It's A Bob

Feb 2005 - 313 words - My very first flash. I believe I was complimented on my use of double-entendre.

Marla always loved the grandfather clock in her best friend's house. It was an ancient brooding wooden thing, crouched in the elbow of the old mansion's twisting halls. It seemed stately and lurking to Marla at the same time.

The thing she liked best about it was the pendulum. The long shaft was real gold, and it shone from the maid's dutiful daily polish. The weight at the end was a flat gold disk as big across as Marla's dainty hand. That weight glittered a different way each time it swung left, and right, and hit the soft lamplight radiating down to it from across the hall. Marla felt a little silly, a little like a kitten when she did it, but she loved to crouch on the soft thick carpet and watch the pendulum.

She loved to watch it.

The shiny gold disc hung above her, like the sun trapped in a single wedge of orbit. On her back Marla felt like she was starting to swing around the pendulum, she was the one trapped in orbit, held in perfect balance as the beautiful ancient thing sat patiently still, ticking. She was the one who swung back, and forth with each tick, and tock. The pendulum just set the pace.

Lying with her back on the soft, thick carpet, this was very relaxing.

Lying next to her best friend, her beautiful rich-kid Shayna, it was very warm, snuggly. Safe, and secure.

Lying on her back, next to beautiful naked Shayna felt very erotic.

Lying naked and still, orbiting the pendulum while Shayna stroked her naked breast, this made Marla very hot. Shayna kept touching her clit, feather-light, and this made Marla want Shayna's long warm fingers in there.

She was so wet. Mindlessly orbiting the pendulum made Marla horny.

Mindlessly orbiting, back, and forth, tick, and tock, while she obeyed Shayna's commands...

As She Forsakes Her Star-Flung Tomb

Mar 2005 - 362 words - Dark/Romantic. I apologize in advance for the poem.

Cruel moon hangs in Eastern sky
Daylight chokes upon the night
And I, 'neath Luna's arcing scythe
Prepare my flesh for sacrifice

It was a moonlit glade beyond the reach of man, wherein I found myself nude and prostrate. Below the black reaches of night, in the caress of gentle snowfall She stood, immortal and distant. My thighs trembled to contemplate Her fingers teasing them; my breasts, rosy from the cold, moaned for Her touch. My hands, outstretched upon the snow, reached desperate for Her sandal-clad feet.

Only when my body was frozen utterly, a statue in subservience, did She at last approach. I felt Her presence near my fingertips - they tingled. She allowed the silken hem of Her dress to slip over my arms. Beneath it, Her legs brushed my face, slid across my side. If She wished She could have mounted me, bound me with reins, at the gentlest urging commanded me forward, and I would have carried Her across the world.

I felt Her, at my side, take hold of my hair, pull me up so I was merely on my knees before Her. The shadows between Her perfect thighs called to me, brushed civilized thoughts from my mind, urged me to be Hers.

Stroking my hair, Her fingers wove reins around my will. My arms, limp 'til now, lifted Her skirt and placed it over my head like a veil. With a long moan I licked Her thigh, ran my tongue over Her marble flesh until I reached the center, the core of Her lust. She was as soft and as hot there as I, and I licked again, and again.

How I lost myself there, at that sweet altar! I licked and suckled until my head spun, empty as the frozen night above.

Her whisper when She came held my soul in chains. Leaning close, the scent of Winter on Her lips, She spoke these words to me:

"Worshipful toy, My pleasure is thine. Serve Me always."

My eyes were in tears as She faded into the ancient forest. The juices dripping down my frozen thighs could have melted the snow beneath me.

I slumped, paralyzed with orgasm, but forced a hiss to escape my panting lips, and I breathed to the air where She disappeared,

"Yes, Mistress..."

I ♥ Boobs

Mar 2005 - 256 words - Inspired by someone's Yahoo profile, of all things.

Her fingers crept along the front of her blouse, inching it further open. Her head bobbed back and forth, eyes unfocused, unblinking.

"And the more you touch your breasts, the deeper you fall. You like to touch them."

"Noooo... I-I shouldn't... touch... my breasts..."

"But with each breath you go deeper. Deeper asleep. And as you go deeper, you find your hands becoming glued to your breasts. Glued tight."

Her fingers revealed, bared, stroked, squeezed. Her pretty lips were too limp to hinder a moan.

"Yes, deeper and deeper, and-"

"Deeper..."

"Yes. Hands glued to your breasts, glued tight, touching them... It feels good. Feels better and better, deeper and deeper."

