I have notebooks. I can’t help it. I haven’t been in school in years but I still have little spiral notebooks cluttering up the place. I have four sitting by my computer right now.
Some of them are for role-playing games. I need to plot my adventures in advance before I scare/kill/amuse my friends with adventures. And since I end up making 50% of it up anyway when my players don’t follow the damn script, I need the notebooks to write down the shit I’m making up on the fly.
One notebook is for writing. It’s where I jot down outlines for my longer stories. I also write down brilliant ideas as they occur to me. Sadly, a lot of these brilliant ideas are too brilliant to be contained by my laconic note taking system. For example, I have written down-
"BDSM Boot camp held for one week for newbie subs."
Okay, that’s a good note. A year later I’m going to know what that means. However, what the fuck does this mean?
"Boobs as books"
Umm, I don’t know either.
Lastly I have a special kind of notebook I haven’t actually had in far too long. That’s my little purple notebook I keep for a submissive that I am dominating. I start a new notebook for each sub. I keep track of all the things they respond to, all the things they hate and other notes. Yes, I keep a notebook for my love life.
What fascinates me about these little purple notebooks is that I have never seen a BDSM advice book recommend one. They always tell the submissive to keep a journal so that the dom can read their private thoughts at any moment but somehow the dom gets out of the paperwork. That’s just silly. The submissive can act as a secretary but I need to keep track of stuff she’ll never know. Like the fact that she always scratches her nose when she is lying. Or the fact that she keeps looking at the Barnes and Noble guy like she is going to eat him one day. This is stuff I need to know and use, and I’m not going to remember it a week later because frequent spankings and blowjobs kill the long term memory.
The other big reason I keep one is that I sometimes go mad with dom power. I might rattle off a dozen demands and expect them done by the end of the day. Then at the end of that day I have this nagging feeling I asked for stuff, but I am not 100% sure what it is. At least with a notebook, I can jot those down and check them off when they are done. Yay, record keeping!
I am the nerdiest dom ever.
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Monday, June 19, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Fiction: Maybe
***Note- This was posted a few years back but I think you will like it*****
“Maybe we should stop.”
“Your ass is too tight for me to stop.”
A laugh. “Maybe your cock is too big.”
“It’s too late to stop now. It was too late when I first pulled your underwear down.”
“God, I just feel so wrong. What if Carl finds out?”
“That’s nothing. Imagine Denise’s reaction. She already hates having a stepmother who’s only fifteen years older than she is.”
“She hates me?”
“Don’t all daddy’s girls feel that way?”
“Oh! Do that again.”
“This twisting thing?”
“Oh! Yes! That!”
A chuckle. “I can’t believe Carl has never taken your ass. I remember looking at your behind at the wedding and wondering if he knew what to do with it.”
A laugh. “He hates you, you know.”
“He hates me? I thought he liked me. He was so nice to me last Thanksgiving. Why would he hate me?”
“Don’t all men hate the guy who fucks their daughter?”
A smile. “True, but I’ll bet he hates the son-in-law who fucks his wife even more.”
“Then let’s really give him something to hate.”
“Is that your way of saying I should go faster?”
A gasp. “Yes.”
“Like this?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Can Carl go this fast?”
“Never! Oh, God, I wish he would!”
“I’m glad he doesn’t, or else I wouldn’t be here to do this.”
A whimper. “Fuck! Does Denise like that, too?”
A grunt. “Denise refuses to try.”
A moan.
A climax.
Another climax.
And yet another climax.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”
“Well, at least not on Father’s Day.”
“Maybe we should stop.”
“Your ass is too tight for me to stop.”
A laugh. “Maybe your cock is too big.”
“It’s too late to stop now. It was too late when I first pulled your underwear down.”
“God, I just feel so wrong. What if Carl finds out?”
“That’s nothing. Imagine Denise’s reaction. She already hates having a stepmother who’s only fifteen years older than she is.”
“She hates me?”
“Don’t all daddy’s girls feel that way?”
“Oh! Do that again.”
“This twisting thing?”
“Oh! Yes! That!”
A chuckle. “I can’t believe Carl has never taken your ass. I remember looking at your behind at the wedding and wondering if he knew what to do with it.”
A laugh. “He hates you, you know.”
“He hates me? I thought he liked me. He was so nice to me last Thanksgiving. Why would he hate me?”
“Don’t all men hate the guy who fucks their daughter?”
A smile. “True, but I’ll bet he hates the son-in-law who fucks his wife even more.”
“Then let’s really give him something to hate.”
“Is that your way of saying I should go faster?”
A gasp. “Yes.”
“Like this?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Can Carl go this fast?”
“Never! Oh, God, I wish he would!”
“I’m glad he doesn’t, or else I wouldn’t be here to do this.”
A whimper. “Fuck! Does Denise like that, too?”
A grunt. “Denise refuses to try.”
A moan.
A climax.
Another climax.
And yet another climax.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”
“Well, at least not on Father’s Day.”
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Friday, June 16, 2006
Tick Tock Tick Tock
Today we will teach you to make your own erotica but not just any erotica. No, we’re going to teach how to make your own erotic time bombs. You’ll plant these where they will inflict the most arousal and BLAM; body fluids will be everywhere.
Wipe that look off your face. This isn’t a damn writing class. I’m not going to review your work and you won’t have to listen to your classmates drone on about how THEY would have worked in a trick they read in a Neil Gaiman comic. Like a good erotiterrorist, you’ll be using materials found in your own home and relationship.
First thing first, select a target. It can be a spouse, a lover, a crush or a total internet stranger. Just pick someone you want to turn on for the rest of the day who won’t sue you for harassment. Remember, willing targets only!
Second, choose your method of communication. I like text messages because people rarely expect to find the word ‘cunt’ on a little phone screen. It can be by e-mail, it can be by leaving a message on their answering machine or it can be writing a note and sticking it in their wallet or purse.
Third, get horny. Read a blog, clench forty times or watch a few Shakira videos. Get your libido jumping just shy of dropping trousers and masturbating.
Fourth, write something short and well, sexy. Now is not the time to say something meaningful. Save that for the cuddling. For now I want you to channel that energy and write something you would only say in the middle of penetration. Make it short, primal and sexy. Hit your target’s interests. If he likes cheerleaders, give him a F. If she likes kisses, tell her exactly where you’re putting the next one. Don’t write to seduce, write to fuck. Strike them where they throb.
Fifth, send it to them. Hopefully do it in a way that they will not see you do it and look at instantly. Sneak it in their pocket, or text them when they are at work. A little secrecy is needed. You want them to discover it. Let them have the thrill of finding an unexpected present.
Sixth, wait. It’ll go off on it’s own.
Seventh, the response. They might call you up and ask why the fuck you wrote them a letter about ass sex. Here’s your only answer-
I was just thinking about you.
And that’s it. No other answer. You’ve let them know that they are your sex fantasy. Your work is done. They might come home and fuck your brains out. Or they might not. You might confuse the fuck out of them. That’s fine. It’s not about getting sex. It’s about planting that erotic explosion in their mind for just one moment. The next time they get a text message or answer their e-mail, they’ll be thinking of your last message. Well, that and whatever nasty thing you wrote them.
Go forth and blow their minds. They deserve it.
Wipe that look off your face. This isn’t a damn writing class. I’m not going to review your work and you won’t have to listen to your classmates drone on about how THEY would have worked in a trick they read in a Neil Gaiman comic. Like a good erotiterrorist, you’ll be using materials found in your own home and relationship.
First thing first, select a target. It can be a spouse, a lover, a crush or a total internet stranger. Just pick someone you want to turn on for the rest of the day who won’t sue you for harassment. Remember, willing targets only!
Second, choose your method of communication. I like text messages because people rarely expect to find the word ‘cunt’ on a little phone screen. It can be by e-mail, it can be by leaving a message on their answering machine or it can be writing a note and sticking it in their wallet or purse.
Third, get horny. Read a blog, clench forty times or watch a few Shakira videos. Get your libido jumping just shy of dropping trousers and masturbating.
Fourth, write something short and well, sexy. Now is not the time to say something meaningful. Save that for the cuddling. For now I want you to channel that energy and write something you would only say in the middle of penetration. Make it short, primal and sexy. Hit your target’s interests. If he likes cheerleaders, give him a F. If she likes kisses, tell her exactly where you’re putting the next one. Don’t write to seduce, write to fuck. Strike them where they throb.
Fifth, send it to them. Hopefully do it in a way that they will not see you do it and look at instantly. Sneak it in their pocket, or text them when they are at work. A little secrecy is needed. You want them to discover it. Let them have the thrill of finding an unexpected present.
Sixth, wait. It’ll go off on it’s own.
Seventh, the response. They might call you up and ask why the fuck you wrote them a letter about ass sex. Here’s your only answer-
I was just thinking about you.
And that’s it. No other answer. You’ve let them know that they are your sex fantasy. Your work is done. They might come home and fuck your brains out. Or they might not. You might confuse the fuck out of them. That’s fine. It’s not about getting sex. It’s about planting that erotic explosion in their mind for just one moment. The next time they get a text message or answer their e-mail, they’ll be thinking of your last message. Well, that and whatever nasty thing you wrote them.
Go forth and blow their minds. They deserve it.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Half-Nekkid Thursday Mug Shot
Have I mentioned that this week sucks? I’m sure I have. In fact, I bet I have mentioned it every post, e-mail and IM chat this week. If you have talked with me, I am really sorry for being an utter killjoy. Being a week behind, rebuilding a computer and staying on top of new work has turned fun loving erotiterrorist Shon Richards into total Whiney-Bitch Shon.
One of things I decided to sacrifice was Half-Nekkid Thursday. I just didn’t have time. I didn’t have an idea, or the software set up for that matter. I was actually giddy about the idea of skipping a day of blogging just for the wild crazy free time I would have. All of what, ten minutes?
So yesterday I was working hard and building the worse headache. I was working on a remote server when I was alerted by the server owner that they were going down for thirty minutes. Fuckers. I have work to do! I don’t have time for a break.
Hey wait, a break.
I had a killer headache so I got a warm cloth and went into the bedroom. The curtains were closed, the room was dark and I laid down and tried to relax. The cloth is over my eyes because if I don’t, I’ll start looking around the room and will find a book to read.
I thought soothing thoughts.
I got horny.
Sigh. It is a Richards family secret that orgasms cure headaches in my family. I shit you not, I got it from my sister who was told by mom who was told by grandma. My sister told me this and we had our first adult moment of Too-Much-Information but the theory is sound and true. So I decided to tend to myself.
For headache purposes mind you.
I left the washcloth on because damn it, I have a headache. I was doing my thing when it occurred to me, that I had a fucking HNT picture.
Sweet.
So here is my weekly contribution. I am biting my lip right before my orgasm and I have to say it’s my favorite. I like to think that if the government ever came looking for me and I go into the great Erotic Underground to hide, that this will be the mug picture they use for me.
One of things I decided to sacrifice was Half-Nekkid Thursday. I just didn’t have time. I didn’t have an idea, or the software set up for that matter. I was actually giddy about the idea of skipping a day of blogging just for the wild crazy free time I would have. All of what, ten minutes?
