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Writer's Block

By: iraussieguy



I write for a living. I don't have any great pretensions to be famous, I know my place in literature and it's not near the top of the tree. I write spanking stories for magazines like Paddles, Blush, Cane and Red Cheeks. Not exactly mind bending stuff but I enjoy spanking and I enjoy writing about spanking. I'm happy doing what I'm doing. 

I live by the sea in an old house that I have renovated myself, and quite well too if I do say so myself. It's a two story home with all the living area upstairs, along the front is a verandah with lovely views over the treetops to the water. Downstairs is plenty of room for undercover car parking, a workshop for my tools, a shower/toilet for cleaning up after returning from the beach and a padlocked, well ventilated, windowless room which when anyone enters looks like a wine cellar. What looks like a storage cupboard door next to the rows of wine bottles actually leads to a small room, which I have set up as a dungeon.

Upstairs, the study where I do all my writing is just perfect, if I look out over my desk I can see the sea, if I look out the window to my left I look down into my neighbors yard where the teenage daughters (18 & 19) like to sunbake topless protected by surrounding hedges during the summer. They can't see in my window because I have had anti glare film put on the glass to reduce the heat of the late afternoon sun, anyone looking from outside at my window can only see reflection. My neighbors are very well off and only use the house for weekends and holidays

It was a hot day near the end of summer and I was on a deadline for a story for one of the magazines. But I had run out of ideas, a major dose of writer's block. I had sat at my computer for hours without getting anywhere and I was getting very frustrated.

Suddenly, movement from next door's garden caught the corner of my eye. This was unusual for it was a weekday and as far as I knew the family were uptown. Then as I focused on the figure I realized that it was the lady of the house, Elizabeth, who I had chatted to a few times but really didn't know at all. Elizabeth had been a child bride and was in her late thirties but she could have passed as thirty, this was a very attractive lady. As I watched Elizabeth my interest was raised, and so was my cock, because she walked into the sheltered garden, looked around to make sure she was unseen and then removed the toweling robe she was wearing. 

I whistled silently to myself as Elizabeth stood there in a brief bikini, what a figure! A very nice pair of boobs atop a slim waist, trim hips and shapely legs. Elizabeth laid a towel on the lawn, checked again to make sure she was alone and then off came the bikini top. Two lovely breasts fell free; Elizabeth stretched her shoulders and turned her back to me. I watched in awe as she then slid the bikini bottom down those long legs and lay face down on the towel. What a lovely arse she had, how I would love to have that bum over my knees and give it a good spanking! How I would love to smooth on some sun tan lotion to make sure she didn't burn.

I rushed to my cupboard and grabbed my camera with the telephoto lens. I took a couple of shots of Elizabeth and kept an eye on her as she sunbathed. Obviously not wanting to get burnt, Elizabeth only stayed there for about half an hour and to my disappointment did not get any sun on the front of her body. Elizabeth wrapped herself in the robe without turning towards me, picked up her bikini and towel and returned to the house.

Frustrated I once again went about my writing but without success, my mind kept wandering to my beautiful neighbor. Was she alone? Would I see her again? Should I go and visit her when I saw a light on that night on the pretext of keeping an eye on the house? I debated whether to have a wank or not but decided not to and once again tried to concentrate on my writing without success.

It was still hot that evening with no sea breeze. I had just finished eating when the front door bell rang. I went downstairs to find a radiant Elizabeth standing there, dressed in a tee shirt and shorts, holding a half-empty bottle of champagne. 

"Hi Michael," she said with a grin, slightly slurring her words, "I thought you may like some company and a drink tonight."

"I certainly do Elizabeth, come on in, let me take the bottle," I replied ushering her upstairs. I followed close behind, my eyes watching her lovely arse wiggle as she climbed the steps.

"Oh this is lovely," Elizabeth exclaimed as she looked around my lounge room. "I hope I'm not intruding or anything."

"Not at all Elizabeth, I'm glad to have some company for a change." I poured a couple of glasses of the champagne and said, "Let's go out on the verandah, it's cooler out there."

Elizabeth and I settled down in our chairs and toasted each other's health. We looked out over the bay at the setting sun and made small talk for a while about the weather, holidays, her girls at university and her favorite sport – golf.

Quite innocently I asked Elizabeth how her husband's business was doing and was taken aback by her reply.

"That bastard, he's interstate right now fucking his secretary!" Elizabeth said vehemently. "He wants a divorce a soon as possible the rotten prick. He's offered me the house next door, everything that's in it and my car, plus a cash settlement. He is willing to buy an apartment for our girls near the University and he wants our city house for him and his bimbo secretary. There, now you know Michael, I'm sorry, I didn't want to load it onto to you but I had to tell someone."

"That's OK Elizabeth," I replied, "You probably will feel better now that you've told someone. It seems to me that you are better off without him, rather than him screwing around behind your back. I'm no lawyer but I think you have been offered a pretty good deal. You just have to be positive and make the future work for you, it sounds like you will be pretty well off so make the most of it." 

Elizabeth was suddenly quiet as she mulled over my words. I emptied the bottle of champagne and raised my glass, "Here's to your future Elizabeth, may it be a long and happy!"

Elizabeth grinned and raised her glass. "You know you are right Michael, I've been feeling really bitter and sorry for myself but I must be positive. Thanks, here's to your future too!"

We sat and talked some more about the situation and her future. I got a bottle of cold Australian wine from the refrigerator and we drank some more. Amazing how alcohol can loosen the tongue and as the sunset turned to night we chatted and became good friends.

Elizabeth suddenly changed the subject and innocently asked THAT question, "What do you do for a living Michael? Where does the money come from to pay your bills?"

"I'm a writer Elizabeth, I write short stories for magazines for a living," I replied knowing that if Elizabeth disapproved of the subject that our new friendship could come to a sudden end. From past experience I knew what the next question would be.

"That sounds interesting, what sort of stories Michael?"

I chose my words carefully, "My stories are aimed at a fairly small market, Elizabeth, they are meant for adults only…….." 

Elizabeth sat forward in her chair. "Ohhhhhh, dirty stories are they? Tell me more Michael, tell me more."

I'm not ashamed of my writing or my spanking interest so I answered truthfully as I always do when pushed, "Actually Elizabeth, the stories are about adults spanking each other and the spankings are usually followed by intercourse."

Elizabeth sat back in her chair with a look of amazement on her face. "Spanking, you write about adults spanking?"

I nodded in reply wondering what was going to come next.

"I find it hard to believe that adults spank each other, can I see some of the magazines? Have you got any here?" she asked.

"Sure have, come inside to my study and I'll show you," I said as I picked up the empty glasses.

I led Elizabeth into my study and took a handful of magazines from a cupboard.

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she settled into an armchair and looked at the photos on the covers. "How will I know which stories you wrote?" she asked, "Do you use your own name?"

I laughed, "No, I use a non-de-plume, the stories I wrote have "Willow" as the writer, it was my nickname at school."

Elizabeth flicked open a copy of "Paddles" – one of the better known and well distributed spanking/contact magazines. She flicked through the pages, stopping to look at the photos and advertisements until she found the story I wrote, 'Birchville', and fell silent as she read.

I just sat and drank in the beauty of my neighbor. A couple of times she raised her head and gave me a funny look, but said nothing. Time passed as Elizabeth read 'Birchville' and 'First Time' in separate editions. A couple of times she wriggled her bum around in the chair, which made me wonder what sort of effect the stories were having on her.

When she had finished them and looked at all the photos she exclaimed, "Well Michael, I have certainly learned something new tonight, I've wondered a few times what your job is and now I know, this spanking stuff just amazes me and I must admit…….." her voice trailed off.

"Go one Elizabeth, finish what you were going to say," I said gently.

"Shit, this is hard to admit, and I feel a bit silly saying this but I wonder what it feels like to be spanked and as I've read it's been going through my mind to ask you………." Again Elizabeth's voice trailed off.

I took a deep breath and inquired "Ask me if I would spank you, Elizabeth?"

"Yes", Elizabeth rose from the armchair and came and stood beside where I was sitting at my desk.

Just then fate intervened and as Elizabeth faced the dark window the security lights around her house came alight.

"Jeepers, what's made the lights come on? I hope nobody's trying to break in," There was worry in Elizabeth's voice.

"The security lights come quite regularly Elizabeth, it's probably that stray cat again looking for food scraps, yes, there it is, see near the corner of the house." 

"Oh that's OK then," Elizabeth sighed, then she almost shouted, "OH FUCK! You can see right down into our yard from here, did you see me this afternoon?"

"See you sun baking Elizabeth? Yes I sure did, and I can honestly tell you it was one of the most lovely sights I've ever seen." I said with a smile. Gently I took Elizabeth by the arm and sat her down on my lap, she made no effort to move away.

"How much of me did you see?" she asked.

"I saw you take off your bikini top but you turned your back to me before you took off the bottom bit, so I have seen you nude from the back but not the front."

"You certainly give honest answers don't you Michael, you dirty old man." Elizabeth now was grinning at me.

"I'm not that old and I'm not dirty. I just can't help admiring beautiful looking ladies Elizabeth, and you are one of the prettiest I have ever seen." I thought it was time for a slight change of subject. "Are you still interested in receiving a spanking?"

"Well I guess there's no reason for modesty is there Michael, you won't see much more of me than you already have today. God, I really don't know, will it hurt much?" she asked.

"No more than you want it to Elizabeth. Did you notice that in all of my stories I use a safe word? Well that applies to you too. If it gets too much for you all you have to say is 'Mercy' and I'll stop immediately. You can go home anytime you like, but you never know, you may enjoy it."

"Shit Michael, you should have been a salesman, not a writer. Where's your bathroom? I'll have a think while I'm in there. I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee if you have some"

I directed Elizabeth to the bathroom and busied myself making the coffee. On her return we discussed spanking some more and I told her of some of my experiences with other ladies. 

Finally it was decision time. "Well Elizabeth, have you made up your mind? Do you want to be spanked?"

Elizabeth silently rose from her chair and stood in front of me. She had a determined look on her face as she looked into my eyes and nodded.

I reached out and took hold of her tee shirt, which I released, from the elastic of her shorts. Elizabeth raised her arms above her head and slowly I pulled the tee shirt upwards, over her bikini covered breasts, over her arms and head. Her lovely brown hair fell back down into place as I put my arms around her and untied the thin straps of her bikini top. Her lovely boobs and nipples fell free and I took one in each hand, squeezing them tightly. I took a soft teat into my mouth and sucked hard, hearing Elizabeth's sudden intake of breath as I bit on the nipple which hardened as if it had been rubbed with ice. 

"Oh Michael, that is so good," she cried, "That hasn't been done to me for years."

I repeated the sucking and biting on the other nipple and Elizabeth cried out again. I pulled her mouth down to mine and we kissed deeply, both of us loving the way the night was turning.

I stood Elizabeth in front of me and took the elastic of the shorts in my hands, slowly lowering them to the floor. All that she now had on was the bikini bottom, that wisp of material that my hands now grasped and suddenly pulled upwards over her hips, jamming it into her crack and making Elizabeth 'yelp' again. Her eyes were shining brightly with excitement as I firmly guided this lovely lady over my knees.

"Be gentle with me Michael, remember this is my first spanking, be gentle with me," Elizabeth said with a laugh. "Oh, I sound like a fifteen year old about to have her first sex."

"Quiet woman and behave yourself." I laughed too, this was going to be fun.

My right hand fell onto Elizabeth's stroked gentle circles on the smooth skin. As I raised my hand her whole body tensed as she waited for the first smack.

It landed softly and there was no reaction from Elizabeth as I 'love spanked' her bottom, making sure that all the area was slowly warmed.

"It doesn't really hurt at all," Elizabeth said with wonder in her voice, "I expected it to sting more."

My answer was to increase the force of the smacks.

"Oh, oh shit, it does sting after all, are you going to do it much more?"

"I'm only warming you up Elizabeth, there's a lot more to come yet, but don't forget the code word."

Once again after I had covered all her bottom I increased the force. 'Smack, smack, smack'.

Slowly but surely Elizabeth's bum changed from the light pink of her sun tan to the deeper pink that my hand was bringing to the skin. Elizabeth was now wriggling around on my lap and verbalizing her discomfort.

"Oh, ouch, ooooh," she yelped, "Oh it's really stinging now Michael."

I paused for a short time to admire my handiwork and took hold of her panties. Elizabeth made no objection and helpfully raised her hips to make it easier for me to slide the bikini bottom down over her legs. I placed my hand between her slim thighs and eased her legs apart. Again no effort from Elizabeth to stop me as my hand moved up and caressed her pussy lips. She was quite wet and obviously very turned on. Elizabeth moaned as I slipped a finger into her cunt and gently frigged her, I was looking forward to slipping something else in that wet hole later that night.

I resumed the spanking on Elizabeth's now bare arse, whacking it quite hard and watching the skin turn from pink to a soft red. 

'Whack, fwap, swappp' resulted in Elizabeth yelping, "Oooaagh, oooh-nooooo!"

Of course her breathless protestations had no effect on me, I continued to spank harder and harder, waiting for Elizabeth to use the safe word.

"Oh God, when are you going to stop? I can't take this much longer!" Elizabeth wailed, and then as I paused for a few seconds she contradicted herself, "No, don't stop, this is such a turn on Michael, please keep going!"

I laughed out loud and returned to the job at hand. Elizabeth was now wriggling strongly on my lap, her legs kicking in mid air. My left hand held her strongly while my right continued to turn her bottom bright red.

Finally Elizabeth cried, "Mercy, mercy, Michael, I've had all I can take, pleeease stop!"

Of course the spanking stopped immediately, it had gone longer than I expected, Elizabeth had taken her first spanking very well.

I held Elizabeth across my lap as her panting gradually slowed and her breathing returned to something like normal. 

"When you feel up to it Elizabeth you can stand up, but before you do, feel the heat in your bum."

Elizabeth gingerly reached back with her right hand and felt her cheek. "Wow, it's really warm isn't it Michael, jeepers what an experience, I'm so fucking horny, I need your cock soooo bad. Spanking is a turn on for you too isn't it, I could feel you getting harder the more you spanked."

I didn't need to answer that question as Elizabeth grabbed me between the legs as she struggled to her feet. I stood too and took her in my arms. Elizabeth was still shaking as we hugged each other and kissed deeply. I guided her to the kitchen where we both had a well earned glass of ice water.

"Come on, where's your bedroom!" Elizabeth demanded. 

I wrapped an arm around her and guided to my bedroom and we stood beside the bed.

"Take my clothes off Elizabeth," I asked. 

"Certainly sir, I haven't done this for a long time." Elizabeth said with a grin. My shirt was soon unbuttoned and removed and then Elizabeth knelt in front of me and slid my shorts and underpants off in the same motion. My cock sprang free and was soon engulfed in Elizabeth's mouth.

I let her suck for a short time before pushing her head away and instructed her to kneel up on the bed.

"Kneel on the bed?" Elizabeth queried, "Don't you want me on my back?"

"No, not on your back, on your hands and knees, hurry up I can't wait any longer," I panted.

Elizabeth was soon up on the bed with her lovely arse pointing in my direction. I too got on the bed and knelt behind her and moved her legs a little more apart with my hands. I took my erection in hand and rubbed the tip of it up against her anus, then moved it down over the perineum and rubbed it against the opening of her wet cunt. Back and forth I rubbed, from her pussy lips to her anus, teasing her, tormenting her. Elizabeth moaned, not knowing exactly what I was up to. She soon found out as I moved my cock down and paused against the entrance to her pussy. One of her hands came back and directed my cock into her cunt as I pushed forward. She gasped as I held her hips, my dick now fully into her tight hole. I stayed motionless for a short time, both of us enjoying the different feelings we were experiencing. I slowly withdrew and then pushed back again, once again entering her to the hilt. Gradually the rhythm increased, Elizabeth set the pace, moving back and forward as I stayed as still as I could. 

"Oh this is soon good," Elizabeth squealed, "I haven't had a screw for months, it's fantastic. You can come inside me Michael, I'm on the pill!"

It wasn't long before we both reached a shattering climax, my cum rushing into her cunt and we collapsed panting onto the sheets. We were both perspiring in the warm night and held each other tight as our breathing returned to normal.

"Oh my, oh my Michael, that was a first for me," Elizabeth said with a grin.

"What? That was the first time you've done it doggy fashion?" I asked. "You've never done it like that before?"

"All my husband, or should I say my ex-husband ever does is the missionary position. Missionary position, missionary position, missionary position, and no foreplay, just a quick fuck with never any thought for me. I've been missionary for so long I should go and preach religion to the tribes in Africa! That stupid secretary will soon discover he's no good in bed and it serves them both right. This has been a great night Michael, I'm so glad I came over to see you. Have you any more surprise positions for me?" Elizabeth said giggling at her missionary joke.


Writer's Block



Author's note: To Kait, whose kindness, friendship and intelligence proved inspirational.

Part I. New York

No, I had never actively sought a call girl before and it wasn't helping that she had to have rather special qualities. She had to be young, experienced, smart, and bisexual; a combination of features which excluded everyone I had stumbled across so far. 

The outlandish idea was to use her life as a springboard, for a story that rolled to and fro through my brain's storybook almost daily. Frankly, I doubted I'd ever find her because the plot was all too complex, too full of nuance. Still all in all, I couldn't get it out of my mind. 

Don't get me wrong, having lived in New York I knew there was no shortage of bisexual women. Once you placed an ad, they oozed from the woodwork. The hourly rate was an attraction no doubt, but I eventually came to realize I couldn't use an east coast girl; they didn't fit the strict outline I had conjured for the story's central character. The more I thought about it, the more I was drawn to a west coast setting. I needed something very different from what I was used to. But until I found the girl, the concept remained dormant; adrift amidst writer's block. 

The book, if it ever matured into something readable, would be my twenty-first and I naturally wanted to hit the lofty promotional target my publisher set for me. But the problem with accomplishment is that it has so many components and its heights are often measured by standards which make little sense to anyone except the writer. 

The pieces making up success don't always fit together coherently. I had learned, for example, that achievement and contentment don't necessarily go hand in hand. Having had three best-sellers, a movie option and an endorsement by Oprah, I practically possessed a license to print money. But all of this hadn't brought happiness. You see, in my case, although writing had always been a piece of my identity, it was never its cornerstone. Russell was.

We had met in English class and fell madly in love. His Grecian looks and muscular body, maintained through religious exercise, took me by storm and our saga was the talk of Roosevelt High. 

The whole affair was deliciously lurid, sweltering really. I was so predictably typical in retrospect. Determined to keep him, I allowed him to finger me on our first date. 

From there, it was a short hop to steamy nights where we hurriedly fumbled through mutual masturbation, oral sex and finally, we did it. Of course, I wouldn't swallow, despite his pleading, thinking that feat was a little something I should save for marriage.

Though separated by a short distance during our college years in upstate New York, I managed to find my way to him almost every weekend where I fucked like a wild woman. 

Not allowing anyone else in my body, I saved myself just for him and abstained from the temptations of those definitive years. A major accomplishment by anyone's standard in this day and age.

And I not only saved myself for him, but I saved some of myself for later. No anal - well, all right, when he insisted I allowed him to insert a thumb - and still no swallowing. I know the latter rule survived only until the end of freshman year and I also know I said not until marriage but in the end, I caved. If I didn't do it, I reasoned, someone else would. I mean, just how does a girl make a cock her very own these days? 

Silly me, while my friends were hooking up with whomever they pleased, I held back. Oddly, I wasn't envious of them, but did feel a bit out of place in the budding new world of female sexuality. My adorable roommate Kaitlin thought I was nuts, but supported me none the less.

Imagine the reaction of my girlfriends as I remained loyal to Russell through it all. To me, excluding all other men from my warm body was wonderfully romantic.

Soon after graduation we both took jobs in the city; he on Wall Street while I became an assistant editor at Elle. We had it all, or so it seemed.

But Russell grew restive and started working late, which, given the fiscal collapse after September 11 seemed understandable. The problem was, it continued thereafter, even as life in the financial district experienced rebirth. I knew something was up, especially since his sexual interest waned in inverse proportion to the rising markets. And then he just walked in one day and said, "I can't do this anymore."

"Can't do what?" I asked; a lightning chill ascending my spine. 

"I can't be married, Heather. And I'm not going to argue or discuss it. I'm leaving." The explicitness in his voice left me frightened and collapsing inside.

Tossing a few things into a bag, he walked out of my life. 

Not knowing what to do without him, I crashed into chaos. 

Scurrying about the recesses of my mind like a cornered animal, I wrote -- then developed writer's block. I lost weight - not through choice, but bulimia, I cut my long red hair just above the shoulder because I thought it would look shoddy, and I broadcast depression. I was a mess.

And I shaved -- Yuk! Russell had always preferred me natural but I knew the world had changed and now at forty-one, I had to become a part of...well, something I was never a part of to begin with. 

But even with my so called 'improvements,' I still found myself lost. I wandered aimlessly through a city which now felt foreign. 

My editor, Peter Willett witnessed everything. Every single pathetic phase of my misery passed before his discerning eyes. A kind and patient man of sixty-two, he had proven a steadying hand in my life, certainly throughout my years of writing and even more so now that Russell was gone. But at a private meeting three weeks ago, he confronted me.

"You're crumbling Heather and I'm worried about you." His words burned into my mind. "It's showing in your writing, or I should say, in your failure to write. I can tell you're not eating properly, you've missed two deadlines for the Playgirl article and you're removed. Even from me."

I said nothing; just looked out the window and attempted a passive defense comprised of embarrassment and disturbance. From his twenty second floor office, so much a part of the vertical world of Manhattan, I could only see small slivers of blue between concrete and glass skyscrapers.

"Heather, are you listening to me? Without waiting for a response, he continued. "I'm going to lose you if you can't break away from your own past. It's been a year. It's over with Russell and it's time you dealt with it."

The harsh abruptness of his verbal mugging startled me. Peter had always been such a gentleman.

I hastily stood, pacing his office. It was a small place and my long legs made it feel even smaller. I felt pent up, frustrated.

Then I struck back. "It's not over!" I shouted in my most threatening tone, wanting to attack him for having the impudence to be honest. Collapsing back in my seat and fighting back tears, I put my head in my hands. 

"He'll be back goddam it; I know he will, Peter. Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not doing it to you Heather, Russell is. And I'm raising these concerns because it's the truth and because I'm worried about you, and..." He passed a deep breath, and when he spoke he drove the final stake of despair into my heart. "...because I saw Russ last week and he was with that awful woman, Allison...something. You know... I'm not stupid Heather, they're serious and he's been seeing her for some time. Come on honey, if you're not realistic about this, your life will remain stuck in a world that's gone now."

"Fuck you Peter," I spat. Picking up my laptop and jacket, I stormed out and left the building. I trudged aimlessly, sobbing through midtown for the next hour. He was right and I knew it. Being so lonely in a place where there are a hundred thousand people per block only made it worse. Alone - such irony.

With sore feet, smeared makeup and the remnants of my spirit dragging behind me like damaged airport luggage, I shamefacedly returned to Peter's office.

Of all things, he was happy to see me; clearly my words hadn't affected the unconditional love embedded in our long friendship. He was such a patient man and I was such a bitch. I'd have felt better had he screamed at me.

"I'm so sorry Peter, I..."

"Stop," he interrupted. "There's no need for that. It was something we both had to do. I'm just worried, that's all. I'm afraid for you. Can you understand that?"

"Of course," I said. Then, admitting the self-evident, I blurted out a decision made weeks earlier. "I have to get out of here Peter. I have to leave New York. I'm going to work on that project I told you about."

Even though he represented dozens of other authors he immediately recalled the shadowy scheme I was alluding to. "The one about the girl, you mean?"

"...the bisexual, yes."

"But you don't know who she is," he ventured, a look of utter discouragement on his handsome face.

Assuming he probably thought I was about to run off on a wild goose chase, I responded, "I know that Peter. I'll go to San Francisco. My hunt may not end there but it's as good a place to begin looking for her as any. I need to be away right now and I want to find a woman, a young woman - one who lives a life contradicting my own - my opposite. If I can find her, the rest will fall into place and I'll be able to write my book. I just know it."

Probing, Peter explored further. "Tell me again, what you want to accomplish, thematically I mean."

Reflecting momentarily on my years in college, on my years of waiting and denying myself, I said, "I want to find a girl who doesn't need men. I don't care if she likes men - I just want her to be as free of them as she chooses. She has to be young, beautiful and openly sexual. I have to..."

"You have to get into her head to learn what the world looks like through her eyes. Yes, I understand. But Heather, I have a question. In principle, I like the idea. It's fresh and will sell to a public interested in what motivates such a person."

Here it comes, I thought.

"But in the past, you've been able to stand off to one side of your subject - objectively looking in. Given your emotional state, is that realistic now? What if you don't find a willing participant? If she doesn't even exist, you might be compelled to make her up. I understand you well enough to know you'll view your own work as a haunting literary corruption. "

"Think about the risks," he continued. "If you can find her, you will be asking a woman -- a woman you don't know - to reveal her innermost thoughts to you. It's a long shot. If she doesn't materialize, will your disappointment simply contribute to your current path to emotional collapse? Do you see where I'm going with this? I don't think you should be looking at the project as some sort of therapeutic resolution to the Russell problem. It has to stand on its own merits Heather."

"I realize that Peter. Trust me, it's not a crutch. It's something I've been thinking of doing for a long time. A thought I've had since I started writing really, and I just never found her. I'm too wrapped up in New York and different surroundings will resolve that. Believe me, I can do this."

Though skeptical, he didn't know what else to do with me.

"I'll be gone a year and have saved enough from previous book sales to get by," I added. "I'll stay in touch with you, but probably not much. I need some time..."

"I understand," he murmured. "Do what you think is best."

The thought suddenly struck me that Peter seemed to be battling with something in his own mind.

"Heather, I have something to explain to you." His entire demeanor changed in an instant, from one of caring friend to that of stern and unyielding father.

"What?"

"I'm going to disclose something to you and...well..."

"Don't keep me in suspense Peter; tell me."

"There's a woman I know. I mean, who I've been seeing during business trips."

"What woman?" 

It occurred to me that in my own selfish preoccupation I had paid little attention to Peter's needs, even though he treated me like his own daughter. I knew almost nothing of his private life, though I had known Margaret, his gracious wife of thirty years, before she tragically succumbed to ovarian cancer.

"Peter, tell me. Who is she?"

"I've grown lonely Heather, more so than I've ever let on. I met her in Seattle but have seen her in various places, for weekends sometimes."

"Oh Peter, that's wonderful," I said, rising to give him a hug. Then, holding him at arm's length and feeling like a broken record, I repeated my question, "Who is she?"

Turning away from me, he spoke swiftly, unveiling Laya, a twenty-one year old escort he had started seeing the previous year. To prevent myself from falling over in shock I slowly and without taking my eyes from his, sat back in my chair.

"Go on..."

"She's everything you've described. It's almost too much to comprehend but given the story you want to write, her age, her physical beauty, her occupation and skill as a communicator, she'd be someone I'd want you to meet."

Momentarily stuck on stupid, I kept repeating, "A call girl...you're seeing a call girl..." 

"Heather, please don't judge me. When I was married I never touched another woman. Margaret was my world. Then she died and I was left alone. During a visit to see Justin in Seattle last year, I met a cocktail waitress at a hotel bar and she was nice to me. She listened and promised to sit with me when her shift ended. We talked for a long time; about everything. She cleared my mind of anxiety and soon after...well, you can imagine the rest." 

Pulling my fragmented senses together, I took a deep breath and said, "Peter, I understand loneliness. Is Laya...?"

"A lesbian? She says she is but she may have done that because men fantasize about such things. I like her though, and trust her enough to say, yes, I think she's probably leveling with me; it's likely she is a lesbian. She's also smart and very sexual..."

"Sexual? How so? Is she any different from what you might expect of a typical prostitute?"

