0 comments/ 94416 views/ 0 favorites Forget Me Not By: Madam-Cecilia "Hey baby boy," I exclaimed as I ran into you at the pub. "What are you doing tonight?" "You maybe," you answered in your matter-of-fact way, your look letting me know you approve of the pet name I came up with. It fits with the idea of your calling me 'mom'. "Well finish off that drink and let's go then," I replied. Just seeing you in the bar made me wet. I couldn't wait to get you alone so we could have some fun. You downed the last of your beer then announced, "Just let me hit the can and we're out of here." I grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door. "You can go when we get there." We jumped into the blazer and headed to "our spot." When we pulled up and parked I reached in the back and handed you a gift-wrapped package. "Oh mom, what is this?" you asked surprised. "It's just something for my baby boy. Open it!" You ripped open the paper to find a box inside. When you had the box open you found a beautiful leather collar with metal spikes and a leash. Not knowing what to say you just took it out of the box and looked it over. "Try it on," I commanded. You took the collar and hooked it around your neck. It looked incredible. I reached over and took the leash, handing it to you. Without being told you hooked the leash to the collar. "Now where does the other end of that leash go?" I asked, testing you. Without a word you handed it over to me. "What a good little pet you are," I praised, and then leaned over to kiss you. "You look so good in your new toy." Our tongues danced as we enjoyed our kiss. I let my hand slide to your groin to find your cock swelling. I knew you still had to go so I let you loose saying, "We'd better let you pee before you get so hard you can't." I hooked the leash over the gearshift saying, "Stay." Walking around to your side I opened the door. "Good boy," I praised once again before kissing you. I removed your leash from the gearshift and led you out to the front of the blazer. "This looks like a good place to pee," I announced. You undid your fly and reached in to get your cock out for business. I slapped your hand away and you looked at me questioningly as I explained. "Did I say you could touch that?" "No." I slapped the back of you head. "No what?" I demanded. "No mom," you answered. "That's better. Now who's cock is that?" I asked pointing to the ever-growing shaft in your jeans. You looked at me to be sure you gave the right answer. "Yours?" It came out as a question. I slapped you again. "Who's?" "Yours mom," you said this time with more conviction. "Good boy," I praised. "And who should be touching it?" "You mom." "Good boy." I reached into your jeans and took out your cock. It was hard as a rock. "This should be interesting," I commented. "We are going to stand out here until you pee." Somehow you managed to relax enough so you could pee. I held your cock and aimed it towards the ground as you urinated for me. When you were done I shook it and stroked it until it was nice and hard again, all the while telling you what a great cock you had, how much I wanted it, and how great you looked in your new toy. You were incredibly turned on when you felt something cold around your cock and heard a snap. Looking down you saw the cock ring I had wrapped around your raging hard-on. "This will keep you up until I am ready for you to cum," I explained. "Now lets have some fun," I said as I tugged on your leash. When we got to the door of the blazer I stopped you. "Get naked for me." You hesitated and I slapped the back of your head again. "I said get naked. Don't make me tell you things twice." I dropped the leash and watched as you pulled your shirt off over your head and stepped out of your jeans. You stood there wearing only your collar, leash and socks. "Look at that nice hard cock," I purred taking it in one hand as I picked up your leash in the other. "Soon I am going to have you fuck me with that hard cock of yours. But first I want to feel your tongue sliding through my smooth, wet pussy." With that I pulled on your leash until you were on your knees on the ground. I opened the door and tied your leash off on the handle while I stepped out of my jeans. Sitting on the edge of the seat, my pussy inches from your face I took up your leash again and pulled you forward. When I had your face almost in my cunt I grabbed your hair and pulled your face up to look me in the eye. "Eat my pussy good baby boy and I'll let you fuck me with your nice hard cock." With one leg on the door and the other on the doorframe I settled back and pulled your leash so you had no choice but to bury your face deep in my pussy. I moaned loudly at the first stroke of your tongue through my wet slit. "That's a good boy. Eat mommy's pussy." I opened my legs as far as I could to give you the best access. "Oh fuck yes. You eat pussy good my little pet," I encouraged. My hips started to buck against your face. I tugged on the leash to get you even deeper. "Fuck my pussy. Slide your fingers in there and fuck my pussy while you eat it." You didn't have to be told twice this time. No sooner were the words out of my mouth and you had your fingers shoved into my wet cunt. I could hear your muffled moans as you ate like a starving man enjoying your last meal. When I felt the first waves of orgasm rushing over me I pulled your leash tight and grabbed the back of your head to hold you in tight. I flooded your face with cum and you gobbled up every drop. You even chased down the river that was running down the crack of my ass. Letting your leash loose a little to give you room to maneuver I screamed, "That's it baby boy. Suck up my cum. Eat my pussy and ass. Lick it good." I felt your tongue sliding all around as your fingers still worked up a froth in my cunt. To my pleasant surprise I felt you slide two fingers up my ass as well. "OH FUCK YES!! Fuck my ass, baby boy. Fuck it good. Eat that cunt. Make me cum again." Your tongue and my nasty talking sent me over the edge again quickly. Your fingers and tongue were working double time as I flooded you yet again. When I came back to reality I grabbed your hair and pulled your face from my quivering pussy. Between your hair and pulling on your leash I got you to your feet and devoured your mouth with a deep passionate kiss. I could taste my juice all over. With you standing between my legs I could feel your cock throbbing. I pulled you close and whispered in your ear as you licked, sucked, and nibbled, "You want to fuck me don't you? You want to bury that hard, throbbing cock deep into my pussy, don't you baby boy?" "Oh yes. Let me fuck you mom. I want to feel your pussy around my cock." Pulling you even closer I run my hands all across your back as I explain what I want to do. "I want to feel your hard cock slide into my pussy. Feel those pussy walls sucking you in. Deeper and deeper." My hand drops to your ass and clenches tight as I thrust my wet pussy against your cock. I can feel your throbbing cock slide across my wet slit, bumping against my clit and sending shock waves up and down my spine. The cock ring I clamped on is cold against the heat radiating from my center. "Oh mom. Let me fuck you. I want to drive my young hard cock deep into your pussy. Please mom. Please I need to fuck you." "That's it baby boy. Beg for that pussy. If you want to fuck me, beg for it." "Yes, I want to fuck