So yesterday I was working hard and building the worse headache. I was working on a remote server when I was alerted by the server owner that they were going down for thirty minutes. Fuckers. I have work to do! I don’t have time for a break.
Hey wait, a break.
I had a killer headache so I got a warm cloth and went into the bedroom. The curtains were closed, the room was dark and I laid down and tried to relax. The cloth is over my eyes because if I don’t, I’ll start looking around the room and will find a book to read.
I thought soothing thoughts.
I got horny.
Sigh. It is a Richards family secret that orgasms cure headaches in my family. I shit you not, I got it from my sister who was told by mom who was told by grandma. My sister told me this and we had our first adult moment of Too-Much-Information but the theory is sound and true. So I decided to tend to myself.
For headache purposes mind you.
I left the washcloth on because damn it, I have a headache. I was doing my thing when it occurred to me, that I had a fucking HNT picture.
Sweet.
So here is my weekly contribution. I am biting my lip right before my orgasm and I have to say it’s my favorite. I like to think that if the government ever came looking for me and I go into the great Erotic Underground to hide, that this will be the mug picture they use for me.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Cell Phone Slave Part Nine
Amaya awoke seconds before her alarm went off. Her heart was already racing. The weight of everything she needed to do pressed down on her, but she was smiling. Wesley had promised to let her handle his cock today, and she wanted everything to be perfect.
First she took an hour-long shower. Amaya literally washed everything twice. Her breasts were still tender from that evil bra yesterday, but the marks had almost faded. She shaved her legs and even trimmed her sex, making a dainty little bush. Amaya also took special care with the hair on her head, wanting the long brown locks to be shiny and vibrant today.
Yesterday, Wesley had ordered her to class despite the tack bra. Amaya took that lesson to heart and attended her classes today as well. Oddly, she was able to concentrate, and she took very good notes. Perhaps it was knowing the importance Wesley placed on education that caused Amaya to focus so well. This idea made her giggle during one of her classes. It was the promise of sex that made her a faithful student. She didn’t expect to see that on a campus brochure anytime soon.
To readmore, click Whole Post
She ate small meals to keep her stomach from getting upset. It was easy to get nervous, and the last thing Amaya wanted was a stomachache. She spaced her meals out all day long so that if Wesley took her out to dinner afterward, she would have enough room to eat something. If all he wanted to do was fuck, well, Amaya figured she could lose a few pounds.
Amaya cleaned her glasses down to the nose pads. She took another shower in the afternoon because her room was hot and she was afraid she had picked up more sweat. She found a stray hair on her leg and spent a half-hour going over her legs with tweezers. She applied her analytical mind to the task of discovering and countering any possible blemish, fault or weakness her body might possess.
She chose her clothes just as carefully. The underwear was easy because Wesley had provided it all. Amaya choose a purple bra and a matching thong. They were the same color as the vibrator he had given her. The soft bra hugged her breasts, and it was such a gentle alternative to the bra she had worn yesterday. She briefly debated wearing the one with tacks but thought better of it. If Wesley needed more tests, Amaya was sure he would provide them.
Once again, her wardrobe felt lacking. Although she had bought quite a few clothes lately, Amaya still felt like the Asian-American girl who had had so much trouble getting dates in high school. Eventually, she just had to place her trust in the new clothes. A white blouse made her look feminine and classy, while a pretty black skirt hid her chubby legs. Amaya was glad she had picked up the earrings at the mall. The gold sparkled and made her look not quite as unsophisticated as she felt. She completed her outfit with a pair of brand-new black heels. Even as critical as she was of herself, Amaya had to admit she looked good.
At six o’clock, Amaya began the long walk to the Jackson building. It took her only twenty minutes to get there. That was OK. Amaya could wait. She sat outside on the steps and tried to look casual. She’d waited this long to meet Wesley; what was forty more minutes?
It was an eternity. Amaya checked her watch every minute, then every thirty seconds. Finally, she took off her watch and put it in her pocket. It was past six, so most of the students had gone home for the day or were in the library. She could see lights coming from two classrooms in the Jackson building, so there had to be a few night classes going on. Amaya watched the sun set and took slow breaths to relax. It didn’t help.
The phone rang, and Amaya nearly squealed with relief.
“Hello, Amaya. I trust you are at the Jackson building?”
“Yes,” Amaya answered. “I’m sitting on the steps.”
“That won’t do,” Wesley said. “Go through the main doors and take a right. Tell me when you are at the men’s restroom.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Amaya said to herself as she went inside. She had never been in the Jackson building before, and she was a little taken aback by how run-down it looked. Water stains marred the walls, and a musty smell pervaded everything. Amaya frowned as she went down the hall. Surely there were better places for her first encounter with Wesley?
“I’m outside the men’s room,” Amaya said.
“Look inside and tell me if anyone is there,” Wesley said.
Whoa. Amaya took a deep breath and opened the door. She was surprised by how difficult this was to do mentally. The men’s bathroom was a forbidden place, even more then the back entrance to a theater or the roof of her dorm. Years of conditioning weren’t so easily overcome, but Amaya did as she was told with only a second’s pause.
The bathroom was just as bad as the rest of the building. Dirty blue tiles on the floor and gray walls made the place look like a cell. Rust stains surrounded the sinks, and the three stand-up urinals were a dirty white. There were three stalls, all of them empty.
“It’s empty,” Amaya said. Oh God, she didn’t want to fuck Wesley in such a dismal place, but making her do it here was just another test, wasn’t it? What other girl would go through with it here? In a way, Amaya welcomed the dirt and the smell of piss. They just proved how dedicated she really was.
“Go to the stall on the end, the one up against the wall,” Wesley said. “Lock the door and sit on the toilet. Hurry now.”
Amaya did as she was told. The toilet was just as dirty as the rest of the bathroom, but thankfully, the bowl was empty. She closed the door and was disturbed to see that the lock was just a tiny metal bar that pushed out an inch onto bare wood. There were grooves in the door where other people had obviously opened the door with the lock on. She sat down gingerly on the toilet seat and wasn’t surprised to find that it wobbled.
“I’m in,” Amaya said.
“Excellent. Now look to your left. See that hole beside the toilet paper?”
Actually, there was no toilet paper, but Amaya saw the hole he was referring to. From where she was sitting, it was just below eye level. The hole was large, easily two inches in diameter. She wrinkled her nose as she thought about how easy it would be to spy on someone while they were taking a dump. Why would guys want to do that in their own restroom?
“Now I shall explain the rules for the next hour, my dear Amaya,” Wesley said. “Someone will walk into the stall next to you. He will take out his cock, and he will slip his cock through that hole. You will suck that cock until it climaxes. Then that person will leave, and another will come in, until you’ve sucked three cocks in all. Fail to get all three of them off before the hour is up, and you lose the game. If you win, you will remain in your stall till I call you. Understand?”
No, she didn’t understand at all. “You — you said yesterday that I would handle your cock.”
Wesley chuckled, and his deep laugh made Amaya tingle despite the squalid conditions of her environment.
“I intend to keep my word, Amaya,” Wesley said. “One of those cocks will be mine.”
Amaya felt her cheeks heat up. “Which one?”
“That would be telling,” Wesley said and then he hung up.
“Oh, my God,” Amaya whispered. Could she possibly go through with this? So far he had only asked her to masturbate herself or others. Once, he might have masturbated her. Now Wesley expected her to give blow jobs to strangers? This was insane! How could he expect her to blow three guys, one right after the other, like some sort of slut?
Amaya closed her eyes. She should leave. She should go right now and forget about Wesley. It was too much. If she did this, what more would he expect from her?
The door to the restroom opened, and Amaya opened her eyes. She heard footsteps, and someone came into the next stall. Despite her fear, she looked through the hole. It wasn’t big enough to let her look at the guy’s face, but she could see him unzip his pants and take out a very hard penis.
She jumped back from the hole as the penis slid through. It was so surreal. She was in a dirty men’s restroom with a cock pointed right at her! Amaya knew she should leave, but the strangeness of the situation transfixed her.
The cock itself kept her from leaving. It was so hard and rigid. It wasn’t particularly large or anything, but it seemed so pure sticking out of the wall like that. Instead of being threatened, Amaya felt almost sorry for the stiff flesh. It was there to be sucked, nothing more.
Plus, it might be Wesley’s cock.
Amaya leaned forward on the toilet seat and took the cock into her mouth. A low groan came from the other side. Amaya smiled with the cock still between her lips. The rational part of her mind hadn’t worked out the details yet, but Amaya was going ahead anyway. She would suck this cock and decide later about the other cocks.
Sucking it wasn’t as easy as she’d first thought. The hard wall of the stall bumped her nose when she slid forward on the cock. Amaya found herself wanting to grip the cock as she sucked, but the limited amount of cock that poked through the wall prevented this. If she was to get any of it into her mouth, she would have to go hands-free.
Back and forth she slid on the cock. Amaya appreciated the salty taste of the man’s skin; it helped block out the other, less pleasant smells of the restroom. Amaya closed her eyes and worked her tongue all along the man’s shaft, tasting every bit of him. After so many days of being teased and tested, she enjoyed the simplicity of having a cock in her mouth. This was a test she knew she could pass.
It was also turning her on. Heat flooded the area between her thighs, and the thong pulled and tugged in intimate places. She didn’t know if it was the perversity of the moment that was turning her on or the simple fact that she had a cock in her mouth. The groans coming from the other side weren’t hurting either. Each groan reminded her there was a person on the other side of the wall, someone who appreciated the licking of her tongue and the suction of her lips.
The breathing on the other side began to turn into panting, and Amaya knew he would come soon. Was she really going to take a stranger’s cum into her mouth? The idea was shocking to her, but she found herself sucking harder. The tingling of her clitoris demanded it.
There was no sound on the other side to warn her, just a sudden flood of cum that sprayed the inside of her mouth. Amaya paused as she savored the flavor. It had been far too long. There was something about the flavor of cum that just made her feel special and loved. It was an affirmation that maybe she wasn’t nearly as unattractive as she sometimes felt.
The cock pulled away and disappeared into the other stall. Amaya sat back, stunned. She had done it. The cum was hot in her mouth, and she swallowed it. Her sex was so warm and ready to be fucked. Amaya still didn’t understand why she was doing it, but that was OK. She knew that now that she had started, she had to see this game through to the end.
The man she’d just sucked left the restroom, and a minute later, someone else walked in. One of the cocks was Wesley’s, but Amaya wondered who the others were attached to: Friends? Employees? She had a strange thought of guys playing her game, receiving instructions via cell phone and being told to stick their cocks through a hole in the wall.
She heard the man enter the stall next door, but this time, she didn’t watch him undress. Amaya could hear him, though, from the zipper being pulled down to the sound of his pants hitting the floor. He slid his cock in, and Amaya smiled when she saw how much bigger this one was. No bumping her nose on the wall this time!
Amaya licked the tip of the cock and was disappointed not to hear a groan. Feeling a little challenged, she ran her tongue across the length of the cock sideways. The cock throbbed, and Amaya smiled. Just a little reaction was all she wanted.
She put the tip of the cock into her lips and tried to get as much of it as she could into her mouth. It was just too long. She tried to go deeper, but it was impossible. Not that the guy seemed to mind; his cock was throbbing endlessly as she tried. It disappointed her that she couldn’t deepthroat him, but she accepted that she had limits.