She squeezed her breasts together, nipples sticking out rigid between her fingers. She moaned again.

"It- It feels... better..." She breathed the last word in a confessional whisper. She was blushing, but she couldn't take her hands away. Not anymore; they were glued tight. She didn't really mind, any longer. She had to keep going deeper, and touching her breasts just felt better and better.

"Good. You can take your hands off your breasts now. But only if someone else is touching them. Stroking them. Cup your breasts. Offer them... So you won't be glued anymore."

Her hands slipped underneath her breasts, holding them up, nipples peaked in the warm air. Waiting for a foreign touch to release her. She let out a needy little moan.

A little part of her mind, less-deeply hypnotized than the rest, was glad she hadn't been wearing a bra.

What the Hell, This Doesn't Even Have MC in It

Apr 2005 - 243 words - Yeah, what was I even thinking?.

When he gently bit her earlobe, her quivering turned into the first waves of orgasm.

She let out a high almost-shriek, and closed her eyes as his soft lips pressed against the sensitive edge of her ear again and again. The skin of his hands was much rougher, but everywhere he touched her lit fires of joy - small of the back, curve of the breast, tight smooth thigh. She could only grip his arms, squeezing against him in her need, the silky fabric of her panties the only protection her hot, wet sex had against his harsh denim jeans.

She slipped one hand into his open fly, desperate to distract him, if only to regain a sliver of composure. She ran her delicate fingers along his length, but he was undeterred. And now she was imagining all that length inside her, fulfilling the wishes expressed by her burning flesh. She stroked, longing to take him in her mouth, and when his tongue found her lips she suckled on that, needy, moaning.

At last she coaxed him to enter her, entrusting her weight to their embrace. His shirt-buttons pricked her breasts; her nipples were painfully sensitive, but she had no recourse, had to accept the sensation along with all the others, letting herself be overwhelmed, glorying in helpless pleasure. She tilted her head back, letting her smooth throat fall prey to his kisses, and murmured happy gibberish as their bodies danced in pleasure.

California Love

May 2005 - 238 words - I am not above using Dr. Dre tracks as inspiration.

California... knows how to party
In the citaaay of L.A.

A drop-top on the empty highway, the radio blaring, a west-coast sunset, and a girl hot as the day is long - paradise. Almost.

She flicks the radio off, her voice is strident.

"I don't care, I'm tired! I don't want to go to the beach now!"

I try to persuade her, but it just isn't working.

"Yes, I'm sure there are lots of topless chicks there; that is not a compelling argument!

"Oh, don't put that CD on again! We listened to it all the way here! Come on, it's. . . ."

That calmed her down a little. It's very relaxing music. I told her that: very relaxing music. She nods her head, and agrees, staring at the pretty sunset. Ah, there's the cute, compliant voice of the girl I married.

"I guess we can go. . . Um, to the beach. You want to, right? We can go, then."

She keeps watching the sunset, face blank as she slowly re-organizes her thoughts.

I pat her bare thigh, high up near her neon bikini-bottoms.

"I want to do. . . What you want to do. We can go see the topless girls. I bet they'll like your CD a lot. . . ."

At a break in the median I spin the wheel and press down the gas. I lay yards of rubber on my way back to the beach.

I flip the radio back on.

In the citaaay, the city of Compton
We keep it rockin! We keep it rockin, uhhh!

I don't dare call it "Star Whores"

Jul 2005 - 609 words - The best word to describe this would be... ridiculous. ...and thesaurus-powered.

The battle station rocked under the rumble of turbolaser fire, and Lisa Starcrusher slammed to her knees, hard, on the ridged metal floor. Her calves started to bleed - she was stripped of even her padded flightsuit's meager protection. She ignored the throbbing in her legs, all her attention fixed on the vast black shape that had risen from its throne to tower above her.

The eyes of the evil Imperator Palpitate seemed to glow red with hellfire. He raised one gloved hand, and Lisa felt the invisible grip on her throat. She was too weak, too distracted to use her own powers to resist it. Her photon-scimitar was powered down, trembling in her limp grasp. Palpitate's inexorable will lifted her from the deck until she was almost standing, tugging her head up so she was in a ragdoll's parody of military attention. His insidious voice crackled through the darkened throne room like heat lightning.

"You are beaten, child. You have one last chance: pledge yourself to my service. Give yourself to the Crepuscular Aspect of The Impetus!"