you. I want to feel how tight and hot your pussy is. PLEASE let me fuck you." I can't take it anymore. I reach between us and position your cock at my gaping, wet cunt. With one hand firmly on your ass I impale myself on that young hard cock. You can feel your balls boiling. You need to cum. The cum is trying to shoot out but the cock ring prevents it. You are going mad. It feels so good deep in my pussy. It is so hot and wet. "You want to cum don't you? Those balls of mine are boiling aren't they?" "YES!! It feels so good in your pussy. I'm gonna cum." "NO!! No you're not. Not until I say! You're gonna fuck me until I cum then we'll see about letting you shoot sticky, creamy cum all over the insides of my pussy." My fingers massage your ass as the other hand runs up and down your back. "Fuck me baby boy. Fuck me with that young hard cock." "Ride it mom. Ride that young cock of yours." Ours words are drowned out with moans and screams as I fuck back against your thrusts. I can't form coherent thoughts anymore. I am lost in pleasure. My fingers dig into your back as I fuck hard and fast. You can feel the walls of my cunt contracting. I am on the verge. "Cum. Cum. CUM!" you encourage. As if your words were going right to my cunt, I scream and claw at you as I cum, HARD. The wetness between is splashing as you drive deep again and again, prolonging my orgasm. My pussy is still quaking in the aftermath of that mind-blowing orgasm as I reach between us to squeeze your balls. "Are you ready to cum baby boy? Are you ready to shoot your hot, creamy cum deep in my pussy?" "Yes! Yes mom! Please let me cum" you beg. I grab the cock ring and pull it loose. All of your pent up frustration comes rushing to the tip and explodes deep into my waiting gash. "That's it baby boy. Fuck me. Fill my pussy with your cum!" I encourage as I feel blast after blast of hot cum coating the walls of my cunt. "OH MOM! You pussy feels so good!" you scream out as you pump me full. When you are spent you pull your cock from my pussy causing cum to run down my ass. I grab your leash and force you to you knees once again. "You made a mess baby boy. Clean it up." You hesitate and I grab your hair forcing you to look up at me again. "I SAID clean it up! Don't disappoint me, my pet." Stroking your hair I let your face fall back down. The first laps of your tongue are tentative at best. My hand flies against the back of your head. "EAT THAT CUNT BABY BOY!" I demand. Pulling your leash tight again I force your face deep in my cum-drenched pussy. I grind my hips against your face smearing our cum all over it. Soon your tongue begins to do a proper job of licking my pussy. "That's it. You know how I like to have my pussy eaten. Don't forget to fuck me baby boy. I want to feel your fingers in there too." You slide your fingers in my pussy and ass once again fucking me as you swallow our cum. "That's it baby boy. Fuck me. Eat that messy cunt!" Grinding my ass against your face I can feel you licking the cum from my pussy and ass. The wave of pleasure is building once again. "I'm going to cum again. I'm gonna drown you baby boy." Hearing that you double your efforts and gobble up everything coming your way. I hold you tight and fast as I scream through another mind-blowing orgasm. After coming down from my wave I pull you to me and cover you with licks and kisses again tasting "us" all over your face. I can feel your cock beginning to grow between us. "Are you ready to go again, baby boy?" I ask. "Yes mom. I want to fuck your ass this time," you smile as you cover my lips with kisses before I can comment. It looks like it's going to be a long HARD night... Forget-Me-Not Writing is a popular and fulfilling activity- whether you do it for a living or you're just looking for a new venture to pass your spare time. Writing, like most other forms of art, is all about you- your ideas, your feelings, your attitudes. Your story is your chance to make your own world- one not necessarily bound by the rules and conventions of the on in which you live. It's a chance to break free for a while, so to speak. Your readers want the same thing- a chance to leave behind Mc Cafés, fax machines, and yield on green signs and enter a world in which they exist only to enjoy a tale of another's existence. Perhaps this is why they take such offense when a story is unreadable for any reason. When people read your story, they expect you to do the majority of the work. They don't want to have to think too hard to understand the words in front of their faces. If the words in front of them are unsatisfactory, they will walk away from them, perhaps muttering a small curse, and then banishing your work to the recesses of their minds. You want your work to be remembered, and you don't have to be Charles Dickens to achieve that. There are a few simple rules that you can follow to avoid the dreaded unmarked grave of obscurity, and they begin with the first words readers see. Titles The title of your entry is the single most important part of your entry- it is the primary tool readers use to decide whether they will bother reading it. It would seem that coming up with a title would be a fairly simple task, but titling erotic fiction can be especially tricky, and there are a few serious no-no's that you need to be aware of before you submit. Your title is not a description. Don't write the synopsis of your story as the title. Your title should be as tastefully brief, catchy, and memorable as possible, and titles that are too descriptive of the stories they label won't be taken seriously. An example of some title don'ts: Two Gay Guys Fuck in an Elevator Jennifer Sucks John's Meaty Cock My Wife Gave Me an Unexpected Blowjob …and so on, you get the idea. Fairly straightforward. Try not to over sex your title. There's nothing funnier, or more amateur, than a title that is ridiculously lewd. While it might seem like a good idea to advertise the incredible sexual prowess your story displays by putting it out front, its not. For instance: Juan's Rock Hard Fuckstick Plows Angie's Sopping Pussy Creaming My Pussy Juice Soaked Panties Fucking a Virgin Slut Deep in Her Ass By simply following the first rule, you can significantly reduce your incidence of oversexed titles. With only a limited number of words to work with, it is nearly impossible to break this rule. You want your title to pique the reader's interest, not make them spew their milk onto their keyboard. Steer Clear of Clichés and Sayings The primary problem you'll face with clichéd titles is redundancy. Most of us here speak English, and this language only has so many clichés. Whichever one you're planning on using has undoubtedly been used already, and if it hasn't, it will be after you use it. Examples: A Chance Encounter You're all well aware of how many of these there are. Once in a Lifetime Again, not so original. Unexpected Surprise Not so much. The key to successfully using plays on words is making them up yourself. If you find yourself having difficulty, choose and existing play on words applicable to your story, and change the examples, the words, or their order to fit your story specifically. If your story is about a chance encounter, focus on other aspects of the tale than just the fact that the encounter happened by chance. Focus on the place, the time, or some other detail that is important to the story and will set your tale apart, in