This cock was long enough to hold, and Amaya was glad to have something to do with her hand. She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the cock and rubbed gently as she sucked. Even though she knew the cock wouldn’t go anywhere, it was reassuring to have a grip on it.
Someone walked into the restroom, and Amaya stopped mid-suck. The cock throbbed in her mouth as she heard someone unzip and start pissing into a urinal. Amaya’s heart was pounding as she debated stopping. What if the new person heard her? What if it was a teacher? How would she explain to her parents getting expelled for giving blow jobs in a men’s bathroom?
The cock throbbed again in Amaya’s mouth. The guy in the other stall groaned in frustration, and Amaya was sure the new stranger had to have heard it. She did nothing, and the guy groaned again. It was clear that he was upset over her stopping. What could she do? Amaya resumed sucking him as the sounds of the new stranger pissing continued. She sucked the cock slowly so as not to make any noise, but that only made the cock’s owner more frustrated. Amaya had to appease him and do it quickly before the pisser figured out what was going on.
After a moment’s thought, she pulled back until just the tip of the cock was in her mouth. Her tongue flicked quickly over the head, lapping against it with rapid strokes. He got very quiet and Amaya exhaled a sigh of relief. That was when she noticed the pissing had stopped.
Footsteps echoed in the restroom while Amaya continued flicking her tongue over the guy’s cock. Her mouth was fixed on the cock as she clenched her eyes tight. He was walking right to her; she knew it!
She was wrong. The faucet was turned on, and Amaya could hear the guy wash his hands. Relieved, she stopped flicking her tongue for a moment. The cock tensed, and Amaya quickly rubbed her tongue over the cock tip to cut off any complaining. Instead of a frustrated groan, she heard a near-silent hiss of pleasure. She decided she could live with that and kept rubbing the flat of her tongue against his cockhead. Small drops of pre-cum coated her tongue, and she almost moaned out loud before catching herself.
The water stopped running. Amaya licked and listened as she heard the sound of paper towels being pulled and used. She kept licking hard on the cock with the strongest strokes she could manage to keep her guy satisfied. After what seemed like forever, she heard the restroom door slam as the bystander left.
“Yes,” she heard from the other stall. Amaya agreed. As she relaxed a little, she realized how wet and molten her sex was. Amaya’s pussy was alive with sensations, and she debated again lifting her skirt and masturbating. Yes, it would be lewd and slutty, but she could barely think with the thong rubbing constantly against her.
“Yeah!” the man next door cried out in the quiet restroom. Amaya jumped at the sudden noise and then she felt the shooting semen against her tongue. Her hand clenched around his cock as she took more of him into her mouth. The guy said nothing else as he emptied all he had, and Amaya was relieved there were no further outbursts.
When the cock retreated back to the other side of the wall, Amaya sat back, stunned. She had done it. Two cocks had entered that hole, and she had sucked both of them off. The taste of cum was overpowering in her mouth. Her jaw was a little sore, but Amaya was struck by how much she was enjoying this. Yes, it was humiliating to be used for her mouth like this, but she couldn’t deny how exciting it was. This was Wesley’s challenge, and she was winning. That was all she needed to know.
The guy left, and Amaya could hear the footsteps of a new guy almost immediately. He walked very slowly and took his time getting to the stall. The waiting was too much. Amaya lifted her skirt above her knees and rubbed her thong. A single stroke made her whimper. She was so damn hot, and this guy was taking so damn long. She wanted to cum, but she was going to wait till she had a cock in her mouth. Wesley would prefer it that way, she thought.
The door to the stall next door closed. Pants were unzipped, and Amaya watched as a cock emerged through the wall. It was smaller than the last cock, but larger than the first. There was a tiny drop of pre-cum glistening on the cock, and Amaya was quick to lick it off. The cock shuddered, and Amaya smiled. She’d never felt more desirable in her life.
Amaya took the cock into her mouth and sucked it down to the hole in the wall. She could smell the man’s cologne through the hole, and it smelled great. She sucked hard on the cock and was rewarded with another shudder. It was so nice to be appreciated.
It was impossible to hold off on stroking herself now. She was too wet, too horny and too ready. Her hand pushed aside the flimsy bra, and Amaya regretted that none of the men had had a chance to see her panties. Oh, well. Amaya sank her fingers into her pussy without another thought. The bliss of touching herself caused her to moan, something the cock in her mouth seemed to enjoy as well.
Amaya chuckled and kept stroking herself. She didn’t know how much of the hour was left, and she didn’t care. Her body was in a state of heightened arousal. She just wanted to cum. There was no room in her mind for doubt or fear. She was just sucking and masturbating.
She didn’t know if it was Wesley’s cock or not but she treated it like it was. Her lips sealed around the cock, while her tongue lavished it with licks and gentle strokes. Amaya stroked a sweet spot on her pussy and moaned freely, letting her lips vibrate around the cock. When her jaw became too sore, she took the cock out of her mouth and kissed up and down the length of it. The cock was shiny from her spit and swollen red with desire.
The cock slid back slightly and then thrust forward, the man’s body slamming against the flimsy stall wall. Amaya smiled as she saw the guy needed to fuck as badly as she did. For a moment, she wondered if she could stand up, bend over and get that cock in her pussy, but she decided against it. Wesley had told her to suck, and she wasn’t about to disobey now.
Despite the pain in her jaw, Amaya took the cock back between her lips. The man groaned and kept thrusting. She let her jaw go slack as he fucked her mouth. Amaya longed to feel the man’s hands on her head or maybe grabbing one of her sensitive nipples. She needed more human contact, but she had to settle for his cock pumping between her lips.
Amaya climaxed first. It was a glorious orgasm, making her nipples feel on fire underneath her tight bra and her eyes roll in her head. She moaned around the cock that never stopped thrusting into her. Her fingers didn’t stop either, stroking constantly as she brought herself to another climax in the bathroom stall.
The thrusting stopped suddenly and then there was a hot splash of cum in her mouth. Then the thrusting resumed. Amaya choked for a second since she was caught off guard, but she quickly recovered. Between the two of them, they drained the cock of all of its semen, and Amaya faithfully swallowed every drop.
The cock withdrew, and Amaya could hear the man zip back up. She sat back and let her skirt fall over her legs. Her jaw was sore and her tongue was exhausted, but she was smiling. She had done it. Not to mention one hell of an orgasm or two for herself. ??
She waited for the phone to ring. Her fingers were sticky from her desire, but there was no toilet tissue. Amaya wanted to get up and wash her hands, but she stayed where she was. No sense fucking up the game now.
The phone rang, and Amaya croaked out a hello. She was taken aback by how hard it was to talk. Oh, well, what did she expect after three blow jobs?
“Very, very good,” Wesley said. He was chuckling, and he sounded giddy. Amaya smiled. She had caused that.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re progressing very well, Amaya,” Wesley said. “You’ve gotten further than many have before. At this point, I am doubtful you can lose.”
“Good,” she said. “I don’t plan on losing.”
Wesley chuckled. “That sounded like a challenge. I’ll need to do some thinking. Right now, I can barely walk, much less anything else.”
“Was I that good?” Amaya teased. She was delighted. It was nice to know she could affect him so.
“You were excellent,” Wesley said.
“Oh, I had a question,” Amaya said. She hated to ask and possibly ruin the moment, but she never knew when he might hang up. “Will you be needing me tomorrow afternoon? I had something planned.”
Wesley got quiet. “Really? Is this a date you have planned?”
Amaya’s heart raced. “Yes.”
Wesley was quiet. “Is that a problem?” she asked. Oh, God, he must not be Chris after all!
Wesley chuckled. “Your mouth has been fucked by three cocks, and yet you’re asking permission for a date. Tell me about the boy. Is he a classmate?”
“No,” she said. “I met him in the cafeteria.”
“I see,” Wesley said. “What’s the young man’s name?”
Amaya told him, and Wesley said nothing for a few seconds. She thought she had been afraid when the first cock slid into the hole. That was nothing. Wesley’s silence was far more terrifying. Amaya felt tears spring into her eyes as she wondered if this would the mistake that lost her Wesley. The tears stunned her, but she didn’t let herself think about it. She had to know what Wesley thought.
“Amaya, listen very carefully to me,” Wesley said his tone was very serious. “I will not call on you tomorrow. You’ve certainly earned a reprieve. But when you go on your date, you’re going to let Chris fuck you. If he doesn’t make a move, you will fuck him.”
“Is this my task for tomorrow?” Amaya asked. She was wet again. Wesley was telling her to fuck Chris! She desperately wanted to do this for him, to prove herself all over again.
“No,” Wesley said, and Amaya’s heart sank. “No, there will be no reward for that task. You will do it because you know it’s what I want. Or am I wrong?”
“No, I’ll do it,” Amaya said.
“Excellent. Your reward for today’s task is in the stall next door. Enjoy your time tomorrow.”
He hung up before Amaya could say anything. She closed the phone and took a deep breath. The disappointment of not seeing Wesley’s face, the terror of sucking three strangers and the strange way Wesley had acted when he found out about Chris had left Amaya exhausted and emotionally unsure. She didn’t know up from down anymore. Had she done well, or was she in some sort of trouble?
Amaya shook her head and stood up. Bolts of pain shot through her legs, and she realized they must have fallen asleep on the toilet seat. She wanted to let them recover slowly, but her money was in the next stall. There could be no waiting. What if another guy came in and used that stall? Amaya gritted her teeth and willed her legs to move. She had earned that money!
The stall was just as dirty as the one she’d just left. The hole seemed larger on this side, and when she peeked through, she was disturbed by how much she could see. Her money was taped together in a large bundle on top of the toilet paper dispenser. She stuffed the money into her pocket and hurried out of the restroom. Thankfully, no one saw her exit.
She counted the money on her way home. It was a thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills. Amaya whistled to herself. That was roughly three hundred and thirty dollars for each blow job. Oddly enough, the thought didn’t bother her. The young woman felt she should be experiencing some sort of shame from getting paid to give blow jobs, but instead, she was actually proud. It was a tough thing to do, and Amaya had managed to get through it. Besides, it was hard to feel shame when her pussy was still so wet.
First she took an hour-long shower. Amaya literally washed everything twice. Her breasts were still tender from that evil bra yesterday, but the marks had almost faded. She shaved her legs and even trimmed her sex, making a dainty little bush. Amaya also took special care with the hair on her head, wanting the long brown locks to be shiny and vibrant today.
Yesterday, Wesley had ordered her to class despite the tack bra. Amaya took that lesson to heart and attended her classes today as well. Oddly, she was able to concentrate, and she took very good notes. Perhaps it was knowing the importance Wesley placed on education that caused Amaya to focus so well. This idea made her giggle during one of her classes. It was the promise of sex that made her a faithful student. She didn’t expect to see that on a campus brochure anytime soon.
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She ate small meals to keep her stomach from getting upset. It was easy to get nervous, and the last thing Amaya wanted was a stomachache. She spaced her meals out all day long so that if Wesley took her out to dinner afterward, she would have enough room to eat something. If all he wanted to do was fuck, well, Amaya figured she could lose a few pounds.
