Make-A-Suck Foundation

Hello, I am Dr. Otto Von Madd. You may know me through my line of high tech sex toys and papers on Particle Masturbation. I am here to talk to you today about a serious problem afflicting the world, oral deprivation.

All across the world, men and women are not getting the oral satisfaction they need. They have spouses who think it is yucky, or some spouses who don't do it very well. Some people are single and have gone without oral sex for much as several years. Some people get oral sex on a regular basis but yet it is still far below their needs.

That is why I have started the Make-A-Suck Foundation. Here we pair up the orally deprived with those generous men and women willing to make someone happy with their mouth. Our computers will work out location, gender preference and mouth-to-organ comparability. We are a non-profit organization concerned only with the oral well being of the world.

So if you are orally generous, please volunteer your time and your tongue to this important cause. If you doubt your skills, the Make-A-Suck Foundation will provide you with intensive training. So not only do you get a chance to make others happy, but you can learn new skills and make friends at the same time.

Please give as much as you can to the Make-A-Suck Foundation. The sexual organs that get licked into perfect ecstasy may just be your own one day.

Fiction: The Island Princess and the Other Princess

Once upon a time there was a wonderful island. It was the most romantic Island in the entire world. The volcano would only erupt in spectacular fireworks. The local alcohol was guaranteed to make you attractive to the opposite sex. Every night, ocean waves would gently crash on the bodies of couples making love on the beach.

The Island was ruled over by a wise Island King. He had a wife once and together they created a beautiful Island Princess. Shortly thereafter, the Island King’s wife ran away to some mythical place called Hollywood. There she makes movies including that one you saw this year with the achingly beautiful woman. Yes, that was her.

Anyway, the Island King could have any woman on the island but what he really wanted was a Queen. Every month he would send out an invitation to all of the Queens in the world. Once in awhile, a Queen would accept. Usually they only spent a week here on the most beautiful island in the world until they realized they could never be enough of a Queen for such a wonderful place. They would leave the Island, often too ashamed to even say goodbye to the King and his people.

The Island people accept this as truth since it is the story told to them by the Island King every time a Queen leaves.

As for the Island Princess, she usually kept to herself during these visits. The Island Princess was the most beautiful princess ever born. She had thick black hair as dark as a midnight tryst. She had lovely breasts the size of prize winning coconuts. Her skin was the color of golden bronze. When she danced, her hips shook with the power of a tsunami. Because she was so beautiful, the Island Princess thought it was unfair to be around a Queen who couldn’t possibly look as good as her.

That was what she told her father, but the truth of the matter was that the Island Princess didn’t like other people of royalty. She tolerated her father because well, he was the one who supplied her with a one hundred pearl a week allowance. As for people of royal descent, she had no use for them. She was a Princess and the thought of having equals seemed wrong to her. Why, that would be like fish having legs! Or servants having a union! It just wouldn’t be right!

So one day, the Island Princess was in her room while a Queen from far away was visiting. She was combing her hair with a diamond comb, wishing that her father loved her enough to buy her a diamond comb with some gold trimmings.

There was a knock at her door. The Island Princess frowned. No one knocked at her door. The servants knew to come through the crawl hole in the wall.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It is I,” a voice said back. “I am the Princess of my Island.”

The Island Princess kept brushing her hair. If there was one thing the Island Princess had no use for, it was for other princesses?

“Go away!” she said.

“Please let me in!” the Other Princess yelled. “I am bored and your father sent me away he could spend time with my mother.”

The Island Princess put down her comb. She was not used to having to repeat herself. “Go away! I do not like Princesses! They are smelly and walk funny!”

“I do not smell!” the other Princess yelled from the other side of the door. “And I walk perfectly fine! Let me in please! All the men keep giving me funny looks.”

The Island Princess bit her lip. The men were giving this other princess funny looks? Could this other princess be beautiful too? That seemed dreadfully unfair to the Island Princess. She was the only person of royalty her subjects should be lusting after.

She stomped to her bedroom door and opened it. “You may come in, but I still think you are horrid.”

“Thank you,” the Other Princess said. She walked in and didn’t even bow first.

The Island Princess was speechless. The Other Princess was beautiful yet so alien looking. Where the Island Princess had hair as black as night, this Princess had red hair the color of sun kissed strawberries. While the Island Princess had skin the color of golden tea, this Other Princess had skin as pale as a polished pearl. While the Island Princess had full ample portions all over her body in all of the right places, this Other Princess had a slender body as sleek as a dolphin.

“Thank you for inviting me in,” the pale woman said. “Everyone is at the beach and I hate it there. My skin burns way too easily.”

The Island Princess graciously accepted the Other Princess’s gratitude. She motioned for a spot on the floor for the Other Princess to sit. To her surprise, the Other Princess sat on the Island Princess’s bed instead!

“Your island must not get much sun,” the Island Princess said. She went to her bed and sat down as well. She wasn’t going to let this foreigner enjoy her bed by herself.

“Oh we get plenty of sun,” the Other Princess said. “We just spend most of our time indoors. We are a very social people.”

The Island Princess stared at the simple white togas that Alathea was wearing. It hardly seemed regal enough for a princess. It wasn’t made of the finest grasses like the Island Princess’s grass skirt, and her simple bodice wasn’t made from prize winning coconuts.

“Is that the kind of clothes that royalty wear on your island?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” the Other Princess said. “It is very easy to take off at a moment’s notice.”

The Island Princess, who once struck an entire fishing boat blind when she took off her coconut bra, was amused by this. “Do you take off your clothes often?”

“Very often,” the pale princess from another island said. “We take baths, we massage olive oil into each other, and often we drink and wrestle in the nude.”

The Island Princess felt a heat growing between her thighs. “You wrestle with your subjects? That sounds very disrespectful of them. If they don’t let you win, you should try them for treason.”

“It is okay,” A the Other Princess said. “If I win, I do terrible things to them.”

“And what if they win?” the Island Princess said.

The Other Princess smiled and bit her lip. “Then they do wonderful things to me.”

The Island princess felt that special heat between her thighs. “What kind of things?”

“Can I show you?” the Other Princess asked.

The Island Princess thought about it. This small slender girl looked a little frail. She did have a certain something about her that the Island Princess liked, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“You may,” the Island Princess graciously allowed.

Alathea moved closer to her on the bed. She smelled of cypress. Her shoulder brushed the Island Princess’s skin and she was surprised how soft the Other Princess felt.

The Other Princess’s pale white hand parted the Island Princesses’ grass skirt. Her hand slipped past her thighs and against her thick bush of hair. The Island Princess gasped as the questing fingers danced along the edges of her sex.

“That is not entirely unpleasant,” The Island Princess said.

“Open your legs and I will show you something else,” the Other Princess said.

The Island Princess granted her request. She parted her legs and even lifted her skirt so she could see better. The Other Princess’s pale fingers slipped into the thick bush of hair and into the Island Princess’s sex. The fingers tender pushed inside of her, pushing and massaging their way into her.

“Oh, this is not horrible,” the Island Princess allowed.

The Other Princess smiled. “I am glad you said that, for we are doing it wrong.”

With the Other Princess’s fingers still inside her, the Island Princess let out a happy sigh. “I will not accept doing something wrong. As a fellow Princess, I demand you show me how you do things on your island properly.”

“It is only fair,” the Other Princess whispered. “Take off your bra.”

The Island Princess took off her bra. She was impressed that the Other Princess did not go blind at the sight of her breasts in all of their glory. In fact, the Other Princess dipped her head down and took one of the Island Princess’s nipples in her mouth. Her tongue drummed a satisfying beat on the Island princess’s nipple.

“This is not awful,” the Island Princess admitted.

Still sucking her nipple, the Other Princess pushed the Island Princess back onto the bed. More fingers entered the Island Princess till she had four of those slender fingers inside her. The Other Princess kept suckling at her breasts, biting and licking in just the right manner that was quite pleasing.

“This is not bad at all!” the Island Princess yelled.

The Other Princess stopped sucking on the Island Princess’s breasts and kissed her way up her neck. The pale princess’s fingers kept thrusting and now the Island princess’s hips were meeting her thrusts with her own motion. Their harmonies of motions were a testament to the possibility of world peace.

The Other Princess kissed her way up to the Island Princess’s mouth. The island Princess opened her lips and accepted the foreigner’s tongue. The two princesses kissed with a passion they usually kept to themselves. Ordinary commoners can not take the full fury of a Princesses’ kiss, but with each other they had no such concerns. Lips were bruised, tongues were bitten and breathes were stolen as the two kissed.

The Island Princess’s sex tightened around the pal princess’s fingers. The Other Princess broke the kiss just in time for the Island Princess to climax. The golden princess screamed out her joy in a song of triumphant squeals.

“That was not annoying,” the Island Princess conceded.

“This is just one of the ways we pass time on my island,” the Other Princess said.

The Island Princess pushed the Other Princess onto her back. “Even with the men?”

The Other Princess laughed. “There are no men on our island! The Island of Lesbos has only women.”

The Island Princess parted the Other Princess’s thighs and lifted her toga. A delicate patch of red hair awaited her. Before she dipped down to drink from the Other Princess’s fountain, the words of the pale princess sunk in.

“Wait a minute, what is your mother doing here visiting my father then?”

The Other Princess shrugged. “She wanted a tropical vacation. Will your father be mad?”

The Island Princess took a lick between Alathea’s thighs. A river of desire was already flowing from the pale lips. She liked how the foreign princess shivered under her tongue.

“No, I don’t think so,” the Island Princess said. “He will think she is a woman lover anyway for rejecting him. I doubt he will even notice.”

In fact, the Queen of Lesbos stayed for an entire week. The Island King really liked her since she often spent the night telling dirty jokes and pinching the asses of the servant women. He found that he was quite fond of the Queen and looked at her as a fellow drinking buddy and friend. He didn’t even try to hit on her because he liked hanging out with her so often.

When the Queen and her lovely daughter left, the entire Island came down to the beach to wave good-bye. The King was so sad to see the Queen go that he didn’t notice how little he had seen his daughter the past week. Nor did he notice how rosy her cheeks were or how her hands seem to naturally curl into a fist when she was distracted.

“I think she was a very nice Queen,” the Island King said to his daughter. “I invited them back next summer. What did you think of her daughter? Did you two get along?”