a good way. Avoid Boring or Extremely Common Titles This is another redundancy snag. Even more common than a cliché is an everyday utterance. Example: The Office Friends Overtime Awakening Back to School There will be many stories with these titles across all genres, and using them will probably render your story a forgotten memory once it leaves the New Submissions page. Don't let it happen to you. Spell all the words in your title correctly. Misspelling words in your title is like Pride to Dante- the biggest cardinal sin you can commit, from which all others arise. No number of 'Hail Mary's will save you after a blunder like this. When entering a theme contest, the theme should never appear in your title. If you are entering the Halloween story contest, the word Halloween should never be caught dead in your title. The same goes for Earth Day, Valentine's Day, and Christmas. The place to let the reader know that you are entering the contest is in a short note at the beginning of your story, not here. Finding a catchy title is all about creativity. Draw inspiration from all aspects of your story, not just the erotic parts. All stories are original, with details and tidbits that are unique to each one. Don't settle for a tired cliché or a painfully overt sentence- find a special something in your anecdote and capitalize on it. The best titles are the ones that convey the most meaning with the least effort. Within the Pages Don't confuse characters. Keep track of who the people are in your story. Don't mix up names. As someone who is guilty of this unforgivable crime, I can tell you that readers don't respond kindly to six different names for the same character. Its exhausting to try and riddle out who's who in a story where nobody knows who they are. Make sure you keep track of the players on your board. Vary Your Sentence Structure. Don't use the same simple sentence for every thought in your story. There are four basic types of sentences in the English language, and here they are: Simple Sentence: One independent clause, with no dependent clauses. In short, just a straightforward statement. I went to the store. She loved your new hat. My dog likes to run fast. Compound Sentence: Multiple independent clauses, but no dependent clause. A joining of two freestanding ideas. I ran down the hall and I tripped over a rug. She jumped off of the roof and she broke her arm. Henry got into his car and he drove to the store. Complex Sentence: One independent clause and at least one dependent clause. Usually begin with a subordinator (because, if, when, etc.). Because she lost her homework, Anna skipped her morning class. Since I went to Disneyland, the local water park has lost its appeal. Although I like geography, math is my favorite subject. Compound-Complex Sentence: Multiple independent clauses and at least one dependent clause. Most complicated sentence structure. Without editor Lara's unending support, Eric's novel would have been unreadable; his writing skills were mediocre and his ideas were bland. Andy's dog could perform a wide array of tricks, and after he attended a special training school where he learned to recognize more words, his tricks became even more entertaining. The best way to make use of these types is not to pick just one, but to alternate between them. No one type is superior to another, and each has its own advantages in different situations. Vary your words. Word variation is just as important as sentence variation. In erotic fiction especially, many writers have the tendency to use the same word to describe the same things (read: sex) repeatedly throughout the work. You want the reader to be heavily involved in the actions of the characters, and using the same words to describe their actions over and over will bore the reader, giving the piece a repetitive feel. When describing sex, you shouldn't use the words 'dick' and 'pussy' over and over again. Find new words to put in their places. Example: Dick Member Cock Length Pussy Slit Opening Wetness This doesn't just apply to these two words- anything you mention more than once in your story can benefit from a little variety. Just as there are good replacements for explicit words, there are bad ones. Never use these. Penises Magic Stick Fuckstick Pecker (my personal favorite) Wee-wee (yes, I've seen it happen) Wrinkle beast Jackhammer Light saber Vaginas Snatch The tunnel of love Cabbage (?) Beaver (?) Box You might be surprised at what a difference a little word choice makes- it can have a profound effect on the quality of you piece. Consider this when editing your piece for final submission. When it comes to sex scenes, description, not vulgarity, is key. When writing a love scene, be as specific as possible about what's happening. The clearer the picture in the reader's mind of what's taking place, the more aroused they are likely to become. Details make the story, the situation, and the characters more believable. The more believable the elements, the hotter the story; the hotter the story, the higher the ratings and readership. Example: Rick took his long, thick, uncut fuckstick and shoved it deep in Miranda's waiting cunt, thrusting as hard as he could. vs. Unable to resist any longer, he thrust up into her, forcing her entire body upward into the waterfall. He watched in amazement as the water pored over her shoulders and trickled down her chest, dripping off of the tips of her nipples. He began to fuck her as hard as he was able then, reveling in the warmth and tightness of her pussy as it gripped him fiercely, threatening to suck his seed from him before he was ready. He breasts bounced wildly in front of him, the drops of water that had previously dripped from her nipples now landing on his face with every thrust. He felt her begin to spasm around him, and he held on with all that was in him to avoid coming before she finished. While the first entry is certainly erotic and straightforward, the descriptiveness of the second verse gives the reader a clearer picture of what's happening. Men, who make up a substantial number of readers on this site, are very visual, and the more clearly they can see the picture in their minds, the more aroused they are likely to become. It's like high-definition TV. Story writing is about more than the rules explained above- the heart of your story is essential to its success. But once you have your ideas on paper, looking over it and making these small adjustments can keep your story from slipping into the realm of things forgotten. Forget Me Not Forgive Me Not The hotel bar seemed to sum up how Laura felt. She was trying to control her anger and not look at her uncomfortable partner, Roger, who stared at the rustic wooden table in front of him and fussed with his nails. She looked around the dimly illuminated room and was only vaguely aware of the folk muzak selection being played through incongruous speakers spaced around the walls. The faux Olde Englishe beamed tavern effect was completed by roughly plastered walls, prints of hunting scenes and neatly arranged horse brasses on leather straps. All purely for decoration. Spoiling for a full-on fight, Laura had met Roger at his office. Only momentarily wrong footed by her unexpected presence, he quickly regained his salesman persona and confidently strode forward in his sharp double breasted business suit and red silk tie to claim 'his woman'. His slicked