Amaya cleaned her glasses down to the nose pads. She took another shower in the afternoon because her room was hot and she was afraid she had picked up more sweat. She found a stray hair on her leg and spent a half-hour going over her legs with tweezers. She applied her analytical mind to the task of discovering and countering any possible blemish, fault or weakness her body might possess.
She chose her clothes just as carefully. The underwear was easy because Wesley had provided it all. Amaya choose a purple bra and a matching thong. They were the same color as the vibrator he had given her. The soft bra hugged her breasts, and it was such a gentle alternative to the bra she had worn yesterday. She briefly debated wearing the one with tacks but thought better of it. If Wesley needed more tests, Amaya was sure he would provide them.
Once again, her wardrobe felt lacking. Although she had bought quite a few clothes lately, Amaya still felt like the Asian-American girl who had had so much trouble getting dates in high school. Eventually, she just had to place her trust in the new clothes. A white blouse made her look feminine and classy, while a pretty black skirt hid her chubby legs. Amaya was glad she had picked up the earrings at the mall. The gold sparkled and made her look not quite as unsophisticated as she felt. She completed her outfit with a pair of brand-new black heels. Even as critical as she was of herself, Amaya had to admit she looked good.
At six o’clock, Amaya began the long walk to the Jackson building. It took her only twenty minutes to get there. That was OK. Amaya could wait. She sat outside on the steps and tried to look casual. She’d waited this long to meet Wesley; what was forty more minutes?
It was an eternity. Amaya checked her watch every minute, then every thirty seconds. Finally, she took off her watch and put it in her pocket. It was past six, so most of the students had gone home for the day or were in the library. She could see lights coming from two classrooms in the Jackson building, so there had to be a few night classes going on. Amaya watched the sun set and took slow breaths to relax. It didn’t help.
The phone rang, and Amaya nearly squealed with relief.
“Hello, Amaya. I trust you are at the Jackson building?”
“Yes,” Amaya answered. “I’m sitting on the steps.”
“That won’t do,” Wesley said. “Go through the main doors and take a right. Tell me when you are at the men’s restroom.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Amaya said to herself as she went inside. She had never been in the Jackson building before, and she was a little taken aback by how run-down it looked. Water stains marred the walls, and a musty smell pervaded everything. Amaya frowned as she went down the hall. Surely there were better places for her first encounter with Wesley?
“I’m outside the men’s room,” Amaya said.
“Look inside and tell me if anyone is there,” Wesley said.
Whoa. Amaya took a deep breath and opened the door. She was surprised by how difficult this was to do mentally. The men’s bathroom was a forbidden place, even more then the back entrance to a theater or the roof of her dorm. Years of conditioning weren’t so easily overcome, but Amaya did as she was told with only a second’s pause.
The bathroom was just as bad as the rest of the building. Dirty blue tiles on the floor and gray walls made the place look like a cell. Rust stains surrounded the sinks, and the three stand-up urinals were a dirty white. There were three stalls, all of them empty.
“It’s empty,” Amaya said. Oh God, she didn’t want to fuck Wesley in such a dismal place, but making her do it here was just another test, wasn’t it? What other girl would go through with it here? In a way, Amaya welcomed the dirt and the smell of piss. They just proved how dedicated she really was.
“Go to the stall on the end, the one up against the wall,” Wesley said. “Lock the door and sit on the toilet. Hurry now.”
Amaya did as she was told. The toilet was just as dirty as the rest of the bathroom, but thankfully, the bowl was empty. She closed the door and was disturbed to see that the lock was just a tiny metal bar that pushed out an inch onto bare wood. There were grooves in the door where other people had obviously opened the door with the lock on. She sat down gingerly on the toilet seat and wasn’t surprised to find that it wobbled.
“I’m in,” Amaya said.
“Excellent. Now look to your left. See that hole beside the toilet paper?”
Actually, there was no toilet paper, but Amaya saw the hole he was referring to. From where she was sitting, it was just below eye level. The hole was large, easily two inches in diameter. She wrinkled her nose as she thought about how easy it would be to spy on someone while they were taking a dump. Why would guys want to do that in their own restroom?
“Now I shall explain the rules for the next hour, my dear Amaya,” Wesley said. “Someone will walk into the stall next to you. He will take out his cock, and he will slip his cock through that hole. You will suck that cock until it climaxes. Then that person will leave, and another will come in, until you’ve sucked three cocks in all. Fail to get all three of them off before the hour is up, and you lose the game. If you win, you will remain in your stall till I call you. Understand?”
No, she didn’t understand at all. “You — you said yesterday that I would handle your cock.”
Wesley chuckled, and his deep laugh made Amaya tingle despite the squalid conditions of her environment.
“I intend to keep my word, Amaya,” Wesley said. “One of those cocks will be mine.”
Amaya felt her cheeks heat up. “Which one?”
“That would be telling,” Wesley said and then he hung up.
“Oh, my God,” Amaya whispered. Could she possibly go through with this? So far he had only asked her to masturbate herself or others. Once, he might have masturbated her. Now Wesley expected her to give blow jobs to strangers? This was insane! How could he expect her to blow three guys, one right after the other, like some sort of slut?
Amaya closed her eyes. She should leave. She should go right now and forget about Wesley. It was too much. If she did this, what more would he expect from her?
The door to the restroom opened, and Amaya opened her eyes. She heard footsteps, and someone came into the next stall. Despite her fear, she looked through the hole. It wasn’t big enough to let her look at the guy’s face, but she could see him unzip his pants and take out a very hard penis.
She jumped back from the hole as the penis slid through. It was so surreal. She was in a dirty men’s restroom with a cock pointed right at her! Amaya knew she should leave, but the strangeness of the situation transfixed her.
The cock itself kept her from leaving. It was so hard and rigid. It wasn’t particularly large or anything, but it seemed so pure sticking out of the wall like that. Instead of being threatened, Amaya felt almost sorry for the stiff flesh. It was there to be sucked, nothing more.
Plus, it might be Wesley’s cock.
Amaya leaned forward on the toilet seat and took the cock into her mouth. A low groan came from the other side. Amaya smiled with the cock still between her lips. The rational part of her mind hadn’t worked out the details yet, but Amaya was going ahead anyway. She would suck this cock and decide later about the other cocks.
Sucking it wasn’t as easy as she’d first thought. The hard wall of the stall bumped her nose when she slid forward on the cock. Amaya found herself wanting to grip the cock as she sucked, but the limited amount of cock that poked through the wall prevented this. If she was to get any of it into her mouth, she would have to go hands-free.
Back and forth she slid on the cock. Amaya appreciated the salty taste of the man’s skin; it helped block out the other, less pleasant smells of the restroom. Amaya closed her eyes and worked her tongue all along the man’s shaft, tasting every bit of him. After so many days of being teased and tested, she enjoyed the simplicity of having a cock in her mouth. This was a test she knew she could pass.
It was also turning her on. Heat flooded the area between her thighs, and the thong pulled and tugged in intimate places. She didn’t know if it was the perversity of the moment that was turning her on or the simple fact that she had a cock in her mouth. The groans coming from the other side weren’t hurting either. Each groan reminded her there was a person on the other side of the wall, someone who appreciated the licking of her tongue and the suction of her lips.
The breathing on the other side began to turn into panting, and Amaya knew he would come soon. Was she really going to take a stranger’s cum into her mouth? The idea was shocking to her, but she found herself sucking harder. The tingling of her clitoris demanded it.
There was no sound on the other side to warn her, just a sudden flood of cum that sprayed the inside of her mouth. Amaya paused as she savored the flavor. It had been far too long. There was something about the flavor of cum that just made her feel special and loved. It was an affirmation that maybe she wasn’t nearly as unattractive as she sometimes felt.
The cock pulled away and disappeared into the other stall. Amaya sat back, stunned. She had done it. The cum was hot in her mouth, and she swallowed it. Her sex was so warm and ready to be fucked. Amaya still didn’t understand why she was doing it, but that was OK. She knew that now that she had started, she had to see this game through to the end.
The man she’d just sucked left the restroom, and a minute later, someone else walked in. One of the cocks was Wesley’s, but Amaya wondered who the others were attached to: Friends? Employees? She had a strange thought of guys playing her game, receiving instructions via cell phone and being told to stick their cocks through a hole in the wall.
She heard the man enter the stall next door, but this time, she didn’t watch him undress. Amaya could hear him, though, from the zipper being pulled down to the sound of his pants hitting the floor. He slid his cock in, and Amaya smiled when she saw how much bigger this one was. No bumping her nose on the wall this time!
Amaya licked the tip of the cock and was disappointed not to hear a groan. Feeling a little challenged, she ran her tongue across the length of the cock sideways. The cock throbbed, and Amaya smiled. Just a little reaction was all she wanted.
She put the tip of the cock into her lips and tried to get as much of it as she could into her mouth. It was just too long. She tried to go deeper, but it was impossible. Not that the guy seemed to mind; his cock was throbbing endlessly as she tried. It disappointed her that she couldn’t deepthroat him, but she accepted that she had limits.
This cock was long enough to hold, and Amaya was glad to have something to do with her hand. She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the cock and rubbed gently as she sucked. Even though she knew the cock wouldn’t go anywhere, it was reassuring to have a grip on it.
Someone walked into the restroom, and Amaya stopped mid-suck. The cock throbbed in her mouth as she heard someone unzip and start pissing into a urinal. Amaya’s heart was pounding as she debated stopping. What if the new person heard her? What if it was a teacher? How would she explain to her parents getting expelled for giving blow jobs in a men’s bathroom?
The cock throbbed again in Amaya’s mouth. The guy in the other stall groaned in frustration, and Amaya was sure the new stranger had to have heard it. She did nothing, and the guy groaned again. It was clear that he was upset over her stopping. What could she do? Amaya resumed sucking him as the sounds of the new stranger pissing continued. She sucked the cock slowly so as not to make any noise, but that only made the cock’s owner more frustrated. Amaya had to appease him and do it quickly before the pisser figured out what was going on.
After a moment’s thought, she pulled back until just the tip of the cock was in her mouth. Her tongue flicked quickly over the head, lapping against it with rapid strokes. He got very quiet and Amaya exhaled a sigh of relief. That was when she noticed the pissing had stopped.
Footsteps echoed in the restroom while Amaya continued flicking her tongue over the guy’s cock. Her mouth was fixed on the cock as she clenched her eyes tight. He was walking right to her; she knew it!
She was wrong. The faucet was turned on, and Amaya could hear the guy wash his hands. Relieved, she stopped flicking her tongue for a moment. The cock tensed, and Amaya quickly rubbed her tongue over the cock tip to cut off any complaining. Instead of a frustrated groan, she heard a near-silent hiss of pleasure. She decided she could live with that and kept rubbing the flat of her tongue against his cockhead. Small drops of pre-cum coated her tongue, and she almost moaned out loud before catching herself.
The water stopped running. Amaya licked and listened as she heard the sound of paper towels being pulled and used. She kept licking hard on the cock with the strongest strokes she could manage to keep her guy satisfied. After what seemed like forever, she heard the restroom door slam as the bystander left.