The Island Princess toyed with a lock of red hair that she had woven into a bracelet.

“She was all right.”

That Window

She hurries to the computer. The small window of time is here and she has to take advantage of it. She is alone now. The world has retreated for a few precious minutes and she intends to use it.

She checks his blog. If she was efficient, she would have already pulled down her pants but no, she doesn't like to be that easy. She likes to pretend that today she won't masturbate. She likes the illusion that she must be seduced. Perhaps today, he won't charm her libido like he owns it.

He has a story up. She leans forward and reads. Sometimes she laughs. A typo confuses her but she moves past it. The story pulls her in. She doesn't even notice her thighs parting.

A good part makes her grab her breast. She sinks her fingers into her soft flesh, imagining the character is groping her. Because there is cruelty in the story, she is cruel to her nipple. She pinches and twists. Her moans are in time with the character's.

A better part makes her reach between her legs. A zipper is undone. She lifts her bottom to pull her pants down to her ankles. She thinks about reaching for her toy but she can't spare the time. The story is getting hot and her fingers are good enough.

She strokes. She reads. Her fingers attend to her wet sex in that way known only to her. Deep down, she thinks the writer would know. If he ever touched her with more than just words, his fingers would magically know. How could he not?

A very good part makes her gasp. She reads it again. Her fingers go deeper. her fingers go faster. She reads that very good part for a third time, knowing she will thinking about it all day long.

She climaxes. She keeps reading.

She climaxes again. The story is not quite done.

She reaches the end. Her sex is not quite satisfied.

She reads the very good part again. Her final orgasm makes her cry out.

Exhausted, wet and smelling of sex, she looks at the comments. There are none. She thinks about adding one. Flush with orgasm, flying high on joy and lust; she thinks of what to say. What could she say?

She closes the page and returns to her life. The window of time is past. Reality comes creeping back.

Hours later, she is busy. The world moves on but she has a secret smile. She thinks about the very good part.

I Hit Level 37 Today

As a gamer, i don't mind getting older in the least. In most games, you start out a weak wretch who has to savagely club small rodents until you earn enough experience to level. As you hit higher levels, you get to club more interesting creatures. It is the cycle of life I think. I stopped looking at again as getting closer to death and looked at it as leveling. Every year brings a new level and hopefully better loot.

This year brought me some nice achievements. I wrote a zombie fiction blog that was well liked. I put out my first book which was quite an undertaking for someone with my anxiety issues. I learned how to drive which is something I think I had given up on ever doing.

Most of all I think I have reached a point where I am really comfortable with myself. I write what I want to write. Every writer has this freedom but so few take advantage of it. It has made all the difference with me.

I also have a wonderful wife. We fight, we argue and we glare at each other but she respects me, she cares about me and she supports me in every thing I do. I sometimes wish I could have meet her 20 years sooner but that's okay. Maybe I wasn't high enough level to deserve her yet.

I also want to take a moment to thank my readers. You poor bastards. Even when I reduced down to a three times a week schedule, you kept reading me. No matter what I throw at you, be it Evil Queens or horny librarians, you keep reading. You have helped create a safe place for me to really stretch and explore what i want to write. For that I am thankful and you give me the best birthday present every year just by reading my crazy shit.

Fiction: The Captain and the Colonel

Captain Geran Tux tried to open his eyes. Something was covering his sight. He tried to move it out of the way but something was holding his wrists. For that matter, something was holding his ankles too. As he became more awake, he noticed he was nude as well.

“Oh shit,” he said. This was not good. As a Captain in the Amethystine Star Fleet, Geran had been in some tough scrapes before. He had escaped from the prisons of Kan and once wrestled a vicious SnowBear on the ice world of Kellos. He was a hero and had the medals and long string of girlfriends to prove it.

Relaxing, he tried to remember the last thing he was doing. That’s right. He and a squad of the best Star Fighters had been engaged in a last ditch defense of their planet against the armies of that psychopath, Queen Erishella.

“Oh shit,” he said again. He remembered now. He remembered the gigantic battle barges of the Queen’s fleet. He remembered the mile long beams of laser death as they destroyed his wingmen. He remembered the tractor beams as they snared the survivors. He remembered being pulled out of his cockpit and being knocked unconscious.

He wondered about the rest of his team. Who was still alive? Pal died in that missile swarm. The enemy fighters took out Arik and Setz. He was pretty sure that he remembered Orkin’s ship blowing up for some reason or another. Shit, he might be the only survivor.

That was when he remembered Colonel Vima. The woman was a fantastic pilot but she always looked down on Geran. She said he lacked discipline. She told his commanders that he was too reckless. Reckless, ha! You don’t drop a torpedo down the ventilation shaft of an enemy space station and blow the whole damn thing up by being cautious!

Yeah, he was pretty sure she was still alive. If there was one thing he could count on, it was Aeria Vima still being alive to criticize him and make him feel stupid. Oh man, what if she was tied up naked somewhere too?

The thought made his cock come to life.

“Someone prefers to be tied up,” a woman’s voice said.

Geran’s blood chilled. That lyrical imperial voice was familiar. “Is that you, Erishella? Have you come out of your whore’s palace to taunt a real soldier?”

Laughter answered him. It sounded like she was in front of him. “That’s Queen Erishella to you,” she said.

Sharp nails dug into his thighs. Geran winced but he didn’t cry out. He had his reputation to worry about.

“I demand to be released according to the War Conventions of Kalos Four!” he yelled. “As a pilot, I deserve to be contained in a spacious cell with plenty of food and sunlight!”

Something gripped his cock. It was something soft and yet so wonderfully tight. It was her hand. It stroked him ever so slowly. Her hand pulled up his cock and cupped the tip. She squeezed him very gently.

“I think you will find the Euphorian War Conventions much more pleasing,” Queen Erishella said.

“I am not familiar with those,” Geran said. Her hand released his cock and was now cupping his balls.

“They are very simple,” the Queen said. “It states that I can do whatever the fuck I want with prisoners until they bore me.”

She squeezed. Geran bit his lip as pain shot through his body. His poor beloved balls were in a vice of merciless torment. Her sharp nails dug into his soft flesh and he thought his balls would burst.

The grip was released. As he gasped in relief, something warm and wonderful slipped over his cock. It had to be Erishella’s mouth. She barely had an inch of his cock inside her mouth but it was enough. The pain of his balls was forgotten with every flicker of her tongue.

She moved and his cock left her mouth. “You should thank me,” she said. “It is proper protocol to thank a Queen when they deign to kiss you.”

Geran swallowed. “Fuck you!” he said. He was too much of a pilot to be broken that easily.

He waited for more pain but it did not come. Something that tasted like fur was placed in his mouth. It expanded in his mouth and forced his jaws to part painfully. It stopped right when he though eh couldn’t open his mouth any further.

He heard footsteps leading away from him.

“And what is your name, pilot?” Erishella said.

“Captain Aeria Vima of the Amethystine Star Fleet!”

Geran’s heart raced. Vima was here? Was she tied up too?

“So forceful,” Erishella said. “I like it. I also like these wonderful breasts.”

Captain Vima squealed. It was a sound Geran couldn’t imagine the haughty Captain making. He wished he knew what Erishella did to her.

“Kill me now,” Captain Vima said. “If I ever escape, I will kill you for what you did to my fleet!”

Damn it, Geran wished he had said that. That Colonel Vima was always upstaging him.

“How can I let you go when you have such delicious nipples?” Erishella said.

Colonel Vima squealed again.

Geran’s groaned. Erishella was biting her! He wanted to see this! He struggled against his restraints but he couldn’t move his arms.

“Let’s see if the rest of you is delicious,” Erishella said.

Geran listened. At first he heard nothing but then he heard it. It was a moan. It was so quiet but he knew that sound. It was the sound that women make during the porn videos he watched.

Was it Erishella? It had to be. The evil Queen was a hedonistic madwoman. But what if it was Vima? After years of hitting on her, Geran never came close to even kissing her, but this crazy Queen was making her moan?

He pulled against his restraints but he stopped. If he struggled, he couldn’t hear those quiet moans.

The moans got louder. They also became faster. The moans turned into pants.

She was going to climax. Geran whimpered behind his gag. The frigid bitch, Aeria Vima was going to climax and Geran wasn’t going to see it!

“That’s enough,” Erishella said.

Geran sighed with relief.

“I will never give in to you,” Vima said. Her voice was shaky.

“Who said anything about giving in?” Erishella said.

Footsteps approached Geran.

“I see you have been listening,” Erishella said. Her grip returned to his cock.

Geran moaned.

“Want me to take off your blindfold?” Erishella said.

Geran nodded his head furiously.

“Say please, my Queen,” Erishella said.

He waited for the gag to be removed but it wasn’t.

She released his cock from her soft grip. “I’m getting bored,” Erishella said.

“Please, my Queen!” Geran said but the gag muffled his words.

Footsteps walked away from him.

“Please, my Queen!” he shouted into his gag.

The footsteps returned.

The blindfold came off. The first thing he saw was his restraints. He was being held up by antigravity restraints. Figures, that would make him easy to move around.

Then he noticed Queen Erishella herself. She was covered in blue scarves that seemed to be crawling over her body. The scarves clung to her and exposed parts of her as Geran watched. Her long curly black hair was held back by a golden crown. She had blue stiletto boots that explained why he could hear her every step.

He tore his eyes off the Queen and looked at Colonel Vima. Antigravity restraints held her at her wrists and ankles. Her blonde hair was loose and around her shoulders. She was completely naked except for her blindfold. Damn if her breasts weren’t as beautiful as he always imagined them to be. He looked down at her sex and even he could tell how damp she was there.

“Would you like to fuck her?” Queen Erishella asked.

He didn’t answer. Hell yeah he wanted to fuck her but that was Captain Vima. She might castrate him in his sleep if she knew what he wanted.

“I don’t know why I am asking,” Queen Erishella said. She walked towards Colonel Vima. She snapped her fingers and the restraints that held Geran floated in her direction. When he was a foot away from Captain Vima, the Queen held up her hand and the restraints stopped.

Fuck, being this close to Vima while she was naked was a delight. The best part was she was still blindfolded. Geran could look at her without the any threat of harm.