back black hair and slightly swarthy complexion, had always given him a bit of a Mediterranean look, but today Laura thought he just looked like a greasy lothario from a 1950's Spanish 'B' movie. He had obviously been tipped off by someone about the approaching storm, as he quickly ushered her to the car park and the safety of his company BMW to avoid a scene in front of his colleagues. The full force of hostilities had broken out in the car with Laura unstoppable with her venomous verbal attacks. Roger had suggested going to the hotel and set off before Laura could object. He thought a drink would calm her down and a semi-public place would restrict Laura's ability to completely lose control. They found a table in the corner of the bar, sitting close, but not too close so Laura could continue her tirade, albeit with less volume than in the car. She roughly took off her one-button suit jacket and threw it over the back of her chair. Her white blouse was unbuttoned just as Roger liked it, to show off her enticing cleavage. However, he resisted the temptation to look at her breasts on this occasion. He also fought against looking at her increasingly exposed thighs as her suit skirt rode up, as she resumed her verbal bombardment. He had always told Laura how to dress. He was proud of his sexy girlfriend and wanted to show her off. He liked other men to look at her. To see what he had got and they could only lust after. That even extended to what she wore at work. He liked her to buy smart business attire, but with a hint of tarty. Dressing smarty he had called it. So, the jackets and blouses were just that bit revealing and the skirts were just short enough to show off her fabulous slim legs, always enhanced by high heels, but not short enough to continually show that she was wearing the hold-up stockings he insisted she wore. Nor the g-strings and thongs instead of the fuller panties Laura had originally preferred. And Laura had gone along with it, nervously at first, but then with enthusiasm. She loved him and wanted to please him and she liked him being proud of her. He had taught her to enjoy feeling sexy and the effect she had on him and other men. He had taught her that sex was not just about showing love and affection, it could be just for fun too. She had only given herself to four other boyfriends before Roger, but sex with him had always been adventurous from the beginning. Laura loved Roger's forceful approach to foreplay and insistence on sex when he wanted it. It meant he desired and loved her didn't it? He used her body like no other man she had ever been with, gradually building her pleasure and her willingness to submit to his demands. He broke down her inhibitions and introduced her to things she had previously thought kinky and taboo. He even taught her that rough sex could be very satisfying, particularly when combined with a little pain and that her orgasms could be more intense. Orgasms became a drug she couldn't live without and Roger was her dealer. She was an addict he could control. She willingly became wanton in and out of bed, because it pleased him and she would reap the benefits she now regularly craved. She felt compelled to please him, to prove she was his dream lover, that he had no need to look elsewhere because she would always satisfy his demands, no matter what they may be. But all that was now in the past. The bastard had betrayed her. "Why don't you just piss off Roger! How could you do this to me?" Laura hissed across the invisible no man's land between them. "I thought you were different. I thought you were the one. That we were soul mates. I thought you felt the same. It turns out you are just like all the others. Your brains are in your dick. You're weak and you can't resist any tart willing to drop her knickers for you." "I'm sorry," was all Roger could offer, sheepishly looking around him to check if they were being overheard. Satisfied that the other people in the hotel bar were too preoccupied with their own conversations to pay any attention to them, he added. "It meant nothing to me I promise. It was a moment of weakness, when I was under pressure at work and you were a bit busy settling into your new job. I love you. Please forgive me. I want to put this right. At least I admitted my mistake to you." "Don't try to lay any blame on me," Laura spat back, her blond, highlighted shaggy-cut hair whipping across her face as she punched out the words, her blue eyes blazing. "And you only admitted it after I had found out and confronted you. That slut must be laughing at me, they must all be laughing at me. You're so stupid. She set out to have you and add you to her list of conquests. She could read you for what you are, another weak and duplicitous dickhead, who will do anything for an easy shag. And you fell for it. And when she'd had you, she dumped you, but not before she had made it known to everyone in your office what an easy lay you were. Wasn't I good enough in bed for you? What could she give you that I couldn't? You complete lying arsehole!" Laura's voice grew louder and her glass of white wine was in danger of getting knocked over by her increasingly animated gesticulations and finger pointing. "Look, let's go home and talk. I know I can prove to you that I am really sorry and that it will never happen again. I've learned my lesson. I can't live without you. Please come home with me." Roger pleaded. "No! I need to be alone to try to get my head around this, you bastard. I don't want you anywhere near me at the moment. Just go and don't wait up because I probably won't be home. Come to think of it I might never come home ever again. If you don't want a scene in here, then just go. Now!" A few people looked in their direction, but tried not to look interested in the drama unfolding in the corner of the bar. "Please try to stay calm, people are starting to look at us," Roger said nervously. Laura sat back on her chair, crossed her legs, making sure the skirt of her navy blue two piece business suit was as close to her knees as she could get it, and fixed Roger with a determine stare. "Fine. Whatever. Good night Roger." He accepted the finality of the statement and made to get up. "OK, I'll go, but I'm not giving up on us. If you won't come home with me, where will you stay tonight?" "I don't know yet, not that it's any business of yours. Maybe I'll stay here," she said calmly, although the sardonic smile starting to play across her full red lipsticked lips was obviously forced. They then both looked away in silence. Their audience had now decided that the fun was over and had evidently lost interest in the arguing couple. A man, a dead ringer for a young Pierce Brosnan playing James Bond, wearing a blazer over an open necked white shirt with beige Chinos and old fashioned looking shiny brown brogues, strode slowly, but confidently across the bar, with a glass of red wine and sat at the table next to Laura and Roger. He briefly registered their presence with a nod and a smile, crossed his legs and opened a copy of the Guardian he had been carrying under his arm. Roger leaned forward towards Laura, to keep his voice low. "Look, if you change your mind, just call a taxi and come home," adding quickly. "Please," but with no reaction from Laura. "Here, take some money for a cab," he said, opening his wallet and taking out three twenty pound notes. He tried to thrust