“Yes,” she heard from the other stall. Amaya agreed. As she relaxed a little, she realized how wet and molten her sex was. Amaya’s pussy was alive with sensations, and she debated again lifting her skirt and masturbating. Yes, it would be lewd and slutty, but she could barely think with the thong rubbing constantly against her.
“Yeah!” the man next door cried out in the quiet restroom. Amaya jumped at the sudden noise and then she felt the shooting semen against her tongue. Her hand clenched around his cock as she took more of him into her mouth. The guy said nothing else as he emptied all he had, and Amaya was relieved there were no further outbursts.
When the cock retreated back to the other side of the wall, Amaya sat back, stunned. She had done it. Two cocks had entered that hole, and she had sucked both of them off. The taste of cum was overpowering in her mouth. Her jaw was a little sore, but Amaya was struck by how much she was enjoying this. Yes, it was humiliating to be used for her mouth like this, but she couldn’t deny how exciting it was. This was Wesley’s challenge, and she was winning. That was all she needed to know.
The guy left, and Amaya could hear the footsteps of a new guy almost immediately. He walked very slowly and took his time getting to the stall. The waiting was too much. Amaya lifted her skirt above her knees and rubbed her thong. A single stroke made her whimper. She was so damn hot, and this guy was taking so damn long. She wanted to cum, but she was going to wait till she had a cock in her mouth. Wesley would prefer it that way, she thought.
The door to the stall next door closed. Pants were unzipped, and Amaya watched as a cock emerged through the wall. It was smaller than the last cock, but larger than the first. There was a tiny drop of pre-cum glistening on the cock, and Amaya was quick to lick it off. The cock shuddered, and Amaya smiled. She’d never felt more desirable in her life.
Amaya took the cock into her mouth and sucked it down to the hole in the wall. She could smell the man’s cologne through the hole, and it smelled great. She sucked hard on the cock and was rewarded with another shudder. It was so nice to be appreciated.
It was impossible to hold off on stroking herself now. She was too wet, too horny and too ready. Her hand pushed aside the flimsy bra, and Amaya regretted that none of the men had had a chance to see her panties. Oh, well. Amaya sank her fingers into her pussy without another thought. The bliss of touching herself caused her to moan, something the cock in her mouth seemed to enjoy as well.
Amaya chuckled and kept stroking herself. She didn’t know how much of the hour was left, and she didn’t care. Her body was in a state of heightened arousal. She just wanted to cum. There was no room in her mind for doubt or fear. She was just sucking and masturbating.
She didn’t know if it was Wesley’s cock or not but she treated it like it was. Her lips sealed around the cock, while her tongue lavished it with licks and gentle strokes. Amaya stroked a sweet spot on her pussy and moaned freely, letting her lips vibrate around the cock. When her jaw became too sore, she took the cock out of her mouth and kissed up and down the length of it. The cock was shiny from her spit and swollen red with desire.
The cock slid back slightly and then thrust forward, the man’s body slamming against the flimsy stall wall. Amaya smiled as she saw the guy needed to fuck as badly as she did. For a moment, she wondered if she could stand up, bend over and get that cock in her pussy, but she decided against it. Wesley had told her to suck, and she wasn’t about to disobey now.
Despite the pain in her jaw, Amaya took the cock back between her lips. The man groaned and kept thrusting. She let her jaw go slack as he fucked her mouth. Amaya longed to feel the man’s hands on her head or maybe grabbing one of her sensitive nipples. She needed more human contact, but she had to settle for his cock pumping between her lips.
Amaya climaxed first. It was a glorious orgasm, making her nipples feel on fire underneath her tight bra and her eyes roll in her head. She moaned around the cock that never stopped thrusting into her. Her fingers didn’t stop either, stroking constantly as she brought herself to another climax in the bathroom stall.
The thrusting stopped suddenly and then there was a hot splash of cum in her mouth. Then the thrusting resumed. Amaya choked for a second since she was caught off guard, but she quickly recovered. Between the two of them, they drained the cock of all of its semen, and Amaya faithfully swallowed every drop.
The cock withdrew, and Amaya could hear the man zip back up. She sat back and let her skirt fall over her legs. Her jaw was sore and her tongue was exhausted, but she was smiling. She had done it. Not to mention one hell of an orgasm or two for herself. ??
She waited for the phone to ring. Her fingers were sticky from her desire, but there was no toilet tissue. Amaya wanted to get up and wash her hands, but she stayed where she was. No sense fucking up the game now.
The phone rang, and Amaya croaked out a hello. She was taken aback by how hard it was to talk. Oh, well, what did she expect after three blow jobs?
“Very, very good,” Wesley said. He was chuckling, and he sounded giddy. Amaya smiled. She had caused that.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re progressing very well, Amaya,” Wesley said. “You’ve gotten further than many have before. At this point, I am doubtful you can lose.”
“Good,” she said. “I don’t plan on losing.”
Wesley chuckled. “That sounded like a challenge. I’ll need to do some thinking. Right now, I can barely walk, much less anything else.”
“Was I that good?” Amaya teased. She was delighted. It was nice to know she could affect him so.
“You were excellent,” Wesley said.
“Oh, I had a question,” Amaya said. She hated to ask and possibly ruin the moment, but she never knew when he might hang up. “Will you be needing me tomorrow afternoon? I had something planned.”
Wesley got quiet. “Really? Is this a date you have planned?”
Amaya’s heart raced. “Yes.”
Wesley was quiet. “Is that a problem?” she asked. Oh, God, he must not be Chris after all!
Wesley chuckled. “Your mouth has been fucked by three cocks, and yet you’re asking permission for a date. Tell me about the boy. Is he a classmate?”
“No,” she said. “I met him in the cafeteria.”
“I see,” Wesley said. “What’s the young man’s name?”
Amaya told him, and Wesley said nothing for a few seconds. She thought she had been afraid when the first cock slid into the hole. That was nothing. Wesley’s silence was far more terrifying. Amaya felt tears spring into her eyes as she wondered if this would the mistake that lost her Wesley. The tears stunned her, but she didn’t let herself think about it. She had to know what Wesley thought.
“Amaya, listen very carefully to me,” Wesley said his tone was very serious. “I will not call on you tomorrow. You’ve certainly earned a reprieve. But when you go on your date, you’re going to let Chris fuck you. If he doesn’t make a move, you will fuck him.”
“Is this my task for tomorrow?” Amaya asked. She was wet again. Wesley was telling her to fuck Chris! She desperately wanted to do this for him, to prove herself all over again.
“No,” Wesley said, and Amaya’s heart sank. “No, there will be no reward for that task. You will do it because you know it’s what I want. Or am I wrong?”
“No, I’ll do it,” Amaya said.
“Excellent. Your reward for today’s task is in the stall next door. Enjoy your time tomorrow.”
He hung up before Amaya could say anything. She closed the phone and took a deep breath. The disappointment of not seeing Wesley’s face, the terror of sucking three strangers and the strange way Wesley had acted when he found out about Chris had left Amaya exhausted and emotionally unsure. She didn’t know up from down anymore. Had she done well, or was she in some sort of trouble?
Amaya shook her head and stood up. Bolts of pain shot through her legs, and she realized they must have fallen asleep on the toilet seat. She wanted to let them recover slowly, but her money was in the next stall. There could be no waiting. What if another guy came in and used that stall? Amaya gritted her teeth and willed her legs to move. She had earned that money!
The stall was just as dirty as the one she’d just left. The hole seemed larger on this side, and when she peeked through, she was disturbed by how much she could see. Her money was taped together in a large bundle on top of the toilet paper dispenser. She stuffed the money into her pocket and hurried out of the restroom. Thankfully, no one saw her exit.
She counted the money on her way home. It was a thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills. Amaya whistled to herself. That was roughly three hundred and thirty dollars for each blow job. Oddly enough, the thought didn’t bother her. The young woman felt she should be experiencing some sort of shame from getting paid to give blow jobs, but instead, she was actually proud. It was a tough thing to do, and Amaya had managed to get through it. Besides, it was hard to feel shame when her pussy was still so wet.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
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Shon Richards
Recently the work computer used here at the Erotiterrorist camp was sabotaged by Puritans. They destroyed a hard drive which resulted in a lot of re-installing of vital software. Because of this, various regular functions will be postponed till further notice. For example, the Friday Dildo-carving class is cancelled, as well as the Thursday Apartment Neighbor Fucking class.
We are contacting you in the strictest of confidences to enlist your help. Our talented computer specialists are hard at work but due to their high sex drives, they only work for tit pictures. Yes it’s true. They need fresh never before seen pictures of breasts to continue their work. Home made pictures only please, as these nerds have already committed to memory every single breast that is on the Internet.
I know you may be shocked. You may even be offended. We suspect some of you are shocked, offended and aroused. I ask you to search your heart and maybe your cunt and help us in our time of need. Remember when you were horny that one time, and you found a story on our site that helped you through this difficult time? We were there for you with a sexy story that made your toes curl, can’t you make ours curl as well?
Lastly, don’t do it for us. Do it for the millions, okay, thousands, ummm, more like hundreds of people who read this site every day. The world needs erotica. The world needs to get off and relieve the stress that comes from living in a crazy world where the media thinks Paris Hilton is sexy. Do it for the next generation of sexually active adults who need to know that sex is not about thin attention whores, but about real people, having real sex and getting really spanked.
You can send your donation to shonrichards at yahoo dot com.
Yours in porn,
Shon Richards
Monday, June 12, 2006
Erotic Alert Level: Fucking Purple
I want to fuck.
I want to fuck in the worse possible way in all the good ways I can imagine.
I want a handjob.
I want a blowjob.
I want to be double teamed by two horny women.
I want to bend a woman over.
I want to spank her.
I want to fuck her.
I want to bend her backward by the hair.
I want to maul her breasts.
I want to bite nipples.
I want to twist nipples.
I want to squeeze tits.
I want to slap breasts.
I want to wrap breasts around my cock.
I want to mount a slut.
I want to fuck a whore.
I want to make a princess beg
I want to make a slave cum.
I want to strip a woman’s clothes off.
I want to tear open a shirt.
I want to bite through panties.
I want to use her hose to bind her wrists.
I want her tied spread eagle.
I want her hogtied.
I want her ankles bound to her wrists.
I want her hands behind her back.
I want her throat in a collar.
I want her throat in my hand.
I want her throat to be covered in my bites.
I want her thighs around my waist.
I want her thighs around my head.
I want her ankles on my shoulders as I drive into her.
I want her hands gripping my ass as I fuck her.
I want her hands gripping my ass as she sucks me.
I want her hair around my hand.
I want her hair on my lap.
I want her hair on my face as she rides me.
I want to make her moan.
I want to make her beg.
I want to make her whimper.
I want to hear her scream.
I want to cum in her cunt.
I want to cum in her mouth.
I want to cum on her face.
I want to cum on her tits.
I want to cum on her spanked ass.
I want to cum IN her ass.
I want to cum.
I want to fuck in the worse possible way in all the good ways I can imagine.
I want a handjob.
I want a blowjob.
I want to be double teamed by two horny women.
I want to bend a woman over.
I want to spank her.
I want to fuck her.
I want to bend her backward by the hair.
I want to maul her breasts.
I want to bite nipples.
I want to twist nipples.
I want to squeeze tits.