"Oh, she's not a prostitute or at least I've never thought of her that way. And maybe this is just a naïve aging man talking, but this girl is special. Let me give you an example. I apologize; I know I've never spoken of such things with you before and I..."

"Don't apologize Peter; just tell me about her."

"Well, that evening, after finishing at the bar we moved to a booth and as she sat down she worked her panties off and slipped them across the table to me. Every muscle in my body became rejuvenated. It's been a long time since I was 'out there' Heather and she really threw me. I've been seeing her ever since. Would you like me to arrange a meeting?"

Part II: Seattle

After landing I spent the day getting oriented to my novel surroundings. In my hotel room acting on blind faith in Peter, I organized questions for my first meeting with Laya. He believed she'd be perfect for my story, and I hoped to spend a lot of time with her, infiltrating her alien world. 

While still in his office in New York, Peter had called the mystery woman. Though he had cradled the earpiece so I didn't hear her voice, I knew she was agreeable. He later told me where to meet her and described her look. His words were all I had to go on, saying 'She'll dress provocatively and will stand out in public. If she walks in, you'll know it - she shows more than most women.' 

Thinking that final comment was probably a reflection of Peter's age, I had listened carefully as he explained my appearance to her and assumed finding one another at the little restaurant shouldn't present a problem. 

Calculating a bit, I decided to arrive at the Fish'n Chips shop on Pier 59 in Seattle before time so I could watch the door and scrutinize her. Walking in, I paused for a moment, waiting for my sunglasses to adjust in the dimness. More than ready, I carried a leather tote on my shoulder, containing laptop and organizers. 

My red hair, sun-baked from the walk down the busy pier, was hot against my cheeks. It had only taken a minute of being outside of my air conditioned rental to realize I was over-dressed. The double button navy jacket was the first to go. At least my collared shirt was white. 

Having packed only skirts was something I began to view as a minor blessing. The floor was slatted pine and it clacked under my modest heels as I walked. We were due to meet at eleven; so I took a seat in a booth facing the door. It was an old trick I used to keep a new subject a little off balance. 

After ordering an iced tea I took out my notepad, one hair clip and an elastic band. It took only twenty-eight seconds to pull my hair up into a modest French twist; a personal best. I hoped it wouldn't be my only achievement of the day. 

Eleven o'clock came and went. Laya didn't show. Repeatedly waving off the waiter who tried to bring me a menu, I allowed for an additional fifteen minutes before I began to fidget. Not knowing how long Laya was going to keep me waiting, I phoned Peter. 

He was just getting ready to meet with a client but took my call none the less. He was surprised Laya hadn't shown. "She's always so punctual," he remarked.

"I've been sitting here for awhile, Peter. Maybe I should try to call her directly."

"You can't do that Heather," he reluctantly responded. "Laya made it clear; you were not to have her number until she knew whether you and she could work together. I'm sure she'll be there."

"I'll give it another half hour," I told him. "Then I'll start searching for someone else; this time on my own." 

I hung up.

My eyes scanned the little place. Now past 11:15, it was getting busy. A woman wandered in. Young, pretty and wearing a string bikini top under a see-through white t-shirt, I began to rise as she approached. But she walked by, greeting a man waiting two booths back. "Shit," I thought. "She's not going to show, I just know it."

Several couples walked in, some had little children with them. No way.

"You're Heather, aren't you?" The voice of a young woman came from the booth directly behind me. Turning, I saw her half-smiling, flirtatious half-smile.

Rising from her seat, she stepped toward me.

Damn it, I thought, this fucking bitch has been here all along. She watched when I arrived and had, by the way she dressed, tricked me into overlooking her as just another businesswoman at lunch. She was smart.

I began to rise, extending my hand in greeting.

"Please, don't get up," she offered, a subtle look of triumphant satisfaction on her face. "I'm Laya."

"Yes...I figured that. Why didn't..."

"I had to decide whether to show myself to you first. I hope you won't be mad at me. A girl has to be careful you know." 

Laya sat down at my booth, smoothly sliding one bare leg over the other. She wasn't dressed at all like Peter had described. The hem of her one-piece jumper skirt was ruffled and short, but not extremely so. It was made of spotless white fabric and the straps crossing her shoulders and chest created a deep V that would have revealed a lot of skin, were it not for the short sleeved blouse she wore underneath.

Surprisingly modest, she didn't even have the buttons undone and the dress displayed a slight metallic shimmer that seemed to add to her radiance. 

Her lipstick was just the right shade of red, and it glistened wetly. Her hair was dark, nearing black, which, like the rest of her, shocked me. I had expected a tasteless blond, or at least a fake one. She was challenging my stereotypes.

Stating the obvious, I remarked, "You don't look..." 

"I know," Laya said. Her voice was sweet and youthful. "That's the idea. I figured Peter told you how I usually dressed and didn't want to reveal myself until I was ready. But you look okay."




Writer's Block



She was perfectly beautiful, though I didn't admit it and remained pissed over the fact that, sitting just three feet away, she had made me wait. She had some nerve.

"It's nice to meet you," I lied, "but you've wasted valuable time and I..."

Cutting me off again, with a wave of her hand, she interjected, "I know and I'm sorry, but I haven't started the clock yet, so don't worry."

"Big of you," I thought.

"And since you haven't told me to go fist myself, I'll assume we can continue on with this?" 

She was playing a game with me and I was failing to anticipate her moves. I couldn't tell if it was some sort of power struggle or if she had something to prove to me, but she was winning. What had Peter been thinking? Laya was a nutcase. Men; they'll fall for anyone who spreads her legs.

"Yes Laya, I'm still sitting; despite your insolence. Peter said you were reliable, smart and sexual."

"And a lesbian?"

"Yes and if I knew of another girl who fit that description I'd walk out and find her right now." 

Shifting her weight on the chair she began to get up. "I'm not one of a kind Heather. I have the names of a dozen girls in my BlackBerry who fit your wacky bill, but I promise none of them would expose herself to you, or swallow your snippety New York attitude."

"Wait," I said, thinking better of it. "Let's start this over." Slipping back into her seat, she rested her chin in her hands. Her dark hair fell across her wrists and her champagne-colored eyes bore holes in me. Her hair was just a little bit longer than mine.

"So, Heather, why exactly are we here? This is an unusual referral."

"Because you're a whore," I said, instantly realizing it was the dirtiest shot I could take at her. 

"Yeah, and you're some big shit author with writer's block. Your husband dumped you right? Yeah, Pete let that slip. I bet it was some slut who stole him. Is that why you tracked me down; to take it out on me? 

I could have slapped her smiling face. She was ignorant for assuming things about me, but I realized I had done the same to her. My curiosity melted the lump of anger that clogged my throat.

"No Laya, I said blankly, "I'm not here to take it out on you. But everything else you said is true." Taking out my legal pad I laid it on my side of the table where she couldn't read it.

"What's that?"

"Just some things I want to ask you. You're right, I am trying to write a book and I'm looking for the right subject; a young woman who has sex with men, for money but whose deeper passion is other women."

"All right, I guess that's me, but there has to be something more. I'm not the only dyke who turns tricks for cash," she said smiling. I was surprised she didn't ask me why I would choose such a topic.

"My editor thought you'd be articulate enough."

I explained that I would probably need to meet with her over a lengthy period of time, at which she frowned - the first one I had seen - and started to look impatient. 

"I don't know how much time I can devote to this, Heather." As if it had a bad taste, her face pinched as she said my name. "I think I'll call you Thea, is that okay?

"Sure, whatever," I answered, just wanting to get on with it.

"Good. So, Thea what did you want to ask me? Remember, we're on the clock now, so its two hundred an hour as long as there's no sex involved."

"Do I get frequent flyer miles with that?" I asked sarcastically. 

Laya chuckled, relaxing a little. "You'll get frequent fucker miles, if you want."

God, she was quick.

"I'll just stick with the questions, thanks."

As I was about to begin probing, her cell phone rang grinding our already limited momentum to a halt.

"You can't be serious," I said.

"Don't be so New-Yorkish Thea," Laya responded as she brought the phone to her ear. Hearing her side of the exchange that followed, I frowned.

"Hello...yes Mr. Guron, yes...no, half an hour will be fine, the usual wardrobe? No? Well, well. Don't make me bring my riding crop...all right, I'll see you then." 

Taking her advice I tried not to show my mounting aggravation.

"I'm sorry, Thea, I have to run. Listen, I know I fucked up this first meeting, but at least we know each other now. I feel better, if that matters at all and I'm willing to continue if you are." 

She stood up from the booth and straightened the hem of her dress. "I hate this thing, it makes me feel like I'm going to church. I love your hair by the way, it's so red. I love redheads. Listen, I just have to meet this guy, so I'll be tied up for awhile. Get it? Tied up? Anyway, we can resume this later, right? I haven't scared you off have I?"

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Good. I'll meet you here." She seized my notepad and hurriedly jotted down the name of a pub.

I read it aloud. "T. S. McHugh's." 

"It's on Mercer Street; every cabbie knows where it is. I'll be there at seven o'clock."

Nodding curtly, I watched her leave.

Part III 

I spent the rest of the afternoon alone, glued to my laptop. The meeting with Laya had not gone well, but perhaps my expectations had been too high. Despite her initial prickliness, she had done exactly what I had wanted her to do; she inspired me.

Within an hour, I had every minuscule detail from our first encounter, such as it was, on my screen. As detailed a record as I could make, it included everything, even the way her eyes flashed angrily at being called a whore, even though her smile never faltered. I described her smile, her lashes, thick and full, and her perfect skin. How her knee once bumped into mine and how I had felt a strange sensation of warmth travel up my leg, not unlike the stir I experienced when Kait bought me a girl at 'Rick's Cabaret' during my bachelorette party before the wedding. Her hands roamed my body like a snake and she left me wet, something I never told Russell about and had been too apprehensive to take any further.

I knew her now; at least a little and I understood how fast she moved I knew how difficult it would be for me to keep pace with a mind that traveled at Warp speed. Peter had been right about her essential qualities, but I hadn't had the opportunity to learn whether she would really open up to me so that I might, as he had so astutely put it, 'get inside her head.' 

Part of me thought it was just a matter of geography. Had she been on my home turf in New York, with its attitude, crowding and speed, she might have been the one off balance. But it was me who was out of place here. At the end of our abbreviated encounter, I understood she had played me just enough to keep my head spinning.

I found myself pausing, staring into space as I picked apart the details of her high-powered performance. She was interesting, though I wasn't anywhere near ready to admit that to her. Too risky, I thought. Besides, her volatility alone spoke volumes about the likelihood of our working relationship falling to pieces. Tempting as she might be, we had only talked in the shop for a few minutes, and that alone wasn't enough for me to consider making her the main character of my book. 

As evening approached, I showered and dressed for our second meeting. I had packed one evening dress, a sky blue empire cut number with thick white lines slashing diagonally across the fabric. It was just enough to make my skin look soft and I knew it lit up my eyes like New York's Fourth of July fireworks display. The tight strapless top fit my boobs perfectly and did little to hide my cleavage, something I had grown ever more fond of flaunting since the divorce. 

As expected, Laya was already there when I arrived at McHugh's. This time I at least recognized her and she was dressed more in the manner Peter had described. She was stunning in her tight, black, one piece dress. In the small spaces between the ribbing the material was thin enough to catch a glimpse of her white bra. It had a deep, U-shaped neckline, evidence of the daring and risqué woman I knew I was onto after this morning's stormy encounter. She had one leg folded over the other and her short hemline was stretched tightly, like spider silk high up on her thighs and afforded little coverage. It was not a dress meant to be worn while sitting, but sitting she was. My immediate thought was that it wasn't a dress at all; it was an exclamation point representing Laya's free-wheeling sexuality and I had no doubt that was why she chose it.

Her choice of a table was interesting; it wasn't in some far, dimly-lit corner but right in the middle of the place, directly beneath a strong, unflattering light. She already had a scotch in her hand as I sat down.

"Laya," I said, mustering a friendly smile and shaking her hand in greeting, "I see you don't want to do this quietly."

"It's my usual seat." She shrugged, "I like the attention Thea." Her handshake was tentative, but firm.

The waiter approached and I ordered a vodka martini as I pulled a notebook from my bag.

"I'll have one too," she added as he nodded and headed back to the bar.

"You go right to work, don't you Thea?" she murmured, her eyes brightening just a little.

"Well, I had hoped to have some of the preliminaries out of the way this morning, but your, ah... schedule interfered with that."

"Oh, just a little," she said, sipping the heavy liquid and looking at me with a glint of mischief in her bright eyes. In an obvious attempt to be coy, she struck first, asking, "Have you picked up on the scent of it?" 

I had, but was too shy to say so it, so I played oblivious. Besides, I was growing tired of her games. "What scent are you talking about Laya?" I asked, my eyes disingenuously searching the menu.

"Don't be naïve with me Thea," she pouted. If we're going to do this we have to be friends. And if we're going to be friends, we have to be honest with each other. This is the place to start. So, answer me...do you smell it?"

In total control, she was seizing the moment again, leaving me speechless. I found myself half amused since I was old enough to be her mother.

"All right," I remarked, throwing an arm over the back of the chair. Though abruptly readjusting my body language, I knew she had already spotted it, the defensiveness I had been so guilty of displaying since Russ had left. Momentarily regaining my grasp of things, I simply blurted, "You smell like sex Laya! There. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Well, we're getting there; I do smell like sex," Laya countered, shrugging the comment off as if I had just told her that her pocket was sticking out. "But that's not really what you smell, now is it? So say it. Be honest; don't be ashamed for a change, tell me what you smell."

Looking directly into her eyes, I snapped, "All right, you smell like sperm."

"No I don't Heather. You really can't say it, can you?"

"I can smell sperm and it's in you."

She smiled faintly and picking up the menu, this time it was she who pretended to read it, but her sharp rejoinder followed smartly. "Well, maybe I should have been a dentist Heather, because dealing with you is like pulling teeth. Remember the guy who called during our first meeting this morning? I fucked him and another an hour ago. That last one came in my ass, so you're picking up on that naughty combination."

"Don't you use..." 

She barreled through my question, "I also blew him and swallowed, so I have the smack of cum in my mouth. That's why I drank scotch. It's a god awful drink but it cleans better than Listerine. Guys would be disgusted if they knew how used I was before fucking them, now wouldn't they?" 

"Each chooses to think he's my only client of the day," she continued. "But sometimes I barely have time to clean the cum off my tits with a handy-wipe before I'm on to the next one. Sometimes it leaks out of me, kind of like right now." 

"Don't you think this moment is full of contrasts Thea? I mean, you're sitting here, acting the complete prude and dressed like a flirt, while I leak some stranger's jizz."

"Stop it Laya," I half shouted. "Point taken, okay? I get it. We can cut the bullshit and speak openly. That's what I want too. Now, can we get started?"

Laya, her face brightening, settled back in her chair and returned to scanning the menu. 

"The Chicken Cordon Bleu is excellent here," she commented as the waiter efficiently placed the martini glasses on the table.

Having finally opened a dialogue, Laya explained how she had gotten into the business, how she had initially worked for an agency, Campus Cuties, and had since become an independent contractor, taking appointments and making her own rules.

"Look," she said suddenly, pointing to the tallish, good looking man of about forty-five, standing at the bar. "Watch this..."

Getting up, she dumped the remainder of her drink into my glass and strolled over to him. It took her just a brief moment to engage the stranger. Soon after, the bartender was mixing a martini which he slipped to Laya as the man peeled off a bill in payment. Glancing over at me, he smiled. After just a few minutes she returned, that already familiar look of triumph on her lovely face.

"You're not having your period are you Thea?"

"No, ah...why do you ask?"

"Because he wants to meet you too," she whispered, taking her place once again at the table.

"He wants to meet me, really?" It had been a while since I had allowed a man anywhere near me, at least not intimately. But he was kind of handsome and the thought of sleeping with him was tempting. 

As I considered the possibilities, she struck again. "Thea, now that we're being frank and all, I thought it might be the right time to bring something up. It's kinda important."

"And what's that, Laya?" I asked, assuming she had just lapsed back into an all too familiar brand of prankstership.

"I have an idea for your book. I mean, you've been asking me questions about my work, but it's been mechanical stuff. The fact is, you and I come from different worlds and frankly, we've had a little trouble connecting today, wouldn't you say?"

Knowing she was right, I nodded in agreement.

"And...?"

"Heather, I think you should come with me when I fuck this guy."

"Oh no, I don't think so," I snapped. "I just couldn't do it. At least not with another woman present."

"Don't be so dismissive until you've heard me out. Pay attention for a change. I just let that guy pick me up and I lied to him. He thinks we work as a team."

Placing my elbows on the white linen table cloth, I leaned forward menacingly. "As a what?"

"Once he glanced over at you and saw those fabulous tits, I knew he'd go for it. Besides, he loves redheads. And you're pretty. Come with me. He's staying at the hotel across the street and has already agreed to pay for two girls." 

Frankly, I don't think he's completely comfortable with, well, just me. I'm too young for him and he's probably got a wife at home and, well, you know how it is. He'll just feel better about it. Besides, men don't often have two girls, right?"

I looked at her in astonishment; partly because what she was proposing was outrageous and partly because I was actually listening to her.

Disregarding the look on my face, she continued. "At the same time, I've decided you should know the reason why I haven't taken you awfully seriously today. Now, I told you I was going to be completely honest and want the same from you."

"So why?" I asked curiously. "Why have you been such a bitch Laya?"

"It's simple; I don't respect you."

I looked at her disdainfully, but she went on. Think about it; you've come here acting like you can write about something you don't know a thing about. You come across like an idiot and would to any call girl. Look, unless you're willing to have sex for money, you'll never break into the world I live in. Don't you see? Something's not real until you do it, until you experience it for yourself. That's all that's wrong with you Thea. You just haven't lived."

In a fit of momentary incredulity, I abruptly refocused. Astonishingly, it was I who then blurted the unthinkable. "You're right Laya...but I think..."

"Don't think for a change. Just do it. We'll go with him and then I promise I'll show you who I am. You can write your bestseller and I'll be happy for you. Plus, I'll be a big celebrity or something, right?"

Remaining silent for a minute, I sat back in my chair. My heart was beating as my mind scrambled to find a way to remain outwardly calm while at the same time I was bursting with nervous excitement at the thought of joining in the unlikely scenario. "All right...I'll do it under one condition, you must tell no one - ever. You have to promise me you will never reveal what we do tonight."

"I promise," she answered offhandedly, without batting an eye.

Wondering if I had just lost my mind, I watched as Laya returned to the man. Five minutes later, after he had picked up the tab, we were crossing the street to the Mediterranean Inn. 

Part IV

Justin happened to be a gracious man who didn't say much during what was, for me a somewhat distressing trip up the elevator, but he seemed comfortable with his arm around my waist. Paradoxically, it felt good to be held, like I was on my first date again. 

Defying my innate apprehension, I found him attractive, with a strong jaw and distinguished eyebrows. His suit was perfectly cut for his body and there was a delicacy about his strong hands. He kept leaning over as if to say something, but stopped as his nose touched my hair, after which, he would turn away and nuzzle Laya, who, using the chrome shine of the elevator door as a mirror to check her makeup, stood in front of us. Her bottom looked adorable. 

The elevator dinged and Laya's impromptu mirror slid back to reveal the lobby of the grandest hotel room I had seen since my wedding night. 

"Oh my God," Laya almost squealed, "You have the presidential suite!"

"Yes," he answered softly, "Please, make yourselves comfortable." 

With his mouth still against my hair, his voice rumbled in my ear and my body thrummed with the danger and excitement of it all. As might be expected, I was both stimulated to the point of wetness at the thought of sex with him, while at the same time, apprehension at the prospect of approaching the unknown oozed from my pores. "He mustn't know I'm not a hooker," I thought and wondered if he had ever read my books. 

No, it didn't matter, I quickly concluded. This wasn't New York; this was Laya's world -- the one I had willingly ventured into. To him I was an escort from whom all he required was fantastic sex.

In a curious way, it was a relief to let myself go. The hard white tile clicked against our heels and taking our hands, Justin led us into the foyer. Moving slightly ahead of us, Laya began lifting the hem of her dress, giving us glimpses of her lacy blue panties.

"I'm going to mix us a drink, what would you like?"

"Water," Laya smiled.

"Something stiff, I could use it tonight," I added.

"Something stiff; I like that," he countered with a smile.

As Justin turned towards the bar I straight away grabbed Laya's arm, pulling her close.

"How do we know this guy isn't the Unabomber or something?" I asked in a hurried whisper.

"Does he feel like the Unabomber my naïve girlfriend? You just keep that sexy pussy ready my dear, the rest will happen naturally. Is she wet?"

Knowing she had asked a silly question, I didn't really have to think about its answer.

"Besides," she rejoined, "you're about to put in a serious workout and should have asked for water." 

"Really, you think? Shit. Laya, you've got to be faster about telling me things. You know I don't know what I'm doing. What about condoms?"

Laya looked over my shoulder and ordered hurriedly, "When I start to giggle, pretend we just finished kissing. And this one's married so we don't need condoms. Besides, he's kicked in an additional three hundred if we go bagless."




Writer's Block



Without waiting for a response, Laya jumped the gun, giggling loudly. She had her hand on my neck, our foreheads and noses touched and I could feel Justin watching, his blue eyes blazing lustfully into my back.

I pecked Laya softly on the chin, just enough to taste her but not hard enough to feel her, then turning my head I looked back to see whether he was enjoying the show. He was. So was Laya, who whispered into my ear as my head was turned, "Sure you're ready?"

Determined there was no going back, I breathed deeply and nodded.

Justin approached us holding our drinks. Gazing directly at Laya, he ordered me to undress her.

"All right," I interjected, staring at the ever receptive girl.

Smiling coyly, she placed her finger on my chin and slid it down my throat to my collar bone, then finally between my cleavage where it hooked the top of my dress. She pulled it slowly, looking at me instead of at Justin. 

Knowing I was blushing and returning her gaze, I understood I had taken a step further into Laya's darkly gripping world.

My breasts came free and quickly after Laya, using both hands, pulled the fabric down past my stomach and over my hips, letting it fall to the floor. 

"My turn," I whispered softly.

Expertly working buttons and clasps free, her dress came loose and I held it there momentarily, battling away one last ounce of anxiety.

Then, allowing it to fall to the floor I viewed the expected; she wasn't sporting a bra, leaving us wearing only panties. Calmly lifting her hands over her head, she quite intentionally allowed her breasts to graze my own, pleasantly sparking sensual explosions along my spine.

Having placed our drinks on the night table, Justin stood beside us, loosening his tie. Obviously excited; his intentions spoke for themselves in the form of his rising masculine barometric indicator of things to come.

I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of it as Laya's hands slid down my bare chest to my waist and her fingers caught the tie up straps of my panties. She tugged until they too, dropped to the floor, puddling around my feet. She then slipped her own down her slender legs, tossing them aside with her toe.

Not wanting us to be the only ones naked, I reached over and pulled Justin's tie until it came free. Tossing it aside, I immediately went to work on his belt. He helped by tearing his shirt off. The little dear...

I felt Laya slide up behind me, kissing my shoulder blade. She was watching me, guiding me, acting as mentor in an outlandish tutorial.

Obviously enthralled by the presence of two call girls, Justin, having removed the remainder of his clothes, waited patiently for our next move. Actually, all rested on the expertise of Laya as I hadn't a clue to what she wanted me to do.

I tried to avert my eyes from his erection, though it was difficult to avoid due to his height, its size and its proximity to Laya's breasts. I felt him stir as she daringly took my hand and placed it on him. The moist tip felt good as I ran my palm over it.

"The bed is through there," he said, pointing toward the next room. 

Completely naked now, we followed him and I found myself thinking the outrageous he had a cute butt, certainly not one used to lounging in leather chairs all day. In a flash, it struck me that I had thought the same of Laya's pretty ass just moments before. What was happening to me?

Laya quickly pulled me onto the bed, saying, "Heather, come lie on your side; let me spoon with you."

Nuzzling her ear I whispered, "What about him?"

Gazing into his eyes, she commented, "He knows what he wants, don't worry." Giggling as she helped me roll over, her smooth naked skin slid against mine as she settled, resting her hand on my knee, pulling it up a little to slide it between my thighs. Witnessing this sultry move, I don't think Justin knew quite what to do.

But he lifted one knee up onto the bed and shuffled himself forward until his long rigid cock pressed against my lips.

"Open for him Thea," Laya whispered, stroking my jaw.

The comment caught the man's attention as he promptly asked, "Just how new is all of this to you Heather?"

Running my index finger from his balls to his perineum I murmured, "I'll let you be the judge." 

Without missing a beat, I responding to Laya's order allowing his erection past my parted lips. He swiftly found his way to the back of my throat. Its taste a reminder that his was only the second cock I had ever sucked. Oddly, I savored it, nursing it gently; using my tongue the way Russ had loved it. It was all I knew.

The two men were different though. Justin's dick, thick and hard, felt wet and hot against my tongue, while Russell's had been slender and long. 

Breaking the spell of my momentary lapse into remembrance, Laya watching me carefully, touched my breasts and whispered tricks in my ear.

"Breathe through your mouth," she advised.

I did and looked up, watching Justin's reaction as his eyes rolled back in his head. She was good, this strange girl.

Laya didn't touch him and gave little indication she wanted to. She had almost continuously touched me however and I was enjoying the subtlety of her feminine caresses. In what was transforming itself into a searingly heated moment, I was drawn by contact with this special woman, even interpreting her expert stimulation as a reward for my special variety of bravery and frankly, for my skillful brand of fellatio. 

But all that aside, things had become one-sided and I didn't wish to put on a show for either of these unlikely companions. Gripping the thick base of the slightly oozing cock lodged deeply in my mouth, I popped it out and lifted it to Laya's pouting lips; a trail of thick saliva and precum following in its wake. Then turning, it was I who watched her skillful sucking. Poetry in motion, she was every bit the professional and she knew it. 

Feeling the presence of fingers on my mound, and expecting Laya, I looked down to see Justin touching me. Smiling, I spread my legs, stretching the damp lips as he flicked my hood slowly with the smoothness of his nail.

In an attempt to stifle the moan arising from my throat, and experiencing a mysterious urge to take him back in my mouth, I lowered myself only to find Laya already there, slurping at his cock, her mouth and chin wet with dribbles of spit, something I strangely enjoyed the intimacy of and which she didn't attempt to wipe away.

With his penis consumed by the beautiful call girl, I busied myself, burying my face in his heavy balls, wetting them with my mouth and blowing cold air across them.

As I stood again, he reached down and slipped a finger into my slit, where he tweaked the roof of my love canal. It had been so long since I had a man inside me, something I wanted to shout, but hesitated, knowing it was relevant only to me and would reveal the extended dry spell of my sexual inexperience. 

Despite what was rapidly becoming a moment of sexploration, one breaking into my previously sheltered world, I followed Peter's advice, compelling a certain part of myself to 'stand aside' observing the actions of people I had known only a few hours, as they devoured me.

Suddenly, Laya popped the head of his cock from her mouth and using her delicate hand, inserted it back in my own. Gurgling sounds filled the room as she shafted my throat, and I relaxed my tongue as she thrust him forward, his belly button touching my forehead. There, I thought, my eyes watering slightly from the unfamiliar exertion, I've done it; I've opened my throat to a man. Such a peculiar form of accomplishment, I mused to myself.

"That's it, Heather," Laya whispered into my ear, "Suck it all down."

Acknowledging her encouragement with a slight nod, I wanted to smile in triumph but my lips were stretched tightly, causing my eyes to well with tears. So instead, reaching back and taking Laya's hand, I pulled it between my thighs.

She pushed her nose into my hair and sucked hotly on my earlobe, as one of her fingers joined Justin's and together they flicked and massaged my aching sex.

It was true, what they say about sex; the more you have the more you want. The atmosphere on the bed was hot and I wanted more.

Gasping for air, I pushed back on his stomach and he slid from my mouth. A thread of saliva glistened from my lips to the glorious crown of his purple cock, then, breaking under its own weight, it fell to the bed and I looked up at Justin, expressing to him with my mascara stained eyes, exactly what I wanted. I knew he understood.