the money into Laura's hands, but she pushed it away. "Don't insult me. Keep your money. Use it to find yourself another tart." She then lowered her voice and whispered, "Now fuck off Roger." She indicated that all discussion had ended by picking up her wine and scanning the room for something more worthy of her attention and interest. Roger took the hint, sighed, got up slowly and left the bar. Laura waited until she was sure he had gone, before looking towards the door. She could feel the tears beginning to well, but forced them back with determination. Highlights of the day's events began to replay in her mind. Roger's uncharacteristic persistence to arouse her into having sex that morning. He hadn't been like that for months. His willingness to tend to her needs before his own. The tenderness of his lovemaking. He hadn't fucked her like that since the beginning and she hadn't orgasmed so hard in ages. Just like they were young lovers again. Alarm bells should have been ringing, Laura thought. Then, the text from Roger's PA Jenny to call her at midday. Her revelation of the affair with a twenty two year old slut called Maria who was a Marketing Assistant working at his office. All tits, short skirts and hair flicking no doubt. Why had Jenny told her? He'd probably been fucking her too, until Maria had come along and when he dropped her for a younger model, she wanted revenge. The tears had gone now, replaced by burning fury again. She'd make him pay for this. She drained her wine glass and put it back on the table with unintended force. The noise made James Bond man look up from his newspaper. "Having a bad night? Can I buy you another drink?" Suddenly brought back to reality, Laura fixed the man with her best killer gaze. Unfazed, the man said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Has he gone or will he come back and embarrass you again?" "No, he's gone, thank God. I never want to see him again. Such a slimeball." Laura said. "I intend to leave soon too. I'll just give it long enough for him to get in his car and actually go." "Have you far to go? You could stay here tonight. I'm sure that can be arranged. I stay here quite often on business and they have been very accommodating. Sorry for the cliché, but do you come here often? I haven't seen you before." The man laughed and Laura couldn't stop an involuntary smile in return. He may have been trying to come on to her, but he appeared harmless enough and he was both good looking and charming. Probably another bastard underneath though, just like all the others, she thought. Oh look, he's wearing a wedding band. What a surprise. But, it might be worth having another drink, just in case Roger was lurking in the car park, ready to pounce on her again, Pleading for forgiveness. The pathetic shit. Anyway, it looks bad for a woman to be drinking alone in a hotel bar or so her mother had always told her. Mind you, she hadn't been right about everything. She hadn't been right about her bloody fiancé, had she? Anyway, if Roger did come back, it might show him that other men found her attractive and she could still pull if she wanted too. "No, I haven't been here before and yes please to the drink, if it's still on offer. I'll have a Sauvignon Blanc please," Laura said, in a voice that was at its calmest for two hours. As he went to the bar, Laura wondered what she was doing. She had just dispatched a worthless boyfriend, hated all men, but was now flirting with a complete stranger. The man returned with their drinks and pulled his chair over to her table. "I'm Paul by the way. Have you called it a night or are you still working?" "Working?" Laura looked genuinely puzzled and then the penny dropped. "Oh I see, you think I'm a hooker, don't you?" she asked. Paul wrinkled his nose, gave a grimaced sigh and said. "I am so sorry. What an idiot! How embarrassing. It's just that I thought that man was trying to offer you sixty pounds and you told him to get lost, as he would only get a cheap tart for that. You are a very attractive, classy woman in my opinion. Worth far more than that at current rates if you were a high class escort. And believe me, we have had some pretty stunning working girls in here from time to time. Oh dear, I'm digging a bigger and bigger hole aren't I? Shut up Paul, before you get slapped." He followed up with a disarming laugh which Laura, again, found hard to resist. She smiled back. "You're forgiven, for the moment anyway. I don't know whether to feel insulted or complemented. Actually, with the night I've had, I might even take it as a back handed complement. If only I'd been more of a whore, I might have kept my boyfriend. He seems to like that sort of thing. That was him by the way, the guy who left. We've split up. Tonight." "I'm sorry I misread the situation. He must be mad to lose someone like you in my opinion. Please don't take that as a chat up line. I mean it. Do you want to talk about it or shall I just go away?" Paul asked with apparent sincerity. "No, it's okay, you're okay. I'm probably not going to be great company and I must look a mess, but we can have a drink and then I'd better see if they have a room for me here tonight. I'm Laura, by the way." As they talked, Laura surprised herself at how willing she was to open up to Paul. He was a great sympathetic listener and didn't appear to make judgements about her. By the time she had related the traumatic events of the day, she had finished one glass of wine and was half way through another. She wasn't feeling drunk or even tipsy, but any inhibitions she may have talking about herself and her life to a complete stranger, had gone completely. By the third glass of wine, with Paul's encouragement and vigorous dismissal of her 'thirty four and on-the-shelf' assessment of her situation, she was actually beginning to feel good about herself. She was feeling relaxed and her body was telling her she was sexy and desirable again, to this man at least. Maybe when the wine wore off that would change, but for now she felt her confidence had returned. It was like the way Roger had made her feel in the beginning. She realised she was enjoying flirting with Paul. As they talked, they had instinctively moved closer together and there had been frequent moments of contact. Accidentally at first, but the electric pleasure it had generated inside Laura's body made her seek them out more and more, delicate little touches to make her heart beat that little bit faster. "How old are you Paul?" she asked. "Forty seven," he replied, "and before you ask, my wife is two years younger. I've seen you looking at my wedding ring." "Well, you don't look it. You have obviously looked after yourself. What would your wife say if she knew you were sitting in a hotel bar with a younger, available woman?" "My wife wouldn't be at all surprised. So long as there are no unnecessary complications, she is happy for me to pursue my own interests and not ask questions. Are you shocked?" "Not shocked, no, envious maybe. Perhaps I ask too many questions. I should relax and live a little. Live for the moment. Take what life has to offer and not worry too much about consequences." Laura said. Paul took her hand, sending more electric shocks through her body. She was aware of her nipples hardening and hoped Paul wouldn't notice them straining at the thin cotton of her blouse. As if he had read her mind, he glanced at the