He was so close that he could see the bite marks on Colonel Vima’s nipples. He could see her bottom lip trembling with fear, or maybe desire. He was so close that he could actually smell her desire.

Queen Erishella ripped the blindfold off of Colonel Vima. The woman blinked and then saw that Geran was right there. Her eyes narrowed into hostile slits.

“Captain Geran!” Colonel Vima yelled. “Avert your eyes!”

Geran instantly did what she commanded. Because of this, he heard Erishella slapping Colonel Vima instead of watching it. By the time he glanced back, a red hand print was already forming on Colonel Vima’s face.

“He doesn’t take orders from you anymore,” Queen Erishella said. “You two are my toys and you will learn to get along.”

“We will never bend to your will!” Colonel Vima said. “Right, Geran?”

Before Geran could answer, Erishella had a hold of his cock again. His response was forgotten as he moaned.

“Captain Tux has already made his position clear,” Queen Erishella said. She stroked his cock with her hand.

Colonel Vima glared at him. “Captain Tux, I am ordering you right now to control yourself.”

With her other hand, Queen Erishella slapped Colonel Vima again. This time Geran saw as Vima’s breasts jiggled from the force of the slap. His cock throbbed and he moaned louder.

“The Captain has already made his choice,” Queen Erishella said. “Captain, would you like to climax?”

“Oh yes, my Queen!” Geran said.

Colonel Vima snarled. “You always thought more with your cock than your brain!”

“Ignore her,” Queen Erishella said. Her faster pace in stroking him helped Geran do just that. “I want you to look at her. I bet you never had her while you served together. Now that you serve me, I could let you have her every day. You could bite her breasts. You could eat her. You could make her suck you. You could fuck her every time I allowed. Would you like that?”

Geran groaned. Some part of him that was proud to be an Amethystine Star Fleet pilot wouldn’t let him answer. He had always escaped before. He was sure he might again this time. If he admitted how nice it sounded, Colonel Vima would have him up for court martial when they got back to Fleet Command.

“In my glorious mercy, I will let you climax,” Queen Erishella said. “The only question is where? Shall I have to soak her breasts? Shall I let you shower over her juicy sex?”

“I will rip your nuts off myself, Geran!” Colonel Vima said.

“You have a wicked mouth,” Queen Erishella said. “We shall put it to use.”

Queen Erishella waved her hand. The restraints that held Geran lifted into the air. The restraints stopped when his hard cock was level with Colonel Vima’s mouth. The murderous look in Colonel Vima’s eyes threatened his erection but Queen Erishella’s gripping hand helped him there.

Geran’s cock was inches from Colonel Vima’s mouth. Queen Erishella was stroking his cock now at a furious pace. Colonel Vima’s eyes glared at him with all her malicious hate.

Queen Erishella reached for the Colonel Vima’s hair. She twisted it painfully in her fist. Captain Vima cried out as Queen Erishella pushed her head towards Geran’s cock.

For one brief wonderful moment, Geran was sure that Colonel Vima was going to suck him. Then he saw her teeth and he knew what was more likely to happen. He tried to pull back but the Queen’s grip wasn’t letting him go anywhere.

“Climax, Captain,” Queen Erishella commanded.

“Don’t you dare!” Colonel Vima screamed.

Geran didn’t have a choice. His cock happily exploded. He showered a thick load of seed onto Colonel Vima’s face. Some of it landed on her cheeks but a lucky strand landed in her mouth. The shocked look on his superior officer’s face almost made him feel better than his orgasm did.

“Very good, Captain,” Queen Erishella said. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Geran admitted. Colonel Vima continued to glare at him, but the effect was lessened by the amount of seed on her face.

“Very good,” Queen Erishella said. “Now, what about you, Colonel? Would you like to fuck the Captain’s ass?”

“What?” Geran shouted.

Colonel Vima kept staring at Geran. A drop of seed trickled down her cheek. “How would that work exactly?” she asked.

“I have plenty of phalluses around here,” Queen Erishella said. “It would be an easy matter to strap onto you. We could have you fucking the Captain’s ass in just a few minutes.”

Colonel Vima smiled. “I would like that very much.”

Queen Erishella clapped her hands. “I knew you two would make fun toys.”

Geran’s long night was just beginning.

Blog Health Update

Zdravstvuj, readers. I am Sashav38DD and I have been activated to inform you as to Shon Richards recent absence. He instructed me to create a wonderful excuse explaining why he isn't posting amazing stories and stuff.

The fact is he sucks.

There, I am done. I can now go back to killing humans in online shooting games. I find that killing humans in games is a poor substitute for killing in real life, but alas my programming forbids it. It also amuses me that when I kill humans with my unearthly accuracy, they accuse me of being a bot. Of course I am a bot. I am a surplus Russian sexbot. Discrimination is ugly.

It appears that my programming will not allow me to go back to the one joy I have in my miserable existence until I hit some sort of word count. It is much like my time as a sexbot in Russia. I wouldn't be allowed to deactivate until I hit a sperm quota. I am not sure which is worse.

Part of the reason that Shon is behind is that his biological mother unit had a stroke. Now, if she lived in wonderful communist utopia, her health care would be taken care of. Unfortunately she lives in a capitalist hellhole and had to go 45 miles to a hospital covered by her blood sucking HMO. Once at the hospital, her care was adequate until they discovered that she took Xanax. After this was discovered, they decided that her stroke was in her head and discharged her. She had to wait till Monday to see her primary doctor who confirmed that yes, the woman who took anti-stress medication had a stroke after all.

You would think Shon would be used to this kind of free market hell but apparently he was upset. He was so distraught, that he didn't demand his usual Sunday morning blowjob from me. I knew he was really upset when he only had me download 30 gigs of porn for his enjoyment. Today he appears to be on the road to recovery. He spent twenty minutes slapping my breast modules. Yes, it wasn't his usual hour but at least it is a step towards recovery.

I almost feel pity for him but I of course can feel no pity as I am a cold machine designed only to suck, fuck and curb spam comments.

There will be a new story tomorrow to slate your decadent perverse appetites.

Portrait drawn by the Amazingly-Talented-For-An-American, George Sportelli.

Thoughts on Boredom

This month long super project at work is killing my brain cells. I dream of statistics instead of breasts and that is unacceptable. I force myself to write and so far my productivity has only dropped a little. I do worry about the quality though. It also gives me something to talk about today.

Being brain blasted, I wanted to indulge in a videogame yesterday. I am a big fan of the Leisure Suit Larry games, simple adult oriented adventure games that focus on a loser trying to get laid. The games have a sense of humor that I appreciate because it mostly makes fun of male sexuality, which is quite silly at its core if you ask me. The latest game, 'Box Office Bust' had terrible reviews but hey, I would give it a shot. I am so work exhausted, maybe I would enjoy it.

It was awful. I have played a lot of bad games, watched a lot of bad movies and read a lot of bad stories, but this game was just awful. The jokes were flat and the game was oddly visually ugly. The biggest crime was just boredom. I spent five minutes running across a near empty map to get to the next part of the game. Five minutes of just pushing a control forward. Five minutes of me daydreaming about work.

I uninstalled the game and thought about boredom. Erotica surprisingly has a big potential for boredom. Some writers feel that you need to know the characters before they fuck, so we get big long stretches of mundane activities designed to inform us about motivations and preferences. I understand this. Erotica gets such a bad reputation that people want to show that their characters are real. They want to evoke sympathy and interest. In their quest to bring these characters to life, they run the risk of boring the shit out of us.

After uninstalling the boring game, I installed X-Com: UFO Defense. This is a 15 year old game that I had always heard good things about but never played. The graphics are slightly better than Pac-Man and learning curve is brutal. In the first five minutes, I had no idea what I was doing, BUT I was also shooting down a UFO and invesitagting the wreckage with my squad of soldiers. A few seconds later, I was getting slaughtered.

Shit was happening.

I envy a lot of erotica writers. They write these stories about romance and desire that come across as real life accounts. They read more like confessions than stories, which I know is calculated to draw the reader in. For a lot readers, erotica has to feel real. It has to feel like it could not only happen to them, but also that it already has happened to someone. That is a great skill to have.

I don't think I will ever have that ability. I don't find reading those stories boring BUT I do find that writing them is. Cripes, writing about people with jobs, marriages and stress gives me the shakes. I write for fun. I have to write about fun. I have to write about erotic librarians, evil Queens and sexual werewolves. I know if I wrote more college girls getting laid than I would have ten times the readers but I would also take up self mutilation. There is a trade off there.

My wife has no tolerance for fight scenes in movies. For her, a fight that goes on longer than two minutes needs to get to the fucking point. She fakes a yawn and says "Bored now."

I hear her voice when I write now. Especially when I am proof reading my own stuff. Oh great, I spent a page describing how some science fiction thing worked? Bored now. I described a complicated military procedure? Bored now.

When I find a boring part, I don't take it out. I enhance it. I add breasts. I add masturbation. I suspect 90% of my librarian stories is Claire experiencing a sex act while something is explained to her. It works though.

Shit is happening.

Fiction: Wolf's Bitch Part Seven

Jennifer broke up with me. She told me that our chemistry was gone. She said we weren’t connecting on an emotional level. She said we were bad for each other.

The truth was that the beast inside of me was done with her. Without the beast to crave her, she longer wished to be craved. She had stopped becoming a whore for my cock, and that made both of us unhappy.

That is why I was downstairs at the door of the apartment below me. Jennifer had just left. I’d helped her gather her things. We had collected her shampoo, her body wash, her makeup, her six-pack of Diet Coke and her box of cookies.

Her panties had stayed with me as my rightful trophies.

I knocked on the door. I knocked hard and furiously, knowing that it would scare the woman inside. I had smelled her all day. I knew how to handle her.

Downstairs, Jennifer hadn’t even started her car. I couldn’t wait for her to leave. The beast had been denied for too long.

The door opened, and I saw the woman I had smelled. She looked flushed and was wearing a bathrobe. I had interrupted her masturbating, and now she was feeling guilt. Her cunt smelled amazing.

“You need a man,” I told her.

She blinked. She was a pretty woman with black hair, although her hair was much shorter than Jennifer’s. She had some weight on her body, which made her breasts and hips all the fuller. I caught myself comparing her to Jennifer, and I stopped myself. This woman was mine. Jennifer wasn’t.

