpack caught her eye and she wondered about the trade she made. She picked it up to examine it and found a startling surprise inside. The backpack was stuffed with bras and panties of multiple colors.

Amaya looked in amazement as she pulled out a rainbow of bras. The bras were in different sizes, an equal amount that centered around a C-cup. About ten of them fit her and Amaya realized Wesley must have guessed her size. Amaya felt a guilty pleasure in finally owning the colored underwear that she had always wanted as well as the decadent manner in which she earned them.

She examined the panties next and noticed something right away. They were all thongs. Purple, green, black, blue, pink and white; they were all thongs.

Amaya tried a green one on and moaned as the tight string slipped between her buttocks. The thong was tight and every time she took a step, the thong pressed against her sex. Amaya was still sensitive from her masturbating but in a good way. She took a few steps and shivered. The thongs were hedonistic and were going to be distracting but Amaya was looking forward to the adventure.

Her stomach growled and Amaya smiled. It was time to collect her real reward. Amaya wondered if Wesley would be at the restaurant he recommended. Perhaps the mystery man was waiting for her.

She decided to find out.

Birthday Week Begins!

This Sunday on April 23 I turn 33.

Know what that means?

It could have meant that I spent the week really depressed and sad over very important things. Like, I could be sad that my mom turned into a total crazy right wing bitch who disowned my lesbian sister. I could be sad that I don't have a submissive to help celebrate my birthday. I could be sad that thanks to taxes I am broke this month and can't go to the Atlanta Aquarium like I was planning. See, I have grief. I've got family, romance and selfishness covered.

But that's not how we roll here at Erotiterorist. This week is Birthday Week. In fact, here's the cake,courtesy of Moist and Tasty


Here we celebrate my birthday all week long like drunken sailors on shore leave. It's going to kick ass. I'll post the first part to a story that I think is the finest thing I have ever written but never posted anywhere. We'll have our first Half-Nekkid Thursday. We may get completely bloggy on your asses and discuss my first orgasm with another person. I don't know, all bets are off on Birthday Week at Erotiterroist! Shit will happen, let's leave it at that.

My first topic I want to discuss is what to get a dominant male like myself for his birthday. As a Dominant male, some people think I want to blueprint and plan out my birthday moment by moment. No, that's not what I want because that's what I do EVERY SINGLE DAY. See? My submissive wears what I want her to wear, so yet another day where I pick her clothes, her actions and her orgasms is just another day to me.

What I want, and I am only telling you this because it's Birthday Week and I am feeling shameless, is far more egotistical than total control. What I want is offerings. I want to sit in my chair while people present me gifts that that they hope make me happy. Like a Pharaoh over looking his subjects, I want to be surprised, delighted, entertained and aroused.

Dance for me and wear something I have never thought to ask for.

Buy me a book I have never heard of.

Give me a sex toy I have never played with and open invitation.

Write me something I never knew about you.

Send me naughty pictures I didn't take myself.

Any other day of the year, I'll be in charge and I'll be calling the shots and I like it that way. But on my birthday, just this once, I want to be surprised and I want to be thrown off. I want a roller coaster of shocking tributes. Offer me something that I didn't ask because you so badly wanted to give it to me.

So if you have a dominant person in your life, think about what I said. You already give yourself to them all year long so for one day, really treat them like a King you want to curry favor with and surprise the fuck out of them. Give them an offering for their Birthday and remind them that they own the bits they don't even know about.

Sugasm # 30

The best of the sex blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Categories shift around and change between editions depending on what you send me, and you can get in on the next one by using this form. Participants, repost the linklist by the end of Wednesday night and you’re all set.

NSFW Pics

Solo Girl

Eloise Shot by Abby Winters (iloveabbywinters.com)

FTV Girls Chloe Extreme Masturbation with Candles (sensualarousalblog.com)

Ginger Jolie Nude (eroticandy.blogspot.com)

My Homegrown Video Work (seska4lovers.com)

Lesbian

Lesbian Sex in the Kitchen (simply-sapphicerotica.com)

Hardcore

Bookworm Bitches Review (internetisforporn.com)

Personal Porn

HNT (spiritsex.blogspot.com)

Tara Checks into the Silver Spruce Motel (taratainton.com)

Thoughts on Sex: Sex Commentary, Sex News, Sexual Politics

Carmen Electra rides into trouble (tgp.com)

Head (jundercovers.blogspot.com)

Kissing (gentlygently.blogspot.com)

Pubes are Personal (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

RANT: The Dumbing-Down of the Modern Femme (cuntinglinguist.blogspot.com)

Reflectrospective IV: Realizations (emergingontheotherside.blogspot.com)

Funny

In Glasses (janeluvsdick.com)

Sinking (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com)

Ten Things to Thank Porn For (sugarbank.com)

Erotic Writing

Assignment # 2 for Ginger Man (pleasinglydebauched.blogspot.com)

Hadley’s Hedonism (theholidaylife.blogspot.com)

Hello, My Name is Cockwhore (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com)

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Lazy Sunday (herknees.com)

My Way, Your Way, Three Way (nyc-urban-gypsy.blogspot.com)