I want to slap breasts.
I want to wrap breasts around my cock.
I want to mount a slut.
I want to fuck a whore.
I want to make a princess beg
I want to make a slave cum.
I want to strip a woman’s clothes off.
I want to tear open a shirt.
I want to bite through panties.
I want to use her hose to bind her wrists.
I want her tied spread eagle.
I want her hogtied.
I want her ankles bound to her wrists.
I want her hands behind her back.
I want her throat in a collar.
I want her throat in my hand.
I want her throat to be covered in my bites.
I want her thighs around my waist.
I want her thighs around my head.
I want her ankles on my shoulders as I drive into her.
I want her hands gripping my ass as I fuck her.
I want her hands gripping my ass as she sucks me.
I want her hair around my hand.
I want her hair on my lap.
I want her hair on my face as she rides me.
I want to make her moan.
I want to make her beg.
I want to make her whimper.
I want to hear her scream.
I want to cum in her cunt.
I want to cum in her mouth.
I want to cum on her face.
I want to cum on her tits.
I want to cum on her spanked ass.
I want to cum IN her ass.
I want to cum.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Secret Geek Sunday-Richards, Shon Richards
Today Secret Geek Sunday is cranking back the Way-Back machine and going into the strange time known as the 1980’s. It was a weird time. See, there was these evil Russians who umm, did Russian things and we needed to stop them. Other than waiting for the Russians to attack us in our American heartland like they did in Red Dawn, we would often fight evil Russians with secret agents. Our agents would go in, seduce any sexy Russians and kill all the evil male Russians. It was just what you did in the 80’s.
As a teenage boy with raging hormones, I did my part by playing the James Bond role-playing game created by Victory Games Inc.
In the James Bond Role-playing game, you created a M.I.6 agent and kicked foreign ass. Sure, you were British, but you spoke English so you were still cool. If anything, you were cooler because you had an accent. To a kid who was living in Jacksonville, North Carolina, the idea of foreign travel, exotic women and strange enemies seemed like fantasy land. I could either hang out at the mall and pray that Sherrie F would ever notice me, or I could sit around with a few friends and blow the shit out of an underwater base located right off of Tokyo.
Before I say anything else, I just want to share a moment with you. Check out the character sheet every player gets.
See that right in the middle? A multiplication table! That’s the kind of hardcore math that was involved in every game. Cripes! No wonder Sherrie never paid attention to me. I was crunching numbers like a mother fucker trying to figure out my success rate of kicking Jaws in the jimmies instead of mastering more important skills like how to properly part my hair without looking like a 14 year old with a comb-over.
Anyhoo, Bond was a fun game. If this was a role-playing blog, I would take a moment and explain how the Car Chase system was so perfect in recreating James Bond movie chases that I use a similar version in role-playing games I play now. I would do that, but let’s be honest. In Bond, it was all about the sex. If characters like Pussy Galore and Anya Amasova did not exist, I doubt I would have even played the game.
The James Bond Role-Playing game had a system for Seduction. Check it out here.
This my friends, is math teenager geek Nirvana. The complex interactions of men, women and sex is broken down to five easy dice rolls. Holy crap! They didn’t teach this in sex education.
First, there is The Look. I can personally attest that this worked on Sherrie as every time I gave her the The Look, I definitely got her attention. Mostly it was a wrinkling of her eyebrows, like she was confused.
Second, there is The Opening Line. I think I botched this as my opening line was, “Hey.”
Third there is Witty Conversation. I know I failed this because I brought up how much I didn’t like our English teacher, who apparently was a friend of Sherrie’s mother and had taught Sherrie how to ride a bike.
Fourth is Beginning Intimacies. We never got this far unless you count non-stop masturbation about Sherrie being captured by Russians and her giving me a blowjob as a reward for rescuing her.
Fifth is When and Where? Yeah. Bond was a classy game about classy people.
There was also an entire chapter on gambling, another chapter on weapons and a long chapter about foreign cities. As you can imagine, I didn’t much attention to those chapters. After being rejected by Sherrie, I threw myself back into the shadowy world of James Bond where I melted the cold hearts of beautiful Russian women. And Japanese women. And a shitload of sexy African women. Well, you get the idea. Real Shon might have struck out but Secret Agent Shon was getting more action than that final number on that multiplication chart.
It's really amazing I ever get laid now when you think about it.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Fiction: Charity
Hello is this Mr. Richards?
Hello sir, I'm calling on behalf of Frustrated Housewives. Mr. Richards, every year millions of housewives go without the level of sex they require to be happy. Sometimes this is because of lazy husbands, asshole husbands and often times, very clueless husbands. These Frustrated Housewives become fed up with being rejected and turn to other sources of fulfillment like compulsive cleaning, writing Amazon book reviews and blogging. Mr. Richards, how much free time can you contribute to fucking a frustrated housewife?
Two hours a day? My my, Mr. Richards. That is very generous of you. On behalf of Frustrated Housewives in your area, I would like to thank you for donating this time to fucking those in need.
Do you have any specialties that may help us select which Frustrated Housewife you are most capable of helping?
Spanking? That's good.
Bondage? very good.
Anal? No, no Mr. Richards, that is not a minus. In fact, that is the number one requested act. Yes, really. Husbands can be stupid sometimes.
Very well Mr. Richards, I would like to thank you once again for volunteering to help those in need. The Frustrated Housewives really appreciate this and as a bonus for your donation, the Housewife will be bringing over dinner.
If you will just stay on the line, my manager will confirm your address and a Frustrated Housewife in your area will arrive shortly. Thank you for your generous donation.
Hello sir, I'm calling on behalf of Frustrated Housewives. Mr. Richards, every year millions of housewives go without the level of sex they require to be happy. Sometimes this is because of lazy husbands, asshole husbands and often times, very clueless husbands. These Frustrated Housewives become fed up with being rejected and turn to other sources of fulfillment like compulsive cleaning, writing Amazon book reviews and blogging. Mr. Richards, how much free time can you contribute to fucking a frustrated housewife?
Two hours a day? My my, Mr. Richards. That is very generous of you. On behalf of Frustrated Housewives in your area, I would like to thank you for donating this time to fucking those in need.
Do you have any specialties that may help us select which Frustrated Housewife you are most capable of helping?
Spanking? That's good.
Bondage? very good.
Anal? No, no Mr. Richards, that is not a minus. In fact, that is the number one requested act. Yes, really. Husbands can be stupid sometimes.
Very well Mr. Richards, I would like to thank you once again for volunteering to help those in need. The Frustrated Housewives really appreciate this and as a bonus for your donation, the Housewife will be bringing over dinner.
If you will just stay on the line, my manager will confirm your address and a Frustrated Housewife in your area will arrive shortly. Thank you for your generous donation.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Half Nekked Thursday Unconditional Love Edition
This was supposed to be a picture about me writing at my desk but it was close to bedtime and my cat Emma came by to let me know she was tired. So let’s talk about Emma instead.
Years ago my wife wanted a cat. She went to the cat lady’s place and brought back two kittens, which was one more than I wanted. One of the cats was a brave orange male and the other was a timid runt female. The timid runt female went under a table and stay there, hiding her head and shaking.
I took some food and placed it on the floor and sat there by the food. I then babbled for about two hours to the little runt. She eventually overcame her fear and slowly came over to the food. I reached out to pet her and she ran back under the table.
We did this back and forth for another two hours till her starving kitten body came back to the food and tolerated my petting while she ate. For the next two weeks we played this game of me making her come to me for food and me never chasing her when she ran away.
Now close to ten years later, Emma is the most loving pet I have ever had. She is still skittish and doesn’t like people as a whole, but she comes to bed every night for half an hour to say good night, and she’ll wait outside the bathroom door every morning when I wake up. She’ll jump in my lap, she’ll headbutt me if my face is close enough and she will lick my arm clean if she thinks I have gotten dirty. Emma will brave a room full of strangers just to get two stroking pets from me and then she’ll run back to under the bed.
In some way, I have taken the same approach to girlfriends and submissives. I don’t chase. I don’t push and I don’t aggressively pursue people when I am interested in them. I let them know that I care and when they come to me, I do my best to show my affection but when they duck back under the bed, I don’t go after them. I understand that other people have fears and I just wait for them to trust me enough to come back. Considering that I am currently sub-less, this strategy might not be working.
Oh well. I still have Emma. I can be cranky, sarcastic and short tempered and Emma will still come by to rub against my leg. She’s unconditional that way, and I treat people the same way. People have bad moods and sometimes outright hostile moods. If I love them, I still love them no matter what they did just now. I learned that from Emma.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Fiction: Cell Phone Slave Part Eight
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Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Fiction: Cookies
It was a great platonic date. Heidi had come over to my house and we had a nice dinner with great conversation as bookends. Other than a hug when she appeared at my door, I had been the perfect gentlemen. Well, the topics of conversation hadn't been exactly chaste. In the hours that we talked, I had told her about my experiences at a dungeon in Virginia, and she had explained to me that CIM stood for 'come in mouth'.
Now some people, and Heidi for that matter, must have wondered why our date was so devoid of sex. After all, we had cybered like robot bunnies for about a month and this past Saturday we had our first phone sex. When we are not face to face, we indulge in outlandish sexual encounters that just happen to be non-physical. She is used to me calling her a slut and a slave, while I am used to hearing her call me a sadist and a dom. Why wouldn't we just continue those affairs when we are face to face?
The answer is pretty simple. As much as a couple may let go of their inhibitions when they are not looking at one another, it takes a much larger degree of trust to let go and allow someone to spank or fuck you. This was only our second encounter in person and I didn't think we as a couple were at that stage yet. I think it was driving Heidi nuts, but I have learned to stick with my gut.
But I did have a relationship appetizer in mind.
To read more, click Whole Post
"Would you like some cookies?" I asked her. "I'll have to bake them, but it'll only take eleven minutes."
"Sure," Heidi said. "Need any help?"
"Actually, I do."
We went into the kitchen. I got out the baking pan while Heidi opened the package and started separating the dough. It was quite the domestic scene until I slid the pan into the oven and set the timer. Heidi turned to leave the kitchen but I tapped her on the arm.
"Place your hands on the cabinets above the stove and bend forward."
Heidi's face went through an interesting series of events. First came shock, followed by comprehension and melting into excitement. She stood up straighter and did as I asked. Her hands held onto the cabinet knobs as she lowered her torso over the oven. Long red hair fell in a crimson sheet around her face.
I stepped behind her and reached around her waist. Heidi groaned as I pulled her towards me; her buttocks pressed against the bulge within my pants. I unbuttoned her pants and let them slide down to her knees. Between her legs I could see the cookies baking through the oven window. Yummy.
Even more yummy was the panties Heidi had decided to wear. It was a purple thong, something she knew I had a weakness for. She had worn panties for sex on our platonic date. That made me smile. I decided to leave them on her.
I ran my hand over her ass and squeezed. My other hand picked up a plastic spatula with very wickedly wide slots. The cold spatula touched her ass lightly but Heidi jumped all the same.
"It's freezing," she said.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll heat up fast."
I started with a dozen light taps, just enough to get her attention. The heat radiated off the oven but Heidi was more concerned with the heat I would be adding to her ass. I gave her another light dozen smacks evenly on both buttocks before picking up the pace to a slightly less light dozen and ramping up to a serious half dozen smacks of a punishing quality.