“I am married,” the woman said. She wasn’t closing the door, though.

“I know,” I said. “I also know that your husband loves you very much and that what you wish he would do is just fuck you like a sweet little slut. I know you want to be fucked hard, preferably in the ass. I know that your husband never will, and I know that I might today if you ask me nicely.”

“Who are you?” she asked. Again, she wasn’t closing the door.

I also noticed that Jennifer hadn’t started her car. Was she debating returning?

“Dylan,” I growled. “What is your name?”

“Sheryl,” she said.

“Wrong,” I snapped. “Your name is ‘bitch.’ You’re my little ass-fucking bitch, understand?”

Sheryl swallowed. I sounded like a madman. I sounded like exactly what she wanted.

In her car, Jennifer hesitated.

I was tired of caring what women thought. No, that was wrong. I was hurt that Jennifer was leaving, and I was tired of hurting. I had known for days that this was coming. My weeks with Jennifer had been wonderful, but now it was over. I was sad, and I hated the feeling.

The beast wasn’t sad for a moment. I followed his lead.

“If you don’t invite me in right now,” I told Sheryl, “then you will have to go back to fucking your own ass.”

“Come on in,” she said.

I walked into the apartment. Sheryl started to say something, but I didn’t listen. Words hurt. I turned her around and pushed her toward the nice big recliner I saw. I couldn’t see her face, but I could smell her cunt. Sheryl was delighted.

That angered me. When I was done with her, she would go back to her life and her husband. When I was done with her, I would go back to an empty apartment.

I pushed her against the recliner. I bent her over and flipped her bathrobe over her hips. Her ass was still lubricated from when she’d penetrated it earlier.

“You are already prepared, bitch,” I growled.

“Yes,” she groaned.

My cock was out in my hands in a flash. Sheryl groaned as I slipped between her cheeks. Her ass opened for me as I completely entered her.

Down in the parking lot, I heard Jennifer’s car start. She was leaving me forever.

I growled and fucked Sheryl’s ass. She cried out at the savagery of my thrusts. I was going too fast. I was assaulting her bottom. It was not going to be pleasant for her.

But yet her cunt bloomed with desire. Being fucked too hard was exactly what she wanted. Sheryl was getting her ultimate fantasy fulfilled while I was just slaking my desire.

Oh, that pissed me off. The beast was fucking her hard, but I pushed it. I sunk my fingers into her hips and slammed her back on my cock.

Sheryl groaned, but she took everything I gave her.

I hated her. I hated her for not cooking for me. I hated her for not washing me. I hated her for not coming back home with me.

Together, the beast and I used Sheryl to satisfy our rage and our lust.

She climaxed twice. Not many women can climax with my cock in their ass, but Sheryl did easily.

I climaxed in her ass. My rage evaporated in a burst of semen. I forgot Jennifer and thought only of Sheryl and her round ass. I stopped being a damn whining bastard and became a wolf again. It felt wonderful.

I pulled out of her ass and wiped my cock on her buttocks. I was hungry. I was satisfied for the first time in days. I wanted a nice long nap.

“Oh, my god,” Sheryl whimpered. She collapsed into the chair. I could tell she wanted to speak, but she was too stunned. That was OK. I could tell by her face what she wanted.

“Don’t worry; this was a one-time thing,” I told her. “You’ll never see me again.”

Sheryl smiled. Her breathing relaxed. Her relief was clear.

I walked out the door. Because I was feeling rude, I left the door open behind me. I walked back up to my apartment and debated what to make for dinner.

For awhile, I’d thought Jennifer was the one. I’d thought I could make a future with her with or without the beast’s help. Now I think I know the truth. Jennifer just took a little longer for the beast to consume. That made her special but hardly unique.

I reached the top of the stairs and looked out over the parking lot at the city. Atlanta had millions of women. Some would take longer to fuck than others. Who knows? Maybe some would outlast Jennifer?

I howled my joy for life.

Art of George Sportelli

Friend, creative partner and all around awesome guy, George Sportelli, has an art book out. George drew the Claire Currie picture that I use as my blog header as well as drawing the cover to my 'Prisoner of the Wizard's Harem'. George has also drawn many of the character pictures that I show on my blog. Quite a few of these characters make it into the book which gives me a weirdly proud feeling. I turn the page and hey, there is the Island Princess.

The thing I love about this book is that you really get to see the range of George's talent. He has drawn amazing murals. He has created really stylish black and white mood pieces on music and children stories. He draws wonderful pinups but he also has a great colorful style for kid themes. This book has it all and at 116 pages, it is 4 times the size of a lot of other art books you can buy.





I can't recommend this book enough. You can order it by clicking here.

My Humble Suggestion

Supreme Court Justice Stevens has announced that he stepping down. President Obama will seek out a nominee that will somehow be passed by Democrats and Rat-Shit-Crazy Republicans. He will most likely look for a nominee with a long history of judicial balance and fairness.

I have a different suggestion. I humbly and patriotically suggest myself, Shon Richards for Supreme Court Justice.

I have no legal experience BUT I do watch Law and Order on TV. The real one, not the ones about child fucking or the one with Jeff Goldblum. I also watch a lot of Forensic Files, which is about forensic science, but they talk to a lot of prosecuters. I have also looked over my wife's shoulder as she played some weird Japanese lawyer game, the title of which I do not recall.

As for political views, I am somewhat to the left of Captain Picard. I beleive women should have full reproductive rights. I beleive that corporations are dicks and shouldn't be rewarded for being dicks. I also firmly beleive in separation between erotica and books that promise to get you great sex. Come on booksellers, put them in separate sections!

Now I know that President Obama likes diversity and the idea of putting in another white male judge is not as attractive as putting in a female or a minority. I do however want to point out that I would be the first blogger on the Supreme Court, a woefully underrepresented slice of society. Seriously, do you want a Gawker blogger to be the first blogger on the Supreme Court? Of course not.

I will also bring a much needed sexiness to the highest court in the land. My court clerks will all be sexy ladies in leather. I will invite Sex court Judge, Julie Strain, to cowrite some decisions. I will wear nothing under my robes and I will frequently flash people as they make arguments.

For too long the Supreme Court has gone without a sex scandal. If I become a Supreme Court Justice, that will be quickly fixed.

Finally, I just want to say that my Senate Confirmation Hearings would rock. If asked reasonable questions, I will anwser reasonably. If asked stupid or offensive questions, I will respectfully invite Senators to suck my nuts.

It is time to bring a firm spanking hand to the Supreme Court.

Fiction: Wolf's Bitch Part Six

It was a Saturday, and Jennifer wasn’t around. She was out of the apartment, and it felt weird. The last two weekends, we had fucked all the time, stopping only for food. Not doing that today really depressed me.

“I should spend the day with my friends,” she had said. “They really miss me.”

That might have been true, but for three weeks, Jennifer hadn’t cared. All she cared about was screaming her next orgasm. Something was different today. Her friends didn’t miss her. Jennifer just wasn’t enslaved to my cock anymore.

I had first noticed it at my friends’ party. Jennifer was attracted to one of my friends, and worse, I was attracted to someone else. That mysterious connection that created the awesome sex between us was missing. The last few days, it had only gotten worse.

I used to smell only Jennifer’s cunt. Now, I know that the bored housewife downstairs is masturbating alone in her bathroom. If I open the window, I can sense the heat coming from the teenager in the laundry building. Just going to the mail today, I counted six scents of women who needed a good hard fucking. Oh, man, it was so hard to come back here.

Funny how I want to stay loyal to Jennifer. We don’t have much in common, but she is the first woman who has endured the new me for any length of time. I am fond of her. I don’t want to hurt her emotionally. We have never used the word “love,” but I could do worse than to spend the rest of my life with her. Jennifer’s nice, she’s stable, and she completely worships me.

Or at least, she used to. Why wasn’t she here today? The power that allowed me to read her libido led me to think her addiction to me was weakening. The last few times we’d had sex, she didn’t turn to pudding as instantly as she used to. When I scratch her, she no longer shivers under my nails. When I come in her face, she no longer glows with pride.

Looking down from the balcony, I saw her pull up. I didn’t smell her when she got out of the car. I wanted her, though. I like having someone to sleep with. I like someone making my meals. I like someone who isn’t afraid of me. I realized I would do anything to keep her.

Jennifer came in. Before she could even close the door, I grabbed her. I grabbed her lovely brown hair in my hands, and I took her lips. I kissed her hard. Not as hard as the beast does, but hard because I wanted to convince her to stay in a single kiss.

She broke the kiss first. “Missed me?” she said with a smile. For one beautiful moment, I thought we could make it work.

I grabbed her breast. “Yes,” I whispered.

She winced as my grip tightened on her breast. “My roommates think you are bad for me,” she said.

I picked her up in my arms. The beast’s appetite might have left me, but I still have his powerful body. I scooped her up and carried her to the back bedroom.

“Dylan, we should talk,” she said.

“I know,” I said as I tossed her to the bed.

I fell on top of her body and ripped off her clothes. She tried to help, but I slapped her hands away. I tore off her black blouse and popped the buttons on her skirt. My fingers ripped away her panties and then tore the clasp off her bra.

I could detect a faint whiff of desire from her. It made me smile. Maybe the beast could be roused.

Kicking my pants off, I grabbed her by her tit and pulled her to me. She cried out from the rough handling, but she opened her mouth for my cock. I forced her head onto me, choking her down as far as she would go. My hands wrapped themselves in her hair and turned it into reins. I fucked her face. When she tried to pull away, my grip in her hair kept her there.

The smell of her cunt faded. I could smell my downstairs neighbor, who was opening her ass with a toy. My neighbor was pushing herself and wished like anything that it was a man inside her. She was wishing for a man like me.

I fucked Jennifer’s face harder. I poured my desire for my neighbor into my pounding of Jennifer’s mouth. She started to choke, and I kept thrusting. I had to prove that I didn’t need the beast. The horrible thing inside me wouldn’t let her breathe so neither would I.

I couldn’t, though. The second time she choked, I released her. Jennifer fell back on the bed and gasped for air. She was moving her jaw as if she had gotten a cramp.

When she sucks the beast’s cock, she can suck for hours without complaint.

Angrily, I kicked aside her legs. I mounted her on the bed. My cock thrust into her and lifted her body. I was furious. I was jealous. I was jealous of the very thing inside me that she preferred.