Rolling over, I pushed Laya onto her back, sending her dark hair flying haphazardly across her dazzling face. Lifting one leg, I straddled her, my bottom high in the air.

The bed creaked as Justin moved up behind me. I felt his hands on my buttocks as his cock bumped against my puckered hole, and strangely, I didn't falter. Looking down at Laya, her eyes now wide and aware, and perhaps showing a glint of surprise, she smiled, as if proud of the day's accomplishments, as if pleased with me for having braved her strange underworld.

Unexpectedly, Justin didn't put his dick in my ass, but rather opted for the sweet spot in my vagina. I lifted my head and didn't object as he grabbed a fistful of my red mane, pulling my neck back and making me shout as he lunged deeply into me. 

With Justin now buried in my pussy, my mental attentions turned to the call girl, wanting her to suck my nipples which tingled and ached for her. But even in the midst of this outlandish scene, I hesitated to ask her, preferring instead that she want it, that she might rather know instinctively what to do. In an emotional reverse, everything had changed and I now wanted her to desire me. 

Were it not, I thought, for the distraction rendered by the tidal wave of sexual tension on the bed, I might have had time to be terrified at what I was feeling toward this enigmatic young woman, whose sexuality in one brief day seemed to have absorbed my own. The writer and thinker had become the conquest of her own subject.

But all thought ended by the distraction of Justin's full length plunging into my depths. He withdrew his slick cock, only to shaft me again and again. My clit scraped against Laya's pubic mound and I clenched my teeth, wanting him to release my hair so I could lean down and drink in her dark, enchanting lips. Marveling at what was happening, I wanted to taste her fully, wanted to drag every ounce of passion from her mouth. 

But he didn't let me go and I didn't get to kiss her.

Instead, he smacked my rump, leaving my cheeks tingling as I yelped in pleasure.

"Here," I heard Laya say, as she offered her fingers to fellate while Justin spanked my bottom. Taking them between my lips, I sucked on each as he continued.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing me react. Searching Laya's face, I knew she understood I had passed through a crucial portal. I was no longer willing to be trodden into submission by a man, especially one who was paying me. 

The peculiar fact was that Laya and I had transitioned from adversaries to friends, from New York to Seattle, to a merging of women, both seeking a way through life that harbored some semblance of dignity and respect. It was a fascinating moment of triumph for each of us and I knew we both understood our lives would be intertwined thereafter.

Justin grunted and pulled his member from the grasping petals of my slit. Pushing me off Laya, he sat back. His chest was heaving and his skin flushed.

"You're doing great Heather," Laya said smiling at me. "I knew you could be a whore." 

There, she had used the word, the one I had previously employed so offhandedly and it hit me like a slap in the face, making me regret my earlier indiscretion. Caressing her cheek, I whispered, "I'm so sorry sweetheart."

Nodding in acknowledgment, she rolled onto her stomach as she backed up on her hands and knees until her dripping vagina nudged against Justin's erection. 

Leaning forward I helped her position herself for what was to come, her lovely little ass bobbing in the air. She flicked her hair to the side and looked over at me with half closed eyes.

Justin suddenly smacked her and she drew a deep breath. Effortlessly, she had made him think he was in control. He struck her again and her dark skin reddened. Taking her hand, I squeezed it tightly. 'So that's truly the game,' I reasoned. Squeezing it again, she opened her eyes and with a wide smile, moved her lips silently in praise of me.

"Move up," Laya said, patting the bed in front of her. I repositioned and spread my legs for her. She kept bobbing her ass on Justin's lap, but I knew her real attention was drawn to my sex. Keeping her thumb loose to play with my clit, she pushed four fingers into me, curling them upwards, feeling the spongy roof of my pussy. 

She found a slow, grinding rhythm that turned my bones to jelly. My head tipped back, and my hair strewn across my face. She was going to make me orgasm I knew it.

"Get down here," Justin's deep voice suddenly panted. Opening my eyes I saw he was pointing to his engorged cock. I groaned, not wanting to move away from Laya's fingers. But he was the client and seemed frustrated by the attentions that two women he had purchased were paying to each other.

Laya tried to keep her fingers in me but the angle was awkward. I crawled over her back and held my chin just above her ass.

"You want to cum for me, big man?" I asked, opening my mouth, "Can I have your hot cream?"

He grunted, shoving Laya off his lap I jumped on him and the taste and smell of her sweet juices abruptly collided with my senses.

And then his cock started pumping as hot slashes of thick liquid splashed over my open mouth, landing with a silent thud on my teeth. I tried to keep my face set in a smoldering display of daring sexuality but couldn't help myself when a rivulet struck my eye, causing me to jerk back. Momentarily stunned by the burning sensation of his sperm, I reacted by breaking into a grin.

I had almost forgotten how much I loved the feel and look of it; an exploding cock that came so hard that its sperm bucked against my lips and face. Every vein of him was purple and pronounced; so rigid his slit was just a tiny hole, causing his cum to spout, rather than dribble into my open mouth. Instinctively, I prepared to swallow but a whisper of caution filled the air, stopping me. 

"Don't Heather," I heard Laya say. "Hold it for me - for us."

Carefully wiping the thick sperm from my eyelid, I did as she asked, pushing what had missed its target, into my mouth, containing his entire load on my tongue and refusing to allow it to slide down my throat. Instead, I pressed my messy lips together to lock it in. 

Then I took Laya's hand, guiding it to my sex, shivering when she slid her fingers back inside me. I was so close, and she knew exactly what to do. With my mouth filled with Justin's ejaculate, I lay back and allowed Laya to tongue my clit, her fingers firmly lodged in my incredibly stretched vagina. This time her thumb entered my rectum, working its magic as our now spent customer, sat at the bedside gazing in amazement, watching as my orgasm rumbled forward.

I could feel it as my anus clenched itself around Laya's thumb. After screaming in delight, I gradually calmed. Laya's face, covered with the juices of my cunt, drifted to mine where she began to lick the remaining semen from my eyes, forehead and cheeks. After lapping up the nourishing milk like a kitten, she moved to my mouth.

I opened for her, sharing a deep kiss, tasting hot sperm. Laya's sweetness and my own juices, all mingled into a witch's brew of sensual rapture. Our mouths remaining joined in exploration for what seemed an eternity as we wallowed in each other's arms, trading droplets of cum from one mouth to another.

Finally parting and looking deeply into one another's eyes, we simultaneously swallowed, strangely signifying the oneness we had become, melded by the now immaterial man who sat by, representing little more than a mechanical contributor of a few drops of nectar from which an embryonic new love had just flowered.

Laboring slightly, Laya cleared her throat of its thick glaze and whispered in a leaden voice; "Now... my dazzling new friend, you're ready to start your book."



Writer's Block



I would like to thank my editor, OnlyByMoonlight, for taking the time to read this story and provide valuable feedback.

*

The second hand ticked away as though it were serving as an ever-present reminder of a fast approaching deadline.

I was standing in front of my notebook computer staring blankly out the window at a beautiful spring day that was passing me by with every movement of the second hand. Alternating between standing and staring or pacing and staring was about all I could muster.

I had two weeks to turn in a basic manuscript to my publisher. I needed to come up with some type of original story that would knock my publisher out of his seat. He wasn't too happy with me lately. I had not turned anything in for a while and if I didn't do it this time, he would drop me.

I could not think of anything. I had gone through episodes of writer's block before, but nothing that lasted as long as this bout.

"Stephen, are you ok," my wife asked as she came into the den. "I'm going to take the kids out for a while so you can have a little quiet and concentrate."

"Thanks, hon. I just don't know what I am going to do. I can't think of a single thing."

"It'll come to you," she reassured me. "I think you're trying too hard."

"Maybe, but it doesn't help that I have a basic manuscript due very soon."

"Just relax. You'll think of something." She turned to gather the kids and head out to points unknown.

I sat back down in my chair and resumed looking out the window. I watched as she and the kids pulled away in the car. I crossed my arms on the desk and rested my head as I tried to concentrate. If only I could think of something. If only. If only …

I had no idea where I was. I looked around and all I saw was a beautiful white beach, palm trees, plush tropical forestry behind me, and a gently swaying tropical breeze that relaxed and soothed me. The ocean was a mix of blue, blue-green, green, and turquoise. I could see the lines of a coral reef. Waves gently caressed the shoreline. It was paradise.

"Who am I and how did I ever get here?" I don't recall taking any vacation and I couldn't imagine coming to a place like this without someone. But where were they? I had absolutely no clue.

I noticed that I did not have any luggage with me. The only things I had were the clothes on my back. I got up and started walking along the beach. I came to an area where some jagged rocks extended beyond the beach and into the ocean. It made going any further impossible so I turned around and walked in the other direction.

Finding nothing but beach ahead of me, I turned to explore the forest line. I knew I needed to find a place where I could build some kind of shelter. I also needed to gather wood and attempt to start a fire. And then there was food. I was going to have to figure that one out, too.

I looked up and saw a bounty of coconuts. Looking a little beyond, there were more mangoes than I could have imagined.

I walked a little further along the forest line and found a little cove I thought would be excellent to build some type of makeshift shelter. I had no tools so I was had to use whatever I could to build with. I found some loose bamboo, palm leaves, and vines a little deeper into the forest.

Food and shelter in less than half a day. How fortunate could I get?

I set to the task of building my shelter and gathering food so I could settle in for the night. I would begin some real exploring tomorrow. For now, I was content just to have accomplished what I had up to this point. I lay down and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning to some birds chirping and singing in the trees above me. The sun was already big and bright in the morning sky. I got up to wash my face off. When I returned, I sat just outside the forest line and pondered what I should do next.

I don't know where she came from. I didn't think there was anyone else on this island. She didn't appear to be stranded. She was absolutely gorgeous. She stood about 5 foot 5 inches tall. She had a beautiful, voluptuous body. Her skin was tanned to perfection. Her long brown hair appeared to extend down her back. It was parted in the middle and served to accentuate her face.

Her facial features appeared to be Polynesian. Her nose was average length and a little thick, but not too thick. It sat between perfectly set eyes. Her mouth was small and her lips were red. She neither smiled nor frowned as she approached.

Her skimpy clothing appeared to be made of a combination of some type of cloth and leaves. She had a skirt of sorts and a top. Some vines or possibly hemp held her clothing in place. 

"Do you know where I am," I asked.

She looked at me for a second. She couldn't understand me. 

"Where am I and who are you? Where did you come from?"

She said nothing as she gestured for me to get up. I did as she requested. She gently took me by the hand and began walking the way she came. I followed her. There weren't many options and being with someone who couldn't understand me was better than being alone. Especially if that someone looked as good as she did.

She led me down a path that went deeper into the forest. If I had to guess, I would say we walked for about an hour or so. We arrived at a ridge that overlooked a small valley. There was a cave to the left and she led me there.

The sun was growing increasingly hot and I was already drenched in sweat. My companion motioned for me to sit on some rocks at the mouth of the cave. She went inside. When she came out, she had a bowl of clear liquid. She handed it to me and motioned for me to drink.

I raised the bowl to my lips and drank the coolest, freshest spring water I had ever tasted. I was extremely thirsty and I drank the water quickly. She must have sensed I was still thirsty. She went inside and brought two bowls. She handed me one and drank from the other.

After she saw that I had enough water, she motioned for me to get up again. This time, she led me down a path into the valley. We approached a beautiful lake set against the hillside. There was a cascading waterfall that fell into the lake. There must have been some underground stream or something that the water led out to because the lake didn't seem to overflow.

She motioned for me to go into the lake. As I turned to walk there, I felt her hand on my shoulder. I turned around. She started unbuttoning what remained of my shirt. She began unbuttoning my pants.

"Ok, I get the idea. I need to get undressed." She saw I proceeded to finish what she started. I removed my shorts and boxers.

I looked at her and she motioned to the lake. She made no effort to remove any of her clothing. I was a little disappointed but I was in no position to argue. She wouldn't understand me even if I did.

She followed me to the lake and we entered the water. It was a little cool at first but I quickly got used to it. It felt very refreshing. She led me to the waterfall and motioned for me to stand under it.

I was letting the water run over my head and shoulders and down my back when I felt her rubbing my back. She was applying what appeared to be some kind of soap.

She started washing my shoulders and arms. She was very smooth and methodical. Her hands and fingers massaged me as she soaped me down. They felt like tiny little prods that gently poked and relaxed me.

She proceeded to wash my back in the same fashion. Always massaging, always poking. She turned me around and began working on my chest.

It was fortunate we were standing in waist deep water with the waterfall cascading around us. She couldn't see the hard-on she was giving me. I had no idea what I was going to do when it came time to step out of the lake.

She continued washing my chest and worked down to my abdomen. As she worked her way down towards my waist, I grabbed her arm in an attempt to stop her from going any lower. She looked at me, gently took the hand I grabbed her with and removed it from her arm. She then continued washing me.

Her hand finally went underwater and reached for my cock. She was now washing all eight hard inches. I couldn't believe this. She made no expressions, sounds or motions other than to wash up and down my shaft. She reached underneath and gently began washing and caressing my balls. I couldn't help but let out moans of approval. She continued washing and caressing me in this manner for a very long time.

She turned me around and had me rinse. Once she was satisfied that I was properly rinsed, she led me to the shore of the lake where she sat me down and washed my legs. She also managed to continue washing my still hard cock. I closed my eyes at the intense pleasure I was feeling. If she continued this, I wouldn't hold out much longer.

Somehow, she seemed to sense when I was on the edge. She would direct her attention back to my legs. When my legs were clean, she directed all her attention to my cock.

I went to reach for her and she backed away just a little. She pushed my arms away with one hand while maintaining her grip on my cock with the other.

Pre-cum started to form at the tip. She rubbed some of that around the head of my cock and my shaft. I couldn't believe how well this woman knew how to give hand jobs. She was driving me crazy.

My moans started getting louder and my hips started bucking with the rhythm of her hand. I felt the tension building in my balls and knew it wouldn't be long before I shot my load.

My cock started twitching as I felt the cum starting to rise from my balls to my shaft. All of a sudden, she gripped the base of my cock. I had no idea what she was up to, but it was obvious she was not going to let me cum. 

What the hell was going on here?

She pulled me up and began to lead me back to the cave. I told her I needed my clothes and went to go get them. She pulled me back towards her and the cave. I went along with her.

This time, she led me into the cave. She had several utensils along one side. On the other was a bed of leaves and grass. She motioned for me to lie down. I did as she asked.

She gathered some more water, placed it on the floor beside the bed, sat next me, and offered it to me. I took a drink.

She kept looking at me as I finished the water. I wish I could say something she would understand. 

She leaned over and kissed me. It wasn't passionate. She just held her lips to mine for a few seconds and then pulled back. I took her by the arms and drew her to me. This time, she didn't resist, pull away, or move my hands away from her.

I kissed her again open mouthed. I went to stick my tongue in her mouth to explore. She opened her mouth ever so slightly and allowed me in. I kissed her long and passionately.

After the kiss, she pulled back, reached behind her, and undid her top. Her breasts were full, firm, and beautiful. They must have been a 36D. Her pink nipples protruded out from perfectly round, brown areolas. 

I again drew her to me and started nibbling and kissing her neck. She giggled a little but allowed me to continue. I kissed my way down to her breasts. I kissed around her right breast and then moved in to the nipple.

I drew the nipple into my mouth and nibbled on the tiny nub. It immediately started to harden. I continued nibbling and sucking until it was as hard as it could possibly get before I moved to her left breast and gave it the same treatment.

Her breathing started to become deeper. I heard her let out several soft moans as I continued playing with her breasts.

I moved my way down her abdomen and kissed her navel. My hands moved further down her waist to her skirt. I searched for the string or whatever it was that held it to her waist. I found it and undid the string. She stood up and allowed her skirt to fall revealing her pussy.

I suspected she didn't have anything to shave with and I was right. Her pussy was hairy, but somehow, neatly trimmed. Her outer lips were full and puffy.

I drew her back down to me and gave her another kiss. This time, she broke the kiss and started nibbling her way down my neck and chest as I did to her. She stopped to play with my nipples. This was way too hot.

My cock was already hard but it seemed to just get harder as she kissed and nibbled her way around my chest.

Her hands were continuously massaging my cock and balls. I was moaning and bucking my hips. She had me so horny I didn't think I could hold out much longer.

I moved my hand lower and started massaging and rubbing her outer pussy lips. She was already wet. I used a finger to trace my way long her slit. I inserted the finger into her slit and continued tracing. She let out a gasp at the intrusion.

Her breathing was becoming ragged and her moaning was starting to get a little louder. She was mumbling something but I couldn't understand it. 

She was still kissing her way down my abdomen, below my waist, and finally, to the base of my cock. She licked her way up the shaft. Her tongue felt so good as it delicately explored every inch of my cock.

When she reached the top, her mouth engulfed the engorged head. She began a mild sucking as her tongue explored the tip of my cock. I felt it probe the slit, around the head, and around the underside of the head.

Her tongue could work wonders. She began sucking her way down to the base. I felt as if every nerve in my body had come alive. I have no idea where she learned to give head. She was one of the best cocksuckers I had ever experienced.

When she reached the base, she stuck her tongue out in an attempt to lick my balls. I could hardly contain myself any longer. She must have sensed this as she made her way back up my shaft. I was just about to shoot my load when she again grabbed the base of my cock and gently squeezed.

This was driving me crazy. When the hell was this woman going to let me cum?

I pulled her up and resumed rubbing her pussy. I had her lie down and I kissed my way to her pussy. She opened her legs and I drew in her sweet scent.

Now it was my tongue exploring first her outer lips, then along the inside up to her clit. I flicked my tongue around the little nub, drew it out, and began sucking it.

Her hands flew to the back of my head as she started bucking her hips. Her breathing and gasping was becoming deeper and more rapid. She was moaning very loudly as I continued my assault on her clit.

I moved my way down her tongue to her fuck hole and stuck it in. I began tongue fucking her. She was going crazy. Her hips were bucking wildly and her juices started flowing.

My dick was harder than it had ever been. It was also beginning to hurt after being denied release twice. I wasn't going to let that happen again.

I had her on the brink of orgasm when I stopped. She moaned and cried as if to complain. "Two can play that game," I thought to myself.

I didn't waist any time. I moved between her legs and teased her pussy with my cock. She tried to force me in. She wanted me to fuck her badly. I wanted to tease her some more.

I finally gave into my urges and plunged my dick into her wet pussy. Her eyes widened and she let out a gasp as I made my way deep into her womb. I couldn't believe how tight and soft she was.

I started pistoning in and out of her. Her pussy grabbed my cock for dear life. Her hips bucked in rhythm to my cock. My balls were slapping her ass.

We were both moaning as we began approaching the brink of orgasm. She came first as her whole body shook like a volcano that had just erupted. Her pussy was releasing its juice all over my cock.

I couldn't take any more. My cock jetted out stream after stream of cum. I had never cum so hard in my life. She was cumming pretty hard, too.Her whole body was shaking and she was starting to speak.

"Oh, Stephen. Stephen. S-Ste-e-e-phen!"

… "Stephen? Stephen!"

My body was being gently shaken. It was my wife. I looked around at the familiar surroundings of my den.

"Honey, are you ok? You were moaning as if you were sick or something. Were you having a dream?"

"I must have been dreaming. I just laid my head down and must have fallen asleep."

"Well, you aren't going to get any writing done that way."

"It doesn't matter," I replied. "I just can't think of anything to write about, anyway."



Writer's Block



I do not usually write in the first and second persons, but in this case, it fits. And while there is no eroticism, there are some allusions to it. If this is not your style, you may wish to move onto the next story.

Although the other character in this complete fiction is obviously a lover, the intimate friend is in fact a composite of many wonderful individuals who were, and still are, there for me throughout the years, platonic and otherwise. They have helped me through some very difficult times, whether knowingly or unwittingly. They are people who have marked my soul, many of them not knowing how much they have helped and touched me. 

This is my way to thank them and I'd like to name them in no particular order: the scariest sub ever, the patron saint of desks, the dirty Underworld, my workout buddy, the blue dragon, my fellow Banger, naughty hands, my stalker/stalkee, the sailor, Candy dream-weaver, jouet/Goddess, the storm, wood nymph, the Pirate, the curved one, my eyeroller fan, moon man, the daisy sensuality and the wayward-led. And Lui. Toujours Lui. 

-------------------------------------------------

"You too. Mmhmm, me too. Take care. Of course it is... talk with you soon." I ended the call with a puzzled frown, my brows furrowed. I didn't know what to make of that short chat. As always, our talk was stimulating, it was entertaining, but it was bizarre. You have asked me to do something that I would normally refuse to even consider, let alone do.

I was bored, mindlessly surfing the ever-expanding Internet, playing a stupid game. I was desperately trying to forget the article that still have yet to be written -- despite an alarmingly rapidly-approaching deadline -- the pile of research that I have to go through that I have barely touched and work that I really should get to. I look forward to our near-daily chats as a brief reprieve from the daily dull grind of monotony, ennui and procrastination and you knew it. At 5 sharp, as usual, the phone rang. I answered, my eyes glued to the screen of my laptop as I concentrated on the riveting action of yet another extraterrestrial being obliterated into a bloody pulp by my cleverness. "Hello?" 

"Hey, sweetie. How are you?" 

"Not bad, and yourself?" I said automatically.

"Good, thanks. It was a busy day, but really good, you know?" I must have made some sort of sound of acknowledgement because you continued. "I mean, I managed to do everything that I hoped to. I started the day with a run with the dogs... baby, the morning was perfect. Oh wait, you don't like mornings - I always forget. Anyway, it was a great morning, I was so refreshed, got through the day and finished early. Me and the guys even got to shoot a little pool before heading home. Anyway! What about you? Made any progress?"

"Die, you bastard! Just fuckin' die! C'mon, why won't you die? You should be in pieces by now. God knows that I'm killing you enough!" 

"WHAT?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologised. "I was trying to blow up some aliens..." My voice trailed off as I realised that the excuse was beyond pathetic. You call me almost every single day, remembering the little details I tell you, and perhaps more importantly, you truly listen to me, even when you've heard my complaints for the umpteenth time. I felt ashamed at my insensitivity. "Babe," I began. "I'm so sorry... I really am. I feel terrible."

"Should I call back?" The question was asked simply, with no hint of impatience or sarcasm. My shame deepened.

"No. Really. I'm truly sorry. And I am happy that you've had such a good and fulfilling day."

"Ah! So you have been listening," you teased.

"Yeah," I told you sheepishly. "In between blowing up E.T."

"What's up?"

"Nothing, really. Tell me more about this morning of yours. What made it so spectacular?" I asked while closing the cover of my laptop.

"Avoiding the question?" I could almost feel your rolling eyes on the other end of the line. I began to chuckle.

"Not really, baby. Just the same, that's all. I'm not going to chew your ear off."

"Ah, but you do chew so wonderfully." I couldn't help but blush, and I knew that you could hear it in my laugh. I made a mental note to do something about it. You chuckled as you continued, amused by my blush. "It was just one of those mornings, you know? But seriously... what's wrong?"

"I just..." I sighed. "I can't focus. At all. Nothing is getting done, and it's frustrating. And the more I get frustrated..."

"The more you can't get things done," you finished.

"Yeah." The silence stretched, and I could almost hear you thinking, sorting your thoughts.

"Have you been able to write anything at all?" I was a little surprised, but learned early on that your thoughts tended to jump from one to the other, seemingly disjointed, but always having some sort of logical conclusion.

"Sort of, I guess," I answered.

"Explain it."

"I was able to start some poems, some stories, even some essays, but..." I trailed off, almost embarrassed to finish this thought. I prided on my disciplined mind, and felt discomfited by the fact that this control, this almost mythical state of being, has become so elusive that it has slipped from my grasp

"I, uh, well," I sighed. "Ah, fuck it! I can't finish anything I start to write."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. I have some snippets, stanzas, and paragraphs, some of them quite brilliant, if I say so myself. But nothing coherent, and nothing complete." I actually hung my head when I told you this.

"Nothing," you repeated slowly. I waited. I knew you were digesting everything I told you and, whether I liked it or not, you were going to offer me your opinion, a solution that could help or could come crashing down like a stack of cards. It was perhaps the one thing that frustrates me so about you, but is also somehow oddly endearing.

"You know what I think?" Ah, there it is. "I think that you need to write something personal."

"Personal?"

"Yeah. Everything you write has you distanced. Most of your short stories are in the third person, your essays are logically construed thoughts, there are hardly any emotions, your thesis - well, have to be as objective as possible, that's for sure, and then -- "

"Hey!" I interrupted. For some reason, I get a little defensive about the passion level of my work. Although I pride myself on being distant, on being logical and examining issues from many angles, I also know that my essays and articles are filled with the passion that I feel towards a particular subject. It's the one praise that is often used to describe my work, whether positively or not. "My essays can be pretty passionate!"

"Yes," you explained, patiently. I marveled at his ability at keeping an even tone in face at this outburst. "But it's not emotional. You don't inject you in it. You bring an issue, you explain so bloody logically why or why not, you show your passion, but it's not... you," you finished baldly.

"And what about my poems?" I asked quietly. My heated emotion that momentarily flared up ebbed. 

"Sweetheart, the ones you do finish, lately... something has been lacking. And you know it. You've told me yourself. And besides, your poems may have your passion, but there is an element missing."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Your sensuality."

"My sensuality," I repeat, dumbly.

"Yeah, your sensuality. And I don't necessarily mean sex. I mean your raw sensuality. That part of you that you tend to keep hidden for God knows whatever reason. That spark in your eyes when you're talking about something close to you. Think about the time we've had that bottle of wine, when you were last over." 

My mind flashed back to the moment you were talking about, to that decadent bottle of wine, so rich and full, and how it took us two hours to drink it, moving from the veranda to the bed, the slow tango of talk, caresses and pure bliss. It ended with raw carnality. My skin was marked for days from your touch, my lips stained by your taste, my blood singing, craving more. I unconsciously let out a sigh.

"Think how you reacted to it," you continued. "The way you licked your lips, leaving them moist. The way your body responded. The shivers, the goosebumps, the way we felt just lying next to each other, skin touching, drinking, talking. The way your pussy got so wet when you got excited about that book you've just read. The intensity of our lovemaking afterwards. That's what I mean. Put that into your writing. Write something personal. Something about you -- the whole you. Not just the thoughts and the logic and the objectives. Not the passion of an issue, or sexuality -- although you know, I really wouldn't mind -- " I smiled at the implied hint. "But write something personal with all that, and with your sensuality." You paused for a breath. "Put you in it."

"Put me?" I was momentarily stunned. Writing for me was to explore, was to figure out, and to unwind. But I've always kept myself out. "Let me get this straight... you want me to put me in something I write?"

"Yeah. It'll help. You open yourself up, you'll be able to finish."

"Huh," I muttered.

"Look, it can't hurt to try, right?"

"I suppose not."

"Baby, please... try it. For me. Write something and put you in it."

"I'll give it a go," I couldn't believe that I gave in so quickly. From the startled silence, I think neither could you.

"Really?" you've asked. I think that you were in shock that I didn't offer an argument.

"Yeah, sure."

"Wow. Aw, shit. Damn, I have to go. I'm meeting some guys for dinner."

"Okay, have fun. Tell them I say hi and that I give them each a kiss."

"You'll have made their day," you laugh. "Take care."

"You too."

"I miss you... you know that, right?"

"Mmhmm, me too."

"I really should go."

"Take care."

"Oh, and I'll try calling you again tonight, if that's alright?"

"Of course it is... I'll talk with you soon." 