Heidi was squirming so I had to steady her. I placed my hand on her hip whenever she swayed too much. I'd much rather hold her hair in a tight fist or maybe reach under and grab a tit and keep her place with painful squeezes of her breast, but I resisted. This was a platonic date after all.
The timer ticked off the seconds till the cookies were done and I kept my own sort of time as I spanked Heidi with the spatula. The slots left interesting marks on her bottom and I tried to decorate as much of her ass as I could. I'm afraid this might have been pretty painful for the bent over Heidi but she never asked me to stop. She did moan, squeal and whimper a little but I like to think she was keeping time in her own little way too.
Whack, whack,whack went the spatula.
Tick, tock, tick, tock went the clock.
"Ow, mmm, aaaah!" went Heidi.
DING!
"Cookies are done," I said.
"Please," Heidi moaned.
"Yes?"
"Fuck me, make me suck you, do whatever you want," she said.
I thought about it.
"Cookies are done," I repeated.
Now some people, and Heidi for that matter, must have wondered why our date was so devoid of sex. After all, we had cybered like robot bunnies for about a month and this past Saturday we had our first phone sex. When we are not face to face, we indulge in outlandish sexual encounters that just happen to be non-physical. She is used to me calling her a slut and a slave, while I am used to hearing her call me a sadist and a dom. Why wouldn't we just continue those affairs when we are face to face?
The answer is pretty simple. As much as a couple may let go of their inhibitions when they are not looking at one another, it takes a much larger degree of trust to let go and allow someone to spank or fuck you. This was only our second encounter in person and I didn't think we as a couple were at that stage yet. I think it was driving Heidi nuts, but I have learned to stick with my gut.
But I did have a relationship appetizer in mind.
To read more, click Whole Post
"Would you like some cookies?" I asked her. "I'll have to bake them, but it'll only take eleven minutes."
"Sure," Heidi said. "Need any help?"
"Actually, I do."
We went into the kitchen. I got out the baking pan while Heidi opened the package and started separating the dough. It was quite the domestic scene until I slid the pan into the oven and set the timer. Heidi turned to leave the kitchen but I tapped her on the arm.
"Place your hands on the cabinets above the stove and bend forward."
Heidi's face went through an interesting series of events. First came shock, followed by comprehension and melting into excitement. She stood up straighter and did as I asked. Her hands held onto the cabinet knobs as she lowered her torso over the oven. Long red hair fell in a crimson sheet around her face.
I stepped behind her and reached around her waist. Heidi groaned as I pulled her towards me; her buttocks pressed against the bulge within my pants. I unbuttoned her pants and let them slide down to her knees. Between her legs I could see the cookies baking through the oven window. Yummy.
Even more yummy was the panties Heidi had decided to wear. It was a purple thong, something she knew I had a weakness for. She had worn panties for sex on our platonic date. That made me smile. I decided to leave them on her.
I ran my hand over her ass and squeezed. My other hand picked up a plastic spatula with very wickedly wide slots. The cold spatula touched her ass lightly but Heidi jumped all the same.
"It's freezing," she said.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll heat up fast."
I started with a dozen light taps, just enough to get her attention. The heat radiated off the oven but Heidi was more concerned with the heat I would be adding to her ass. I gave her another light dozen smacks evenly on both buttocks before picking up the pace to a slightly less light dozen and ramping up to a serious half dozen smacks of a punishing quality.
Heidi was squirming so I had to steady her. I placed my hand on her hip whenever she swayed too much. I'd much rather hold her hair in a tight fist or maybe reach under and grab a tit and keep her place with painful squeezes of her breast, but I resisted. This was a platonic date after all.
The timer ticked off the seconds till the cookies were done and I kept my own sort of time as I spanked Heidi with the spatula. The slots left interesting marks on her bottom and I tried to decorate as much of her ass as I could. I'm afraid this might have been pretty painful for the bent over Heidi but she never asked me to stop. She did moan, squeal and whimper a little but I like to think she was keeping time in her own little way too.
Whack, whack,whack went the spatula.
Tick, tock, tick, tock went the clock.
"Ow, mmm, aaaah!" went Heidi.
DING!
"Cookies are done," I said.
"Please," Heidi moaned.
"Yes?"
"Fuck me, make me suck you, do whatever you want," she said.
I thought about it.
"Cookies are done," I repeated.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Skippy, Dungeon Master
Hey there perverts! This is Skippy, Dungeon Master to Shon Richards’ Harem. I’m in charge of keeping all the slut toys he has in line. I’m an expert Lego-Bondage master from Sweden, so don’t give me any lip!
Shon told me to tell his readers that he is really busy today. Shon says he is banging a hot redhead and writing a small novella about a slut for seven brothers, but I think that’s bullshit. If you ask me, he’s most likely masturbating and eating a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies again. Don’t worry though, I’m sure he’ll find some way to make a story about it and you’ll be reading some lame cookie slut story tomorrow.
I’ll be minding the blog today so leave a comment if you need some hardcore action figure domination. In the meantime, I’m going to spank the shit out of Pirate Barbie.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Secret Geek Sunday Fiction: Hero of Delightia
Some of my first erotica that I wrote was when I was 14 or so. I wrote sexy stories where I imagined myself in endless situations where I got laid. being a fantasy and science fiction geek, I wasn't content to just write stories about fucking my sexy neighbor. I really let my imagination loose and wrote stories about me leading armies of brave knights on behalf of a Queen who fucked me silly and as a reward, would often grant me slave girls that I would also fuck.
Welcome to the mind of a teenager.
Anyhoo, as I grew older, I lost interest in fantasy erotica. Once I started actually getting laid, I wanted to read and write stories I could relate to. I still wrote some fantasy and science fiction but they were rooted in the real world with a subtle twist. I could write about kinky ghosts in a modern house but I had no interest in writing of Elves, Demons or Mermaids.
Then I discovered pulp adventure from the 30's and 40's. Most fantasy fiction today is written to mimic Tolkien and in doing so, it spends way too much time trying to create a believable society and world. Tolkien's gift was that he made you believe his world could possibly exist. The problem was he sucked a lot of imagination out of the genre.
The 30's and 40's pulp adventure tales had no such trouble. Unfettered by physics, evolution or common sense, these rousing tales cut loose and created stories that hit people in their base levels. John Carter, Civil War hero, goes to Mars and fight green four-armed Martians and wins a beautiful human-copulating-capable Princess. Conan teams up with a white Pirate Queen to lead a band of black savages against foul snake worshippers. Tarzan teaches himself to speak English just from reading a book! He then goes on to win a beautiful sophisticated English girl and becomes a proper Lord who can still speak to Gorillas. Logic has no place in these stories because the more important factor is to let the imagination and the libido run rampant.
That is why I wrote the quasi-epic 'Hero of Delightia'. It was an attempt of a thirty year old writer to tell a tale that the fourteen year old writer would have gobbled up. It has adventure, it has endless sex and it pokes gentle fun at the fantasy cliches of youth. Most importantly, I really tried to cut my imagination lose and create a world closer to Willy Wonka's factory than Tolkien's meticulous mapping skill.
Hero of Delightia is too long to post here, so here's the first bit and if you wish to continue the journey, go here Hero of Delightia
****EDIT- There are some weird formatting issues going on with a three year old Word file and Blogger, so I'll not be posting the first pages here. You'll have to sample it at Hero of Delightia for yourself. Hrrrrm. *****
Welcome to the mind of a teenager.
Anyhoo, as I grew older, I lost interest in fantasy erotica. Once I started actually getting laid, I wanted to read and write stories I could relate to. I still wrote some fantasy and science fiction but they were rooted in the real world with a subtle twist. I could write about kinky ghosts in a modern house but I had no interest in writing of Elves, Demons or Mermaids.
Then I discovered pulp adventure from the 30's and 40's. Most fantasy fiction today is written to mimic Tolkien and in doing so, it spends way too much time trying to create a believable society and world. Tolkien's gift was that he made you believe his world could possibly exist. The problem was he sucked a lot of imagination out of the genre.
The 30's and 40's pulp adventure tales had no such trouble. Unfettered by physics, evolution or common sense, these rousing tales cut loose and created stories that hit people in their base levels. John Carter, Civil War hero, goes to Mars and fight green four-armed Martians and wins a beautiful human-copulating-capable Princess. Conan teams up with a white Pirate Queen to lead a band of black savages against foul snake worshippers. Tarzan teaches himself to speak English just from reading a book! He then goes on to win a beautiful sophisticated English girl and becomes a proper Lord who can still speak to Gorillas. Logic has no place in these stories because the more important factor is to let the imagination and the libido run rampant.
That is why I wrote the quasi-epic 'Hero of Delightia'. It was an attempt of a thirty year old writer to tell a tale that the fourteen year old writer would have gobbled up. It has adventure, it has endless sex and it pokes gentle fun at the fantasy cliches of youth. Most importantly, I really tried to cut my imagination lose and create a world closer to Willy Wonka's factory than Tolkien's meticulous mapping skill.
Hero of Delightia is too long to post here, so here's the first bit and if you wish to continue the journey, go here Hero of Delightia
****EDIT- There are some weird formatting issues going on with a three year old Word file and Blogger, so I'll not be posting the first pages here. You'll have to sample it at Hero of Delightia for yourself. Hrrrrm. *****
Friday, June 02, 2006
Fiction: Compromise
There are compromises in any relationship, even the ones that involve collars, paddles and screams. There is give and take on both sides or there is resentment followed by breaking up in the future. Gina and Eric were no exceptions. Jut because Gina wore a silver necklace with a lock that she didn't own the key to, didn't mean she had certain needs that had to be met. Eric was the same, and just because he could weave a Japanese arm wrap harness was no excuse for being completely selfish. They were dom and sub but they were also two human beings.
Television was their battle ground. Eric worked all day crunching numbers for a firm too boring to describe here. His mind was filled with statistics and algorithms and quotas. He was good at what he did but after a day at the office he desperately needed to get those numbers out. For that he turned to television. He emptied his mind of numbers and filled it with doctors, lawyers and cops looking for missing kids. Dramas, comedies and especially the police shows were his favorites. At the end of the night he felt refreshed and ready to endure his job once more.
Gina stayed at home all day. She shopped, cleaned and did all those things that made other husbands jealous of Eric but by the end of the day she craved human company. Oh, she had her friends that she talked with during the day, but Eric was the only one she wanted to ravish her and make her feel as horny as she was when she was sixteen. To have him come home and sit in front of the television felt like a nightly rejection. She tried sucking his cock or stripping during his shows but that only angered him. He needed to fill his mind with fiction as much as she needed him to fill her with cock.
This is how they compromised.
To read more, click Whole Post
Most couples keep their sex toys by their bed but Gina and Eric have moved to the end table by the couch. After dinner they sit on the couch and Eric disrobes Gina down to what ever level her is feeling tonight. Sometimes he makes her completely nude, some nights she is only missing her pants and panties and on very rare nights, he keeps her completely clothed. When he has her just the way he wants, he hooks her leash to her collar and the other end to his hand. This keeps them connected even if he isn't looking at her during the show.