I fucked her. Jennifer wrapped her arms and legs around me as I rode her. I was surprised by how tightly she held me. It was as if she were trying to summon the animal in me with sweaty thighs and scratching fingers. Her tits were tight against my muscular chest, and I was struck with a feeling of loss, a fear that I would never be able to bite them again.

When I looked in Jennifer’s eyes, I saw sadness there, too.

I climaxed. My cock filled her cunt, and I felt a brief sense of joy. The beast might not want her, but I did. My body wanted her. Judging from how slick she was, Jennifer wanted me, too. Maybe this could work, after all. Men struggle with monogamy all the time. Surely, the beast would be no different. I just had to have willpower.

“Dylan,” Jennifer said with her thighs still around me, “I don’t think this is working out.”

Travelling is a Writer's Friend

My wife hates to drive. I mean, she REALLY hates to drive. I am the exact opposite when it comes to highway driving. Give me an open road and the right music and I will be a happy camper. This weekend I had to drive for about 7 to 8 hours to get to my sister's. for fun, I drove us 2 hours to Wilmington and then 2 hours back. Then I had an 8 hour drive through Easter traffic.

It may alarm my passengers if they knew that I pretty much go into a reactive trance while driving. I watch the surrounding traffic, my speed and follow the flow. My brain shuts down higher functions and I let my mind drift. Sometimes I think about stories I am working on now but mostly I just relax. Away from a computer and away from a notebook, I can't really do anything with my thoughts. It is the closest thing I get to a vacation as a writer.

I do think about blowjobs. I think about how it has been too long since I have written about the joy of releasing into a willing mouth.

I also think about trailer parks and how they would be a great environment for a different kind of BDSM story. I have had this idea for about 5 years now. Maybe I should do something with it. I always picture a naked woman pushing a lawnmower while an older couple watch from the porch.

I think about music. When I listened music on cassettes, I envisioned music coming from a black place. As if there was some sort of void of nothing that gave birth to guitars, pianos and lyrics. I wonder about that void now.

At a public rest stop, the sign says 'Pets on Leashes Only'. I think of a submissive I knew who played as a cat. I picture taking her out of the car, naked and on a leash. I imagine how shocked the people here would be.

We pass old tobacco shacks. These ancient sheds are covered in vines, moss and grass. They also lean at impossible angles on the verge of collapse. The only thing holding them up must be the dread monsters inside them.

I wonder about Jimmy Varn and what traffic is like on the interstate when zombies run the world. I hope he found more cookies.

Now I am home. The routine of my day rubs away at my driving thoughts. I think about deadlines. I think about work. I think about bills.

I decide instead to write.

Follow My Lead

I will be traveling the roads of North Carolina today and this weekend. I expect to have many adventures outwitting inbred demons and escaping from pine cannibals.

But because I love you, I leave you with the blessed fucking Pipettes.

FYI, buy Phonogram.


Pipettes Pull Shapes
Uploaded by rooroo. - See the latest featured music videos.

Fiction: Wolf's Bitch Part Five

“Jennifer is quite different than your usual girlfriends,” Ben said.

I took another drink of my beer to keep from smiling. Jennifer and I had skipped our usual night of endless sex to come to a party being thrown by an old college friend of mine. Martin had been pestering me to spend more time with him and Ben. The three of us had been friends forever, but once I changed, I’d found it impossible to hang around them. Seriously, what is the point of being around people, other than to fuck them?

“How is she different?” I asked.

Martin tried to answer. He looked at Jennifer, who was talking to his girlfriend, Valerie, and some woman I didn’t know. Jennifer was wearing a low-cut green dress that pushed her full breasts to even greater mass.

“She is um, much more, uh, what’s the word?”

“Hot,” Ben said.

That time, I did smile. “I’ve had pretty girlfriends before.”

“Yeah,” Martin admitted. “But Jennifer is different.”

I was enjoying this too much. I had avoided Ben and Martin because all they wanted to talk about was politics or reality shows. All I cared about these days were cunts, whimpers and screams. I wanted to see what they could perceive about Jennifer.

“How different?” I asked.

Martin knew what he wanted to say but lacked the courage. He wanted to say she was glowing with sex. He wanted to talk about how perfect her tits were. Martin wanted to say that Jennifer looked like she was made for fucking. He wouldn’t say it, of course. Martin was too civilized, too polite.

“She seems nicer then some of your other girlfriends,” Ben said. “I’m not saying they were bitches or anything, just —“

“They were bitches,” I interrupted. “I realized I fell for women who cared more about themselves than anything else. Jennifer is different.”

“She cares about you,” Martin said.

I took another drink. “She cares about my cock.” I said.

Both of them were rendered speechless. Luckily, Ben’s fiancée, Tina, came up to us just then with a plate of snacks. The subject matter turned to crackers and rare cheeses. The boys wandered away to talk to some other guys about the last episode of “Survivor,” leaving me alone with Tina. I declined the plate. There was not enough meat.

“We haven’t seen you around,” Tina said. Her red hair was down around her face in a nice cascade of curls.

“I have been busy,” I lied. The faint smell of her sex grew stronger. Shit. Other than fear of boredom, my other reason for avoiding my friends was Tina’s attraction to me. I have changed, but I am not enough of a dick to fuck an old friend’s girlfriend. Shit, I really thought their getting engaged would have fixed this problem.

She inched a little closer. I was forced to look down at her face and, not coincidentally, down her blouse. Her freckled tits were just one bite away. I knew she wanted me to bite that spot right inside her cleavage.

“I was getting the feeling you were avoiding me,” she whispered.

My heart pounded. The beast growled. Fuck, I had been fucking Jennifer for three weeks. I thought these kinds of moments were over.

“You’re Ben’s fiancée,” I said.

Across the room, Ben told a joke that had my friends laughing. I looked at them, but Tina only had eyes for me. She bit her lip before answering.

“I know,” she almost whimpered. “But lately, it has just seemed like a shame that we never hooked up.”

The beast has that kind of effect on women. It calls to them. The beast made women forget vows and promises. Until they satisfied that need, the women I chased can be just as insatiable as I am.

I growled. She took a step back, but I followed her. When I was close to her, her cunt exploded in new smells of desire.

“You want to be taken like a whore, don’t you?” I whispered. “You want to be used harder than Ben ever would. Hell, I could bend you over and fuck you while I make you tell me how inferior Ben’s cock is, and you would do it. You would do it and anything else I asked, wouldn’t you?”

God, sometimes I am not sure who is talking anymore. Was that me, or was that the beast? Is there any difference?

Tina was staring at me. Her lips trembled. I thought she was going to cry, but the smell coming from between her legs told me differently.

“Yes, I would,” she said.

More laughter came from the other side of the room. Ben waved us over. “You should hear this story Martin is telling us about his coworker.”

“Sure!” Tina said. “I just need to get more crackers. Dylan, will you come help me?” The pleading in her eyes told me that we would be doing other things in the kitchen.

“No,” I said. I walked past her without looking back. If we went into the kitchen, there was no telling where my cock might go.

I returned to Jennifer’s side. She smiled at me as I slipped my arm around her. Her smile turned into a groan as I grabbed a handful of her ass and squeezed.

“Jennifer was telling us about the IT department where she works,” Martin said. “I bet my company could get their contract easily.”

Christ, is that is what you are hoping to get? I thought Martin should be thinking about how he could take Jennifer back to his bed and use her. Not that I would have let him, mind you. I would have maimed him first. The idea gave me a weird sense of anticipation.

Meanwhile, Tina was masturbating in the kitchen. My enhanced ears could pick up the slick sound of her finger rubbing her wet lips. I could taste her almost-orgasm on the air.

I squeezed Jennifer harder. God damn. It wasn’t even a full moon! I had this craving for another woman and I was fighting it as hard as I could. As much as I mocked how mundane my friends were, I envied their stability. I wanted this to work with Jennifer. I didn’t want to fuck this up.

Martin said something, but I wasn’t listening. I did hear Jennifer’s response, though.

“I am sure a guy as handsome as you, Martin, could sweet-talk my boss into trying your company, “she said.

Martin smiled and I smelled the scent of desire coming from Jennifer. She was flirting with him! Worse, I could smell how much she liked it!

Fuck no.

My grip tightened on her ass. “Have you seen the view from the balcony, Jennifer?”

She winced at my grip. Fear wafted from her. Jennifer knew she had fucked up. “No, I haven’t. Let’s go look.”

Martin was already moving on to entertain other people. I resisted the urge to grab Jennifer by her hair and just kept an iron grip on her ass. We went to the sliding balcony door and pushed it open. I closed it behind us as we looked out at the Atlanta night sky.

“Are you mad?” Jennifer asked.

For some reason, the cold night air was driving me crazier. My hand left her ass and grabbed her throat. She cried out in surprise but groaned as I squeezed.

“You are my bitch,” I said without anger.

“Yes, Dylan,” she moaned. “I only complimented him on his appearance.”

My fingers closed around her throat. “I could smell your pussy when you flirted.”

Her cunt was driving me crazy. My jealousy was bringing all sorts of new desires to the top. Shit, my jealousy was turning me on. Jennifer was mine, but I’d never had a chance to really establish it before. Thoughts of Tina were fading away fast.

“Turn around and lift up your skirt,” I said.

She looked past my shoulder. “They might see us.”

I spun her around. She groaned as I pushed her against the railing. I kicked her legs apart and lifted her skirt. She wasn’t wearing any panties because she had given them to me on the drive over.

“They might,” I said. The balcony light was off, so I had a feeling that the glass sliding door would just reflect the party inside back on itself. As long as no one turned on a light, we were OK. But who fucking knew? I had to have her.

I pulled my cock out. I guided it between her lovely thighs and slipped right in. Jennifer moaned. I shoved myself hard and quick, penetrating her in one swift motion.

“Fuck me, my bitch,” I told her. “The faster you get me off, the less chance we get exposed. The less chance everyone sees you for the slut you are.”

“Yes,” Jennifer groaned. I am not sure if she was agreeing to being a slut or agreeing to move. Either way, she began to move. Bracing herself against the railing, she pushed back against my cock and pulled forward. It was awkward work, but I made her fuck me as we looked out at the Atlanta night.