I ended the call, deep in thought, staring into empty space. Before long, my muscles began to cramp and stretching, I opened my laptop. My life, I often joked. The almost annihilated alien was frozen on my screen, staring out; its bloodied face a parody of my own puzzled one. I ended the game and opened up a blank document. I stared at the blinking cursor, mesmerized, my thoughts running over our conversation. As usual, my body was at its edge, my blood boiling from having talked with you. I gently brushed my breast, tweaking my nipple, a moan escaping my lips. I knew fully well that I was aroused. My mind racing, debating whether I should just give up this futile attempt and head off to my bedroom, and play with myself until I groan your name, my walls convulsing around my fingers. Although I was turned on, I wanted this. I wanted this challenge, I wanted to meet it, and I knew that by finishing it, I would be that much more aroused. I just didn't know what to write. I wasn't in the mood to write something detailing my fantasies. What I wanted to write, what I promised to write, what I was told to write, was me. But where and how to begin?

Settling on my chair more comfortably, my leg hooked under me, I lean on my elbows and slowly begin to type, "You too. Mmhmm, me too. Take care. Of course it is... talk with you soon."



Writer's Block



"If you stare at that screen any longer, you're gonna get square eyes"

Lucas' dreamy voice caught Christina off guard. She abruptly glanced up from her blank laptop screen, greeted with the sight of a freshly showered and shirtless boyfriend. She blinked hard, allowing her eyes to adjust back to the non-pixelated world. She leaned back against the headboard of her bed and scrunched her straightened legs into a basket, carefully balancing her pride and joy on her knees.

"I think I have writer's block", she whined, petting out her bottom lip at him.

"Aww. Poor baby" he replied, jutting out his bottom lip in a mocking response. "Whats this story meant to be about anyway?"

She sighed and began scraping her dark brown hair into a bun with the hair band on her wrist.

"Errmmm, well the synopsis is kinda hazy at the moment" Christina replied, her forehead crinkling into a frown. "So far it's about this boy and girl who meet and erm....there's obstacles and shit and ermm....it's very passionate and stuff, but I want there to be lots of vivid sex scenes, they have to like......fuck like animals and stuff."

Lucas' chiseled face stretched into a laugh.

"Sounds, um interesting". He let out a muffled snicker.

Christina reached behind her and grabbed a pillow from her bed and flung it in Lucas' direction, knocking her laptop off of her crossed knees.

"Shut up asshole, writing erotica is hard!" She playfully sneered. "I think I just need some decent inspiration or something, maybe I should go a walk or watch a dirty movie or something." Christina began shuffling off the bed.

Lucas got to her before she could get up.

He roughly pushed her back down onto her back and pushed his lips against hers, shuddering at the contact of her against his bare skin.

"Don't bother going on a walk" he whispered as he licked her earlobe. 

Christina's breath caught in her throat. She grabbed a fistful of his blonde curly hair and dragged his hot wet mouth back to hers. He gently ran his tongue over her lips, making a groan stir deep in her throat.

His hands skimmed over the edges of her varsity tee, before he began pushing it upwards, exposing her naval and finally her lilac lace bra. Christina began making gentle murmurs as his tongue glided over her stomach, sending hot shivers up her spine. Her breath quickened as he slowly inched his talented tongue towards her hot pussy. His hands roamed back down over her abdomen, scraping his nails as he did so causing her head to loll back into the cushions. 

Lucas hooked his thumbs in the corners of her Grey A&F shorts trailing them down teasingly over her tanned thighs. He threw the shorts behind him and pressed his fingers against the flimsy, damp strip of material between her legs. His tongue worked it's way back up to her chest, running over the thin lace concealing her sharp erect nipples, causing another ecstatic groan from her.

He ran his fingers over her feverish pussy, circling them deviously round her clit. Lucas felt Christina's hands scratching at his, trying to edge down her panties, desperate for the feel of him inside of her. Lucas obliged, tearing them down her legs, exposing her neat landing strip. He put his hands back to her cunt and dragged his fingers through the heated wetness, before pushing two fingers inside of her.

"Ohhh God Luke" She gasped fervently, "Keep doing that, keep doing that"

Lucas twisted his fingers inside of her, rubbing them against her g-spot, making her whimper. He pushed his thumb over her clit, massaging it in rhythm with Christina's breath. He began to increase the speed of the fingers moving inside of her along with the pressure of his lips on her nipple. He stopped abruptly and pulled his fingers out of her slowly.

He moved his hot mouth away from her breasts, and began planting passionate kisses on the sensitive skin inside of her thighs. He delicately inched his way upwards, until Christina felt the hot, tickling sensation of his tongue running through her pussy. She arched her back violently, her sharp nails digging into Lucas' scalp as she clutched wildly at his hair. Lucas swirled his tongue over her searing entrance at an agonizing pace, making her buck like a wild animal in heat.

"Faster baby, Do it faster" She whined impatiently.

Lucas began flicking his tongue faster, running it up to her clit and back down again. He twirled it in hazy swirls over her aching hole, then flicked it sharply over her sensitive spot, building up a delicious pattern. He could hear her moans begin to increase as he continued licking her faster and harder. Christina's pussy was now dripping wet as Lucas continued lapping it at a feverish pace. He ran his tongue over her hot spot one last time. Without warning, Christina's moans reached an overwhelming crescendo as her body tensed and her back arched off the bed.

Lucas kissed his way up her chest, allowing her breathing to return to a normal rate. He gently ran his tongue over her neck before crashing his lips against hers, letting her taste herself on him. He began grinding his neglected erection against Christina's bare pussy, a low groan emerging from his throat. He tugged his sweatpants down to his knees, allowing his throbbing cock to spring free before shaking them of altogether.

Christina reached for his dick, now painfully hard and oozing pre-cum. She dragged her hand down his yearning cock, watching him squirm above her. She circled her thumb over the underside of his shaft, before running it over the head, making Lucas shudder in pleasure.

"You like that, baby?" She hissed seductively, a devilish glint in her blue eyes.

He could only manage to moan deeply in response. Christina began using both hands, twisting them furiously round his aching cock, as Lucas swayed above her, struggling to hold himself up on his elbows. She ran both hands up and down his shaft at an overwhelming speed, and Lucas began to feel his orgasm rising. He quickly grabbed her hands and pulled them away from his aching cock.

"Get on your knees" He growled in her neck before sinking his teeth in.

Christina moaned from the pang of pain in her neck, and pushed Lucas off her before turning round onto her hands and knees. She felt him behind her, his hands gripped her hips as he lunged his cock inside her. Christina heard him moan deeply from behind and felt his hands clench her hips tighter as he thrust into her vigorously.

Lucas began to thrust harder and faster into her tight pussy. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Christina let out a pleasured moan as his cock grated against that sensitive spot, sending a shiver up her spine. Lucas began to feel his orgasm ascending, building up like a fire inside him. He could feel his balls begin to grow tight and with one final ferocious thrust, stars danced across his vision as he came into her, lolling his head back in raptures of ecstasy.

Lucas collapsed on top of her, gently kissing the back of her neck.

"Any inspiration now?" He whispered.



Writer's Block



I sat at my computer, the little indicator of where I can start writing blinking at me constantly while I mindlessly thought of what to write. A friend of mine showed me a website called "Literaunchy," where strangers share sexual stories, fact or fiction so that other strangers can get off of it. Ingenious, I thought but it occurred to me that writing something people would find sexy was actually harder than I expected since, well, I myself am a virgin, so I had no idea how to get some real depth with the subject.

Tossing my hair off my face in exasperation, I turned my laptop off and thought I'd try again another day.

I suppose I should introduce myself. My name's Daryl. I'm not really tall or entirely muscular for that matter and everyone reckons I should cut the hair out of my eyes, but personally I prefer it this way. I'm 20, finished my Visual Arts degree, yet I'm still working at this pie shop. And this is the story of how I cured my "sexy" writer's block.

It was another day at work in summer. Boiling hot, inside with so many ovens, impatient customers, screaming toddlers, you know how it is. I was sweating like crazy and thinking of going on my lunch break when I heard a voice.

"Daryl?"

I looked up and saw a face I hadn't seen since last year.

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaimed, smiling.

"Hey, Steve!" I beamed, forgetting about the excruciating pain altogether of having just touched a heat lamp.

We exchanged the usual formalities of meeting up again. How are you, what have you been up to, all the usual stuff, and so I asked my manager to have my break. Luckily she was a little (too) sweet on me so she decided to let me have the rest of the day off. 

Me and Steve sat in the park with ice creams each, learning what was new with each other.

"So, how's your band going?" I asked.

"Ah, man." He shook his head, with a stupid but cute grin. "Self Beef Jerky is no longer." I had to laugh at the name. "What happened?"

"Ah, the guitarist and the vocalist had this massive fight over how we should do one of the songs, and they were both pretty pissed. If me and the bass player hadn't have stopped them in time, I'm sure one of them would have been killed." He chuckled, shaking his head again. "So how's Moira?"

"She's fine." I smiled, a little annoyed he asked about Moira instead of me. Oh yeah, I should mention, me and Moira went to upper state earlier that year to visit our friend and me and Steve met at a party. Steve had this straight but still extremely playful thing to him, but my gaydar was whacked out, and I really couldn't help but think he might be at the very least bi. "So what brings you down this way?"

"Me and my mates are here for a surfing trip." He said, and then inhaled the air around us. It was a nice cool breeze, and any longer locks in his hair moved slightly to the breeze. I noticed there was hair poking out from the top of his shirt and that his beard had gotten thicker since last time. I darted my eyes away before I could feel myself getting hard at all.

He went to eat some more of his ice cream when (as fate would have it,) it plopped onto the Band shirt he was wearing.

"Aw shit!" He said in the most sarcastic, full on accented way he could possibly say it that I had to laugh again. "It's my only good shirt."

"Hey, you can come over to my house if you want, and I can wash it for you?" I offered. He grinned. "Lets go."

After what was about 10 minutes in the sun, we arrived at my house. I lead him to the laundry and he took his shirt off and I sort of froze on the spot. His chest and stomach were layered in fur, which outlined a relatively toned body. I couldn't stop staring, I thought it looked amazing when I heard "Daryl?" that I realised what I was doing.

"Oh, um yes, I..." I stammered when he chuckled. "Still think I'm cute, huh?"

I tried sending him a message on Facebook in Japanese how I thought he was cute. You know, being sneaky. But I didn't count on him knowing it too.

"I mi-" And then he started to undo his belt and my eyes grew larger.

"You know, you could have said it at the party." He smiled, his eye welcoming me in. "I thought you were cute too." My face turned red as his jeans slid down, which revealed even hairier legs and a thick trail from his belly button to his red boxers. I could feel my own cock pulsing at my black jeans, yearning for his touch, caress, and lust.

Before I knew it, his hand slid my shirt over my head with ease, revealing my pale near-hairless body. He chuckled as he ran his hands over my chest. "I really like you, Daryl." He whispered. 

"I like you too." I managed to wheeze out, and then upon instinct, my hand started to press against his boxers where his tent was standing tall and proud with a small wet spot.

"You want to?" He grinned, that charming grin.

"Lets go to the bedroom." I suggested, and lead him in.

I shut the curtains as he started to kiss my neck and was working my jeans down until they sat on my ankles, and began playing with my underwear, so that my butt was revealed, giving it a tender squeeze, making me shudder with anticipation.

"Get on the bed." He whispered, a little hoarsely. I gulped, but I felt the dopiest grin on my own face.

I laid down and he crawled on top of me, kissing me with his open mouth, his beard scratching my smooth cheeks, rubbing my nipples and me rolling my fingers into his furry chest. I then did something I never thought I would do.

"Let me be on top for a sec." I breathed out. With that I rolled on top of him and we made out a little more. Soon enough, I was leaving small love kisses down his neck and then I began to lick and tickle his hairy nipples, they were ripe and stiff. He moaned at my touch as I let my tongue trail down the middle of his stomach, his outey and then I peeled back his boxers and unleashed the beast within. It was 10 inches long and had a pair of balls that were concealed in a relatively hairy sack. I had to admit I was a balls fan so I jumped onto them first. As I began sucking one, I also brought my thumb and finger onto his cock-head and rolled it around in there. He was moaning loudly, as my suction got a little harder. "Yes.." he sighed. I moved onto the next ball and he moaned and heaved a little. Deciding to really give him what he wanted, I kissed up his balls, up his cock and swirled my tongue on the head before bringing my mouth down over it. He breathed from behind his teeth as I bobbed my head up and down, making the occasional slurping sound. I wanted this bad, I needed it, fuck whatever anyone else wanted.

I fondled his balls while applying more pressure to the base of the cock when I tried to deep throat it, but ended up almost puking.

"Don't try anything you can't do." He panted. But after my second try, he was down and I could tell he was thankful I managed to do it. I used my tongue to play with the underside of his cock when he said "I'm close." Not caring, I just sucked even harder when I felt his cock pulsate. "Fuck!" He shouted and soon his cum was flooding out of his cock and down my throat, where as much I tried to swallow it, a lot of it overflowed out of my mouth.

He sat up, panting and pulled me onto the bed.

"Your turn." He said before kissing me, tasting himself in my mouth.

He worked his way down my body, except he was a lot more wild, more lust driven than I was, coarsely kissing my body and pinching my nipples. It hurt, but with a pleasurable after glow.

He yanked my underwear off with ease and tried pulling my 7 inch cock's foreskin back when I gasped. "It doesn't go very far back." I explained, hoping it didn't turn him off. But that's when the most craziest, pleasurable and painful thing happened. He pulled my foreskin towards him, made himself an opening and darted his tongue in and out of it, touching my head. I writhed in all sorts of sensations, and when I started to pull a little back from him, he let go and started to suck on my cock. He was moving his head in every direction as I sighed long sighs and arched my back, it was so good. That's when I felt one of his fingers poking at my asshole that my breath escaped me. It was rough, and thick.

"Wait." I said as he tried to push in. I reached over into the drawer by the bed and found the petroleum jelly. He gave me a curious smile.

"What? I can watch porn, can't I?" I laughed, which was then halted as he worked my cock again, slapping it against his tongue while his fingers were becoming slick with jelly. Finally, the first finger slipped in and it felt strange, but mostly really good. I moaned as he started working a second finger in, and then he must have found my sweet spot. That was when I was moaning even louder, never experiencing that sort of pleasure, and without warning shot my load into Steve's mouth. Not that he complained, he managed to swallow most of it, some of it running off into his beard. I laid on the bed panting over the amazing feeling. As he let his fingers run out, I felt empty, alone. But then I saw him working his own cock up again, putting a massive amount of jelly on it. I gulped to myself, but I none the less lifted my legs up. Seeing this, he grabbed both of my ankles and lowered himself down. In another moment my eyes rolled back into my head as his tongue darted on my asshole, tickling it and poking it. I could feel the blood rush back into my cock, pumping it like a balloon when he stopped and sat next to my head.

"Come here you." He said. I sat up next to him and he patted his lap.

"Uh, just so you know." I said. "I've never been..."

"Oh. Do you want to?" He asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"I've been waiting for the right guy for so long." I breathed.

"Fuck me."

With that I lowered myself onto his slick cock, the cap piercing me. I uttered a sound of pain as I lowered further and further. I remembered what a story once said and pretend your going to the bathroom, and it made it slightly easier.

Finally, I was sitting on the base of his cock where he held me tightly and starting rocking me up and down. Then it got harder and I could feel my legs lifting me up and down by their own accord, until eventually we were bouncing on the bed, grunting and moaning. He pulled my face to his and gave me a hard, passionate kiss as our bodies slapped against each other, when he pulled his face back.

"Fill me up." I urged.

"Are you-"

"Do it!" His eyes rolled back and his eyes shut tight, his mouth gaped open as I felt his cock pulsate violently in my ass. The sight of him in that moment of sheer ecstasy was all too much for me and I shot my load all over him, while I could feel cum pumping up my ass, painting it white.

We sat there in the afterglow, and our minds linked for a moment.

"I love you." Without even speaking.

We laid on the bed silently, looking at each other, sometimes even jacking each other off. This went on for hours.

"I should really wash that shirt." I smiled, reaching for my pants when he stopped me. "No clothes on." He smiled. I shrugged, and kissed him on the cheek.

Later that night we sat at the beach while his mates tackled each other in the water.

"Do they know?" I asked.

"Yeah, I only came out recently." He smiled, and then did that stupid thing where people pretend to yawn and wrap their arm around you. But its still cute, so I laughed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" He asked.

Looking into his eyes, I focused deep into them, and found something incredible in them.

"Yeah." Was all I could say, feeling breathless.

He walked me home and kissed me goodnight.

I logged onto Literaunchy and cracked my fingers like I was about to play a brand new piano piece.

"Now this, is going to be something." 



Writer's Block



"You bet I have Elizabeth and I'm glad you came over too." I said as we cuddled in together holding each other tight, "How about we get some sleep and fuck again in the morning?"

"Oh, that's something else to look forward to Michael, sounds good to me, see you in the morning, lover boy." Again another giggle from Elizabeth as we kissed and settled down under the sheet, both of us extremely happy with the way the day had turned out.

When I awoke in the morning I was surprised to find myself alone. On bare feet I crept out to find Elizabeth sitting nude at my desk in the study, B & D magazines strewn around her, her fingers gently playing with her pussy as looked at the photos in "Fit to be Tied" - a bondage magazine.

I grinned to myself and crept up behind her, slipping my hands over her eyes and saying, "Guess who?"

"Oh shit," she squealed, "you gave me a fright. I woke about 5.30 and couldn't sleep so I've been here learning more about this stuff, it's amazing what people do to each other isn't it? Some of it's horrible. Why would anyone want to be pissed on? Yuk!" Elizabeth then looked a little sheepish as she continued, "But this looks exciting, would you tie me up and fuck me sometime? It looks as if it might be fun and I really feel that I can trust you Michael, will you show me some of this kinky stuff, please?"

"Well how could I say no?" I replied, "Especially as you said please! I would be delighted to show you the ropes Elizabeth and other things as well, you know you only have to use the safe word and I will cease whatever I'm doing if you don't like it."

"Can I ask something else Michael?" Elizabeth inquired with a serious look on her face. I nodded and she continued, "Were you going to shove your cock up my arse last night?"

I laughed and replied, "No I wasn't Elizabeth, I was just playing a little game. Have you ever been fucked up the arse Elizabeth? Would you like to try it sometime? A lot of women like it you know, some more than the normal way of screwing."

"I've never done it and I'm not sure about it at all Michael, I'll think about it and let you know sometime." Elizabeth rose from the chair and grabbed my cock leading me back towards the bedroom saying as we walked, "What I do know is that I want this back inside me right now!"

"Who am I to refuse a beautiful lady?" I exclaimed as Elizabeth pushed me onto my back on the bed and knelt up beside me. 

"You do say the nicest things Michael, you are very good for my ego which has been bashed about a bit lately. Let me thank you, I haven't had much practice at this but here goes" Her words faded as her mouth surrounded the end of my cock, her tongue running circles around the head. Then, after a quick grin at me she took as much of my cock as possible into her mouth, sucking me into erection. It didn't take long until once again I was fully hard.

In one quick movement Elizabeth released my cock from her mouth and straddled my groin. With a long sigh and a wide smile she slowly lowered herself onto my cock. My hands reached up and caressed her breasts, pinching her nipples which became rock hard. Elizabeth and I groaned with pleasure as she began to move up and down, occasionally stopping as she tried to make our love making last as long as possible. A couple of times she leant forward and we kissed deeply, our tongues entwined in passion. I don't know how long I lasted but it was heaven, finally Elizabeth's up and down movements quickened and I couldn't hold on any longer. We orgasmed as one and once again collapsed in a sweaty heap, holding each other tight as we both realized that together we had found something very special.

After some quiet rest we showered and had some breakfast. Elizabeth chatted away, now sounding so positive and happy about the future.

After we had cleared away the dishes and the glasses from last night I said, "Elizabeth I'm sorry but I have to do some writing today, I have a deadline to meet by 5.00 p.m. and I'm stuck for ideas. I'm suffering from writer's block. Can you give me an idea?"

Elizabeth thought for a while and then burst out, "I've got it Michael, why don't you write about what happened here last night, my first spanking. All you have to do is change our names and the location to the mountains, the rest should be pretty easy!"

"Brilliant idea Elizabeth! Thank you so much, I'll only need a few hours to knock that out and I can send it by email, what will you do with yourself?"

"I'll take some of your magazines and go and do some more sunbathing. Will you cover me with sun tan lotion before I go?" Elizabeth grinned at me again.

"With pleasure, madam, there's a bottle in the bathroom" I replied as Elizabeth raced off to get the bottle of oil. There were lots of fun and laughs as I applied the lotion all over her lovely body taking care to make sure that I covered all the nooks and crannies. Finally I slipped her bikini back on and showed her back down the stairs. 

As we passed the padlocked door Elizabeth asked, "What's in here Michael, why such a big padlock?"

"That's my wine cellar Elizabeth," I replied truthfully. "I'll show you what's in there after I do my story, I have a special surprise in there I'm sure you'll like."

"Oh goody, another surprise, I love surprises and I certainly got some last night didn't I?" Elizabeth said with that delightful laugh. "Give me a yell when you're finished and we can go for a swim, in the meantime these magazines will keep me quiet."

We kissed again, both looking forward to the swim and whatever else that day held for us.

Of course Elizabeth sunbathed on her back, totally nude with her legs spread and her sex pointing in the direction of the window of my study. What a distraction, but I put my head down and concentrated on the story which didn't take that long to write. When I was satisfied I emailed it off to the publisher and waited until she had read it and confirmed by return email that everything was OK and that payment would be in the mail that night.

I saw that Elizabeth had moved indoors and a very happy frame of mind I slipped into my swimmers grabbed a towel and went next door to go to the beach with my neighbor. 

I knocked on her front door and Elizabeth answered it in her bikini, a picnic basket ready for the beach.

"Let's go lover boy!" she grinned and I grabbed the basket in one hand and one of Elizabeth's hands in the other, we crossed the road and took the twisting path through the titree and down the cliff face to the beach. 

It was usually quiet on a weekday and fortunately we had the sand to ourselves and we lay on our towels chatting. Elizabeth was fascinated by some of the stories she had read and had some questions.

"Michael, a lot of the stories are about men being spanked by dominant women. Have you ever been spanked? She asked.

"You only have to look on the internet to see how many professional mistresses there are making their living by punishing men, I'll show you sometime if you like." I replied. "Yes I have been spanked a few times but mostly I prefer to be in charge. I can't take it hard and only like it in fun, a bit like I spanked you. Would you like to spank me sometime Elizabeth?"

"Oh I don't know about that but perhaps it might be fun to have you across my knees sometime," Elizabeth said with a giggle and then continued, "As far as the Internet is concerned I don't even know how to switch on a computer. The other thing I noticed is that in some of the stories women are spanking women. Do you think this happens a lot?"

"I don't know that it happens a lot," I replied, "I'm sure it does happen and in fact I have seen it at a club one night, but perhaps it's written about because it's a fantasy that lots of guys get off on, lesbianism fascinates men you know. Would you like to make love with or be spanked by another woman Elizabeth? Do you have any bisexual fantasies? Have you had any bi-experiences? I know a lady that could accommodate you if you want to give it a try."

"Shit, don't rush me Michael. Questions, questions, questions! You are inquisitive aren't you?" Elizabeth shot back at me, a look of unease on her face, perhaps I had hit a nerve.

"Take it easy Elizabeth," I said soothingly, "I'm not trying to rush you into anything, after all you asked the original question. I'm just opening your mind to new possibilities."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you Michael," Elizabeth kissed me and went on, "The truth is I really had the hots for a girl in my last year at high school, nothing ever happened but I really fancied her, I just wasn't game enough to say anything to her. I've fantasized about her ever since, sometimes when I was being fucked by my ex-husband, but never done anything at all with another woman."

I decided it was time to change the subject, "Let's swim!" I said, standing and helping Elizabeth to her feet, "there's nobody around, we won't need these!" 

I slipped our swimming gear off and we raced nude for the water, splashing each other as we ran through the shallows, yelling like two kids as we were gradually engulfed by the cold water. Our hands roamed over our bodies under the water, kissing, cuddling, splashing and dunking each other just like two new lovers. 

Just as we were leaving the water an elderly couple walked hand in hand with their pet dog along the sand. We had to duck down so the water would cover our bodies. The couple looked at us and laughed. "Have fun kids, we wish we could do that!" the man called out as they walked on.

Elizabeth and I laughed back and waved as we waited for them to move away and then raced for our towels. After drying each other we donned our swimmers and sat on our towels eating the delicious picnic lunch, with another bottle of champagne. As we chatted away the couple and their dog returned from their walk and smiled at us as they passed. 

"I think the old guy fancies you Elizabeth, he was certainly having a good perve of your body."

"I don't mind him looking, but you're the only one allowed to touch." Elizabeth laughed as she grabbed and started to rub my cock, come on, let's go back to my place, I'm as horny as hell after reading most of the morning."

We gathered our gear and raced off back to her house.

Elizabeth led me upstairs to her lavish bedroom where we showered to get the sand and salt off our bodies. Falling on the king size bed we held each other tight and kissed passionately, out hands roaming over each other's bodies.

I sat up and pushed Elizabeth down onto her back. She groaned, "Not the missionary position again, please."

"Hush my darling, your pleasure is my only concern, let's see if you like this," I said as I spread her legs apart and knelt between her legs.

Elizabeth groaned as my fingers spread her pussy lips apart and my tongue licked around the edge. I moved down to a sensitive spot on the inside of her thigh where I teased her by licking, kissing and making designs with the tip of my tongue. I came close to her pussy then floated away making Elizabeth anticipate what was to follow.

I licked the crease where her leg joins her pussy and then buried my head in her bush. Gently I brushed my lips over her slit, exciting her so she raised her hips to my face, demanding more. I placed my lips right over the slit kissing gently, then harder. My tongue separated her pussy lips and as I spread her legs a little wider I ran my tongue up and down the layers of pussy flesh. I tongue fucked her, pushing my tongue into and out of her cunt, teasing her as once again she raised her hips, wanting more.

My tongue rested and gently caressed Elizabeth's clit, her legs shuddered as she approached orgasm. As I formed my mouth into an O and gently sucked on her clit Elizabeth cried out, "Ohhhhhh, this is fantastic, don't stop Michael, don't stop!"

I continued to lick and suck on Elizabeth's clit and added to her pleasure by slipping two fingers into her cunt and slowly but surely finger fucked into another screaming orgasm. Elizabeth was like a bucking bronco but I held on, continuing to play with her as I removed my fingers and replaced them with my tongue. As I hadn't shaved that morning I gently rubbed the stubble on my chin over Elizabeth's clit giving me a chance to see her face. Perspiration was glowing on her forehead as our eyes met, her pleading look told me to 'keep going, don't stop' so I returned my tongue to her cunt bringing Elizabeth to another thrashing orgasm.

My jaw and tongue was now becoming a bit sore so I moved up beside Elizabeth talking to her, stroking her, caressing her breasts, bringing her back down slowly.

As her breathing returned to something like normal Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled at me. "Wow Michael, that was absolutely the best oral sex I've ever had, you were fantastic, I've never had multiple orgasms before. God, I thought I was going to have a heart attack."

We held each other tight and once again kissed deeply. Elizabeth continued, "I've had more sex and more fun in the last two days than I've had in the past two years. Thank you so much darling Michael, You've made me so happy when I thought my life was in ruins, how can I ever repay you?"

"Repay me? You don't have to repay me Elizabeth." I replied. "I've had a great time with you too and I hope that our friendship will grow stronger and stronger. I'm sure that you can give me lots of ideas for stories and I can teach you how to use a computer."

"You know Michael, I think I can really trust you and I would love to try some more of the B & D stuff that's in the magazines," Elizabeth said with a mischievous grin. "I'd like to spank you some time too, if that's OK?"

"Sure is my darling, why don't we get dressed and go into town for dinner? After we can go back to my place and I'll show you the surprise I have for you in my cellar."

Elizabeth's reply was another passionate kiss, what surprises would that night and the future hold for both of us?

Elizabeth and I had a lovely dinner at a small intimate restaurant that I knew and continued to enjoy each others company as we learnt more about our respective lives. Time flew quickly and soon it was time to return home.