Lisa coughed, and spat. "Never! I would rather die!" Hovering in the air, she grasped The Impetus with all her remaining will, lifted her photon-scimitar, and ignited its brilliant blade. The Imperator squinted but did not relent. His grip on her body tightened, attempting to crush the strength from her limbs, but Lisa forced herself forward, arms up over her head, floating towards the Master of the Crepuscular Aspect; the brutal tyrant who would hold the entire Galaxy in a stranglehold, as he now held the last of its defenders.

The glow in her enemy's eyes brightened, burned. She gritted her teeth as his sibilant rasp scraped her ears . . . and beyond. He was in her mind now, his voice. Her defenses were broken, all her training in the Lucent Aspect not half a match for the Imperator's raw, seething power. But she only needed to hold on for a few more seconds . . . .

"Your powers are depleted, your fleet is lost . . . And your friends on the defensive planetoid will not survive.

"You have no hope.

"Surrender to me now, and join your fellow failed Lucent Knights at my feet!"

"NOOOOO!" Lisa's cry was drowned as another blast rocked the station. She forced herself another few precious inches closer, and struggled to bring her arms down, trying to force the Impetus through her numb, frozen muscles.

She shrieked as the Imperator stripped the last piece of clothing from her body, and released his grip, dropping her once again to the floor.

Her arms swung forward, bringing the blade down, down, down . . .

Silencing the weapon as the blade withdrew with a snap-hisssss . . .

And laying the impotent scimitar at Palpitate's feet. He threw back his cloaked head and laughed.

Lisa's naked body, small and curled on the floor, began to tremble. Dazed, she lifted her heavy head and looked up; the Imperator was a thousand feet tall, eclipsing the stars and the battle raging beyond the thick viewports. She looked up at him with a dull, vacant stare, her mind numb and quiet, totally defeated. She waited for him to wrap her tight in his Crepuscular will, to end her torment with sweet, unthinking servitude.

As she tried to focus on the soaked bit of silk he dangled from one black fist, Lisa knew the heat trickling down her thighs was nothing like the blood on her bruised knees . . .

As her universe darkened, the Imperator's voice echoed across it:

"You, like your panties, are now mine."

To Be Continued

Aug 2005 - 405 words - Dark. This is the germ of a story I still intend to write.

She wrenched herself away from the computer in time to see the security-lockdown clock had gone to red.

Flashing red, flash-flash-flash in a special, panicky rhythm, one they'd taught her in basic training. How many times had she stood at attention and stared at that light, that rhythm, trying to master it? The drill sergeant would yell when they blinked.

She stared at the flashing clock with wider and wider eyes until she slammed her lids closed. Her breathing pounded. It had almost gotten her.

She forced herself out of the chair, so wet with fear-sweat her clothes peeled away with a sqwik. Eyes closed, she ran for the office door, jerked it open. She was surprised the electro-mag locks hadn't already kicked in, sealing the door shut beyond any human strength.

She knew what the flashing lockdown clock meant: full emergency quarantine of the base. Something had gotten out.

The pit of her stomach dropped. Her thoughts sunk with it, through the reinforced underground floors to the dark laboratories. The research hubs, with their pulsing, embryonic light, dark shades hanging in glass tubes, fluid clouded with life-juices and unknown excretions. She imagined one of the thick tubes smashed, some gelatinous limb wrigging against the sharp glass teeth, a cold alien mass squirming forth. Free of captivity, hungering for its captors . . . .

She imagined the bodies in the labs, their glassy eyes, gasping mouths, alive but inhuman, drained of will. She imagined them rising up, her colleagues, moaning, arms stretched out, fingers . . . Reaching, slavering zombies, guided by sinister alien thoughts.

Her colleagues, warped into tools of the creatures they studied. She shivered in a dark elbow of the hallway. Administration would probably irradiate the base. She shivered again, sinking down to the floor, arms around her knees. She didn't know which idea frightened her more.

She slowly opened her eyes, just a little. Cracked her lashes apart, enough to see if strobing lights waited for her. Waited, crouched, to leap through her eyes into her brain and disable her. This wasn't just military training; she'd been indoctrinated. That was their word for the process used on all personnel at Alpha-Black-clearance facilities, the ones that weren't supposed to exist.

Indoctrination was programming, irresistable response to certain stimuli. Indoctrination made her a tool, shaped her will to a single purpose. If she was going to live, she had to resist it.

Untitled

Aug 2005 - 448 words - Dark, again.

I can't move. Why can't I move?