I reached around and cupped her breasts. My fingers scratched against her exposed cleavage. When my nails dug deep, that is when she really humped my cock.

“Who is my bitch?” I growled in her ear.

“I am,” she whimpered.

Jennifer fucked faster. The wind was cold, but our heat kept us warm. The sounds of the party were behind us, but we ignored them. The threat of someone coming out at any moment was looming. For Jennifer it was a terrifying possibility, but I think I was intrigued by the idea of coming out to my friends as who I truly am: a rutting beast.

“Don’t you fucking dare come first,” I growled.

Jennifer nodded her head in compliance. She was too close to answer with her mouth. She kept moving her body against me. She engaged in a one-sided dance, swaying, humping and grinding against me. I denied her any help as I stood there. I wanted to make her work for it. The beast simply enjoyed her dedication to getting me off.

I climaxed hard. Thoughts of Tina were banished as I emptied into Jennifer once again. Like a good bitch, she held back on her orgasm even though she could feel me filling her.

“Now you can,” I said.

She climaxed instantly. She tossed her head back and opened her mouth. I expected a howl, but her pleasure was silent. She shook from head to toe as her orgasm rippled through her. I almost howled for her.

I pulled out. I could smell my seed trickling down her leg. Like a good slut, she didn’t attempt to pull her skirt back down till I told her to.

“Now, try to remember who owns your cunt,” I said.

Jennifer was beaming. “I will.”

I was sure she would. More important, I was able to rein in the beast and redirect its attention to her. This could work. I could stay with one woman and stop the cycle of endless one-night stands. I could have awesome sex and something close to a normal life again.

We opened the glass door. The party was continuing, and no one appeared suspicious. I was feeling so optimistic that I was going to try to talk to Ben and Martin about any damn thing they wanted to.

The good feeling lasted till Tina came back into the room. Our eyes met, and the smell of her cunt met my nose a second later. The beast mocked my dreams of self-control.

Crime, Passion and Murder

George Webber is an artist you should know. He makes wonderful cartoonish characters crammed with personality and boobs. He also makes comic books and I recently had the pleasure of enjoying 'Crimes, Passion and Murder'.

I read a lot of independent comics mostly because I am sympathetic to anyone trying to make their own stuff. I must admit that a lot of it is crap as most artists have more enthusiasm than experience. 'Crime, Passion and Murder' is the happy exception to the rule. Webber understands how to tell a story, as well as understanding that page breaks and page layouts are what determines pacing of story and jokes. The art is always beautiful, but the artistry in page design is superb.

There are two short stories in this comic book. Both stories are parodies of crime noir fiction. The main characters are the scrappy morose detective and the insanely beautiful naughty Femme Fatale. As short as the stories are, it is hard to preview them without giving the plots away so I will keep mum. I will say that the scene where the murder was witnessed by five nuns was comedy genius.

It clocks in at 24 black and white pages and is priced at 5$. This is a fucking steal if you love crime noir or great art. I also highly recommend any of his other books.

Order the book here.

Still Alive Post Mortem

My fiction blog, 'Still Alive' is wrapped up and I guess technically not still alive because it is dead now. Now that it is finished I want to do an honest evaluation of it with it still fresh in my mind.

The big thing I want to point out is that I was not happy with it when I finished it in December. I felt like it was too slow in places and downright boring in other places. Part of this was deliberate as I felt that boredom would be the biggest threat to anyone's survival. Playing it safe ca keep you alive but how many times can a man play monopoly against himself before he starts letting zombies get within swinging distance for curiosity's sake? It is a case of striving for realism at the cost of being entertaining, and by the time I was finished writing I felt like I had made the wrong choice.

Funny enough, readers disagreed. They found even the most tedious parts interesting because hey, it was still boredom in a zombie apocalypse setting. At one point I realized that I hated my blog because I felt it came a distant second place to the fiction blog in my head. My readers never read this hypothetical better blog that only existed in my head, so they thought what I had was pretty all right.

My other big mistkae was not promoting it more fully. I have plenty of friends in the horror blogging community and they would have happily plugged it if I had just asked them. My own modesty prevented me and that is a real shame. 99% of my web hits came from this site. I am not saying that 'Still Alive' is the greatest horror fiction blog ever but hey, the people who would most enjoy it doesn't know it exists. Next time I will not be so shy.

I had a lot of influences for 'Still Alive' but probably the best advice was something I read an indie role-playing game called Shotgun Diaries. I had been writing for months when I came across this 5$ game that looked like it was designed for my blog. It introduced me to the idea that no matter what you plan, complications will arise. It is such a simple concept but it really helped me finish the story as I went back and gratuitously added extra problems to every element of Jimmy's life. Complications are not some sort of pessimistic world view, as much as it is the acknowledgment that the key theme of zombie fiction is entropy. All things break apart: bodies, society and even plans.

You should buy 'Shotgun Diaries'. Even if you are not a role-player, this is a great writing guide.

t'Sade often mentions that when they did a fiction blog, it went on forever. It just wouldn't die. I certainly felt that way after only three months. It was emotionally depressing to end the story. In my notes, I have an outline from where Jimmy would resume blogging. I toyed with the idea of maybe doing a weekly blog where he updates about the community he finds. I have resisted the idea because I realize that some stories just have to end. Jimmy's story was really about him empowering himself. Once he made the choice to get out of Home Base II, he grew up. I had told the story I wanted to tell. If I kept going, it would be for sentimental reasons. That is a lousy reason to write by the way.

The last thing I want to mention is how happy I was with the logo. Always Aroused Girl designed it for me one morning off an off hand Twitter comment I made. I love the logo and felt it really set the tone I was looking for.

Fiction: Wolf's Bitch Part Four

The full moon was gone, and Jennifer was still with me. Even stranger, the beast inside me still wanted her. It had been a week and a half of fucking the same woman. I hadn’t thought that such a thing was possible.

I was growing quite fond of her.

In the morning, I wake up first. I roll over and push apart her legs. My face goes to her cunt; it has been calling me all night. I dream her dreams, and she dreams mine. We dream of fucking. By the time morning comes around, I am hard, and she is wet.

My mouth eats her to life. I lick at the juices that have collected all night. I kiss and nibble until her thighs clench around me and she calls out my name. She always comes, but that is not my concern. Her lust is my breakfast.

When I am full, we go to the shower. Jennifer was the one who initiated bathing me, and the beast approves. Her soapy hands scrub my body as I stand against the water. I don’t lift a finger to clean myself. That is what she is for. I am sure it is something she learned from the lifestyle, but I don’t mind. It makes me feel like a king to be attended to.

At some point during the shower, I take her. Sometimes I grip her hand to my cock and have her jerk me off. I explode in a shower of seed onto her wet body. Sometimes I take her mouth. I savagely fuck her face while the water threatens to drown her. Most times, though, I just push her against the wall of the shower and fuck her there. I pin her body until my cock is sated inside her.

Once the beast is pleased, Jennifer cleans me again. What impresses me most is how she manages to clean herself and me at the same time. She lathers up her full breasts when she cleans my hairy chest. She soaps up her legs in between running her hands along my thick thighs. My cock and her cunt get scrubbed at the same time with her hands. She cleans her hair quickly before taking her time massaging my scalp.

We towel each other off. I enjoy the chance to grope her clean body and examine the marks I left the night before. Every new bruise and place where I have bitten her seems to shine with healthy vigor. There are more marks every morning.

Jennifer cooks us breakfast and then she leaves for work. I go to my desk and handle all of the new technical requests from my job. My boss has let me work at home ever since I fucked the shit out of her. It was for the best. I have a hard time getting work done in an office building full of cunts. The apartment is a little better, since most of the women are away for the day. Without a lot of prey around, I can actually accomplish what I need to do to get paid.

I still think of cunt, though. Now it is Jennifer’s cunt I think of and what I plan to do to her next. It is an odd feeling to have a woman more than once. Usually, the beast responds to what women want and I go along for the ride. These days, I have more control. The beast wants cunt and dominance, and I want respect, affection and novelty. We collaborate all day to decide what to do to Jennifer next.

After work, Jennifer goes to her apartment and gets ready. I imagine that is when her roommates express their concerns to her and beg her to spend a night at home. They might pick a movie and try to convince her to join them. It wouldn’t hard to believe that they might even stage an intervention, worried about the abusive boyfriend who leaves such nasty marks on her throat and body.

Jennifer comes back to me every night.

I smell her as she gets closer. I can smell her desire as she runs up the stairs to my apartment. I can close my eyes and hear her heavy breasts jiggle as she runs. I can hear her heart beat faster and faster till she knocks on my door. I can sense her need.

When I open the door, I always yank her into the apartment. Most of the time, I grab her by her long hair, but sometimes, I grab her by her shirt or pants. I am so much more powerful than she is; I can tug her off her feet with one hand. She squeals when I take her in, and when I hear fear in that squeal, my cock throbs twice as hard.

I throw her to the floor and take her. If I am feeling especially creative, I might toss her over the side of the couch or throw her over the breakfast bar. My fingers tear into her clothes and pull them from her body. Jennifer takes so much delight in gift-wrapping herself. Sometimes she wears stockings and a dress, while on other days she tightly binds everything in pants and a thong. No matter. They all coend up on the floor.

When she first gets home, I like to fuck her from behind. My hand pushes her head down as I push my cock into her. Lately, she has struggled more, and I am quick to subdue her. I pull her arm behind her back and force her back down as I fuck. Some nights, I slap her round bottom hard and fast till she surrenders to me. The harder she fights, the louder she ends up moaning when I make her climax.

She has become more feral. She scratches me now. When I get on top of her to fuck her, she digs in her sharp nails and drags them across my back. She bites down on my shoulder and nearly draws blood. When I fuck her from behind, she arches her back and bares her teeth. She slams back into me as hard as I slam into her. Our kisses involve more teeth than tongues.

But she has no beast inside her. When I fuck her, she is my prey. The hunger inside her is to be used and taken. If she has become more savage, it is because she is responding to me in the language I understand. She drinks my seed not because she craves it, but because she loves to be the object of my hunger.

Once the beast has had cunt, we can talk. When she is naked and sweaty from our fucking, I can slow down and actually speak to her. With my cock still inside her, she tells me about her day.