As I turned the car into the driveway Elizabeth laughed and said, "I think it's time for your spanking Michael, I'm looking forward to turning your arse red. But first you promised to show me your wine cellar, what's the surprise you have in store?"

"You'll soon see," I replied as I unlocked the door and switched on the dim light. Rows of wine bottles lined the walls, labels on the shelves showing their type and year.

"Not much of a surprise here," Elizabeth sniffed, "Just another wine cellar, what's the big deal?"

"Have a look through here miss smarty pants," I said as I opened the 'cupboard' door and ushered her into the dungeon.

It was quite dark and Elizabeth gasped as I switched on the spotlights to reveal the B & D equipment. There were racks of various whips, canes, cat'o'nine tails, tawses, crops and straps. A whipping horse, chains hanging from the ceiling, leg spreaders, blindfolds, ropes, handcuffs, leather gear and in the center a gynecologists examination chair complete with stirrups.

"Oh shit Michael, I had no idea you had all this stuff, your not going to use it on me are you? Fuck, your really are a lot more kinky than I thought you were," Elizabeth had a worried look on her face.

"Relax Elizabeth," I said, "You should know me well enough by now to know that nothing ever happens in a scene with me that the submissive doesn't want to happen. In actual fact the submissive is really the one in control as long as the dominant person stops when the safe word is used. There are some masochists who really enjoy pain and get sexual satisfaction from it, they are the ones who love to use this equipment. Come on, let's go upstairs and you can be in control of me".

Elizabeth brightened, the dungeon had been a bit of a shock for her, but the thought of giving me a spanking brought a smile to her face.

Once upstairs Elizabeth immediately took control.

"Right Michael, I want you to strip naked, come on now hurry up, no dawdling or your punishment will be harder." she ordered, "That's better, now bend over the back of that chair and spread your legs wide apart!"

I grinned at her and did as I was told. This was a position I had been in before and I wanted to make sure that Elizabeth enjoyed the experience. She stood behind me and her hand tentatively stroked my cheeks. I hardly felt the first few soft smacks but slowly Elizabeth gained confidence and the spanks grew harder. Elizabeth followed my advice from our talks on the beach and in the restaurant and made sure she covered my entire arse as well as the tops of my thighs. 

Slowly but surely my bum started to tingle as Elizabeth cried out, "Ooooohhhh, your skin is turning pink Michael, I like doing this, am I doing it right?"

"You're doing just fine Elizabeth, it's one of the best spankings I've ever had, ouch, that's a bit hard!"

"Don't be a baby Michael, you spanked me a lot harder than this," Elizabeth chuckled, "Oh my hand is getting a bit sore but I thought this might happen so I brought along my old wooden hairbrush, stay right there while I get it from my hand bag."

I followed instructions and stayed bent over the chair, my bum tingling nicely, but I knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. Elizabeth returned and her hand felt between my legs, grabbing hold of my stiff cock.

"Naughty boy!" Elizabeth exclaimed, "Did I give you permission to get a hard on? No of course I didn't, it's the hairbrush for you my lad!"

Elizabeth was certainly entering into the spirit of the occasion and brought the hairbrush down with a 'whack' on my right cheek. It really stung as I knew it would but I managed to say nothing, grimacing to myself as a succession of smacks fell.

After about 12 hard whacks I was squirming around and calling out loud with each spank. "Owwww, jeepers Elizabeth, not so bloody hard."

"You know what the safe word is Michael, but don't you dare use it until you really have to or I'll give you more."

"I think you, ouch, have been reading, yipes, too many of those magazines Elizabeth," I cried as the spanking continued.

"Oh god, your arse is so red now Michael, it must be really stinging," Elizabeth said as she stopped hitting me with the hairbrush and bent down to have a good look at her handiwork, " I can't do any more this time, stay there while I get something to sooth and cool you a bit.

I must admit that I was glad she had stopped as I was not far from using the code word. I reached a hand back and felt my arse, which was quite hot, Elizabeth had done a good job. I stayed in position as Elizabeth returned and I sighed as I felt her hands soothing a cool cream onto my burning cheeks. Gently Elizabeth massaged the cream into my skin and the stinging decreased.

Elizabeth reached once again for my cock and giggled as her creamy hand slid up and down. I could contain myself no longer, I turned around, swept Elizabeth up in my arms and carried her the bedroom where once again we had some amazing sex. There was no doubt that since that first spanking Elizabeth had become very curious about different positions and was in a hurry to try them all!

The days turned into weeks and Elizabeth had shifted from the city and into her house next door. I had shown her how to get onto the Internet, which helped her to fill in the hours, while I was writing. She was also helping with ideas for my stories, nothing like getting into a few chat rooms to widen one's ideas!

The days were cooler now as winter approached. One weekday Elizabeth was in the city at her solicitors sorting out the details of her divorce while at the same time I had a visit from one of my editors. Elizabeth knew that the editor was coming down for the day. She planned to be home early afternoon to be introduced to the editor, Ellen, who was a long time friend of mine and a fellow spanking enthusiast.




Writer's Block



I heard Elizabeth let herself the front door and I met her with a hug and a kiss at the top of the stairs.

As we entered the living room I said, "Elizabeth, I'd like you to meet Ellen, my editor."

Elizabeth stopped as if in shock. "Ellen! I thought you said Allan! Oh I'm sorry Ellen, I was expecting to meet a man and I got a bit of a shock. It's nice to meet you, have you and Michael had a productive morning?"

"Hi Elizabeth," Ellen replied, "Yes we've had a good morning but I think this afternoon is going to be better, it will be for me that's for sure."

"Perhaps I'd better explain," I said as we all sat. "Not only is Ellen a very good editor she is also a true masochist and when she comes down here to visit she gets a punishment session in the dungeon."

Ellen explained some more to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth a true masochist derives sexual pleasure from pain. I obtain multiple orgasms from being caned, it's fantastic. When I was a student journalist I had a crush on one of my tutors. He was about 35 and quite experienced, I would have done anything for him. One night in bed he asked me if he could spank me. Like you at first I was shocked but the spanking turned me on so much I was hooked. I learnt that I really enjoyed pain and as I said before the orgasms are incredible. I explored the scene and when I graduated as a journalist it was a natural progression for me to get into the spanking magazine scene. Would you like to watch Michael punish me? I don't mind, in fact having you watch would add to my enjoyment."

There was a minute's silence while Elizabeth took all this in, then she looked at me. "You're a real bugger at times aren't you Michael, at least you could have warned me, I'll deal with you later!

Then turning to Ellen she said in an excited tone, "Thank you Ellen, I'd love to watch, when do we start?"

Ellen stood, "Give me about fifteen minutes and I'll be ready. Is the key in its usual place Michael?" 

I nodded and Ellen moved downstairs.

I explained to Elizabeth, "Ellen likes about fifteen minutes to prepare herself. She uses the bathroom and then meditates to get herself into the right frame of mind. You can be my assistant today my sweet, an extra pair of hands is always useful. Just follow my lead and don't worry about the severity of the punishment, Ellen is used to it."

Shortly after, Elizabeth and I joined Ellen downstairs in the dungeon. She was wearing a shapeless blue dress that was held up with bows on both shoulders. Her feet were bare and she was standing under the chains attached to the ceiling. 

I handed Elizabeth one of the wrist cuffs and she followed my lead attaching it to one of Ellen's wrists. Ellen then raised her arms straight above her head and I attached the cuffs to the chains. Elizabeth's eyebrows raised as I placed a blindfold over Ellen's eyes and then a stereo headset over her ears.

"A true masochist loves not only the pain but also the suspense of a punishment session." I explained to Elizabeth. "Ellen can now hear only classical music and she can't see anything at all. This means she can't see or hear the cane when it's about to hit her, it adds to the excitement for her. Undo the bows of her dress will you please darling."

Tentatively Elizabeth loosened the bows and the dress fell to the floor. I heard an intake of breath from Elizabeth as she saw Ellen's lovely body now only clad in a small bra and panties. I handed a leg-spreading bar to Elizabeth who bent and attached it to Ellen's ankles.

I then tapped Ellen on the shoulder and she nodded that she was ready. 

"Come around here to the front Elizabeth, the action is about to really start," I said.

Elizabeth joined me in front of Ellen and watched as I grabbed the front Ellen's bra, which I suddenly ripped off, letting her large breasts fall free. I repeated the action with Ellen's panties and her shaven pussy showed between her widely parted legs.

"Why don't you warm Ellen's arse up a bit?" I asked Elizabeth, "Use this paddle, hand spanking is not painful enough for her."

Elizabeth took the paddle from me and took up position behind Ellen. A few tentative whacks only brought "harder" from Ellen's lips. Elizabeth gradually applied the pressure, using more force over all the flesh of Ellen's lovely buttocks, which turned a bright shade of pink.

"That should be enough of the warm up Elizabeth, come around here again."

Elizabeth was a bit flushed as she stood in front of Ellen. "Play with her breasts Elizabeth, tweak her nipples."

Elizabeth gave me one of those looks but her curiosity was well and truly raised so she reached her hands out and gave Ellen's lovely boobs some good squeezes, squashing the soft flesh between her fingers. Elizabeth grinned at me and then bent down and took a nipple between her teeth, biting and sucking hard on the teat.

"Oh that's so good Michael," Ellen hissed, "You know how sensitive my boobs are, this is such a turn on."

Elizabeth grinned at me and made sure that both the nipples got equal time and then attached the clamps that I had placed in her hand. Another moan of pleasure came from Ellen.

"I bet her pussy is really wet Elizabeth, have a feel and see!"

Elizabeth shot me another of those looks but couldn't resist sliding a hand over Ellen's cunt. I grinned as I watched a finger slide right in and then withdraw, glistening with Ellen's juices.

"God, she's so wet Michael," Elizabeth whispered, "she must be ready for the punishment now."

"Yes I think you're right Elizabeth," I replied, "And there's no need to whisper! Stand back now and I'll start the caning. Please remove the nipple clamps, that's Ellen's sign that she's about to get caned."

Elizabeth did as I asked and stood back as I took a flexible cane from the rack. I tapped Ellen's bum with the tip of the cane as I took up position, she knew all was ready.

I stood motionless for about three minutes.

Elizabeth almost screamed at me, "Why don't you get on with it? This waiting must be driving Ellen crazy."

"Remember what I said about suspense Elizabeth? The waiting adds to Ellen's enjoyment, she has a love/hate relationship with this time of the session."

"Whoosh" the cane hissed through the air and exploded onto Ellen's arse.

"Ahhhhh, that's so good," Ellen said with a sigh, "More, more."

At various intervals, some short and some long, I continued to cane Ellen, leaving red stripes on her buttocks and thighs. At times she let out a little scream as the cane bit into her flesh, but most of the sounds were those of pleasure. Elizabeth watched with wide eyes, the realization sinking in that Ellen was actually enjoying her punishment.

"That's ten," I said as the cane hit home once again, "Only two more, look Elizabeth, Ellen is starting to orgasm from the pain."

I was right; tremors of pleasure could be seen passing through Ellen's perspiring body. I waited for them to subside a bit then number eleven burst across Ellen's thighs.

"Owwwww!!!!" Ellen cried out, "Oh shit Michael, that one really got me, oh I'm coming again!"

Again I waited as Elizabeth and I watched in awe as another orgasm swept over Ellen. I grabbed a couple of large cushions from a side shelf and placed them on the floor at Ellen's feet.

"Last one coming up Elizabeth," I said, "After this one will you quickly release Ellen from the leg spreader and I'll let her down onto the cushions."

"Aieeeeeee" screamed Ellen as the twelfth and last stroke burst across her arse. As Elizabeth unstrapped the leg spreader from Ellen's ankles I removed the stereo earphones and blindfold. I then unhooked the wrist cuffs from the chain allowing Ellen to fall face down onto the cushions, her striped bottom staring up at us.

"Ooooooohhhhhhh, here they come," cried Ellen as a series of orgasms took over her body.

Elizabeth and I hugged as we watched the amazing sight of Ellen moaning with pleasure as multiple orgasms continued to flow.

"Come on Elizabeth, let's go upstairs, Ellen will join us after she calms down. She likes to be left alone at the end of a session to compose herself."

Elizabeth and I went upstairs and over coffee discussed what had taken place in the dungeon. Elizabeth was still amazed at the punishment Ellen had taken and I reminded her that Ellen was a true masochist. I assured Elizabeth that I would never attempt to punish her like that and that she was always safe with me.

Twenty minutes later a dressed and radiant looking Ellen joined us.

She hugged and kissed both of us as she thanked us for a fantastic session. I went into the kitchen to prepare a casserole for dinner and left the two girls to chat. I couldn't make out what they were saying but there were lots of giggling and some "oohs" and "ahhs" coming from the lounge room. They were obviously getting on really well together as they talked about what had happened down stairs.

After putting dinner in the oven I returned to the lounge.

Elizabeth rose and threw her arms around me, "Darling Michael," she said with a wicked grin on her face, "Ellen guessed that I helped you today and she would like to repay me. Would you mind if Ellen gave me a spanking?"

"Well this is a turn up, isn't it?" I admit I was a bit surprised, "If that's what you want Elizabeth that's OK by me, dinner will be a couple of hours, you can have your spanking now if you want to."

"Thank you darling, you are so nice," Elizabeth said as she kissed me. Then she turned to Ellen and said, "OK Ellen, I'm game if you are, what do you want me to do?"

"Just wait a minute and be quiet Elizabeth," Ellen was suddenly in control. "Michael, have you got that old folding massage table?" I nodded. "Good, bring it out here, I'll be standing up for a little while longer so I'll spank Elizabeth while she lies on the table."

I fetched the massage table and set it up. Ellen set a cushion on the table and hugged a suddenly nervous looking Elizabeth.

"Just relax and enjoy Elizabeth," Ellen said as they stood beside the table, "Put your hands on your head."

I sat down on the couch and watched as Elizabeth did as she was told. Ellen knelt down in front of Elizabeth and undid the button of her shorts that slid down her legs to the floor. Ellen then grasped Elizabeth's tee shirt and pulled it up over her head and arms. Elizabeth was now wearing only bra and panties. I felt my cock start to stiffen as Ellen turned Elizabeth around and unclipped the bra which joined the other clothes on the floor.

"Get up the table Elizabeth and put the cushion under your hips," Ellen ordered.

Elizabeth glanced at me and the lump in my trousers and then turned and climbed onto the table. Ellen walked around the table so that my view was unobstructed and placed her hands on Elizabeth's panty covered bottom. I watched Ellen's fingers grasp the elastic and slowly pull the panties down, uncovering Elizabeth's lovely bum and legs.

Elizabeth gave a little moan as Ellen's hands returned to her buttocks, stroking, kneading and pinching. Then light spanks started, covering all of the arse cheeks and the thighs.

"Smack, smack, smack" went the sound of Ellen's hands as they drummed rhythmically over Elizabeth's smooth skin.

I heard a few soft moans of pleasure coming from Elizabeth as the spanking continued to build. The white skin was now a pale pink as Ellen warmed to her task, enjoying being in control. The spanks were louder now and as I watched I saw Ellen's hands move down and spread Elizabeth's legs apart. Ellen looked at me and I nodded my approval, I knew that Elizabeth would soon let us know if she didn't like what was happening.

One of Ellen's hands slipped between Elizabeth's legs and felt her pussy.

"Oh you're so wet Elizabeth, this is making you so hot! Do you want more?'

Elizabeth answered with a nod and Ellen resumed the spanking. "Whack, whack, whack."

The spanks were getting slower and harder now, Elizabeth's soft backside rippling under each blow. She was wriggling around on the table as the stinging took effect, the soft pink of her skin slowly turning red.

"Ouch! That hurts!" cried Elizabeth, "God I love this and I hate it too. Every time you hit me I want it to stop but when you raise your hand I can't wait for the next one. Keep going Ellen, I'll tell you when I can't take any more."

Ellen did not need any urging as she continued the spanking. I knew from experience how good Ellen was at covering all the buttocks and upper thighs equally and it was fascinating for me to watch her at work.

The hard spanks continued and I was not surprised when Elizabeth cried out, "Oh please stop Ellen, it's stinging too much, I can't take any more of this, it's hurting too much."

Ellen was unfazed, she knew that Elizabeth would use the code word when she had had enough.

A few more hard whacks and "Mercy, mercy, Ellen please!" Elizabeth cried out loudly.

Ellen stopped spanking immediately and softly caressed Elizabeth's poor hot arse with her hands.

"You were so good Elizabeth, I didn't think you would last that long, you deserve a reward." Ellen said as she bent down to lick and kiss Elizabeth's hot arse. 

I stood and moved closer to the table. Elizabeth moaned with pleasure as Ellen assisted her to roll over onto her back. Elizabeth was breathing heavily, her breasts rising and falling; a glow of perspiration covered her body.

"Oh wow, look at your nipples Elizabeth," Ellen cried, "May I suck them?"

Elizabeth's answer was to place a hand around Ellen's neck and guide her head down to the waiting nipples. My cock grew even harder as I watched Ellen suck, lick, nibble and bite Elizabeth's teats and the soft flesh of her breasts. Elizabeth was moaning with pleasure as Ellen's mouth licked and kissed its way down over her heaving tummy where it hovered over Elizabeth's pussy. Ellen glanced at me and I nodded as my hands reached out to play with Elizabeth's nipples. Ellen fingers spread Elizabeth's pussy lips and then her head lowered until her tongue could lick its way around the labia. Finally Ellen's tongue contacted Elizabeth's clitoris where it teased and tickled causing Elizabeth to cry out in passion. Ellen stuck her tongue as far as she could into Elizabeth's wet cunt, her head moving up and down as she used her tongue like a mini cock. Elizabeth screamed as the built up orgasm arched her body almost off the table.

"Hang on Elizabeth, I haven't finished yet!" Ellen said as she inserted the middle finger of her left hand into Elizabeth's wet love hole. She withdrew it glistening wet and Elizabeth gasped as Ellen probed the finger into the opening of Elizabeth's anus.


"Ohhhhhhh Ellen, nobody has ever done this to me before, it's soooooo good!" Elizabeth cried loudly as her anus was invaded by Ellen's finger. Ellen's tongue returned to make love to Elizabeth's cunt as her finger fucked away up the arse.

It wasn't long before another huge orgasm arched Elizabeth's body off the table once again. She collapsed back onto the table as Ellen withdrew her finger and tongue. Ellen's mouth was wet with Elizabeth's juices as she moved down and kissed Elizabeth on the lips, a kiss that Elizabeth returned with passion. They held each other as Elizabeth came down from her high and her breathing gradually slowed down to something like normal.

Nothing was said for about five minutes until Elizabeth regained her somewhat wobbly legs. The three of us hugged and kissed each other and I felt a couple of hands groping the front of my trousers.

Elizabeth spoke first, "Wow, that was incredible Ellen, thank you so much, and thank you too Michael. It looks like you have a big problem down here." She looked at Ellen and grinned, "Perhaps we can do something about making it a bit smaller?"

Ellen grinned back and the two of them led me into the bedroom where they quickly removed my clothes. They pushed me into the center of the bed with one of them on each side. I lay back as first Elizabeth and then Ellen sucked my cock. They took turns to suck, sometimes kissing each other as they swapped. Elizabeth knew from experience that I was getting near to coming as she gently pushed Ellen aside and slid her cunt down over my cock. I had my eyes closed as Elizabeth moved slowly up and down, wanting as usual to make the moment last as long as possible. Ellen's lips joined mine as Elizabeth and I came in a giant orgasm. The girls both collapsed on the bed beside me, the three of us hugging, kissing and laughing after a wonderful afternoon.



Writer's Block



I was feeling like escaping away from it all, I haven't written a word for 2 weeks and my publisher will start pulling her hair if I don't write something soon. Can you believe it you write one novel and they expect five more? So I'm sitting at the computer waiting for that idea to hit me. Then I'm getting up wandering my office thinking and thinking and still the idea doesn't come. After chain smoking through 40 cigarettes and drinking a few bottles of wine, I decide to go out for a walk, somewhere quiet where no one knows where you are, somewhere where the wind blows in whispers to wake you somewhere where the sun is cool but warm making you feel sane. So here I am walking along a dirt track finding that place which makes me feel good, along a path and down a steep slope to a hill and a valley deep in the south downs of Sussex. All that walking and the sun make's wish there was a bar where I can sit and take in the view and sip a cool beer. But no this is the middle of nowhere, this is my place. 

I sit down on the warm dew covered grass and let my eyes wander this landscape the light picturesque valley and the fields of poppies that I remember since I was a child. And even when I was older ready for killing myself and making my blood run into the red poppies so I could never be found till the end of the summer when the red of the poppies ceases to be. As I sit, I can hear a noise, which is really strange because I know that know one comes up here but me. I look but don't see anything. I keep listening and I hear that noise again, crying, a female crying. You can tell easily the difference between a female crying and man crying in the length of the sobs and the drones of the wail. I get up and look over a bush that I am sitting next to, I don't see a thing. I don't want to be seen as this is my place that no one knows I come to. I creep round a little further and still don't see anyone. The crying stops suddenly like they have been disturbed by something, movement. I realise it's me; I should have trod more carefully. She speaks "who's there?"

"Sorry to disturb you, but I was quietly enjoying the peacefulness of this spot when I heard crying"

"I'm just a bit upset, my parents don't give a shit about me, and my boyfriend wants me to have sex and I don't want sex with him, because I'm worried that I won't please him"

"Can I help at all, I mean do you need someone to talk to, you must be in a bit of a state to be speaking to a total stranger?"

She gets up and I see her face at the other side of the bush, she looks towards me, she must be about 18, her eyes are all puffy and red from the crying and there are dry tear marks on her face. I get out a tissue from my pocket and motion to come round and hand her the tissue. I look into her eyes and stare at this untouched female body as I walk round the bush. She has what I call see through blue eyes, deep and cool looking, eyes you can get lost in. Her mouth is small, and her nose, a little cute button. Still has a childhood features. But she's also, a woman. She is wearing a tight skinny t-shirt and a short skirt. Her breasts are not big, but still nice to look at with the nipples sticking out easily visible through her top and showing also the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Here's a tissue"

"Thank you; sorry I didn't catch your name"

"Joe, what's yours?"

She doesn't take the tissue but lets me put my hand to her face and wipe away the dry salty tear marks, tempting now to lick and kiss her face and taste the salt and touch those lips, but I must resist.

"My name is saffron"

"What a beautiful name"

"Thank you"

I keep wiping the dry tears from her face and notice her staring at me in the eyes then moving her glare to my crotch, this situation is getting hard now, and so am I, I feel a bulge rising in my trousers. I can't take advantage of her it wouldn't be right. I'll have to go.

"Er! Joe, thank you for the tissue. Can you please help me with something; help me with one of my problems"

"I don't know what is the problem…."

And with that she pulls her face to hers and kisses me, I don't move, I'm frozen there, I don't know whether to return the kiss or pull away. She suddenly stops

"What's wrong, Joe, don't you like me"

And then that was that, I can't help myself I grab her in my arms and kiss her back tasting the dry salt from her tears which have fallen onto her lips and the taste of her fresh young mouth, and now all I can think of that fresh untamed pussy and the bulge in my trousers that needs to escape.

I move a hand down in between her legs under her skirt and feel an unmistakable damp spot on her panties, I start running my fingers along her crack and she starts squirming on my hand, and I'm thinking this young woman who hasn't had sex before is getting very horny. Still kissing me I notice that she is undoing the buttons on my jeans and has grabbed the bulge of my cock and is it rubbing it really slowly knowing not really what to with it, she just keeps rubbing. I grab the top of trousers and pull them down with boxers and let my cock become free to warm south winds she looks down at it, then up into my eyes. I push her down in between my legs and she puts her hands on my cock running her fingers up and down. 

"Kiss it" I say

And she does, giving her the taste of cock of her lips she moves her lips around my member and starts to suck, first she keeps nipping with my teeth and I tell her to be gentle and then she gets it just right, and I can feel that feeling when you know your going to blow and then I come deep into her mouth nearly gagging her, but she recovers quickly and swallows the lot to my amazement and starts licking the remaining cum off my cock. I then decide this is my turn I take of my t-shirt and remove hers to reveal her pert young breasts I grab them in my hand and start sucking on her nipples she moves her hand this time to her pussy and with the other is rubbing her fingers along my cock. I remove her skirt and panties and lay her down on the warm dew covered grass which suddenly sends shivers up her body and makes uncontrollably come for no apparent reason. I'm shocked. 

I put my hands on her pussy and rub her clit, really slowly. I position myself over her pussy in a sixty nine position and start to devout her pussy, and it tastes so good, really good. Tasting how wet she is with joy and the feeling I'm getting in my cock as she is sucking for England. I need to stick my cock into her pussy before she drains me of all the cum I have. I keep her on her back and lay directly on top of her and position my cock just on her pussy lips, and knowing she's a virgin take it really slowly entering her, another inch and I'm in she starts to have tears in her eyes and I ask whether she wants me to stop and she says no, and grabs my ass and pushes my cock deep inside of her. And then she screams out faster go faster. An order's an order and I start pounding her pussy till she explodes I roll her over so she is on top and she sits up still with my cock deep in her pussy and she starts to ride me, grabbing her breasts with her hands on my hands she rides and I see the sweat dripping down her body. I then turn her back round on her back and lick the sweat off her breasts and down her stomach and then I push myself as hard as I can into her tight pussy and I move in and out, pounding and riding her, making come over and over again, and then I explode deep into her pussy. And I feel the cum seep out her pussy down the base of my cock. I pull myself out and she puts her hand down to her pussy and starts rubbing away. As if she needs that ecstasy she then sits up and grabs my cock with her other hand and pulls her mouth towards it and licks all out juices off it. I get up and say I have to go.

"Why can't you stay Joe?"

"I'm writer saffron and you've just given me an idea for a story"

"can I come with you, if I've given you an idea for a story, doesn't that make me your muse, If I come back with you I can help give you more inspiration can't I"

"Ok, saffron, but you can't stay long I've really got to finish this story."

After dressing and continued feeling and touching of each other and the constant kissing, we slowly walk back to my house. I tell her to sit down and I go and make a cup of tea. When I get back, she is sitting there completely naked, rubbing her pussy.

Oh god, when am I going to get this story finished? 



Writer's Block



They were driving together, somewhere

They were in the car, and it was raining hard.

"Can you see all right?" he asked.

"Sure. I'm fine," she said.

She liked driving. And she liked the rain. The sound was soothing. So was sitting near him. She probably wouldn't have enjoyed driving in pouring rain on the highway, but slowly weaving her way through back country roads — she liked it.

"So, how's the writer's block going?" he said.

She smiled.

"Still blocked. I'm setting a record by now. I haven't been able to write in months," she said.

"But why?" he said.

"I don't know. I feel like I'm generally blocked. If you know what I mean?" she said.

"I understand. But still, why?" he said.

She eased into a right turn, and cranked the windshield wipers up a notch.

"I don't know. I mean, it isn't like the words, or the feelings, aren't there. They are. Almost too many," she said.

"Like I maybe have too going on. My insides are too frantic. I need a way to center, and I'm sure there would be some kind of general explosion," she said.

"Can you get some quiet time by yourself?" he said.

"I can try. Now I almost feel afraid of what will happen," she said, laughing a little.

"Well, the longer you wait, the worse it is going to be," he said.

"I know," she said.

She was wearing a really plunging neckline. It was difficult for him to maintain his gentlemanly eye contact. But he knew she did it on purpose. Which made it even more important for him to not look.

"I'm worried something might happen in the meantime and I'll lost control and do something stupid. I'm sort of on edge," she said.

"If it's been months, I can see why. What do you mean, do something stupid?" he said.

She thought about it.

"I don't know. Maybe I should be quiet now," she said.

"Come on. You can tell me anything," he said.

"I know," she said. Paused to think.

"This is almost hard for me to think about. Let alone say," she said.

"Spill it," he said.

"Well, the other night, you remember I told you I was talking to that other guy?" she said.