tell-tale signs and said with a grin "You should, a very attractive and sexy woman like you. And you look pretty relaxed at the moment." Laura coyly looked away from his eyes and made a half-hearted attempt to pull her hand away. "I am. Relaxed I mean," she said huskily, her throat dry. "And the living for the moment bit? Without any inhibitions, restrictions or guilt?" Laura shifted in her seat, crossed her legs and felt the familiar, delicious pressure increase between her thighs. In a vain attempt to lighten the moment, she put on a theatrical indignant voice and said "I do believe you're propositioning me, kind Sir. Do you intend to show me a good time?" Even though it had been meant to sound like an attempt at levity, she blushed, bit her lower lip and regained Paul's eyes. "I'm not going to show you anything, because that would imply you'd just be an observer. I'm going to fuck you." Paul said, his eyes fixed on hers. "Oh and you think I'll let you?" she asked unconvincingly. "There's no point in trying to hide that fact that you want me, want this. Your body betrays you." Paul whispered confidently, adding rhetorically. "Coming?" Taking Laura by the hand, Paul led her nonchalantly from the bar and to a waiting lift in the hotel reception area. Paul pressed the button for the fourth floor, but as soon as the doors were closed Laura pulled Paul to her and hungrily explored his mouth with her tongue. She was desperate to have his hands on her body and he didn't disappoint. He knew what he was doing. His hands found her full breasts through her blouse and his touch felt like firm caresses designed to pleasure, arouse and stimulate. He tickled her erect nipple through her bra and tenderly stroked it, making her moan softly. His hand slowly slid down her body to her thighs and the hem of Laura's skirt. She knew what he was looking for and willingly opened her legs to allow access to her wetness. She moaned again as his finger delicately stroked her wet lips through the front of her thin lace g-string. "You are soaking," Paul breathed. "That's your fault," Laura replied with a smile. "Slut!" "I thought you wanted me to be your whore," she corrected. Before he could answer, the lift came to a sudden halt and the doors began to slide open. The fourth floor was deserted, so they quickly made their way to Paul's room, hand-in-hand and giggling. Once inside the room, Paul held Laura's face in his hands and took his time kissing her tenderly, but passionately. Their tongues were once more tangling and probing as they both blindly pulled at each other's clothing. Paul picked Laura up, carried her to the bed and to her surprise, tossed her onto the turned down white sheets. He straddled her and held her wrists above her head. "What's it going to be then, slut or whore?" The disarming smile dispelled any momentary disquiet Laura had felt. "Well, what would Sir prefer? What does he want to fuck? A whore or a slut?" Paul stared down at her and said "A whore would want paying, whereas you will let me fuck you for nothing. You want it – me – so much. I am going to fuck you anyway I want, use you for my pleasure and you will love whatever I do to you, because you are a slut underneath that prim exterior. I will take you places you haven't been before, even though you may not want to go there at first. But, like a good little slut, you will get fucked in any way I choose. To please me. And you will enjoy it. Revel in it." Laura was both nervous and excited by Paul's forceful proposition. She hardly knew him, but that made it all the more arousing. She had fantasised about being taken by forceful strangers for some time, but had never admitted it to Roger. On several occasions recently, she had awoken at night, to find herself masturbating to a dream where she is being used by a group of men, who had taken her to a remote house for their pleasure. She had put it down to frustration at Roger's recent apparent drop in sex drive. That must have been when he started his affair with Maria. But the fantasies started to play on her mind during her waking hours, leaving her wet and aching for sex. Forget Me Not "I am probably going to regret this, but I'll be your slut tonight. Make me your slut. Use me. Fuck me any way you want. I'm so turned on Paul. I just need your cock inside me." Laura said wantonly. To Laura's surprise, Paul didn't immediately rip at her clothes and subject her body to a frenzied assault, even though she would have responded passionately. Instead, he slowly removed her clothes, accompanied by tender kisses and caresses. He explored all of her body with his lips, tongue and fingers, producing frequent little gasps and moans of pleasure from her. Paul seemed to be solely interested in exciting and pleasing her and she only occasionally managed to wrap her fingers around his hardness. But he didn't seem to mind, as he regularly changed position to gain access to another area of her nakedness. Laura's body was not completely under her control and she found she was involuntarily twitching and writhing as he excited places Roger had never even visited. Paul gently pulled her to the edge of the bed and knelt down between her open legs. He kissed her thighs and then began to tease her swollen wet outer lips with his tongue, whilst stroking her stomach and breasts with his free hands. Laura was desperate for him to find her hard little button and tried to guide him with a hand now grasping urgently at his hair. He raised her thighs onto his shoulders and ran his tongue along her slit, eventually finding her very sensitive clitoris. She held his hair even tighter and thrust her hips at him as he expertly worked her clit. She could hear how wet she was and could only imagine Paul's face dripping with her juices, as he began to run his tongue up and down the crease that extended from clit to anus. His mouth returned to her clit and she tensed as he slowly inserted first one finger and then two into her. "Oh God Paul, I'm going to come," Laura exclaimed, as her body tensed and she threw her head back into the bed. He had only slid his fingers in and out two or three times before Laura, breathing heavily, went past the point of no return and she orgasmed. Powerfully. Violently. Noisily. She arched her back, grabbed his hair and screamed, convulsing wildly. After she had recovered some level of composure, Paul began to pull her up to a sitting position on the end of the bed. He had stood up and was guiding her face towards his erect cock. She willingly took it in her mouth, sucking greedily. Paul grabbed her hair and started to thrust his cock in and out, with occasional appreciative grunts. "That's it, suck it like a good little slut," he said. Laura tried to respond, but only managed wet unintelligible noises, which only seemed to encourage Paul to get more of him into her mouth. She could feel him probing the back of her throat and could taste his juices. "That's it, take it, suck it like a good little slut. I'm fucking your dirty slut mouth, you filthy bitch. And you love it don't you?" Paul asked. His words made her feel deliciously dirty and she could feel her own juices flowing freely in response. Laura cupped his shaven balls with one hand and took a firm grip of the base of his cock with her other as she withdrew him from her mouth. "I do," she gasped. She looked into his eyes and gave him a long slow suck. She was