The first show comes on and Gina looks through her toys and picks those that can be used in her state of dress. If she is topless, out come the clamps and clothespins. She'll fasten them to her nipples or around the curve of her brown breasts in a suitable presentation. If she has access to her pussy, she'll break out the deeper toys and maybe a butt plug for extra distraction if it's a night with lawyer shows. if she is clothed than she breaks out her wand and plugs it in, for the vibrations of the wand are the only thing that can penetrate through her clothes and bring her to climax.
Not that she's allowed to climax.
Gina gets her toys out and ready but other than the clamps, or other painful items, she doesn't masturbate yet. No, that would be too distracting and Eric would never be able to focus enough to escape into whatever medical mystery needs to be solved this week. Instead she waits like a good sub allowing herself to play lightly with the leash that connects them.
But when a commercial comes on, then all bets are off. Inward plunges the vibrator as Gina fucks herself as hard as she can. Hips buck and eyes clench as she lewdly masturbates in the living room. her breasts bounce from the exertions she inflicts on herself, causing the clamps and clothespins to pull with their weight and send delicious pain through her body. And even if she is completely clothed, Gina will hump her large vibrator with a savage need to surrender to her lust.
During commercial breaks, Eric will sometimes help but not always. He might grab a breast and pull, or he might roll her onto her side and deliver a quick barrage of blistering slaps to her very round bottom. Other times he might simply ignore her and take a sip of his drink or watch a car commercial with too much attention. It's his choice and Gina finds even being ignored a turn on in these situations.
When the commercial break is over, so is the frantic masturbating. Gina stops cold and bites her lip to keep from moaning out in frustration. Her sex almost vibrates on its own with frustration but Gina stops. Slowly she brings her focus away from her highly aroused near climax body. She squirms a little and cleans her fingers or toy with her mouth as she desperately waits for the next commercial.
When the next commercial starts, she goes right back to masturbating. Start and stop, start and stop all night long. It drove her crazy but it also made her feel so alive and decadent. She was her husband's slut, giving him a show to watch between shows and that made her so wet.
It also did strange things to her libido. Her cunt became accustomed to two minutes of fucking and then a pause. Three minutes or more minutes of fucking made her feel like she was in a gangbang; in a very good way.
She also found the strangest things turned her on now. One time a network hyped a season premiere of a show for three weeks. During the day if she saw that commercial it instantly made her wet. Gina also found herself getting aroused at anything that had heavy commercial rotation at night. Even insurance companies make her pussy ache now.
As the night wears on, Gina's self control would falter. She had a ball gag she wore to keep her whimpering down to an acceptable level when police were closing in on a suspect. The back of the couch had her claw marks where she had thrown her hands behind her keep from masturbating when she was so close. On really bad nights, Gina had to stop masturbating all together and just spread her legs wide to avoid any sensation. The fact that this always inspired Eric to masturbate her during the commercial only compounded her desire.
All of it was worth it when 11 o'clock rolled around. As soon as the credits rolled on the last show of the night, Eric was already shedding his clothes. Leash in hand, he would drag her to the bedroom where he would fuck her mouth, her pussy or her ass to his heart's desire. No matter how cool and detached he tried to appear during his shows, he betrayed his real desire when he ravished in the bedroom. Some nights he couldn't wait for the bedroom. He'd just bend her over the arm of the couch and fuck her slick ready pussy. As the late night news would begin, Gina and Eric would both reach climax in a tangle of semen, leashes and sweat.
Compromise is so important in a relationship.
Television was their battle ground. Eric worked all day crunching numbers for a firm too boring to describe here. His mind was filled with statistics and algorithms and quotas. He was good at what he did but after a day at the office he desperately needed to get those numbers out. For that he turned to television. He emptied his mind of numbers and filled it with doctors, lawyers and cops looking for missing kids. Dramas, comedies and especially the police shows were his favorites. At the end of the night he felt refreshed and ready to endure his job once more.
Gina stayed at home all day. She shopped, cleaned and did all those things that made other husbands jealous of Eric but by the end of the day she craved human company. Oh, she had her friends that she talked with during the day, but Eric was the only one she wanted to ravish her and make her feel as horny as she was when she was sixteen. To have him come home and sit in front of the television felt like a nightly rejection. She tried sucking his cock or stripping during his shows but that only angered him. He needed to fill his mind with fiction as much as she needed him to fill her with cock.
This is how they compromised.
To read more, click Whole Post
Most couples keep their sex toys by their bed but Gina and Eric have moved to the end table by the couch. After dinner they sit on the couch and Eric disrobes Gina down to what ever level her is feeling tonight. Sometimes he makes her completely nude, some nights she is only missing her pants and panties and on very rare nights, he keeps her completely clothed. When he has her just the way he wants, he hooks her leash to her collar and the other end to his hand. This keeps them connected even if he isn't looking at her during the show.
The first show comes on and Gina looks through her toys and picks those that can be used in her state of dress. If she is topless, out come the clamps and clothespins. She'll fasten them to her nipples or around the curve of her brown breasts in a suitable presentation. If she has access to her pussy, she'll break out the deeper toys and maybe a butt plug for extra distraction if it's a night with lawyer shows. if she is clothed than she breaks out her wand and plugs it in, for the vibrations of the wand are the only thing that can penetrate through her clothes and bring her to climax.
Not that she's allowed to climax.
Gina gets her toys out and ready but other than the clamps, or other painful items, she doesn't masturbate yet. No, that would be too distracting and Eric would never be able to focus enough to escape into whatever medical mystery needs to be solved this week. Instead she waits like a good sub allowing herself to play lightly with the leash that connects them.
But when a commercial comes on, then all bets are off. Inward plunges the vibrator as Gina fucks herself as hard as she can. Hips buck and eyes clench as she lewdly masturbates in the living room. her breasts bounce from the exertions she inflicts on herself, causing the clamps and clothespins to pull with their weight and send delicious pain through her body. And even if she is completely clothed, Gina will hump her large vibrator with a savage need to surrender to her lust.
During commercial breaks, Eric will sometimes help but not always. He might grab a breast and pull, or he might roll her onto her side and deliver a quick barrage of blistering slaps to her very round bottom. Other times he might simply ignore her and take a sip of his drink or watch a car commercial with too much attention. It's his choice and Gina finds even being ignored a turn on in these situations.
When the commercial break is over, so is the frantic masturbating. Gina stops cold and bites her lip to keep from moaning out in frustration. Her sex almost vibrates on its own with frustration but Gina stops. Slowly she brings her focus away from her highly aroused near climax body. She squirms a little and cleans her fingers or toy with her mouth as she desperately waits for the next commercial.
When the next commercial starts, she goes right back to masturbating. Start and stop, start and stop all night long. It drove her crazy but it also made her feel so alive and decadent. She was her husband's slut, giving him a show to watch between shows and that made her so wet.
It also did strange things to her libido. Her cunt became accustomed to two minutes of fucking and then a pause. Three minutes or more minutes of fucking made her feel like she was in a gangbang; in a very good way.
She also found the strangest things turned her on now. One time a network hyped a season premiere of a show for three weeks. During the day if she saw that commercial it instantly made her wet. Gina also found herself getting aroused at anything that had heavy commercial rotation at night. Even insurance companies make her pussy ache now.
As the night wears on, Gina's self control would falter. She had a ball gag she wore to keep her whimpering down to an acceptable level when police were closing in on a suspect. The back of the couch had her claw marks where she had thrown her hands behind her keep from masturbating when she was so close. On really bad nights, Gina had to stop masturbating all together and just spread her legs wide to avoid any sensation. The fact that this always inspired Eric to masturbate her during the commercial only compounded her desire.
All of it was worth it when 11 o'clock rolled around. As soon as the credits rolled on the last show of the night, Eric was already shedding his clothes. Leash in hand, he would drag her to the bedroom where he would fuck her mouth, her pussy or her ass to his heart's desire. No matter how cool and detached he tried to appear during his shows, he betrayed his real desire when he ravished in the bedroom. Some nights he couldn't wait for the bedroom. He'd just bend her over the arm of the couch and fuck her slick ready pussy. As the late night news would begin, Gina and Eric would both reach climax in a tangle of semen, leashes and sweat.
Compromise is so important in a relationship.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Half-Nekkid Thursday Rope
This may surprise you but I am awful with rope. As much as I love BDSM, I am much more into the mental aspects than I am into the actual bondage. I like to make the submissive hold a position, or I give them a task like holding something up while I do terrible things to them.
My last submissive spoiled me though. She had a bag of shackles, chains and all sorts of things I had thought I didn't need. I was so wrong. Once you actually have a person's hands tied behind their back, you really start to get the imagination flowing. Every time I restrained her, I found something new to do.
That submissive is with other people now and she took all her toys with her. I have started to build my own collection but it can get expensive. Rope however is not. Cost wasn't the only factor. There is a little bit of machismo involved. I mean, if I tell a stranger that I have been interested in BDSM since I was a teenager, that person expects me to be able to hogtie a cheerleader and have her ready for punishment in five minutes. And you know, I don't think that is too much to ask.
The first thing I discovered is how hard it is to find good tutorials for knots. I often find pictures of the end knot, but that is like looking at one of those spaghetti mazes where you are supposed to follow a line to the lost puppy. If any body knows of a website that does, please tell me.
The second thing I discovered was that I really needed some idea of what to do with the knots once I could do them. For that I found Erotic Bondage Handbook. Over half the book is safety tips and other basic things you should know about BDSM. A lot of that was second nature to me but the safety details for rope were invaluable. He teaches how to buy rope, which knots to use and several ways to tie your lover that I sadly have not gotten a chance to try yet.
He recommends starting with your thigh so here we go. I doubt I will be using this rope in actual play but I do love the purple. I'm not sure what someone would do to me with my thigh secured but I'm sure some of you can think of a few ideas.
My last submissive spoiled me though. She had a bag of shackles, chains and all sorts of things I had thought I didn't need. I was so wrong. Once you actually have a person's hands tied behind their back, you really start to get the imagination flowing. Every time I restrained her, I found something new to do.
That submissive is with other people now and she took all her toys with her. I have started to build my own collection but it can get expensive. Rope however is not. Cost wasn't the only factor. There is a little bit of machismo involved. I mean, if I tell a stranger that I have been interested in BDSM since I was a teenager, that person expects me to be able to hogtie a cheerleader and have her ready for punishment in five minutes. And you know, I don't think that is too much to ask.
The first thing I discovered is how hard it is to find good tutorials for knots. I often find pictures of the end knot, but that is like looking at one of those spaghetti mazes where you are supposed to follow a line to the lost puppy. If any body knows of a website that does, please tell me.
The second thing I discovered was that I really needed some idea of what to do with the knots once I could do them. For that I found Erotic Bondage Handbook. Over half the book is safety tips and other basic things you should know about BDSM. A lot of that was second nature to me but the safety details for rope were invaluable. He teaches how to buy rope, which knots to use and several ways to tie your lover that I sadly have not gotten a chance to try yet.
He recommends starting with your thigh so here we go. I doubt I will be using this rope in actual play but I do love the purple. I'm not sure what someone would do to me with my thigh secured but I'm sure some of you can think of a few ideas.
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