That other guy was someone they both knew through work. She flirted with him a lot. And he did not keep his eyes in gentlemanly places when he was around her.

"Yes. Did you do something with him?" he said.

"Well, no, but..." she said.

"But?" he said. He was surprised to feel a small surge of what he recognized as jealousy, then dismissed it as ridiculous. Still, it nagged him a bit.

"You know how he looks at me," she said.

"I do," he said. And he did. He'd seen it himself. Found it amusing in a way, that other guy's utter lack of self-discipline around her.

"Well, you know I don't necessarily mind guys looking at my chest. Or down my shirt. Depending on the guy," she said.

"I'm aware. Especially when you wear shirts like that. You can't blame them," he said.

She laughed.

"I thought you didn't notice. I'm touched," she said.

"I notice. I'm human. I'm just not quite as obvious as that other guy," he said.

She let herself smile at that for a minute.

"So, anyway, this night for some reason, it was more than ever. Maybe I'm giving off some vibe that...I don't know. You know...," she said.

"What?" he said.

"That I need....something," she said. She was blushing now.

"I see," he said. 

"So we were in this office, alone, talking. And he was standing over me, taller than me. I felt small. Sort of powerless. But in a good way," she said.

"I get it," he said.

"And we were talking about some stupid shit he was all fired up about, and I would look him in the eye, but every, single, time, I turned my head, I could feel him looking down my shirt," she said.

"What were you wearing?" he said.

"That's the thing, I was like a sweater...maybe a little clingy, but..., nothing like today," she said.

"Maybe a little clingy. Yeah yeah," he said.

"I mean, when you sort of have boobs the size of mine, it stands to reason that something is going to be a little clingy," she said.

"I've noticed," he said.

She turned to look at him now. 

"Look at you! Being all open and sharing," she said.

"If you keep pointing it out, I'm going to have to realize it and stop," he said, smiling.

She laughed.

"So anyway, I've always had this sort of ebbing and flowing tension with that other guy. But this tension was ridiculous. It was so tense, so crackling in that room," she said.

"It was almost like he could barely wait for me to look away so he could look at my chest again. All he while, we are talking about nonsense, but I can feel his eyes on me. And he had to know I knew he was doing it," she said.

"But it was seriously like he couldn't control it. And the stare was so hard. I could almost feel it, feel his eyes touching me, pouring over me, over my body," she said.

"And here's where I should probably stop talking," she said.

"You can't stop now," he said. He found he was hanging on every word, in a way. A way he couldn't describe.

"Well," she said, blushing again.

"I knew, somehow, maybe it was this tension, that he was trying to find my nipples, the outline of them, under my sweater," she said.

"No doubt," he said.

"Why am I telling you this?" she said.

"Because I told you to," he said.

"Keep going," he said.

"We're almost there," she said, with relief.

"Pull in here. I'll walk from here," he said, directing her to a parking lot that was mostly vacant.

"It's raining," she protested.

"I won't melt. Easier for you. Plus you need to finish your story," he said.

"Ugh," she said.

She stopped the car, the rain still pounding.

"Now I have to look at you when I'm saying it though," she said.

"No you don't," he said.

"Ok," she said, leaning her head against her seat and pulling a leg under her. She was wearing a skirt.

She looked nice in skirts, he thought.

"So I knew he was looking for the outline of my nipples, and I thought to myself, stop thinking that right now, but once I realized, I couldn't get it out of my mind, so I tried to look into his eyes, but then I thought he might see...," she said.

"See what? That you were getting turned on?" he said.

She closed her eyes.

"Don't say it. Yes. Exactly," she said.

"I'm really bad with that, it is really, really obvious when I'm turned on in my eyes. I've literally had guys have to walk away from me in a public place because the look in my eyes was driving them too crazy," she said.

"Get the fuck out of here," he said, laughing a little.

"No lie! Don't make me show you," she said, smiling.

"Ok, ok, I believe you," he said.

"I can control it a little, but not when it gets as bad as it was with that other guy in this moment I'm describing," she said.

"So I'm getting so flustered and turned on and my choices are to look into his eyes and have him see it or look away and feel his eyes crawling all over me, over my shirt, down my shirt, and I'm thinking about what he's straining to see, and then what do you think happens?" she said.

"What?" he said.

"What would be a bad thing to happen at that moment, being turned on and him trying to find my nipples under my clingy sweater?" she said.

It sank in finally and he started to get a little uncomfortable, in a good way, himself.

"Your nipples got hard?" he said.

She blushed again.

"Yes, and I could feel it, and then it was really bad. There was no way he didn't see it," she said.

"And then I started thinking what if I just said, 'This is ridiculous....' and just pulled my sweater over my head, and said 'is this what you wanted to see?'" she said.

"Wow. That would have made things interesting," he said, trying not to picture it himself, her, turned on, probably trembling, pulling her sweater off, her hard nipples poking through the bra she was probably spilling out of. 

"And then I knew it was time to go. Because if I didn't leave at that moment, I knew I was going to give some sort of hint, some sort of invitation, some sort of yielding to him. I knew all I had to do was look into his eyes and he'd be seeing only one message in them," she said.

"Which would be?" he said.

She looked at him.

"You can't figure it out?" she said.

"I can guess. I just wanted to hear what you were thinking," he said.

"I knew that all my eyes would be saying was 'Yes, do it. Just do it already. Throw me on this desk. Pull me down on the floor. Push my back against the wall. However you want it. Just fuck me already,'" she said, slowly and quietly. 

It was quiet for a moment.

"Wow. That would have been a hard invitation to turn down, I'd guess," he said.

"And he wouldn't have. And it would have been rough and unrefined and probably the farthest thing from some Casanova type passionate moment, but..." she said.

"But....that's exactly what you wanted. What you needed, right?" he said.

She leaned her head on the seat of the car and turned to him.

"Yes. Right. You understand," she said.

"It was that naked hunger that was turning me on. That uncontrollable need that he was putting off. I can relate to it, it found the same in me," she said.

He looked into her eyes.

"So what did you do?" he said.

"I ran," she said, turning to look out the windshield again.

"I won't say like a coward, because it was the right thing to do. And it was a hard thing to do. But I made a quick escape," she said.

"Right. But couldn't you have used that inspiration to....," he asked.

"I suppose I could have. But like I said, it was almost too much. I've just been putting these feelings away, and it is only when something stirs me that they call come pounding to the surface," she said.

"I've gotten good at that whole repression thing thanks to you," she said, turning to him and smiling again.

He could have used some repression skills himself at the moment.

"You're not entirely repressing," he said.

Their brown eyes were locked together.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"I can see it in your eyes," he said, smiling. And he could, faint clouds of something gathering in her eyes, like a sudden storm over the ocean.

She was startled, and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Damnit!" she said, laughing.

He pulled her hands away.

"I think your problem, on all fronts, is fighting all this all the time," he said, gently.

The fiery clouds gathered more in her eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with feeling things. Let yourself feel them," he said.

His voice was hypnotic. Lulling, but not in a sleepy way.

Unconsciously, he reached out to touch her face, gently.

"Isn't that better? Let it go. Just let it go," he said.

It was so much better.

"It is better," she said.

"But you don't realize what you're dealing with here..." she said.

"I'm like....I don't know. What's that thing on a gun that makes it go off without almost any effort?" she said, softly.

Still, their eyes were locked. His fingers still traced the side of her face, drifting to her neck, her shoulder.

"A hair trigger," he said.

"It's called a hair trigger," he said.

"You remember I have experience with guns. I can handle a hair trigger," he said.

It was too much. She looked down.

"Don't do that. No running away," he said.

"You're never going to get through this if you don't face it," he said.

"I'm afraid," she whispered.

His fingers moved down to that plunging neckline of her shirt, teasing the seam of it with one finger.

"Don't," she said, the physical response pummeling her brain like popping popcorn.

"You know, if you're going to get all flustered when someone looks down your shirt, maybe you shouldn't wear shirts like these," he said, his fingers still tracing the neckline, teasing her, barely touching her.

"Because I don't see how any man could help it," he said.

"You help it," she whispered, paralyzed. Hypnotized.

"You just don't catch me. But trust me, when I see you wearing a shirt like this..." he said.

And then he looked. Looked all over the front of her shirt, down it. God, she could feel it, he stared at her so hard.

"Please. Don't. I can't deal with it," she said.

"Sure you can," he said.

Her eyes were filled, smoked over with fire, her teeth biting into her lower lip. His fingers moved over, pulling now at the neckline of her shirt, moving it to the side, moving over her bra, find her hardening nipple, and tracing it with his finger.

She gasped out loud.

"The thing about a hair trigger is, you just have to be gentle. Be in control. You have to make sure the gun doesn't go off until exactly the right moment, until you want it to," he said.

"I don't think that you'll be able to do that in this case," she whispered.

"Are you underestimating me?" he said, smiling.

She shook her head.

"Good," he said. He moved into the back seat of the truck, and pulled her with him. It was still pounding rain.

He pulled her onto his lap until she was straddling him, feeling him hard underneath her. 

His hands went to her face, holding it in both hands. 

She couldn't breathe, waiting. She wasn't going to do anything or ask for anything, though every thought running through her mind was some form of begging and pleading.

He could see that in her eyes, see the urgency. See the need. 

The pleading to please, just please, do something. He thought of her pulling that sweater over her head, urging, begging, pleading.

His hands moved behind her head, pulling her to his mouth in a soft, deep kiss. His tongue found hers. She shuddered and shook, her fingers deep in his hair, both of them holding onto one another. The kiss was enveloping, the kiss of a thousand years of hunger, the kiss soothing an ache, urging them on, and on.

Her hips moved on his lap, grinding against him, and his hands moved from her neck to digging his fingers into her back, to lower, finding her ass and holding it there, holding her against him.

The rain was wet but the late afternoon was warm and the car got hotter. She leaned back and hit the button for the sun roof, letting the pounding rain in for a moment, falling on her hair, leaning back and feeling it across her body, droplets running down her chest, into her cleavage, on him, and they were both getting wetter, He stared as her shirt clung to her.

She saw his eyes, and this time she did not look away.

She pulled the neckline of her shirt open, away, her bra wet, thin, transparent really. 

"Is this what you want to see?" she said.

"Oh yeah," he said.

Oh yeah.

The tension now beating in both of them, thundering like the rain, and he reached up and tore the shirt from her hands, yanking the sides down, trapping her arms against her and pulling her body to him, tightly, roughly, looking into her eyes.

"Feel it? Are you feeling it now?" he whispered.

"Yes...yes," she whispered.

He looked first, her full pale breasts, her hard, pink nipples, reddened with heat and aching, begging him, begging him to take them.

He pulled her to him, tightly holding her arms against her, and gently took her hard nipple into his mouth, gently easing into his mouth, his tongue dancing around it, and he knew that the moment he put any pressure on that aching, hard nipple, she'd explode. There was no question. Her nipples were so hard, so exposed. 

She took her fist in her mouth, biting down, hard, as he sucked her nipple deep in his mouth. Her hips bucked wildly, and still he held her tightly. Down, hard, impossible to escape. Because he knew this was what she feared and what she would try to escape. 

There was no escape from it, and he heard her nonsense whispers, not sure what to beg him for, but begging, please, as her gasps grew shallow, high, soaring sighs, and now her hands tightly rested in his hair, pulling, holding him to her, and he sucked and licked, teased with his teeth, harder, faster, not stopping.

And her sighing, her gasping, and now, now, now, she sighed, shook, whispered.

"I'm going to scream," she whispered. 

"I am, I...I... can't.. I'm going to....going to.....going to..," and her words disappeared into racking sighs that elevated into moans she tried to fight until the orgasm that ripped through her rendered her utterly speechless.

Her head back, her mouth in a silent scream, and she fought and smacked him off until she fell to his side on the seat of the car, shuddering, shaking. Trying to breathe.

He moved over her, pushing her back down against the seat, climbing over her, holding her down on the seat, leaning in to kiss her mouth, tongues twirling, tied together, and the kiss was relief, it was more tension, it was hot, and he pulled away, both breathing hard.

"Do you think I'm insane?" she whispered.

"Does it look like it?" he said, his body moving over hers, her hips moving beneath his.

"Do you think I'm a nymphomaniac?" she says.

He leaned in to kiss her again, gently, tongue teasing hers, breathless again, pulling away.

"A nymphomaniac fucks anything in sight," he said.

"Obviously if you did that you wouldn't be in this state," he said.

His finger touched her lips.

"You know what you need?" he said.

She laughed.

"Tell me," she whispered. 

His hand moved to her hip, and squeezed.

"You need a really good screw," he said.

Her body moved under his.

"Yeah?" she whispered.

"Yeah. A really good fuck. One of those weekends where you just lie in bed, and don't do anything else, except maybe eat a little. Just over, and over," he said.

Her eyes fluttered.

"That would fix me," she whispered.

"And you'd keep going, even if you thought you were too sore. You wouldn't care," he said.

She laughed quietly.

"I wouldn't get sore, if it was with you, but I'd enjoy you trying," she said.

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" he said.

Her legs opened involuntarily. He moved in closer, pushed between them.

She looked right into his eyes.

"Because you have no idea how wet you make me, it would make it so easy for you," she said.

"Oh yeah?" he said.

"Oh yeah," she said. 

His hand had lowered from her hip and to her thigh, and moved under her skirt.

Her breathing was shallow.

"You know you're really wet, when you're taking a bath, and you feel wetter than the water," she said.

His dick was getting harder. He couldn't help it. His fingers felt the tops of her stockings that ended mid-thigh. Reaching the soft skin of her thighs, and her legs yielded to him.

"That's impressive," he said.

"You want to see, you don't you? How wet you make me?" she asked.

He did. He really did.

His fingers found her panties.

She gasped.

"Watch that trigger," she whispered.

He traced her clit through them.

"I've got it under control," he said.

She moved under him as his fingers teased her, and her hands moved to his shoulders as he leaned in again to kiss her, hot, wet, breathless. 

Her hands moved down his body, down his arms to rest at hips, opening her legs to him more, pulling him down, holding his hips tightly, as their tongues twisted around each others. 

She struggled to breathe and found the button of his jeans, blindly opening it without conscious thought, just opening it, pulling them open, her fingers finding him hard, holding him, stroking him, and her eyes fluttered.

He pulled away from her mouth, closing his eyes to the feeling of her hands on him, his hands pushing her shirt up and over her head. 

He was still over her, her back against the seat, but the feeling of his hard dick in her hands drove her to lift herself up on her elbows, trying to get closer, closer.

He could sense what she wanted, and moved up her body, climbing over her, with her back leaning against the seat, he moved closer to her mouth. 

One last surging forward for both of them, and still holding his dick in her hands, sliding her fingers up and down it, he got closer to her mouth, until it was at her lips, barely touching them, her eyes fluttering, her lips opening, her tongue reaching.




Writer's Block



And with a thrust, he was inside her mouth, strong but gently, deeper, and she uttered a muffled sigh of pleasure and relief.

The feeling was like a glass of ice water in the desert, her bubbling tension, her cloudy head and eyes, her confusion — sliced through cleanly with that one thrust, this feeling of deliciousness.

And he pulled back now, out, and in, feeling her hot wet mouth around him, her lips working in a rhythm around his aching dick, her tongue chasing him, twirling around the tip, running back and forth under, sighing louder, louder.

Her first orgasm was amazing, but this one, this one coming, she could hear it thundering in the distance like a thousand horses stampeding, like this oncoming storm's clouds, she could feel the months of tension gathering at her center, tightening.

His hard dick fucked her mouth faster, his fingers in her hair, and she'd never given a blow job quite like this before but it was so erotic, so exactly what she needed. So dirty but gentle, under his control, her fingers tightening on his back under his shirt, her nails digging into his skin.

And still the rain pounded on the car, creating more of a mystical world than her mind already was in, and her insides clenched and shuddered feeling his fingers in her hair, sucking and licking and swallowing his dick, as she always dreamed of, always wanted to, harder, harder.

He was struggling to keep the pace, slow and rhythmic, with her mouth getting wetter, hotter, he wanted it faster, it was so good. So good, Her tongue was driving him crazy, —it never stopped. 

Twirling, teasing, it was as if she could read his mind and anytime he thought..."There, do it there," she was there already.

And just when he could barely take it he saw her eyes, her closed eyes fluttering, felt her sighing and moaning beneath him, could feel her hips softly bucking under him, and was amazed to realize she was going to come. Going to come hard. From giving him a blow job. It was so hot.

How could he stop now? She was so close. He could tell she was trying to control herself.

"Don't fight it," he whispered.

"Let it go. Remember, I told you. Feel what you're feeling. Revel in it," he said.

He slowed his movements in her mouth, and then gently, deeply, built them again, this time not slowing, going faster, and his thrusting deep into her mouth, harder, harder, harder, faster.

And it her then like a rolling wave, like the tide, greedy for more sand, starting with a long stretching yawn deep inside her pussy, the wringing out of all her built up tension, shuddering through her body up into her head, feeling it in her ankles, her back, her upward nipples, and she swallowed the deep moaning scream with his dick, and he was gently coaxing her through it to keep going.

"That's it, come on," he said. 

And now he had to stop, because he was going to come and he didn't want to yet.

He pulled away from her mouth and down her body, wanting to keep her going, he met her mouth with his, sucking on her tongue hard now, her hips rising, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands going under her skirt, finding her panties and pulling them down over her thigh high stockings, and away.

His fingers found her immediately, and he gasped with how soaking wet she was. She was drenched. Achingly wet.

"Told you," she whispered, closing her eyes.

He was going to tease her more, but once he felt that, there was no waiting. He moved between her legs, his hard, wet dick rubbing against her soaking pussy for just a moment and she thought she might faint.

He paused for just a second. Just long enough for both of them to visualize and anticipate what was about to happen. Just to let her shallow breathing pound through his equally fast-beating heart.

And then he moved, his fingers tightly on her thighs, and slid deeply inside her..

His eyes closed tightly with the sensation of her tight, hot pussy as he buried himself inside it, closing them or he might flutter himself, and her reaction was immediate and wild, her back arched, her gasping, bucking as he fucked her.

He fucked her slowly at first. He knew that cloudy look in her eyes and knew from that moment he saw it how she needed to be fucked. And he knew no one else could have done it. And he also knew, at that moment he saw it, he was going to.

Slowly, slowly he built her up.

"That's it, that's it, just like that," she whispered. He smiled.

"You feel my eyes on you now?" he said.

"Oh, God. Don't," she said.

And they were, his eyes. All over her. She could feel it. She opened her eyes to see him watching her back arch, watching her hard nipples gently bounce to his quickening thrusting in and out of her. 

He built her up for a while, over, and over, faster, faster, keeping her just ahead of that last, powerful time she was going to come.

And it was chasing her good, he could barely stay ahead of it. She sighed and moaned under him, shaking, whispering his name. She was so close. And it was good to concentrate on keeping her from it because it helped him stay ahead of his.

And then just like that, he lost sight of both of them. Lost control of it. Her hips were bucking too hard. She was too wet. The way she said his name unraveled his insides and then it wasn't about control. It was about fucking her as hard and as fast as he could.

Now he was chasing it instead, and caught hers hard, her fingers in her hair, pounding her fists on him, lasting long enough to have his catch up with it, and the last few minutes of him fucking her was seeing stars of his own, unrealized tension spiraling out of his insides like a tossed spool of brightly colored ribbon.

Both of them shuddering, coming down, breathing out, deeply, and he moved to sit up in the back seat and pulled her over him, and still hot against each other, she wrapped her useless arms around his neck and buried her face there.

They sat there for a time, just breathing. There weren't really words to say.

When he finally got out of the car, he was still a little shaky, and more than a little late.

The rain felt good on his face, and he turned to her, leaning against her driver's side door, her clothes getting soaked.

"Get back in. You're going to get all wet," he said. And she laughed then. Laughed for a while. 

She was still laughing to herself as he walked away, still out in the rain. He got far enough away that she couldn't really see him anymore, and he turned to look at her once more, standing next to the car.

She was looking up at the sky, singing, or laughing, or some kind of happy sounds, and the last of the storm's wrath was released as a deluge of powerful rain pounded down upon them.

She saw him watching, and blew him a kiss.

Then her hands reached up to the heavens, and he watched her sway, watched her dance, drenched in triumphant release.

The End.



Writer's Block



Sadie peeks into her husband, Charlie's open office door. She recognizes the signs immediately. The blank computer screen and the vacant stare means only one thing-- writer's block. In addition to his best selling novels, Charlie likes to write erotic stories and read them to her while she fucks herself with the dildo. It always leads to some of their best sex but with the work of the new book, they haven't had very much time to indulge in one of their "sessions." Sadie had grown so aroused when he had announced that he was off to write one and now she feels disappointed. But she has an idea to inspire him.

Without a word she walks into the office and spins his desk chair to face her. He looks at her in surprise but know his wife well enough to ask questions. She unbuttons her blouse so that her ample breasts are just visible and reaches up to let her hair cascade down from its tidy bun. Charlie's eyes widen as she begins to sway her body to music that only she can hear. He reaches a hand out to caress the skin between her tits but she moves away teasingly. With a small smile, she continues dancing erotically while she slowly peels the clothes from her body. His breathing quickens at the sight of her tits bouncing from her dance. She doesn't miss a beat as the last lacy scrap of her clothing hits the floor. He stands up to take her in his arms but she shakes her head "no" and begins running her hands up and down her nude body.

Sadie can see the bulge of his erection as she lifts her tit up to suck her own nipple. She moans a bit at the sensations she is creating for herself. Her pussy grows hot with desire. With one finger, she runs it along the lips between her legs to catch the wetness gathered there. Charlie takes a deep gulp of air when she lifts the finger to his lips and traces them with her juices. He takes it in his mouth and sucks it greedily. Running his tongue around his lips to collect all of her sweet taste, he again tries to pull her to him. She backs away and points to the computer. "No, you write. I want the hottest, steamiest story you've ever written tonight. I'll be in the jacuzzi...entertaining myself." She turns and leaves him gawking after her. She smiles with satisfaction when she immediately hears the sound of his fingers flying over the keys on the keyboard.

Sadie gets out every candle they own and sets them burning around the hot tub. She sets the timer and settles herself down into the bubbling water. The jets massage her body into a state of relaxation. She leans her head back and closes her eyes. Reaching down, she takes a breast in each hand and rubs them softly. A moan escapes her lips at the feeling of the bubbles massaging her ass. She allows her body to float up a bit and her clit is now getting the force of the jet. Rubbing her tits harder, she presses back against the wall of the tub. The water has worked her clit into a throbbing nub and the juices of her desire are flowing freely, mixing with the water. Her moans become louder. She wants a cock inside her now! She grabs the long dildo behind her and thrusts it into her needy cunt. With a contented sigh, she begins fucking herself roughly with the dildo. The bubbles on her nipples feel like the light flicker of a lover's tongue. She can feel the onset of an orgasm building inside her. She angles the cock so that it is grinding her clit as it moves in and out of her. Her feet are planted firmly on the concrete bottom of the tub and her body is tensed in preparation for the coming climax. She thrusts the dildo deep inside as she cums. Her clit contracts and her body relaxes as the sensations inside her wind down.

Slowly she opens her eyes and finds herself looking at her husband. He is still completely clothes but the button and zipper of his jeans are undone. He has his cock in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. Sadie can feel her pussy growing hot again at the sight before her. She steps out of the tub and walks over to her husband. Dropping down on her knees before him she takes his throbbing rod between her wet hands and starts a slow massage. She sucks the drop of salty precum from his tip. He thrusts his hips forward, forcing himself deep into her mouth. Sadie begins to suck and lick his dick eagerly. She loves giving him blow jobs. The power that she have over him when she takes him into her mouth is an aphrodisiac. She looks up directly into his eyes as he fucks her mouth. She feels his cock grow even harder as he moves deeper into her throat. His increasingly ragged breath tells her how close to cumming he is. She gives one last long lick from his balls to the tip of his dick and gets on her feet.

Sadie watches him as he rids himself of his clothes. His movements are graceful and slow despite his lust. Button by button, he reveals the chest that she has laid her head on so many times for comfort. As he removes his shirt, she thinks back to the many times she has teased his nipples until he begged her to stop. Her eyes travel to his long fingers. Those fingers have typed some of the most erotic stories she's ever read. Those fingers have stroked her body to unbelievable heights of passion. She longs to run her tongue up and around each and every one of them.

She reaches down and picks up the piece of paper that her husband had let flutter to the ground while she was pleasuring him. She feels the wetness in her cunt developing again as she reads his tale of a husband's surprise for his timid wife. The fictitious husband found his wife's private journal only to find the she used the book to write her sexual fantasies in. Sadie begins to rub a hand over her tits as she reads how the wife came home to find a beautiful naked woman tied to their bed. Charlie had described the teasing and lovemaking in exquisite detail. The evidence of the success of his story was trickling down Sadie's thighs.

He kneels down in front of Sadie and runs his tongue along her dripping slit. He feels her shaky legs threatened to buckle underneath her when his tongue touches her throbbing clit. Pulling her gently down on the cold concrete, he opens her legs as wide as they will go. He begins to kiss the lips of her pussy as he would her mouth. He takes quick little nibbles of clit, drawing loud moans from deep inside her. He slips one finger inside her and rubs her g-spot. Sadie takes her nipples between her fingers and twists them brutally. The painful feeling mixed with the pleasure of his mouth pushes her over the edge. She clamps her thighs tightly around his head as she cums hard against his mouth and fingers.

Charlie doesn't allow her time to recover. He turns her over and helps Sadie onto all fours. Kneeling behind her, he jams his cock roughly into her cum swollen pussy. The concrete bites painfully into her knees as he slams in and out of her violently. She pushes back to meet his thrusts when he reaches under and strokes her clit between his fingers. His balls are slapping hard against her ass. She feels his body as it tenses behind her. He pulls out just as his cock starts shooting its hot load. He rubs it up and down the back of her, painting her ass with his cum.

Charlie leans over and begins to clean her with his tongue. Once her ass is fully tongue-bathed. he lays down on his back to pay attention to her pussy. Pulling her down on his face, he laps hungrily at her sweet cunt. She reaches down and plays with her clit while he fucks her with his tongue. She feels her climax drawing nearer and buries his face with her cunt. His fingers replace his tongue, tickling her g-spot with every stroke. Sadie's orgasm hits her so forcefully that she lets an animal scream loose.

They get up and tiredly walk hand in hand to their bedroom. Holding each other, they drift off to sleep. Sadie dreams of Charlie's next story. Charlie dreams of what it would be like if Sadie did the writing. Maybe next time?



Writer's Block



The white page of a new Word document stared back at Karen in defiance, daring her to write something, anything. Glancing away from her laptop, she stared at the candle burning to its right, just above her mousepad. Karen hated using touchpads. She was a mouse and mousepad kind of girl. Even if she was setting up her laptop in a Starbucks, she need space for a mouse and its pad. She moved the slightly askewed pointer across the screen, drawing circles and diagonals while waiting for inspiration. 

A short glass and a half empty bottle of Tennessee whiskey sat to the left of her computer. She tipped the bottle, added a finger's depth of liquid amber to her glass, and took a small sip. The familiar burn inside her throat warmed her without loosening her muted muse. The candle and the square bottle of sour mash whiskey were new additions to her writer desk. Sooner or later, something would break through. She wiggled the mouse, up and down, in a circle, and across the bottom of the page and thought about how many historic authors were alcoholics. 

Fuck, she typed and when that felt good, she wrote it again and again. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! That felt better. She wouldn't save a word of it, of course. None of the words mattered, only the sensation of fingertips tapping on keys. The cadence and rhythm of moving her fingers mattered more than the words she wrote. 

fuckfuckfuck... fuckfuckfuckfuck 

Karen giggled, emptied her glass of its whiskey and kept going. She wrote words she would never keep for the exercise of writing words.





Writer's Block



Jessica padded barefoot across the carpeted den, stopping behind her master's chair. 

He kept his eyes on his laptop.