enjoying the pleasure she was giving him. She then caressed his balls and licked up and down his throbbing shaft lingering at the little slit on the end and tasting his pre-cum. Suddenly he pushed her back on the bed, put her legs over his shoulders and guided the purple helmet of his cock to the entrance of her dripping cunt with his hand. With a long, slow thrust, he was inside her and she breathed out heavily. At last, Laura thought. It felt even better than she had imagined. He filled her. He just slid his cock into her and filled her. He didn't ask. He just did it. And she was loving it. "Fuck me," was all she could manage, as he began to ride her, involuntarily moving her hips in time with his slow, deep thrusts. Paul began a steady rhythm and Laura could feel the growing electricity she always experienced as an orgasm began to build. Encouraged by her moaning, he increased the pace and she could hear him slapping against her thighs. His cock seemed to be getting harder and thicker and seemed to be stretching the walls of her vagina. "Oh God, I'm coming again. Give it to me. I want your come. Now!" Laura demanded as she sank her red varnished finger nails deeply into his arms, drawing a little blood. Her moans of pleasure became louder and more urgent and she was throwing her head uncontrollably from side to side on the crumpled sheets. Paul was pounding her cunt hard and fast as he said "Take it, you fucking little bitch," before suddenly tensing with an animal roar. An orgasmic explosion erupted throughout Laura's body as she grasped at the sheets and screamed. Paul continued to grunt and spasm as his come began to pump into her. He moved her thighs to his waist and they kissed breathlessly and passionately while he continued to ride her. Laura ran her fingernails up and down his back, digging deeper as the aftershocks pulsed within her. Her moans diminished to gentle noises of satisfaction as their bodies seemed to meld into one. And then they were both spent and wrapped in each other's arms, tenderly stroking and kissing distractedly. Laura said "If that's what it's like to be your slut, I seriously need to rethink my lifestyle choices." "That was your reception class lesson. You are now on an accelerated course of slut training. The sessions will get harder, but you are a natural slut and you will enjoy them all, I can tell. We will have to meet regularly, so you can graduate with a first class honours." Paul looked serious, until the disarming smile reappeared and they both laughed. "We'll try something a little more adventurous next time, but for now I will get us both a drink. Wine?" "Yes please, but don't be long. I'm keen for my second lesson." Paul and Laura lay on the bed talking and sipping wine while they continually caressed and kissed each other. After twenty minutes, Laura looked pointedly at Paul's regained erection and said impishly "Is that for me? It looks good enough to eat," and within seconds her lips were wrapped around his cock again and she was sucking it sensually. The sex was less frenetic this time and Paul skilfully fucked her in several positions, frequently bringing her close to a climax, before preventing it by withdrawing his cock, pinching her nipples or applying a hard spank at the appropriate moment. Laura was both surprised and excited at her reaction to the pain. It hurt and she cried out more than once, but she was aware of her increasing wetness between her legs with each administration of the 'punishment'. She craved another orgasm, but Paul seemed to be denying it to her. "Make me come, Paul. Please," she pleaded. "Sluts need to be patient. You are here to please me, remember. You will get your reward when I say so, not before. Do you understand?" again the disarming smile, but now with a hint of menace. "Now get on all fours, you dirty bitch, I want to fuck you hard and deep, doggy style." "Yes, Master," Laura replied with a compliant smile, as she willingly bent over to present herself for Paul's further use. Laura was noisily enjoying Paul's long, slow, deep penetration of her and his occasional rough treatment of her aching, sticky clit with his fingers, when she became aware of his thumb pressing into her arse as he fucked her. He spat between her arse cheeks and began to use the saliva as lubricant to ease his thumb into her. He worked her tight little channel steadily, occasionally supplementing his spit with her cunt juices, until he could get all of his thumb into her arse. "Have you ever been fucked in the arse?" he asked. "No. Roger tried it a few times, but it hurt too much and he stopped. He made me feel a bit of a failure actually, because the idea of it really turns me on." "Well you are my slut now, remember? I call the shots and I am going to fuck your arse and make you love it. It only hurt because he didn't know what he was doing. I do and I'm going to do it to you, because I want to and it will give me pleasure. You do want to give me pleasure don't you, slut?" "I do, but please be gentle with me, at first, at least." Laura consented. She felt his cock slide out of her cunt, follow the wet valley upwards and approach the entrance of her forbidden love hole. She braced herself and gasped, as the head of his hard cock slowly entered her. Paul was gentle, but firm. The pain increased the deeper his cock penetrated, but she was determined to take it for her new lover. To please him. That bastard Roger had never managed to make her take it, but Paul would. The pain was strangely arousing and pleasurable in a perverse (or was it perverted) way and Laura felt her juices start to run down the inside of her thighs as Paul began to slowly penetrate her. She closed her eyes and moaned as he began to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts. She was being analed for the first time and she was learning to love it. She wished Roger was here to see it. To see what a real man could make her do. To see what he had lost. "It feels so good. You are so tight. Actually Laura, this will be even better for you when we introduce others into the equation. Two cocks at once. I have friends I will invite to your training sessions and they will fuck you too. You are going to be very popular with them I am sure. You'd like that wouldn't you, you dirty cock loving bitch?" Laura's face flushed as she wondered how he could possibly know about her secret fantasies. She couldn't remember telling him in the bar. God, am I that transparent?" she thought, but closed her eyes to relish the potential scene, while Paul continued to fuck her arse. "I would," she whispered and pushed back in time with his thrusting cock. She began to feel the early spasms of another orgasm building inside her. Pleased and encouraged by Laura's moans, Paul increased the pace of his thrusts, penetrating her ever deeper. And then Laura's mobile rang. "Leave it!" Laura gasped. "Who'd be ringing me at this time of night?" The mobile was on the bedside cabinet and Paul picked it up with ease, while managing to maintain his rhythm. "Well, well, guess who? It says Roger on the display," said Paul, gleefully. "Leave it!" repeated Laura. "Hello Roger." Paul announced, with a slow, smug, derisive edge. "Who is this?" Laura could hear Roger's voice through the speakerphone that Paul had switched on. "I'm the man who is fucking Laura tonight. In fact, I have been fucking her for a while now. She can't