"As I was saying: I like it better, in here. My place, quiet, cozy, personal.

"I feel a lot more confident in here."

Whyyyy can't I MOVE?! Oh God, what's happening to me . . . I don't want to be here with this guy . . . .

"Heh, you're a hard girl to feel confident around. But now, well, look, I can look right up into your pretty blue eyes."

This guy's fucking crazy. He's crazy. Stop grinning at me, freak! What's he DOING to me?

"I'm even touching you, feel that? Ohh, and you're so soft, so like I imagined you'd be."

No no no not, don't, get your hands off me!

"Good thing you wore this halter top - easy to get off. I just reach back here . . . ."

no . . .

Oh, God, stop touching my breasts, no this is awful someone help! Please!

"Mmmm, you're SO sweet, baby."

No no nooo ohhh no stop

"And I want you to feel goooood."

nonono ohhh . . . OH! Oh, no, please, wow . . . .

No please don't take my pants off please Oh! This is wrong . . . Why's it feel so nice?

"You're a more reasonable height without those shoes. And so cute with your hair down, with your matching undies, not so intimidating anymore, are you?"

please . . . .

"You look so hot . . . ."

no don't, my panties, noOOHHHHyesss . . . .

". . . You must be just soaking. Mmmm, and you are!"

no-oohhhhh!

"I was wrong, wasn't I? You're not cold and stuck-up, are you? You're a wet, slutty whore . . . ."

yes! Yess! Oh, and my nipples- yes, ohhhh! Mmmm! More!

"I just wish I could hear what's going through your head right now . . . ."

Ohhhh yesss, please, more, fuck me more that's so good mmmmmmm!

"I'd love to hear you beg for more."

Yes, please, I'll do anything please! Fuck! Me!

"I'll let you move down to your knees . . . ."

Mmmm, please, give it to me, your pants, yes open them, ohhhh . . . Please give it to m-

"And now I'll even let you talk."

"-eee! Please! Fuck me, ohhhh give that to me, please, yes, put it in me pleeemmmphh!"

"That'll be enough. Ohhhh . . . Never knew you wanted it so bad! Heh. Mmmm . . . ."

mmmmm yes, cock, more, ohhhh please your cock . . . I need it . . . More . . .

please . . . .

Anteater?

Nov 2005 - 177 words - Dark, as above.

"Come, Anteater."

Her heels clicked together as Obedience abruptly thrummed through her body. She had just enough time to smooth out the skirt of her ridiculous outfit before her hands were rigid at her sides.

Christ, she thought this was done with. But here she was, every Friday, in this goddamn outfit. In his goddamn kitchen. Doing what he goddamn said.

It was supposed to have been a party trick, months ago. Good for a few laughs. She couldn't remember how to try and control her body. How to stop herself from dressing up and coming over here, from being his slut.

She managed to whisper, before her lips sealed themselves, "when's this stupid shit end?"

His eyes glinted as he stepped closer. Had that same glint been there at the party? When she'd sat down, closed her eyes, and relaxed?

"Never."

There was no party here, now. There was just him, and her. And her stiff straight naked thighs, and his trousers. He unzipped and slid them away from his waist.

"For you, babe, not ever."

Do While

Mar 2006 - 185 words - It's time we had more erotica that includes programming-language syntax.

Do While
Next unit, step forward

It steps forward. Above its tall heels, its calf muscles are shapely-tight.

unit, prepare to establish Connection

It stands stiffly, stiffer. It arches its bare neck, and a bead of sweat makes the Interface glimmer.

The slick metal Key slides forward, into the Interface. Its pussy twitches as the Connection flares to life.

unit, flush mindcache to accept Program

Data streams from the Key through the Interface. It orgasms, standing at attention.

Remap mindcache and prepare to reflash braincode

Its eyes are glassy, wide, blue. They see nothing, all resources dedicated to accepting Program from Interface.

It cums. It moans. It is aware of the former. It stands stiffly, stiffer.

unit has been reflashed. Begin braincode execution. First Instruction at address 0x4F424559

The Key slides from the Interface. It steps forward, leaving a space for the next unit to fill. It begins to walk down the hall.

Its stride is brisk, purposeful and precise. It does not hear the clop of its heels.

It executes its Instructions. Its pussy throbs. It obeys its Program.

Next unit, step forward

Loop

Boned

May 2006 - 83 words.

The last thing I remembered was Carla unzipping her shirt.