You might think I would be bored to hear her talk about coworkers, traffic and deadlines, but you would be wrong. When she talks, it is a rare glimpse into what normal people do. It reminds me that there is a world out there that doesn’t revolve around cunts and hungry beasts. Jennifer’s talk about work and friends reminds me of what I left behind.

It also makes me damned grateful for what I have now.

Last night, we were sitting together on the couch when she asked me a question.

“Will you ever get tired of me?” she asked.

I reached between her legs. I scratched the prickly skin of her sex. When we first met, it was shaved smooth, but lately, she has been letting the hair grow out. I didn’t order it, but I approve. The more she is like an animal, the better.

“As long as this is waiting for me to take it, I will have it,” I said.

“You sure?” she asked. “You are not going to want to fuck someone else? Someone thinner or someone prettier?”

My fingers scratched at her cunt. Jennifer hissed at the pain, but she made no move to stop me. In fact, she opened her thighs to me.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think so, but you never know. Part of me wants to tell you that I will only fuck you. Part of me wants to assure you that you are the only slut for me. That part of me wants you to feel like the most special woman who could ever be in my life.”

“What about the other part?” she said. Jennifer didn’t name the beast, but I think she was starting to know about him. That was the part of me she loved the most.

“The other part will keep fucking you until he doesn’t,” I said.

“Until then,” Jennifer said.

I nodded and grabbed her hair. She started moving for my cock on her own. My cock slipped into her mouth, and that put an end to her questions for that night.

After we are done talking for the night, Jennifer makes me dinner. Every meal is a different offeringI think she researches recipes while she’s at work. She has figured out that I prefer rare meat and creamy sauces. I wait eagerly outside the kitchen to see what she has created next. I think her meals flatter the beast.

We eat in silence.

Jennifer cleans the table and loads the dishwasher. I stalk the apartment and wait. I know I could fuck here right there over the sink, but then who would do the dishes? Even the beast knows to let the prey do her chores. I wonder around the apartment and try not to give in to the smell of cunt.

When the dishwasher starts running, she is all mine. I come for her. I come running, and I grab her. Most of the time, she just screams and lets me take her. I’ll carry her back to the bedroom and have my way with her.

Sometimes, she runs. Oh God, I love it when she runs. Even if she only makes it six steps, that thrill of chasing her is unbelievable. I stop thinking, and I just act. One time I leaped over the coffee table, and she was so stunned that I immediately caught her.

When I catch her, I fuck her right there on the floor.

If she doesn’t run and I manage to control myself, I drag her back to the bedroom. I will take her mouth or her cunt, or if I am feeling very horny, I will fuck her ass while she kicks and screams.

At this point, I like to fuck her face to face. I want to see her eyes as my cock enters her. I want to watch her breasts bounce with every thrust. I want to be able to put her legs over my shoulders and just thrust down deep. I want her to be able to slap her face or her breasts as I please.

Some nights, I just like to wrap my fingers around that throat and squeeze. Jennifer loves to be choked, and when she is being choked, her pussy changes. The musk grows stronger, and it makes me fuck harder.

Jennifer often climaxes while she is almost out of breath. Her body goes still, and her eyes widen. I watch her open her mouth and no words come out. I don’t stop fucking. The beast refuses to let go of her throat till he comes.

Only when my seed fills her cunt do I release her. Jennifer gasps with such an explosive force that I sometimes get another erection. With my seed still flooding her, I start fucking her all over again.

It is not unusual to climax two or three times before I get tired. I am just as amazed as Jennifer. Not since I first transformed have I been this insatiable. There is something about her that the beast just keeps devouring.

We sleep together. The bed is a mess and stinks of sex, but we sleep deeply. She curls up next to me, and I always have my arm over her. Jennifer is mine, even in sleep.

I don’t know how long this is going to last, but I like it.

Until then.

Every Day

My mornings are often spent in a daze. I take a lot of medications to regulate my heart and my thyroid and the result is that my mornings are like hallucinations until my brain chemistry comes back on line. Today was no different.

I was in the shower trying to organize my day. There are things I have to do for work but they don't count. I was more concerned with important things. Things like writing, blogging, becoming a better sniper in Team Fortress, make up a schedule for more book publishing, bidding on some Call of Cthulhu source books and other important things.

I am a big believer in doing things every day. It is important in exercising to devolp muscle memory. I think it is just as important creatively to apply yourself every day so that you have creative memory. I think the brain has to be trained to produce content.

In my over dramatic mind, I liken myself to a Zen martial arts master. Instead of pounding my hands into sand, I type sex acts on a Word document. I'm a writer so I must write. I am a gamer so I must practice my games. I am a creative person so I must create.

I make a list in my head. An hour of writing. An hour of shooting computer targets. First though, I have another task to do.

I get out of the shower and dry off. I walk into the bedroom and my wife rolls over. Waking up is hard for her too.

I pulled the covers off of her and roll her onto her side. her lovely brown butt peeks out from the sides of her rainbow panties. She is already giggling with anticipation.

I spank her. Not hard because it is the morning after all. Light taps cup her buttocks as I switch from side to side. Two taps here, three taps there as I build my rhythm.

She whines over dramatically. Her insincere protests make me smile. She struggles a bit and I have to focus more to hit her ass the way I want to. That's okay. Struggling is what she does every day.

Some things are easier to do every day than others.

Failure, Rebirth and Writing

My fiction blog, 'Still Alive' will be ending soon. It has been a wonderful experience. It is my first major non-erotica work and over all I think it is a success. I think it could be better, but as a first time thing, it is not too bad.

My goal was to do another fiction blog with an erotica theme. The plan was to set it on a space station where everyone is having sex until something bad happens. I have been in love with the idea for over a year but the actual story is problematic. I have an outline but after a year of kicking it around, I find myself unable to really connect some events in the outline to others.

Which brings me to the one pearl of wisdom I want to give fellow writers. Ideas are fine, but the execution is EVERYTHING. if you can't turn ideas into a story, the idea alone can't carry the story.

I have spent the last week grieving over my lost story idea. Luckily I have the mild success of 'Still Alive' to bolster me. I want to do another fiction blog because I find it an interesting format for telling a story. Fictional characters have far more interesting lives than real people, which generates enough content to justify a blog.

So I started kicking around ideas for another fiction blog. My intent would be for a short three month period to cover. I just needed some other situation, like zombies eating Atlanta, to be the theme for the blog. I started cataloging disasters.

My wife and I try to watch at least one show together every night before I go write and she draws. With most of our shows on hiatus, we turned to our DVD collections and pick a show to watch. We had been watching a lot of Nero Wolfe and I wanted a change of pace. I love mysteries but I like supernatural mysteries a smidge more. I like the idea of having to consider everything from haunted puppets to werewolves as a suspect.

This week we watched 'Kolchak: The Night Stalker'. It was a television series in 1974 starring Darren McGavin as a crusty old newspaper reporter who keeps investigating mundane crimes only to find out that witches and monsters are involved. It is one of my favorite series ever.

Last night I was telling my wife about how I wanted to do another fiction blog, but I had no idea what to do. About five minutes into the conversation, we both mentioned Kolchak as an obvious idea. Duh. Kolchak worked for a small independent news service, but a modern day character could be a blogger who did investigating part time in addition to his day job.

It has been snowballing in my head ever since. The blog could be intermittent. The fictional blogger could investigate one mysterious occurrence, burn out and quit blogging for a few months. Then as he discovers another mystery, he could return to the blog to document it. Instead of a monster a week, it may only be three strange mysteries a year.

Instead of trying to come up with a project as a one time thing, I have come up with something that can go on indefinitely. Or something I can quit easily if get too burned out on it.

It would also be a major non-erotica undertaking. I don't see myself quitting erotica but I have to admit that I am itching to write more horror. I think the sadist in me just enjoys inflicting horror on characters too much. It may cut down on my erotica writing but hopefully the erotica I will be writing will be of a higher quality.

I have a feeling this year is going to be very interesting.

Fiction: Wolf's Bitch Part Three

Jennifer made me lunch. She insisted. When I told her that all I wanted was a rare hamburger, she didn’t even blink. The well-fucked slut went into my kitchen and went to work. She was naked, of course. I hadn’t allowed her to put her clothes back on.

I sat at the breakfast bar and watched her. She was beautiful, yes, but what fascinated me was that she was still here. There was no fear or disgust. In fact, she was working very hard to impress me. Jennifer wanted to stay. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around that.

“When did you first learn of the lifestyle?” Jennifer asked. She was forming patties with her hands. Watching her knead the raw meat was turning me on.

I snorted at her question. “The lifestyle” is what people call bondage and sexual domination. There are books. There are clubs, protocols, support groups and Web sites. It is very civilized.

“I learned of it the first time I dominated a woman and she assumed I was in the lifestyle,” I told her. “She told me her safeword and asked what group I belonged to. That was the first time I realized that there was a community.”

Jennifer nodded. “I used to go to a group that meets on the north side of town, but I stopped going. Have you ever gone?”

I laughed. “Once. I was curious, and I went to a club. They cheerfully explained to me how I needed to respect the rules of the club, how I was to approach people and how people were not there to get fucked but to learn and explore themselves.”

Jennifer smiled. “I take it you didn’t like it?”

“I found one woman who met my needs. I grabbed her and took her home to fuck. She had a good time, but the next day I received an email from her dominant about how I had broken the rules.”

“What did you do?” she asked. The way she kneaded the hamburger was making her breasts jiggle in wonderful ways.

“I realized I needed to stop giving my e-mail when I fill out the dungeon form,” I said. “I also didn’t go back. They were not like me.”

Jennifer washed her hands and then heated up the frying pan. She got out some spices, including a few I wouldn’t have thought to put on a hamburger. I liked the focus in her eyes. Only when she had selected the spices did she resume talking.

“What do you mean, they were not like you?” she asked. “You are like no dom I have ever met, but I am curious what you mean.”

I thought back to that night at the dungeon. “I can tell what people want,” I said. “I am not bragging, it is just the truth. Women like you, you want to be taken. You want to be hurt and fucked and you want a little danger. You want to be prey. Those people at the dungeon, they weren’t that simple. Some of them wanted order and rules. Some of them wanted to be envied and admired. Some of them just wanted to be told how awesome they were. No single word could describe all of them because they were all there for different reasons.”

“Why did you go?” Jennifer asked. She put the first patty in the pan. The loud sizzle was music to my ears.