Jessica wrapped her pale arms around her master's neck, nuzzling his cheek.

He turned, looked at her. Smiled.

"It's a little bit past your bedtime, honey. I'm just finishing up here."

"But I miss you, daddy," Jessica said. "It's so lonely in bed."

Jessica's eyes flicked to the screen. A video: her, bound and gagged and bent over the living room couch. Her master, swatting her ass red.

Her master wore headphones, but Jessica was close enough to hear. Moans of pleasure as he beat the young student's ass with both hands.

They had filmed the video two days ago. Jessica was still sore.

Jessica rubbed the bulge in her master's pants. 

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, daddy," she whispered. "Let me suck you."

Jessica's master looped a finger through the collar around her neck and dragged her into a kiss. He bit her lip.

"Ask properly."

Jessica felt heat between her legs. She knelt, her auburn hair tumbling to her shoulders.

"Please can I suck your cock, daddy?"

Her master stood, tugged his pants down, greeted Jessica with the center of her world. She kissed its tip, swirled her tongue around the first inch.

He unplugged his headphones and turned up the volume on the video. Jessica heard her own gagged shrieks as she teased her master's cock, bobbing back and forth on the tip of his shaft.

Her master did not want to play. Jessica felt his hand guide her further and she closed her eyes in surrender.

"Good girl," her master cooed. He held Jessica steady, thrusting into her mouth.

Jessica could feel the heat between her legs turning into moisture. She opened her throat to push after push.

Soon her master's full length plunged into Jessica with every thrust. She gagged loudly, pumping drool onto the fat member.

"You're a fucking whore," she heard her master say. He said similar things on the screen, where he was now - Jessica knew because she had exploded at this point - licking her asshole between bouts of dirty talk.

"You're a whore and you look like one, Jessica," the man inside her mouth said. Jessica pictured what an outsider would see: a lithe, short girl in skin-tight yoga pants facefucked by a man twice her size.

She wanted him back in her ass more than anything. Her master hit a rich vein Jessica didn't know she had the first time he fucked her there.

He was too busy violating her mouth to think about much else. He kept holding her nose to the bottom of his shaft for longer and longer. Jessica, still retching, felt deliciously helpless.

Both hands were on the back of Jessica's head now, forcing her to fight for breath around her master's cock. She felt dizzy.

Her master felt it. Jessica's hands were slipping from his thighs.

"Don't you fucking dare pass out, Jessica."

This was the point when Jessica usually did. Most times she would revive, her face covered in semen and her master back to work or already in bed or out of the house. Those were the days the slave girl would spread her legs wide and masturbate like an animal, slapping her pussy to coax countless orgasms out of her tired body.

"Don't, honey, DON'T. Just hold on."

Jessica's eyes were still closed, but she couldn't keep them from rolling back in her head. She focused on the sounds in the video - a helpless young woman wailing as eight fat inches of cock plunged into her asshole.

"That's it, that's it, that's - Ugh!"

Suddenly Jessica could breath again. She gulped air as her master jerked his cock.

The young girl knew better than to open her eyes. Within seconds she felt hot ropes of cum plaster her porcelain face, tangle in her hair and pool in her open mouth.

Her master groaned as he tugged the last of his load out onto Jessica. He grabbed his nearby smartphone and snapped photos of the sight below him.

Jessica smiled, unaware of the photo opportunity. 

Emboldened by her good luck, the young girl turned and dove face first into the carpet, smearing it with her master's cum. She pulled her pants down to her slender feet and shoved her dripping pussy in the air.

"Please eat my ass, daddy," she moaned. "You can spank me until I bleed."

Her master started recording Jessica's pleas on his phone. She had already dug two fingers inside herself, and juice dripped onto her curling toes below.

Jessica almost came when she felt her master kneel behind her. He spread her asscheeks apart and breathed hot air onto her tiny rosebud. Somehow she dug deeper into the carpet.

He circled the hole with his tongue and felt Jessica's ass start contracting.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god YES," she yelled when her master's tongue finally grazed the most sensitive spot on her body. Jessica attacked her pussy. She felt a squirting orgasm build inside her.

Her master worshipped Jessica's ass long enough to get his cock rock solid once more. He had 100 pounds on her but could barely hold her down, she squirmed so much.

Jessica knew to stay still when she felt the hard slaps on her ass. But she was too far gone to care. She sawed an entire hand across her clit, dumping girl-cream onto her wrinkled soles.

"DADDY DADDY DADDY I'M -- UH."

Jessica felt carpet burn. Her master had slipped a finger into her ass, which was desperately clenching and unclenching around it. Jessica's tongue lolled out of her mouth. Rational thought left her.

"I'M FUCK ASS DADDY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Her master watched Jessica crumple and drench the carpet in her cum. He never let up his slaps on her ass.

Jessica saw stars. Then she felt cock pressing against her asshole.

"Daddy -"

Then she did, finally, pass out.



Writers' Block



I am a victim of Writers' Block.

Not the version most people know. I am not a writer whose muse has deserted him. I don't have a problem with fresh material to write about or some new, clever way to entertain the vast, unwashed masses. I don't have a problem putting words on paper, or more likely, into some form of word processor.

I don't have these problems because basically, I don't write.

My neighbors do.

I live on a block populated with writers. Neophyte wannabes, published veterans, alter egos hidden behind nom de plumes. And I am their victim.

Next door to me is Adrienne -- all these names will be fictitious, mostly to protect me, from them -- a Paranormal Romance writer wannabe. She aspires to the greatness accorded authors like Laurell K. Hamilton, or Sherrilyn Kenyon, or Nora Robert and J. D. Robb (same difference). And she isn't shy about regaling anyone who will listen with unending discourse about her fantastic new fantasy world and her latest plot within it, both cobbled together from scenes and stories of her idols.

On the other side is James. He was born in the wrong century. He fancies himself the next Zane Grey, extolling the virtues of writing about the Wild West the way he thinks it was.

Behind me, across the alley, is Jennifer. She used to be a successful romance novelist back in the 50's, when True Confessions and Popular Love were the preferred way to break into publishing, but the pills and the booze did a number on her and now it seems she's still living in her glory days, imagining a vast array of adoring fans.

On one side of Jennifer is Stephen, who considers himself a cross between Arthur C. Clarke, Ray Bradbury and Robert A. Heinlein -- essentially, God's gift to Science Fiction. He claims some of his best ideas were stolen for Star Trek episodes and whatever the popular Sci-Fi film of the month is. He keeps talking about how he is going to learn from L. Ron Hubbard and start his own religion, so he can retire.

On the other side of Jennifer are Selma and Henry. They used to co-write adult books for Greenleaf Classics and Liverpool Library. They think "Bondage on a Budget" is one of the cleverest books ever written and they still regularly skinny-dip in their backyard pool.

And all six of these people think my backyard patio and barbeque grill is the ideal place to spend a warm Spring/Summer/Fall evening, eating my food, drinking my booze and talking until dawn.

To be fair, there are four other houses on our block. Their occupants like to come around when the writers aren't there to crab, complain, bitch and moan about the writers. But they're a different story. They're artists.

Like the other day... I came home from my 9 to 5 at the newspaper -- I print them, I don't write them -- to find the delivery van from my local package goods store ready to pull away. I'm a fairly good customer and I know the driver, so I waved and called over, "How's it going, Pete?"

He waves back and tells me, "just great, Mr. Smith," -- I'm not about to use my real name, either -- "I just put it on your tab." And he drove off.

Put what on my tab? I thought as I headed into the house, getting a little concerned, and with good reason. There were four aluminum beer kegs on my back deck that I didn't order. Big ones. I pretty much guessed that they came from the seven people clustered around my grill, from which I could see smoke rising. Which is a bad sign, because it's a gas grill.

Six of them were the usual suspects. The one I didn't recognize was a guy decked out in biker leather. You know, chaps over jeans, muscle shirt, tattoos and a Marlon Brando hat. He was standing with Selma and Henry while she showed him her latest tattoo -- the words "jIHvaD roS" on her shaved mons. She was explaining that it meant "lick me" in Klingon and Stephen was arguing that it wasn't really Klingon but an Anglicized version of it, while James was ogling her nudity and Adrienne was trying to get a better look at the werewolf and vampire tattooed on Selma's ass.

When Jennifer asked "anyone want to see my tattoo?" and started opening her blouse, I walked over to the police whistle which I keep by the door for such emergencies.

It only took one blast to get their attention -- and to let the artists know not to come over.

"Okay," I asked pointedly, staring at the crowd, "who the fuck is that?"

"Oh, hi, Eddie!" Adrienne greeted me, standing up from Selma's ass cheek inspection. "This is Marvin, my new boyfriend. Marvin, meet Eddie Smith -- my neighbor."

"Cool man..." were the first and almost only words out of his mouth. "Nice pad..." I could smell the dope from twenty feet away.

"Thank you," I told him curtly. "Is there some reason you are all over here on a Thursday night? And will someone please put out the steaks?" I could see they'd nearly reached black.

"Oh! Yeah... sorry," James told me as he turned his attention away from Selma's naked body, to dousing the burning meat with a dry chemical fire extinguisher. "I was supposed to be watching them."

"It's the Walpurgisnacht Concordance, Eddie," Adrienne informed me. "That's why we've invited our local Writers' Guild to come over and watch it."

"It's the what?" I asked. I'd get to the "we invited the Writers' Guild" part in a minute.

"The Walpurgisnacht Concordance, silly," Adrienne told me, like I should know what she was talking about. "When Mars and Venus and the Moon and Uranus and the Earth all come into conjunction -- it's supposed to instill insanity and strange behaviour like Walpurgisnacht does -- you know, the German Witches' Night festival?"

"And I would detect these changes in behavior how?" I asked.

"Hey, Eddie... would you like to see my tattoo?" Jennifer asked me as she walked towards me with her big old tits flopping out of her blouse and a faded red rose jouncing around on one of them.

"Hmmm... good point," Adrienne acknowledged.

"So this Concorde thing is supposed to make people crazy... How many people did you invite over to partake in this revel?" I asked. I was beginning to think that a preemptive call to the police SWAT team was in order.

"Hey, Eddie!" Selma called over. "Have you got a hairbrush? I want to show Marvin what happens when the Werewolf and Vampire get punished!"

"Not at the moment," I told her, then turned my attention back to Adrienne. "How many?" I iterated.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Jennifer told me, reaching me and throwing her cushy arms around my neck and pushing her boobs into my chest. "It's only a couple dozen or so... and their S-O's."

I was trying to figure where I was going to put fifty people in my backyard when a voice called over from the service door of my garage.

"Hey! Where do you want the band?"

The... Band??? I turned to see a bunch of guys hauling amplifiers and drum cases through the garage.

"Over in the corner by the utility box is fine," Henry told them. "You can plug into the service tap... it isn't metered."

That's when the rental company showed up with the tables.

I decided I needed to go back inside and take a shit-load of Valium with something that was a lot more alcohol and a lot less mixer than I usually have. And discovered the people in my kitchen, preparing food. Food which, apparently, I had bought. My other contribution to the evening's festivities.

I grabbed a tall tumbler and filled it two-thirds rum and one third orange juice, then headed upstairs to my medicine chest... and found the naked couple screwing on my bed.

"Would you please close the door?" the guy buried to the hilt missionary-style with the stacked redhead asked me, with a bit of an attitude. Like I was inconveniencing them.

"Excuse me," I pointed out. "My house, my bedroom."

"Oh. Sorry..." he told me as he picked up the leggy broad and waddled to the edge of the bed, then stood up and walked across the hall to the guest bedroom without missing a stroke. "Would you toss us our clothes?"

"No," I told him and walked into my bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I was about to play host to an orgy of demented psychos and I had to go to work the next day. I thought about calling in sick, but last time I did that, work sent someone out to check on me and when they saw the aftermath of the last party, they had me involuntarily confined for observation for three days because of their great concern that I had gone berserk and tried to trash my house, and should be considered a danger to the community.

And they wouldn't listen when I tried to tell them what really happened. They just figured I was trying to cover my butt, like any clever sociopath would. So calling in to work was out. Tomorrow was going to hurt. In the meantime...

My phone rang.

I grabbed the bottle of Valium and walked out to answer it. It was my artist neighbor, Jan.

"Eddie," she chided me, "if you're going to throw a party, you could at least invite the rest of us."

"It isn't me," I tried to tell her. "It's the Writers' Guild."

"What, you have something against the Art League?" she demanded. "If you're going to invite the Writers, you should at least extend the invitation to the Artists. What are you celebrating, anyway?"

"The Walpurgisnacht Concordance?" I told her, hoping I got it right.

"Oh, yeah!" she suddenly sparkled. "That' right, it's tonight! Thanks! And I'll spread the word..."

She hung up and I stood there looking at the phone. When the thing started beeping at me, I put it back on its cradle.

Maybe, if I pack a bag, I thought, and throw my valuables in the trunk, I could make it to Denver before sunup. That should be well clear of Ground Zero...

"Oh, sorry, man..." The naked guy was back. "We need to get our clothes."

He and the equally naked redhead walked on in and grabbed their stuff, then walked over to me. Naked Guy held out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Gary," he told me. "High Point Writers' Guild. Only a couple of years."

I took his hand and shook it. I didn't know what else to do. "Eddie Smith, groundskeeper," I told him.

"Cool," he nodded and dropped my hand. Naked Lady walked up and gave me a huge hug. And an arms around the neck kiss.

"Glad to meet you, Eddie Smith Groundskeeper," she told me. "I'm Angie. High Point Writers' Guild. Five years."

"Likewise, I'm sure," I told her then watched as the two of them swaggered their way out into the hall.

"Is this the coatroom?" a middle-aged woman asked from the doorway.

"No," I told her, "the coat closet is downstairs, by the front door."

"Oh, that one is full," she informed me. "I thought there would be extra space upstairs."

"Across the hall," I pointed. And took another long pull on my drink. My car was probably blocked in by now. Maybe my motorcycle...

"Hi, Eddie!" Jan greeted me as she entered the bedroom, closed and locked the door. "Gettin' any?"

"Any what?" I answered with a nod. "Older? Yes. More frustrated? Yes. More pissed off? Yes."

"Sex," she added. "With all the tail runnin' around here, I figured you were in the bedroom for a reason. Is somebody in the bathroom?"

"Nope," I told her. "Feel free." As she walked in, I sat down on the bed, putting the pill bottle on the nightstand and started rubbing my temples. A migraine was the last thing I needed right now. And the fact that the band started up right then wasn't helping things any. I was about ready to go get some hearing protection from my gun safe when Jan came out of the bathroom.

"Hey, let me do that," she told me, sliding into the bed and pulling me back onto her lap so she could rub my head -- and smother me with her tits.

If any of my neighbors is going to be the death of me, it's Jan. She's divorced, mid-thirties and built like a brick shithouse. She has the most massive rack I've ever seen that was still above the navel. She had to be like a double-E or something. On a petite frame. With curly red hair, green eyes and a terminally cute smile. And I had avoided sex with her like the plague. She had "voracious" written all over her.

Not that she didn't do anything for me... I'm an intact, red-blooded American male. I just figured dying prematurely from a heart attack was inelegant. But when she bent over me with those double-E's dangling in my face, I started to have a change of heart. That's when someone pounded on the door.

I groaned and started to get up.

"No, you stay there," Jan told me and scooted out from under me, going over to the door, unlocking it and opening it, to find Henry standing there in his Speedo -- not a pretty sight -- holding a couple of hot dogs and beers, and ketchup and mustard bottles.

"Hi," he said, mostly to Jan's tits. "Thought you and whoever was with you, Eddie, might want a bite to eat." He began to offer the food to Jan.

For the record, I will swear that it was an accident. I have no reason to believe that Henry dumped the ketchup all over Jan's blouse on purpose. He did offer to lick it up, though. She just took the food, pushed him back and closed the door.

"I'll get a washcloth or something," I told her, but she told me to forget it, she'd convert it to one of her painting shirts. Pre-stained and all that. She dabbed up most of it, then decided to resume massaging my temples.

The band was loud and really getting to me, so I told her to hang on a second while I got some earplugs. Of course, I couldn't find them where they should have been, so I ended up dragging out the range bag and sifting through it, putting my M1911 on the nightstand and rummaging around until I found a packet of foam plugs. I kicked the bag out of the way, put in the plugs and laid back on her marvelous lap.

After awhile, I figured a half an Imitrex and a Valium or two were in order, and gave a couple to Jan as well, washed down with rum and beer. Being a bit looped, a few minutes later I started petting her thighs as she rubbed my head. That got a favorable response, so I got more daring. I moved up to pet her pussy through her panties and discovered she wasn't wearing any.

"You're hesitating," she informed me as I did, indeed, stop short. I guess that was all the encouragement I needed. I moved over on top of her, hiked up her skirt and went down on her.

Not to toot my own horn, but... I'm pretty good with my hands and my mouth, and once I zeroed in on her clit and her G-spot, I got her off like gangbusters. And not just once. I discovered she was the dictionary definition of multiorgasmic. I must've gotten her off a couple dozen times, maybe more, before she told me "enough!" and I stopped, while she virtually passed out, sprawled right where she was on the bed.

I moved back over by the nightstand, intending to take one more Valium and finish my drink before taking a forced nap to escape the revelers. Unfortunately, I spilled the damn pill bottle. Just one more thing to go wrong in a day. That's when the local constabulary burst into the room -- a Disturbing the Peace complaint of all things.

What they saw, though, was me sitting on the edge of the bed with a drink in one hand, my head in the other, my pistol on the nightstand, pills scattered all over and a half-naked woman sprawled on the bed with red all over her chest.

My lawyer says that I can get out of jail once Jan comes out of the coma she got shocked into by the sudden arrival of the SWAT guys, and can testify that I wasn't doing anything criminal or even perverted to her.

I hate writers.



Writer's Block



Funny feeling, isn't it, when you bust a tough one? Triumph sure. Maybe a little secret relief that you pulled it off. But there's a fine sweet sadness in there, too, because the golden moment is behind you. For a moment in there you were God . . . And now you are a guy who used to be God for a minute, and will be again some day. ~ Mike Callahan

*

The woman sat at her computer desk staring at the screen. She had her coffee on one side, her cigar on the other, and sat waiting for the inspiration to hit. Having just finished one story she wondered what the next one would be about. For some reason she never knew what was going to come from her fingers till she started typing. As always, when she finished a story, she felt a wave of depression roll over her. The same questions, "Was it good enough? Would anyone like it?" rolled through her until her world centered on them. 

The only way she was able to get out of the rut was to force her self to start writing again. Once a new story started, the joy of writing would take over and she would feel as if she were flying. Taking a sip of her coffee she heard the voice that she knew would come, "You know they don't understand." Not looking up she pretended to not hear the voice. It was a game they had played many times before. "No one understands." The voice prodded her as if picking an old wound that would not heal.

"No one understands." She agreed not looking up. "They never do, not even the other writers." Lighting her cigar, she savors its smoky flavor and the rush as the nicotine hits her system. Taking another sip of her coffee, "can we just say we played the rest of the game and skip it today?" She paused and then added, "I am not up to it anymore."

The voice replied in a childlike voice, "Wadda matter? Liddle writer in the downy dumps?" 

The woman looked up to the heavens as if speaking to the gods, "Why is it, everyone gets a helpful muse, while I get one with a twisted sense of humor?" She quickly adds, "Don't answer that." After a while she asks, "Why? Why am I cursed so?"

She could almost feel the gentle touch of a hand stroking her hair as the voice answered, "It is the curse that goes along with your writing abilities. To write you have to put your heart and soul into every word. Nothing held back, no reserve to keep safe; you have to lay your soul open for the words to flow."

Closing her eyes she felt the tears fall, "I'm just so tired. Tired of getting hurt, tired of the hate, the scorn, you're not good enough mindset." She rested her head on her crossed arms in front of the keyboard, "Why can't I just write and be like others. It's not fair damn it."

She could not feel the hand stroking her back but knew it would be there if her muse were real, "Life is not fair, you know that. I wish. . . I wish I could take the pain away. I wish I could make your life where you could write without opening up. But, I can not. We both know that."

Looking up she said, "Ohh I know some will not like, some will not understand and that will make them hate it, while few will enjoy the story." Shaking her head sadly she looked at her hands and said softly, "I just wished they understood."

"I know you do and perhaps one day they will. But, be that as it may, it will not change anything," the voice replied sadly. The voice paused, "No matter what you say or do people will love or hate your work. No one and I mean no one ever has written a story that everyone loved." The voice sighed, "The only way past this is to start writing again." There was a long pause and she thought that the muse had left her to her cup of woe once more. But no it was not to be, "let me help you."

Without any control on her part the woman started typing. It had been 20 years since the story broke about two brothers making an artificial person that once activated and assimilated into society was indictable from normal humans. Once it was found out that an AP could be made to pass through the world without anyone realizing, they soon flooded the market. It reached the point where you would never know if you were talking to an artificial or flesh and blood human. It is in this world that our story starts.

The voice said, "There, that should help you." 

She sat there looking at the words on the screen and in her mind's eye the story unfolded. With a slight smile on her face she started typing, the depression lifting as her spirit once more soared. A few minutes later she said softly, "Thank you Carol," and could almost hear her dead sister's reply, "Your welcome."



Writer's Block



"Aw JEEEEZE!!" I shrieked when the ice-cold touch of the tin can touched the back of my neck, releasing me from the trance I had been in looking at the p.c.'s screen as if the words would type themselves.  "Sorry!" she giggled, not really being sorry for getting my attention in her usual way. Her bare arm reached around my peripheral view and set the Pepsi down on the cork coaster beside the empty can that had been drained an hour earlier. "Whatcha working on?" she said, slowly combing my hair with her fingernails.

"I just can't figure out a way to get these two chapters connected," I told her without turning my gaze away from the screen. "They're related, but I just can seem to find the link to make one flow after the other."

Massaging the kinks out of my shoulders, she leaned over and teasingly licked the back of my neck, the damp spot left by the condensation from the Pepsi can. I felt a sudden tickle that didn't feel like a tongue, so I brushed my hand back, but caught only thin air. Then, just as my fingers resumed the familiar 'home key' posture, that tickle hit me again... in two different spots at the same time. Her hands touched the sides of my head then and pulled me back.

"Mmmmm..." I moaned, suddenly realizing that she was topless. I rested my head in the valley of her breasts as her hands returned to the tightness between my shoulder blades. "Looks like another writer's block today!" I said, spinning around on Granny's old piano stool that I use instead of a chair when I'm working. (Somehow forcing myself to be uncomfortable when I write, makes it easier to focus on the writing.) I planted my face where the back of my head had been, and noticed that her breasts weren't the only part of her that was bare. The only thing she was wearing was that smile... that sexy smile that makes me melt.

"Yup... writer's block for sure today!" I whispered, touching each of her breasts with each of my hands, then cupping them firmly, but gently. Still squeezing, I softly kissed each hardened nipple in turn. The bulge in my cut-off sweat pants was quickly becoming just as hard as those bits between my lips. My hands slid down her sides to her smooth legs, then slowly roamed to her thighs, then to her butt, while my mouth remained content enjoying the 'appetizer' of this fine meal she had obviously been preparing. Her fingers kept combing my hair, holding my head tight against her chest. She moaned sweetly, and without looking, I could tell she had dipped her head back with her eyes closed.

I moved my hands to the small of her back, and locked my fingers together. Just holding her then. My cheek riding the ebb and flow of her breathing; the thunder of her heart beat filling my ear. Just wanted to hold her like that... cherishing the memories of things we haven't even experienced yet... like hand-in-hand walks at sunset through the gently rolling surf as it inches its way to high tide... body-to-body slow dancing to familiar tunes ("Unchained Melody" and "I Know You're Out There Somewhere" and "Sounds of Silence" and "Peaceful Easy Feeling"...) 

"Are you ready for the 'main course' Babes?" she whispered, reaching around her to take my hands. She kissed me lightly on the lips then as I stood up to embrace her with the full force of my strength. My favorite blue pocket tee-shirt slipped over my head and landed on the floor in front of the television as that commercial for Johnson's Baby Shampoo rambled on unnoticed. Bare chests now feeling each other's heart beats, our gazes froze on each other as if we were having the exact same thought at exactly the same time: "No more tears."

She kissed me quick then, and gently broke free of our embrace. She strolled to the coffee table in front of the sofa and bent over straight-legged to pick up the remote, all the while keeping her stare on me and licking a finger. The baby shampoo ad ended in a sudden blip on the darkened television screen. She slowly stood and faced me, then beckoned me to her with that curled index finger come-hither motion. Shirtless and barefoot, with a tent for a crotch in my cut-offs, I hurried those few steps and picked her up, cradling her as though she was a bride crossing a threshold for the first time.

She giggled all the way to the bedroom, arms wrapped around my neck, legs swinging alternately at the knees. She had been preparing 'dinner' that was for sure. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim, flickering light cast by at least fifty candles; reds placed all around the room, white ones on the nightstand. The bed's down comforter was carpeted with rose pedals... whites, pinks, reds. And her feminine scent hung in the air like that familiar fragrance at the cosmetic counter of any fine department store. 

I laid her on the bed in the same way someone might lay a delicate flower on a park bench. Her eyes followed my hands as I slipped my cut-offs to my ankles and stepped out of them. We met again in a tight embrace, tongues dancing in each other's mouths. She was by this time not just combing my hair with her fingernails, she was digging my scalp. My mouth went back to the 'appetizers' briefly, then suddenly, she pulled my face back into view of her own.

"Uh-uh... you've already had the appetizers... dinner is served!" she said, pushing my head to the top of her spread legs. Her smooth and trimmed pubic patch, glistening with her wetness, greeted my hungry lips... and I dined.

Fine dining... and even second-helpings of this meal wasn't enough. Her clitoris was like a piece of hard candy between my lips and against my tongue. A sweet piece of candy that could be sucked through eternity without getting any smaller. The hot, damp tunnel inside swallowed my probing, darting mouth organ to the point that I thought I would surely suffocate with my nose pressed against her in order that my tongue could slip deeper inside. Her labia quivered as my wide licks swiped them repeatedly from her butt to her clitoris, then suddenly, her womanhood wasn't the only thing quaking. Her legs bent at the knees, and enclosed my head like a vise... her back arched and her butt bounced on the rolling waves of the waterbed. Her fingers clawed my neck and shoulders... reaching without success to drag themselves across my back. Then, without warning, I felt my head snap back, freeing my face from the soft wetness between her clenched thighs. She screamed.

"HAVE SOME DESSERT... NOW!!! DAMMIT!!!"

I mounted her shivering flesh and penetrated her, slowly and deeply. Then withdrawing just as slowly. Just barely all the way outside, I plunged again, not much faster. Then withdrew to nearly all the way out again, then plunged hard, and deep. Faster and faster my jabs went, tingling sensations building in my sac, then with one last hard dive, I exploded inside her wet warmth ...

And, like those old Maxwell House coffee ads, her tight squeezes made sure it was "good to the last drop" ... 

# # #



Writer's Block



It was one of the hottest days of the year and I was sitting in my air conditioned apartment staring at the computer screen trying to think of something erotic to write. But I was having the worst case of writer's block of my career. I would start a story and then couldn't finish because I just wasn't inspired by the plot, the characters or the worst thing of all for an erotic writer- the sex.. It was becoming frustrating but the only saving grace was that I had nothing to do out side and a stack of menus to order in because I had no intention of going out in that heat.

As I stared at the white screen with the taunting cursor blinking at me, I was startled out of my trance by the sound of my apartment intercom. I hit the talk button and asked, "Who is it?"

I was greeted with an enthusiastic, "It's Meeeee!!!"

I buzzed the bell and then unlatched my front door and went back to my desk chair to stair at the screen again.

A few minutes later, the bell rang and I yell out that the door is open come in. I heard the door open and then a giggle and then a voice that asked, "Where are you?"

Over here I said as she turned the corner of the vestibule and walked over to me sitting at my computer.

"Oh it's so cool in here; I knew I had to come over her because my apartment is a hotbox."