get enough of my cock, the dirty slut. She's a great fuck. But you know that don't you Roger? Sadly you won't be fucking her ever again." Knowing that Roger was listening to her having sex with another man, was heightening her state of arousal and increasing speed of her approaching orgasm. "Paul, just turn it off and fuck me," was all she could manage between the breathless moans of pleasure escaping from her mouth. "What? Who is this? Is this some kind of joke?" asked Roger, with a sense of his rising panic and confusion evident in his voice. "I told you. I'm Paul and I'm fucking your lovely ex-girlfriend right now. More than that Roger, I'm fucking her arse and she's loving it. Listen." With that, Paul tossed the phone onto the bed and roughly grabbed Laura's hair, pulling her head back. Her mouth automatically opened, making it difficult to contain the volume of her moans. Paul smacked her arse hard, producing a loud squeal of pain. And then again. Glowing red hand prints started to appear on her twitching arse cheeks. "You naughty, filthy little whore, Laura. Take it you bitch! You love it rough, don't you slut?" "Yes, oh yes! Fuck me Paul. Fuck my arse. Oh God, oh God! Come in me you bastard. In my arse you fucking bastard! Oh yes! Oh yes! I'm coming!" There was a brief lull as Laura held her breath, followed by the complete destruction of the dam that was holding back the torrent of her orgasm and she screamed long and hard. Laura collapsed face down onto the bed, breathing heavily. Her hips spasmed erratically as the aftershocks of her orgasm continued to pulse inside her. "Laura. Oh Laura was that really you? I'm so sorry I've hurt you. Please come home. Please! You've punished me now, so let's put this behind us. I don't care what you've done. I'll forgive you...." Laura slowly raised herself onto her elbows and picked up the phone. "Fuck off, Roger," was all she said, before she switched it off and threw it onto the floor. She rolled onto her back, enjoying the feeling of warm, sticky semen oozing out of her arse and dribbling down her cheeks onto the sheets. She parted her thighs and looked at Paul unashamedly as she brazenly played with the stickiness between her legs. Laura then held out her arms for Paul and pulled him to her, wrapping her legs around him tightly. She ran her fingers through his hair and thrust her tongue deeply into his mouth for a long, passionate kiss, her body still throbbing. She rolled on top of him and pulled slightly away from his face to ask "Did I please you, Paul? Am I a good little slut?" "You did and you are. I am going to love having you and sharing you again and again," was all he replied, then kissed her lightly and tenderly on her lips and rolled her onto her back again. He stroked her hair and gently ran caressing fingers over her body, all the while looking deeply into her eyes. "Paul?" she whispered. "Yes Laura." "About your friends? Do they live far away..........?" Forget Me Not This is my first story in this genre, so I hope I don't disappoint. (Can't jump into sex on the first page. :)) Chapter 1 She tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. No one here knew her. She was just another face in the crowd. This was the hottest night club in town, and she just wanted to feel the life surrounding her. The music was loud, the lights were low, and the group wild. As she slowly sipped her martini and looked around the dance floor, it pulsed with life and reminded her that there was life outside the shell that she had built around herself. She had toed the line, done what was expected of her. Anything money could buy, she had. But the loneliness ate at her, day and night. So she had escaped. Lied to everyone that she had an important engagement to attend. Tonight was her last night of freedom, before she handed it to another, who would have the same rigid expectations as her parents. She had thought to just pick up a guy, maybe dance the night away. But now all she wanted was to be left alone. She hadn't dressed to impress. She had donned the simplest of her cocktail dresses. Black satin, with a square neckline and short sleeves, the hem stopping just above the knees, and a slim white belt at the waist. She knew how to use makeup to enhance her best features, but tonight, she had only applied the barest of blush and pink tinged lip gloss. Her dense black hair was caught in a claw comb at the back of her head, leaving the rest to fall in waves down to mid-back. Violet eyes, pert nose and full lips with a slight overbite, she told herself no one would find her the least appealing, so they shouldn't bother her. What she didn't realize was that without much makeup, her natural beauty shone even more. Her rare violet eyes attracting any male who was lucky enough to get a glimpse of them. As the music changed from hard rock to a soothing melody, her body began to slowly sway to the music. Several men came up to her and asked for a dance, but though she flirted with them, she turned them down. "Damn," she thought, "why don't they just leave me alone? I guess it's time to hit the road. I don't need anymore of this." She quickly finished up the last of her martini and paid the tab. As she rose in preparation to leave, another guy came up to ask for a dance. This time, he managed to get a hold of her right hand. "I guess your date never showed up, huh? Name's Mark. How 'bout a dance?" "I'm sorry," she replied. "I'm tired. Maybe next time." The guy didn't look too bad, but by the fumes in his breath, he was quite drunk. He kept swaying closer and closer. She tried to gather up her purse but tugged her hand to no avail. He was not letting go of her hand, and she really didn't want to cause a scene. That was the last thing she needed. "Please, sir, let go of my hand," she quietly asked. "Mark. The name's Mark, honey. And you haven't told me your name," slurred her admirer. "Well, Mark, let go of my hand," she said with gritted teeth. As she was preparing to extricate herself from Mark's unwanted attentions, the back of her neck started tingling. She could feel someone else's eyes on her. Shit, she thought. She had to control her reaction and not look around immediately. She knew she had to get out of there as fast as possible, but she didn't want to call more attention to herself. "All right," she smiled at Mark, "one dance. But I've got to hit the ladies' room first." "Sure, fine," he answered. She thought he would sit in her seat and wait for her, but as she started towards the back, he followed. Damn and double-damn, she fumed. She had hoped to slip out without having to go all the way to the back. The tingling at the base of her neck started getting worse and her heart rate sped up, as Mark's hand started traveling down her back. To get his hand off her, she started walking faster. And because he was pretty drunk, he couldn't keep up with her strides. She start weaving around people, and once, she heard a "hey" behind her, which meant Mark had bumped into someone. Glad for that, she walked even faster and started looping around, in order to get to the front. She finally breathed a sigh a relief when she reached the doors. She still felt someone's eyes on her, but when she looked back, there was no sign of Mark. Everyone was doing their own thing. "I'm getting totally paranoid," she thought. The doorman opened the door for her, and she stepped out into the night.