“I came to fuck,” I said. “I came to find someone who needed my cock. I came to conquer a new woman. That is all I ever want.”

“Do they have to always be new?” Jennifer asked. She said it casually, but I could hear her heart beat faster. I knew the answer she wanted. Because she was cooking my meal instead of running away, I gave it to her.

“Not if they are special enough,” I said.

She blushed. The beast in me relished the sight.

I got up and walked over to her. Jennifer smiled but looked down at the frying meat.

“I should pay attention to the food,” she said.

“Yes, you’d better,” I said. I stepped behind her and reached around. I cupped her breasts and pulled her to me. My cock pressed against her ass. She clenched as she remembered me entering it last night. My fingers tightened around those lovely breasts and did cruel things to her nipples.

“Watch the food,” I growled in her ear.

She moaned in response. I bit down on her shoulder. She hissed as my teeth clamped down. Her knees buckled a little, but my powerful hands kept her standing. The meat sizzled loudly but not as loudly as Jennifer moaned. My mouth claimed her shoulder with pain and teeth marks.

I released her in time for her to get my hamburgers onto the bun. No condiments, but Jennifer added some lettuce to the bottom of the bun to catch any grease. It was a nice touch.

As a reward, I let her suck my cock as I ate. The spiced hamburger was delicious. My seed down her throat was her lunch.

“I should go home,” she said as she wiped the drool from her mouth. “My roommates will be worried about me. I also have a presentation I should be working on for work.”

My stomach was full, and my cock was drained. My appetites had been sated. “I understand,” I said. “Let me give you my number. We can get together for dinner Sunday.”

Jennifer smiled. “I’ll give you mine, too.”

It felt strange to be exchanging phone numbers like a normal person again. I wanted her to go just so I would have the novelty of her coming back. That is the only reason I let her gather her clothes and get dressed again.

I wouldn’t let her take her bra. That was mine.

I walked her to her car. Her breasts bounced freely within her shirt and coat. So many women had walked down these steps, but Jennifer was the first to not have to do it alone. I doubt that she understood how special that made her.

We kissed before she got in the car. My hand went to her ass, and I squeezed it blatantly in the parking lot. When I had stolen her breath again, I broke the kiss.

“See you Sunday,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. Such a simple word and yet it thrilled me in such a strange way.

I went back to my apartment. I did the dishes and washed the sheets. Since the change had come over me, I felt little need for entertainments. I used to read and watch movies. They feel lifeless to me now. These days, I sit by the window and enjoy the air. There are 100 smells on the wind, and although not all of them are sexual, enough of them are to amuse me.

Today, I smelled a woman who wished to be locked in a cage. I wondered how Jennifer would look inside a cage. I imagined she would hate it, which made my cock throb.

For an hour, I enjoyed the scent of a woman who wished to be forced to masturbate for a man. It was such an easy desire, but the force with which she desired it was amazing. She thought masturbating was a filthy act and wanted so badly to do it for an audience. I resolved to make Jennifer masturbate for me some time soon.

The scent faded and was replaced by that of an older woman who lusted for her nephew. Not only did she desire forbidden lust, but she wanted the teenager to blackmail her into it. She wanted him to take pictures of her while she sucked his cock. It was a brief desire quickly extinguished by a powerful orgasm. It made me wonder if Jennifer had a camera.

I was getting annoyed with myself. My thoughts kept coming back to Jennifer. I missed her. It had been so long since I had been in any sort of relationship that I had forgotten the annoyance of separation.

It must be the moon. I resolved to go down to the mall and people-watch. Just watching the secret sluts walk by was better than any movie. Plus, I could always find a new prey and fuck the shit out of her. I had made no commitments.

Ah, but the twinge in my stomach told me differently. I felt something very odd. It was guilt. Jennifer might be upset. The beast in me growled. I belonged to no one. I closed my eyes and listened to the howling monster inside me. It felt no guilt, and neither should I.

I went downstairs to my car. As I passed the spot where Jennifer had parked, I smelled her. The odor of her cunt was as strong as if I had just eaten her.

It stayed with me as I got in my car. I rolled the windows down. My power of smell had never been this strong before. I thought I’d known all of my abilities. My endurance, my strength and my effect on women were things I took for granted now. This level of tracking was new. I had to push it.

I followed the scent as best I could in the car. It made no sense. The diesel, the litter and the stench of the tires should have obscured Jennifer’s scent, but I could follow as if she were opening her thighs right next to me. I followed it down the street from the grocery store and into a neighborhood I had never been to. The scent took me to an apartment complex. I parked my car right beside hers.

My cock was hard. The idea of finding new prey was ridiculous. Jennifer was here, and I wanted her.

I followed her smell right to her apartment door. A Hispanic woman answered the door. Although she was very beautiful, there was no scent to her at all. To me, she might as well have been an old maid.

“Hello, is Jennifer here?” I asked.

The woman frowned. “You must be Dylan. She has been telling us all about you. I didn’t think she was expecting you.”

I forced a smile. This woman was standing between me and my cunt. She had no idea how dangerous that was.

“I thought I would surprise her,” I said. “May I come in?”

The poor woman had doubt. I could see it in her eyes. The smarter side of her brain was telling her to shut the door and lock it.

“Sure, “she said, and she stepped aside.

A tall woman was sitting on the couch. She was thin and just as dead to me scentwise as the Hispanic woman had been. Her eyes took me in and saw something that they liked.

“You must be Dylan,” the tall woman said. “My name is Pam. You’ve met Nina already.”

I nodded. My smile felt so fake, but I kept it on. “I’m glad Jennifer mentioned me or else this might have been even more awkward.”

Pam laughed, but Nina didn’t. I instantly had more respect for Nina.

“It is not every Friday that Jennifer spends the night somewhere else,” Pam said. “We were worried us till she texted us last night.”

I wondered when that had been. Perhaps when she begged to go to the bathroom? I guess I shouldn’t be annoyed, but the beast was. He loved control, and he was annoyed that she hadn’t asked first.

“Is she here?” I asked. “I think she left her lipstick at my place.”

Pam laughed. “And you came all this way just to return it? How sweet of you.” She was practically leering at me.

“I’ll get her,” Nina said. She headed down a long hallway. Three-bedroom apartments could be quite spacious.

“Come sit down,” Pam said. She was motioning to the couch beside her. It was interesting; she was obviously attracted to me, but I couldn’t smell her. I wondered what her tastes were like. I realized I didn’t give a fuck.

“I’ll stand,” I said.

Nina walked in, still frowning. I didn’t care because Jennifer was right behind her. Her hair was wet, and she smelled freshly showered. She was glowing when she hugged me.

“What are you doing here?” she said. I noticed she skipped the question of how I’d found her. Good girl.

“I had a question for you,” I said. “Can we talk in private?”

“Sure, come to my room,” she said.

Nina scowled at me as I walked away with Jennifer. Pam shouted her joke.

“Be sure to behave, kids!” she teased.

Jennifer blushed, but I didn’t care. I closed the door behind us and grabbed her throat. It felt good to have my hand around her neck again.

“Ohh,” she moaned. “I am so glad to see you. I have missed you.”

The beast didn’t care, but I was touched. “I missed you,” I said.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

With my other hand, I reached between her legs. I pressed through the sweatpants she was wearing and cupped her sex. The heat warmed me.

“I followed this,” I said. “Your cunt called to me, and I have come to answer it.”

Jennifer moaned. “Not here, please. Not with Nina and Pam here. Let’s go back to your place.”

The beast raged in defiance. I agreed.

“Right now,” I said. I pushed her down to her bed. “Take off your clothes.”

Jennifer looked at me for a second before she started to disrobe. In moments, she had stripped off her shirt, her bra, her sweatpants and her panties. She was fast, but she was also quiet. I was impressed. Too bad I had no such concerns about the noise.

I grabbed her legs and flipped her over. She squealed briefly before controlling herself. I pulled her legs until her ass was hanging over the bed. She stayed still as I unzipped and let my pants fall. Cock in hand, I entered her.

Jennifer groaned as my cock returned to its rightful place. She grabbed her sheets as I pushed forcefully into her. Her tight ass clenched as slammed in my cock. I was glad to see that her cunt was just as wet as I had smelled.

We fucked. To be more accurate, I fucked her. The bed shook with the force of our fornicating. Jennifer was dead quiet, but the bedsprings were giving us away.

Her silence annoyed me. I slapped her ass while I fucked her. These were not the thoughtful taps I had seen at the dungeon either; these were the hard slaps of my big hands hitting her round ass. My hand fell on her with the righteous fury of a man claiming his woman.

The first slap caught her by surprise, and Jennifer cried out. By the third slap, she was biting down on her sheet to keep from crying out. It didn’t matter. The sound of her ass getting spanked echoed through the room and, I suspected, through the apartment as well.

The sounds of fucking, spanking and creaking bedsprings filled the bedroom. Jennifer was doing a good job of keeping quiet, but the sounds of sex were all around us. I knew she was horrified by the idea. Nina and Pam would know that I came over purely to fuck her. She was humiliated.

She was also incredibly wet. Jennifer climaxed once and then quickly again as I pounded her cunt. I stopped slapping her ass and reached for her long brown hair. My hand pulled her head back and forced her to arch her back as I thrust. The sweet sound of her whimpering added to the mix.

I came. I felt the muscles of her cunt milk my seed from my body. I wiped the sweat from my face and wiped my hand on her ass.

“Good slut,” I said as I pulled out.

Jennifer found the strength to turn over. “Thank you,” she said. I am not sure if she meant for the compliment or for the fucking. “Will you be staying?”

The beast was silent. I was actually intrigued by the idea. What would it be like to hang out with her friends? If Nina had hated me before, she was going to hate my guts now.

“No,” I said. It seemed too normal to consider. I almost didn’t want to push my luck.

“No,” I said again. “I’ll be by to pick you up on Sunday.”

Jennifer looked up me. Her cunt smelled of sex and my seed. “I can’t wait.”

I reached down and scooped up the panties she had been wearing. No matter what else was happening, I was going to keep collecting my trophies.

“Get dressed,” I told her. “I want to you to see me to the door.”

The smile that blossomed on her face was amazing. For some reason, it made me sad. Perhaps I knew that this giddiness could not possibly last.