"No problem. Grab a seat and watch some TV while I try to finish this story I am working on."

She looked at the blank screen and gave me a quizzical look, "Finish? It doesn't look like you even started."

She leaned over my shoulder and for the first time I noticed her outfit.

"Damn, girl. How did make it between your apartment and over here without getting attacked. That outfit is sick."

She laughed and said, "What do you mean?"

Then she sat on my couch and looked at me and then she leaned back and stretched. Mere words fail me as I try to think of ways to describe what was sitting in front of me. She is about 5'6 inches tall and aptly described as "thick as a chocolate snickers". She had on a baby blue cotton sweat suit that hugged every inch of her voluptuous body. The sweat top was zippered about half way down her and barely contained her 36 DD breasts and then as you look down you see her small waist flare into these beautiful hips and absolutely incredible ass.

So as she stretched cat like in front of me on my couch I just stared as her huge tits just jutted out and up into the air. The cool air of my apartment caused her large nipple to grow erect and the sight was such a rarity that I consciously said to my self remember this picture because you wont see its likes again.

When she finished stretch she sighed softly and said in a light voice barely audible, "I'm horny."

I was about to say something but I pretended that I didn't hear what she said and turned around and went back to my writing or really a blank screen.

"Hey!! What's so important that you can't pay attention to me? I came all the way over here to see you and you paying more attention to the computer than me." She said as her mouth put on a little pout.

"You came over because of the air conditioning beside I am trying write this story and you interrupted me." I said to her slightly teasing.

"Turn around," she commanded which I did and then slowly pulling her zipper down she exposed more of her ample bosom as more and more of her black bra became exposed.

"Are you telling some stupid little dirty story is more important than this?" and the zipper descent seemed go on forever as it slid down and the opening of her sweat shirt just widened as the blue of the straining sweatshirt was replaced by the chocolate of her skin barely covered by her lacy Victoria Secret bra.

My dick was so hard now that I couldn't wait to jump all over her but I nonchalantly acted as if was not a big deal. As I turn around I was hit in the back of the head with a sweatshirt.

"Don't act like you don't want some of this." She said in a way that made me turn back around and she was standing in front of me with just her black bra on and her tight baby blue sweatpants.

"It's alright" I said but this time I pulled into me and my face was right at her tits as I stared up past them and my hand around her hips and on her ass.

My hands roam over her ass as I made and out line from the small of her back to the back of her leg. Her ass defied gravity as it jutted out and then came in at all the right angles. Not an ounce of fat on her, she was truly a physical specimen.

"Kiss me," I said to her as she leaned down to gently peck my lips but I grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her lips into mine as she let out a soft moan and then our tongues swirled each playing and dancing as we turned the other on.

I broke the kiss so that I could get the rest of her clothes off of her. I stood up and moved my way behind her as I grabbed her full breast in my hands and then began to kiss the back of her neck.

"Oh that feels so good." She said to no one in particular as if the thought just hit her and she had to acknowledge it.

Going back to my high school days, I flicked open her bra in one move and she let it fall to the ground and then turned around and reached up to kiss me this time pulling my mouth to hers. After a few moment, I broke off the kiss so I could step back and just enjoy the sight in from of me, I did this under the pretense of dropping my pants but then entire time I took off my pants I never took my eyes off of her.

My erection was full on and I grabbed her hand and lead her into my bedroom. She plopped on the bed and giggled and started to sing song "I am going to get fucked, I am going to get fucked"

Then I corrected her, "You are going to get fucked good."

She started the song this time with the corrected lyrics emphasizing good with a grunt humping upwards, "I am going to get fucked GOOD huh!!! I am going to get fucked GOOD huh!!!"

I crawled up the bed to her and enfolded her into my arms and told her to shut up and began to kiss her again. But this time while kissing her my hands moved down to her pussy which was very wet. I worked my finger along just the opening not sliding it in just enough to wet it so that I could use the juices to lubricate her little clit.

Her body tensed and she pulled me closer and continued to kiss me. I moved my fingers over her clit in a circular manner that she began to moan. I pulled my fingers from her clit and licked them and then touched them to her erect nipple. Her nipples were about a half a inch long and looked like little erasers. I place one of them between my lips and with both hands held onto her huge tit.

I then let my tongue move down her body until I was between her and I began kissing her thighs and running my tongue along her pussy lips. She moaned even louder now as I teased her pussy with my tongue and I lightly brushed her clit with my lips over and over again until she literally push my head between her legs and I started to suck on her clit.

She held me down as she started to grind against my face and hump upwards as she began to scream at the top of her lungs. My dick was so hard and I just wanted to get up and fuck her but I held on and held my breathe as I used every ounce of energy I had to make her cum. I didn't break my rhythm as I know moved my tongue over her clit in first a back and forth and then a circular motion all the time retaining suction on her clit and not breathing.

She was screaming the entire time but I knew she was close so I sped up my tongue and with even more suction on her clit. The next thing I know she is screaming at a deafening pitch that she was cumming. I slowly released my hold on her clit to ease her down gently and to finally get some air.

She laid on the bed arms outstretched and I could tell she was spent that orgasm really knocked it out of her. But my dick was hard and I wanted some of that pussy now.

"Hey baby," I said to her, "why don't you roll over and put a pillow under you and let me take it from here."

She slowly complied and then she looked back at me and said, "Don't be gently fuck me nice and hard."

Looking at her ample rear end hiked up by three pillows and looking so round and delicious I had no intention of making love to her. I was about to fuck her brains out. I rubbed my pussy along opening and it was still very wet from her cumming so I slowly slide it in and she lets out another low moan. I knew that after how loudly she came before this would probably be the lowest she was going to moan for awhile.

I pushed my dick all the inside of her and I am pleasantly surprised by how good this pussy feels, as a matte of fact this pussy is damn good. I am now picking up my pace and fucking her harder, my pelvis slapping against her big ass over and over again.

"Ohhhh!!!!" was all she moaned louder and louder as I really began smashing her ass against the pillows that did little to offer support against my onslaught.

As I fucked her harder and more relentlessly it seemed as if her pussy started to get tighter and tighter and she gripped my dick with a passion. That feeling only wanted to make me fuck all night long; I wanted it to last a long time.

But then she started to scream that I was making her cum again and that she couldn't believe she was going to cum again.

Her saying that just did something to me and all thoughts of lasting longer went out the window as I reached over and grabbed her hair and bent down to whisper in her ear, "cum for me Bitch, I want you to cum for me now."

This sent her over the edge because with m hands holding her hair tight and my dick deep in her pussy she started to cum again as I felt a rush or warmth and then her pussy began pulsating around my dick. I stroked her a few more times then I came so hard inside her she jumps a little at the force. I let her hair go and fell on top of her as she wiggled her ass under me. I vainly tried to hump against her sweet ass a few more times but I was completely spent.

I rolled off of her and she rolled over and placed her head on my shoulder next to me. I looked over at her big tits and pretty face and smiled. She asked me, "what am I smiling at?"

"Well beside that fact that you have one of the best looking racks I have ever seen I am smiling because I think that after this session I will not have to worry about writer's block anymore."

"Why is that?"

"Well I realized I need inspiration and trust me this was truly inspiring, now get down there and suck my dick, I am ready for Round 2."



Writer's Block and the Magic Wand



Kelly sat at her computer concentrating. Her story had come to a standstill. She knew where she wanted to go with it. Well, sort of anyway. But now she had nothing. The details that had been so clear on the last page were now blank. A tiny voice from her past kept telling her, "Draw on your experiences and memories!" 

But she couldn't conjure up any specters from her past or memories that would tie in to where her tale needed to be. Her mind wandered and she started to wonder where that phrase had originated. Draw on your experiences and memories!

Had one of her teachers said it? Had she read it in a book of quotes and passages? Maybe a lover had once whispered it into her ear? She laughed and shook her head. Why would any guy say that to her in the middle of a romantic moment?

This is stupid, she thought to herself. She was at an impasse. At least she was trying to keep it carnal. After all her story was supposed to be an erotic one. Though at this point it could easily go the way of bad notes, or radically changed plotlines. It was too early to tell, but the frustration was mounting.

Kelly shook her head again. 

She wasn't going to let a little writer's block stop her. She'd force the story and correct errors later after her creativity was once more unleashed from this terrible stalemate. Maybe it was the environment.

Kelly was house sitting for a friend while she was on vacation. A nice place actually. Very large and modern in it's architecture and yet decorated in a more Victorian style. Or perhaps it was better described as a mildly Gothic décor. Either way it was a house with a sort of split personality. By day the large windows and elegant curtains streamed sunlight into the place reflecting off of the creamy white marble floor tiles.

But by night the large house with its great windows became dark and intimidating. The long shadows of the curtains and furniture during the fading sunlight in the evening lent an uneasy feeling to the place. Even as the automated lights kicked in and the place lit up, there was a strange vibe in the air. One that Kelly was eager to avoid disturbing.

She had been engrossed in overcoming the block when her mind began to feel ill at ease. She turned from the computer and looked around the bedroom. It was large and warmly lit with a beautiful canopy bed in the middle of the far wall. A very comfortable bed as she recalled from the last time she had house sat.

As she thought about it her attention caught a small movement. The philodendron on the nightstand beside the bed. Some of the leaves moved as if a small animal were in the glazed ceramic planter moving around just beneath the leaves and making them twitch.

The thought of a mouse or other pest in the house bothered her. Even more so because it was right next to the bed where she was going to be sleeping in a while. She looked around for something to swat it with if it was a bug. Ewww what a sick thought. It better not be a huge roach. That would totally gross her out and the thought of an insect large enough to make those leaves twitch was quite disturbing. 

She took a deep breath and forced herself to grab the plastic wrapped newspaper she'd been gathering from the front yard and approached the plant cautiously. Yet as she got to within four or five feet of the plant the twitching stopped. Tentatively she approached and turned on the light.

With the strong illumination now over the philodendron she could clearly see the base of the planter. There was nothing there. No mouse, no bug, nothing to see. It was quite odd she thought. She looked behind and around the planter but there was nothing there. Could it be something in the substrate? She tapped the side of the round low ceramic planter but all was quiet.

She shook her head again feeling a bit silly. If there was something living in the planter under the soil tapping it would hardly make it come up she reasoned. Hell if she were a small critter trying to hide in the dirt, tapping the container would only make her hide more and be still. She studied the soil but there were no holes or small mounds to indicate that something had burrowed down in the first place.

What an odd distraction. She left the light on and returned to the small desk to try to work more on her story. She would try once again to force the writing. Push past the block and make things flow. She started to type. It was nonsense really. A trick to make her story muse kick in and take over.

But now she heard a sound. A strange and soft humming sound came from behind her. She turned to look but there was nothing in view to make the noise. It seemed to be coming from behind the headboard of the bed. She felt a strange warm sensation that tingled down her back and made her torso shudder involuntarily. When the shudder stopped the soft humming buzz had vanished too.

Maybe it was fatigue? She was feeling very tired and worn down. The story was going nowhere fast, and her frustration might have been playing hell with her senses causing her to hallucinate or perhaps distort reality. She needed a break. Maybe some rest would allow her to start fresh. But not all night. She had work to do. She was always up when others slept. A night owl of sorts. She'd take a short nap and continue her work.

Kelly set the alarm for 2 hours and slipped out of her blue jean shorts. Then took off her tank top and bra and pulled the elastic hair scrunchy away from her ponytail allowing her soft honey brown hair to fall across her shoulders and upper back. She stretched her arms and arched her back working the kinks out from sitting at the desk for several hours. 

I could use a masseuse right now, she thought as she rubbed her neck and shoulders and craned her head slowly from side to side. Then she smiled. She could use a man for more than just that she mused. 

A lover could both relax her and fuel her creativity later on. Wouldn't that be nice? But right now there was no such person. She wasn't seeing anyone, and even if she had been, she wasn't sure she'd want to bring a stranger or a lover to her girlfriend's house. If they turned out to be an ass, the last thing she'd want was some idiot guy bothering her friend because he thought she lived here.

She frowned.

Why did that sort of thing pop into her mind and spoil this moment? I'm my own worst enemy at times, she told herself. But even so there was a way to get a little stress out and relax again before napping in earnest. She went to her purse and dug out her vibrator.

Maybe a little time with her "magic wand" as she called it, would help put her into a proper mindset. At the very least she could orgasm and get some of her sexual tension out of her system. And after all it could actually be the root of what was cutting off her creative writing gifts.

She went to the kitchen and got herself a glass of water. Then mixed in some Crystal lite powder to flavor it before returning to the bedroom. Always keep hydrated her friend Shelly had told her back in college. 

Shelly dated a lot as she recalled and told her, if you're well hydrated, you don't need to worry about getting dry at the wrong time, and you can pee afterward, which is always healthy. And even if you're just playing with yourself, a good bit of fluid in your system insures that you will get up in the morning when the alarm goes off and you've got classes to attend, even if you are worn out and relaxed.

She smiled. It'd been a while since she remembered her old college roommate and girlfriend. Shelly had been quite an experience. Some folks called her a slut, and maybe she was a bit overly promiscuous. So what? She'd been a real decent friend and they'd had more than a few adventures together, including some sexual mishaps that had greatly enhanced her own sex life. 

Now as she strove to write erotic literature among other things, those experiences with horny guys who'd either been introduced to her or mistaken her for Shelly in the darkness of their dorm room had become the material from which erotic writers of either gender take their inspiration. 

As she took off her satin thong panties and sat down on the mattress she recalled those wild party days. Horny guys and gals doing all sorts of stuff to and with each other. She laid back and turned on her vibrator then rubbed it with a small bit of easy glide lubricant. She closed her eyes and turned off the lights. 

The buzzing sex toy tingled as it made contact with her sensitive warm skin. She brought it closer to her labia and pressed it to the hood of her clitoris. 

She jumped a bit. It was always a greatly anticipated moment. That first magical touch that filled her with pleasure in an almost electric way.

She remembered the orgy as she had called it. Shelly had simply referred to it as a six-pack party. Three guys and three girls. But it was originally a study group. Only someone had triggered a fire alarm in one of the buildings beside the campus library. 

That meant that every building next to the one with the alarm had to be evacuated. Students and faculty left the library and the six of them at Shelly's prompting had remained behind to "study" in peace. Even a false alarm would take the school and fire fighters investigating a few hours to sort through and to clear.

During that time they would be locked in to the library and have the place all to themselves. They avoided the two staff librarians by hiding in a conference room that was not in use and waiting until the staff members locked the doors. Kelly smiled. 

She and Sarah and a boy named Martin had figured it was a real alarm in the neighboring building and they were just playing around so that they could continue to study and work in spite of the lock down. But Shelly had coaxed someone into pulling the alarm and she and the other two guys, Tate and Steven, had had plans of their own.

It was Kelly and Sarah's first six-some as Shelly teasingly said later on. Everyone had split up to make sure that the staff was clear and they had the place all to themselves. 

But when they returned to the group workstation Tate and Steven had Shelly lying across the table with her skirt hiked up and her hot pink thongs lying on the chair. As Tate stood between her legs with his jeans and underwear around his ankles and knees respectively, Steven had her head turned sideways near the edge of the table. He was holding her face steady as she performed oral sex on him. 

Kelly, Sarah, and Martin had all three stood there wide-eyed and fascinated as they watched the two guys screwing Shelly. It was Martin who first recovered as Kelly remembered with a smile. 

His left hand and arm craning around from behind her. Moving up under her shirt to cup her right breast in its soft lacey bra. His right hand fumbling with her belt buckle and the brass button and zipper to her jean shorts. She had been surprised back then that the mild mannered nerdy Martin would make such a bold move. But he had.

His right hand soon slid between her panties and skin as he brushed past her soft curly pubic hair and brushed her warm damp petals. As he touched and fingered her she remembered closing her eyes and gasping. Sarah had seen her now and seemed stunned. She remembered the verbal outburst.

"Oh my God! What is everyone doing? This was supposed to be a study group!" 

Steven had taken off his pants and underwear and then approached the reluctant and shocked blonde girl. Shelly had opened her eyes and watched him walk her backwards as if terrified of the erection that now pointed at her as if it was a weapon. 

Kelly smiled inwardly as she remembered what he had said.

"We ARE studying. Believe me Sarah, there's a lot I want to study and learn girl!"

By then Steven had backed her up to the table edge and Sarah was leaning back away from him when he suddenly kissed her passionately pulling her closer.

As he kissed the girl Kelly giggled openly because Sarah's legs kicked out a bit on either side like a frog having its reflexes checked. Her ass was scooped up and lifted onto the table edge and as the kiss broke apart she saw Steven pull Sarah's panty crotch to one side and enter the confused blonde.

"We are NOT going to fuck Steven!" She had insisted rather unconvincingly. 

But he was already moving in and out of her.

She gasped and groaned. Kelly remembered how quickly Sarah's wilder side had come out. Two minutes of sex and the girl was begging him to do it harder and faster. She was quite the freak once she opened up and Steven seemed aware of it right from the start.

Kelly could remember how Martin had gone from a seemingly shy and quiet guy to a very strong and demanding lover. How he'd turned her to face him and kissed her. But then the way he'd pushed her back and pointed to the carpeted floor of the library. 

Three simple words spoken with such commanding force she obeyed it as if it were expected and vital. 

"On your knees!"

Nervously she knelt and opened her mouth as he grasped the back of her head and pushed his thickening shaft into her mouth. He was firmly forceful and she felt him swelling and thickening as she licked and sucked on him.

Soon after the blowjob she had found herself on the table with the other two girls. All three of them getting fucked hard. There was no tender love making then. It had been all carnal lust. Guys and gals working out their needs. It was a time of firsts for her.

Her first time with two different female lovers touching and licking and sucking on her body. Their tender passion and soft energy offset by her first double penetration. 

Tate and Steven had done this to her on the floor. She'd been straddling Tate who was holding her thighs and thrusting up into her as she slowly bucked and ground back, when Steven pushed her forward, pinning her to Tate's chest. 

She remembered resisting the sudden move initially and Tate then holding her torso firmly to keep her still and pinned to his chest.

Then came the oil dripping down her butt crack. An oily finger probing her rectum and her vain attempts to tighten her muscles to stop the anal penetration. 

She remembered the sharp stretching pain that lasted for a good five minutes before easing as Steven worked his way deeper into her ass. Then she remembered the explosion as Tate released her torso and began moving again. 

His fingers now cupping and squeezing her bare breasts and firm nipples. While Steven reached around to rub and jiggle her clit with oily fingers.

His own erection pumping wildly into her body. She could feel both shafts pistoning in and out. It was maddening pleasure. Delightful, wild, and frightening all at once. Shelly added to the stimulation by licking her neck and raking her skin softly with long fingernails that tickled her flesh.

Kelly gasped as she began to shake and opened her eyes from the warm memory of that wild encounter. She'd just wanted to buzz her clitoris but found herself trusting the magic wand deep inside of her body. 

She tried to envision a guy getting purely carnal with her. Tried to capture that climactic explosion of power and merciless drive that so many guys had.

In the darkness of the bedroom with her buzzing toy sliding in and out of her body she struggled to keep a strong grip on the device without letting her wrists get too worn out. She wanted to try for a big orgasm now that she was turned on. She gasped. 

"C'mon magic wand! Fuck me like you mean it!" She demanded.

The wand was starting to sputter and slow. She'd forgotten to recharge it! She gasped in annoyance.

"No, No, NO! Not now! I need you to fuck me with everything you got!" She exhaled as it died down.

"DAMN IT!"

She continued to stroke it but her wrist and grip was tiring. Of all the rotten timing! She gasped and dropped the wand as she lay back with her arms and legs spread out and panting. She was so close. But now she was out of juice and out of power to finish the job. What a sucky way to end the evening!

As she lay there catching her breath she heard a soft buzzing hum from the wall above her head. She turned her head and looked up to the wall.

What the hell was that sound? More screwed up shit? 

She rolled over and listened. It almost sounded like a pattern or tune. It was somewhere in the wall it seemed. What the hell could it be?

She got on her hands and knees and listened to the sound by pressing her ear to the wall and closing her eyes. But now she felt something on her wrists.

She looked down and saw the curtains to the canopy bed were wrapped around either wrist. In fact not just wrapped but knotted. Her wrists appeared knotted to the lower headboard. 

Kelly tested one with a soft tug and sure enough, her wrist was tied to the headboard. But how? She was all alone. Or was she? Panic set in and she looked wildly over her shoulders.

"Who's there?" She cried out. But the room was still and empty.

"Who is this? Let me go! I mean it! Let me go right now or I'll scream!"

The room was still empty and the house was in a cull de sac. Too far from neighbors on either side to hear or help her. She'd have to get free herself it seemed. 

She started to lean forward to bite at the knots, but found that her waist was now bound and suspended by a tougher outer curtain from the canopy railing. He ankles too were bound to the footrest. Somehow she was tied up yet all alone in the house. 

Was it a poltergeist? The fear took her and she shook and trembled in a panic. 

"Please? Show yourself..." She cried in fearful despair.

Then she felt it. 

A light pressure on the mattress. The weight of another person it seemed along with the telltale creaking of springs as someone got into bed or onto the mattress behind her captive form. She wanted to look but was terrified to try.

After a moment though she had to know. Who was doing this to her? 

Kelly turned her head and was surprised to see dark purple vibrator moving like a slug or snake behind her on the mattress. She gasped, as it grew rigid and thickened. Then a soft buzzing started from the machine and it began to grow a form. 

I must be crazy or high, she thought to herself, but somehow she knew that she was neither. The vibrating dildo formed first a scrotum and testicles. Then a larger mass began to expand behind it. Legs took shape and lengthened. Powerful muscular masculine legs. The penis grew in girth and length and a torso sprouted upward from the growing purple mass.

Two arms and a neck followed. Then the face and hands formed. It was well muscled and aside from the strangely alien visage would have made a stunning statue.

But this statue was alive. Kelly gasped as she saw it watching her. A smile formed and the nude thing moved closer. 

In a panic she struggled and squirmed to free herself but the bindings held. The man thing lowered itself behind her and to her shock a warm and wet purple tongue snaked out to lick her labia while a finger touched her hood. 

Then suddenly it began to buzz sending erogenous pleasure shooting through her loins. The tongue worked both her lips and also probed and entered her vaginal walls tickling her unexpectedly. 

It felt familiar. Almost like her magic wand under a full charge. But different too. The shape and warm probing was like that of a horny and eager guy or girl with some oral skills.

Kelly gasped as she felt a strangely comforting tingle growing not only in her lower reaches but also along her back and neck. The purple creature was careful and gentle with her. And yet firm and unrelenting. A perfect match of give and take. But this was beyond weird!

Kelly tugged tentatively once again but her restraints held securely. She felt even more trapped and immobilized than ever before. 

The purple man's hands moved up her body unleashing a buzzing vibration from each fingertip that sent her into a wild shaking tremble. No man or woman had ever touched her like this before. In fact she was pretty sure this was impossible. Still she jerked wildly as her body fought to take in the stimulus overload. Pleasure filled her.




Writer's Block and the Magic Wand



Purple man stopped eating her out and smiled. It kissed her back and shoulders. Then snapped it's fingers and the restraints on her wrists released her! 

She gasped as the waist restraint now tugged her upright and then snaked around her midriff to bind her arms to either side of her torso. She tried to stand up but her legs and ankles were held to the mattress and footboard of the bed. The purple man frowned playfully and shook his head no, while silently wagging his index finger at her.

He opened his mouth in a smile and spoke to her, though it seemed the words were silent and only in her mind. Never the less soundless lips formed the words in a strong demand that had so long ago thrilled and shocked her. 

"On your knees!" The inner voice boomed.

The purple man stood before her and as she looked up at him he reached down with his right hand to gently coax open her lower jaw. His left held the shaft of a now very large purple cock, which he guided gently but firmly into her mouth.

There was no way she could fit this into her mouth and still breath she thought and yet as he thrust it in shallow movements in and out of her mouth it was not as cumbersome as she had anticipated.

The blowjob did not last long before he stopped and stepped away.

Now her ankles and legs were freed by another snapping of the fingers though her body was hoisted higher and the purple man stood behind her smiling. Her eyes suddenly widened as to her shock he grabbed her hips and without warning thrust his massive vibrating organ deep into her vagina!

She cried out; "OHHHHHH FUCK!" as the purple man began to piston into her with a steady strong pace that had her trembling almost immediately.

Her pussy was stretched open and the pulsating of the phallus in her body had her spasming with pleasure. 

As her legs kicked, curtains shot out like living vines, entwining them and holding them widely apart and strongly secured as his buzzing finger tips sought out every nerve and erotic spot her skin had to offer. 

His hand slapped her ass and it stung just a bit as his teeth lightly bit the nape of her neck. She orgasmed and convulsed, causing him to slow the pace, but not to stop.

She glanced at him and gasped.

"W-wh-what are y-youuu d-doinnng to ma-meee?"

The bald purple figure leaned into her ear and this time it was not in her mind. It's mouth formed audible words.

"I'm fucking you like I mean it! I'm fucking you with all I've got! That's what you wished for. Now let's have some fun!"

After a few more minutes of suspended sex he made the curtains release her. But she was in his arms and he lowered her to the bed. 

As she tried to catch her breath while lying on her back he approached her. She tried to back away on her elbows to buy herself a few moments to think. But purple man grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his waiting erection. The tingling buzz drove her wild. Over again she climaxed as the purple man periodically switched positions and speed. 

After a while the intensity got to her and she took an oral opportunity to bite down hard on the purple man's cock. He didn't cry out but winced and looked angry. She started to plead with him.

"I had to. It's getting to be too much. We need to stop!"

The purple man snapped his fingers and once more curtains captured and entwined her wrists and ankles. She was hoisted by either arm upward until she stood there trapped and helpless. The purple man bit her butt hard making her cry out in pain.

"OWWWW! That hurts!"

The strange figure nodded.

"It was supposed to. You could have asked to stop. You must learn to be nice with your toys!" It insisted.

"Look, I'm sorry, but there are limits to what one can take..."

He lowered her down but shook his head.

Half embarrassingly and half in mild brief pain with her hands and feet bound she lay across his lap as the purple man gave her a stinging spanking. 

She cried out and struggled vainly, and begged him to stop, but the purple man seemed determined to emphasize his point with a good solid spanking. After a few minutes Kelly passed out.

The alarm sounded harsh to her ears as she awoke. She reached over and killed the switch.

Kelly felt warm and tired. Exhausted and spent. She turned on the light suddenly remembering the purple man creature that had formed from her dildo and fucked and pleasured her. She glanced to the floor. The vibrator toy lay there where it had dropped. 

She picked it up cautiously and looked at it for a moment. She turned on the switch but it was out of power, just as it had been when she dropped it there.

It was all a strange dream she mused. She must have been tired. In fact she was tired. Exhausted really! 

Writing could wait. She had to get some rest. Turning off the light she dozed and passed from consciousness into a nice dream state. 

In the morning she woke to soft warm sunshine reaching in through the blinds. It was a great day out there. She started to get up and noticed that she was sore and a little raw down there. Her body felt a bit worn too. Almost like back when she and Shelly and Sarah had their library adventure. She smiled. The dream. It had been so real and so strange.

She sat up and yawned. It was such a realistic dream. She really felt like she actually had been fucked and ridden hard by several partying guys! But it had to have been a dream. Her poor dildo lay spent on the nightstand. A few small hairs dried to the shaft. She got up and went into the bathroom to wash it and herself up. 

What a wild dream!

As she rinsed the thing with warm water and tried to remember which pocket of her purse she had put the battery charger in, she felt strange bumps in the rubber. She looked closer shutting off the sink water and saw a bite mark deep into the rubber skin of her toy. 

A bite? That was impossible! It couldn't be could it?

She reached back to touch her butt and felt a small sore area on the upper right cheek. Her butt felt hot too. 

Kelly turned and looked into the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Her eyes widened in disbelief!

There was a single large bite mark on her cheek, and several small red welts across both sides where someone or something had recently spanked her!