The Perfect Blow Job (secretsofadirtygirl.blogspot.com)

Restful Nights, Exciting Mornings, And The O.J. Conclusion (thetastetester.com)

Sexual Incoherency (damnjezebel.com)

So I Raped Him… (stilettodiaries.blogspot.com)

When You Work (barbiebaby09.livejournal.com)

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Ah yes… Semenex… (vagueboy.com)

How Tall Are You Really? (tinastrangeworld.blogspot.com)

Je Joue (sin.typepad.com/shauna_by_night)

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Happy Anniversary Master! (darkside-journey.blogspot.com)

In the Bedroom (tangysweet.blogspot.com)

Milking a Man (drtycplinva.blogspot.com)

Sjambok Stripes (adelehaze.com)

Tickle Fetish (radicalvixen.com)

Tiny Dick Losers Convention (spoiledebonyprincess.com)

What I Am (everythingoze.blogspot.com)

Mirror tease photo from the smoldering Tara Tainton.

Fiction- Absolution

Working from home has its perks.

One of those perks knocked on my door; two raps, pause, one rap. It was Liz from the apartment two floors down. I let her in and she headed right to my dining table. Liz unzipped her pants and pulled them down before bending over my table. Her tan lines frame her round ass.

"I lied to my kids about the movies being sold out just to avoid having to take them."

I nod and grab her by the hair. She cries out a little when I jerked her head back. It was my bare hand this time, and I smacked her bottom ten times. After a brief pause, I smacked her bottom five more times because her kids are really sweet.

"There you go," I said.

Liz winced as she pulled her jeans up over her sore ass. "Thanks, I needed that."

I nod because I know it's true.

About an hour later I was wrestling with a technical problem for one of my clients. I was annoyed and a little stressed but then I heard another knock on the door. Two raps, pause, one rap. I smiled and went to the door.

This time it was Jane from building five. She was wearing a one piece swimsuit and was on her way to the pool. I closed the door as she walked over to my dining table and bent over. Jane pulled her swimsuit bottom into an improvised thong so I could have access to her cheeks.

"My friend Charlotte told me a secret and I've told my best friend today about it today."

Not the most serious crime in the world but Jane was funny about her secrets. She can never keep one but she always feels terrible about it. It's just the way she is.

For this crime I picked up the wooden spoon from the kitchen. I grabbed her thick brown hair and yanked her head back hard. With precise strokes, I mark her ass in a tight area so her swimsuit will cover the marks. My swings are harsh and fast, not because I think she deserves it, but because SHE thinks she deserves it.

The spoon leave marks and I know they will be purple for a day or two. I have no idea how she hides them from her husband. That's not my concern.

Jane thanked me and left to go down to the pool. Absolved, free of guilt and not a care in the world, she'll relax and work on her tan. She'll be on her stomach I suspect, or else I need to strike harder next time.

A few hours pass and I am working much better. As much as I free my neighbors of guilt, they help me stay calm and upbeat during the day. My clients have no idea how much of their final product is created with the whimpers, shrieks and welts of my neighbors.

It is near the end of my workday and I hear the knock at the door. Two raps, pause, one rap. I look at the clock and see that the knock is two minutes before I am closed for the door. I frown. It's a little demanding to come so close to when I am done, but oh well. Perhaps it is a really tasty crime that needs pardoning.

Hannah was at the door. She was wearing a skirt and a shirt that was a bit tight. Unlike my other 'perks' today, she didn't look the least bit guilty or ashamed of anything.

She walked over to my dining room table and flipped her skirt up. There was no underwear; just a delightfully full bush of hair covering her sex. Hannah bent over my table and just stayed there. Her legs were wide apart and waiting.

"What did you do wrong?" I said after a ten second wait.

"Sometimes I make up things to confess, just so you'll have a reason to spank me," she said. "Then I go home and masturbate while my ass is still burning from you."

I thought about it.

"This is a serious crime indeed," I said.

I unzipped my pants and gave her the punishment she deserved.

Hazards of the Hobby

I've had this story in my mind for about two weeks. I knew the point I wanted to get across and the sex I wanted to write about, but I was stuck on that little niggling detail I couldn't ignore. I couldn't decide HOW I wanted to tell the story. I have this problem where I don't like to repeat myself. Taking into account that I will repeat myself, I try to not fall into patterns. Yes, every Shon Richards story will most likely have some hair pulling, but I don't want it so predictable that the reader feels free to skim through the plot through everything they have read before to get to the good parts.

So I've been wrestling with this story in my head for two weeks. Yesterday I was in the grocery store. It was a wonderful warm day so I was wearing shorts. My hands were full as I was carrying a basket of groceries in one hand, and a deli foot long sandwich in the other. As I am standing in line to the checkout counter, my mind is wondering back to the story problem and BLAM! I have it figured out.

Now that I know how I am going to tell my story, I start plotting fast and hard. I'm naming the characters, I'm planning the scenes, I'm thinking of the sex and I'm thinking of whether to do the blowjob scene before the spanking scene and other delightful details.

Unfortunately, this means I get a monster erection. and because of the arrangement of my loose boxers and my shorts, this erection is pointing straight out. There I am in line at the grocery story, hands full, with an obscene weapon trying to escape my shorts.

I try to think it down. I try disturbing mental images but my mind is still hardwired into the story. I'm thinking of a kneeling maid. I'm thinking of her being spanked while she is on all fours over a mop bucket. I'm picturing her cleaning her house in her too tight outfit. In other words, I am doing a terrible job of subduing the beast in my shorts.

The rather nice looking woman behind me makes a shocked sound and quickly turns around to intensely study the candy bar rack.

The older woman in front of me is unloading her cart which means she has to keep bending down. She sees my erection and keeps stealing peaks at it every time she gets another item from her cart. I swear, she started unloading less and less items.

When it is my turn to get to checkout, the prettiest African-American girl in the whole world is running my items through the checkout. She looks like she is barely out of high school but it isn't killing my erection at all. Worse, she has GLASSES, which is my number one turn-on. At least I have the counter to block my erection from her view.

"Wow, it must be really hot outside, you look so flush," she says.

I just smile and it dawned on me. I have to walk outside, hands holding bags, with my shorts looking like a pop-tent. Worse, I am now picturing this cute glasses-wearing girl in a maid's uniform. The erection has now been given at least another half hour of life.

The hazards of being an erotica writer never end.

Sugasm # 29

The best of the sex blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Categories shift around and change between editions depending on what you send me, and you can get in on the next one by using this form. Participants, repost the linklist by the end of Wednesday night and you’re all set.

Sex Toy Reviews / Sex Advice

Featured Article - Hit Me With Your Best Shot (part 2) (seskuality.com)

How To Ejaculate - For Women (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

XTC Pleasure Curve (sin.typepad.com/shauna_by_night)

NSFW Pics

Solo Girl

The Incomparable Beauty Of Marketa Belonoha By The Sea (thesexblog.com)

Kele Ward Sexy Cowgirl (eroticandy.blogspot.com)

Kyla shot by Abby Winters (iloveabbywinters.com)

Oh My - What has Annie done (sensualarousalblog.com)

Lesbian

Bridgete, Darlene and a strap-on on Sapphic Erotica (simply-sapphicerotica.com)

Hardcore

She Got Pimped Review (internetisforporn.com)

Personal Porn

HNT - Damn Good Weekend (sabrinainstockings.com)

Performing (sexyukgirl.blogspot.com)

Where Did the Weekend Go? (drtycplinva.blogspot.com)

Sex Toy Reviews / Sex Advice

Featured Article - Hit Me With Your Best Shot (part 2) (seskuality.com)

How To Ejaculate - For Women (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

XTC Pleasure Curve (sin.typepad.com/shauna_by_night)

Sex Work

Happy Blogaversary (I’m Baaack…) (talkingdirtyblog.com)

Top Ten Lies Strippers Tell (tinastrangeworld.blogspot.com)

Erotic Writing

Cum Machine (Part 1) (rendezvous-romance.blogspot.com)

The Floor, the Fireplace, and the Fuck (taratainton.com)

Fruition (mydreams02.livejournal.com)

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It’s Been Seven Years (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com)

Just A Quickie (stilettodiaries.blogspot.com)

Lost in the moment (gentlygently.blogspot.com)

Retreat. (domequeen.blogspot.com)

Thoughts on Sex: Sex Commentary, Sex News, Sexual Politics

All That You Can’t Leave Behind (sexeteria.blogspot.com)

Disgraceful, Disturbing, and Plain Bad Form (vagueboy.com)

Don’t shit in my mouth and call it a sundae (ethnorotica.com)

The Passion of the Artist (And the Lover) (cuntinglinguist.blogspot.com)

Room 11 (theholidaylife.blogspot.com)

State of Sex (erotiterrorist.blogspot.com)

This isn’t supposed to happen at Duke, is it? (tgp.com)

V for Vendetta (sugarpit.com)

Violent Porn - Three Perspectives (sugarbank.com)

Women can be sick fucks, too

BDSM and Fetish

BDSM

Complexities of relationships - Choices 6 (masterenigma.blogspot.com)

Enjoying a Spanking Shoot (adelehaze.com)

Half-Nekkid Homemade Flogger (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com)

HNT (spiritsex.blogspot.com)

My New Toys (radicalvixen.com)

Naughty in Florida (thoughtsformymaster.blogspot.com)

Stress Relief (darkside-journey.blogspot.com)

Yummy (angelbrat454.blogspot.com)

Fetish

Strange? (v-boat.blogspot.com)

The Whisper of Nylon (easilyaroused.co.uk)

Funny

Though he tries to be quiet… (janeluvsdick.com)

You Want to Play With My Laffy Taffy? (4dirtylaundry.blogspot.com)

Experiences

Feeding the Soul at a Porn Conference (seska4lovers.com)

My Story (thetastetester.com)

Perverts Saloon (nyc-urban-gypsy.blogspot.com)

Tiny Sadists (thegooseandgander.blogspot.com)

Ultimatum (aliferestarted.blogspot.com)

Gorgeous photo of Marketa courtesy of TheSexBlog.com.

Update: April 10, 5:55 am EST. “More Sugasm” link fixed.