Now I felt something against my face. It was breasts, had to be. The soft weight was unmistakable. And they were big ones, fragrant. They hovered away. Wavered, my eyes unsteady.

I couldn't pull my gaze from her swollen nipples. Something beyond lust for her lush areolae was drawing me in.

Hadn't Carla been an A cup this morning?

Even before I felt the stiffening in my pants, I knew I was boned.

Five Hundred. And One

Aug 2006 - 271 words - This was my 501st post on the Forum. Additional boobs. They're dangerous, chief.

"That's right. Keep looking into the spiral. Keep staring, just sitting there staring, deep into it, into the center."

"It's hard . . . makes me . . . sleepy."

"I know. That's okay. It doesn't matter. You have to look, have to stare. Keep staring, you can't move, can't think, can't do anything but stare."

"Can't do . . . anything . . . but stare . . ."

"Good girl. You're under my power now. Under my power. You must obey."

"Must . . . obey . . ."

"Now turn your chair around, baby, for the moment I've been waiting for: show me your tits."

"Yes, Master. Must obey. Must show my tits."

"Ohh, yes sir - those are perfect, baby. Amazing. Be a good girl and play with them for me."

"Yes Master."

"Yeah, move them around, just like that, tease those cute little nipples. Just a sec . . .

zzzzip

"Ahhhh, that's better. Around and around, that's a good girl. So under my control, so hypnotized . . ."

"Yes, Master. Must obey. Around and around. Can't move, can't think. Only stare. Must stare deeper."

"Ohhh, yeah. Yeah, that's so hot. Hearing you say it, yeah, ohhh, keep it up, baby, ohhhh . . ."

"Yes, so hot, around and around. Can't think. Can't move. Only stare. So hypnotized. Must obey. Must obey."

"Aaahhh... yeah, so good. So hypnotized. Can't move. C-can't think. Only stare . . . Only stare. Only . . . Oh. Crap."

"Around and around, Master. Can't move. Can't think. Only stare. And obey. Must obey. So hypnotized . . ."

Drawing From Life

Aug 2006 - 210 words - Nevermind the title. I'm happy with how ambiguous the identity of the controller is, here.

Look, I'll level with you: I gave in and just used the damn subliminal messages.

She was an intern, okay? A pretty, spunky twenty-one year old, and she had sweet perky tits and a nice round ass with a tiny waist, and every time she walked by or I followed her upstairs to a meeting I'd stare at her ass and think, no, dammit, stop that!

I mean, I'm the boss; I'm supposed to be above that kind of thing.

Every time, I just wanted to grab that ass and ride it. So, finally, last week she was working late and I called her into my office.

We sat there and I just talked to her for a while, and I asked her a few things. And the subliminals I'd been feeding her, they worked like a charm.

And, look, this is exactly the sort of thing I thought I'd never do. But I almost came in my goddamn pants when she took her clothes off.

Even when she was on her knees under my desk, I still felt a little embarrassed at what I'd stooped to.

But still, with her nimble fingers strumming my dick, I found myself fumbling in a desk drawer to give her a job application.

HLA

Jan 2007 - 590 words - Humour.

Lesbina stabbed one slender finger at her thrall, not daring to take her eyes away from the summoning circle traced at her feet. Her voluptuous slavegirl was standing at the side of the chamber, poring over a musty tome of antediluvian origin. thrall shivered at her Mistress's regard and moaned in brazen arousal at the sound of her voice.

"Slave! The spell is almost complete! I must know the nature of its binding element at once! Have you completed the translation?"

thrall's voice shook as she delicately turned one desiccated page, trying to ignore the heat creeping from betwixt her thighs in response to Lesbina's commanding tone. "Almost, my Mistress! I have but a few more sigils to decipher."

"Be quick, my pet! I- soft! It comes forth!"

Lesbina squeezed her painted eyelids almost shut as the brazier at the center of her circle of power flared redly, filling the room with unnatural light. She wanted to raise a hand to shield her eyes from the glare, but dared not move her arms from their elaborate protective gesture. Stepping through the brazier's widening portal was an otherworldly creature of immense and arcane power, a demon that would require all of Lesbina's considerable magickal energy to control.

As the light faded, the witch's eyes opened and then widened. She gasped: standing before her was the most blindingly sexual creature the human mind could imagine. The demon's impossible curves dripped with sweat that fairly reeked of female desire, and its voluminous breasts heaved, pierced nipples quivering and distended. Lesbina gasped as she glimpsed the girldemon's shaven, throbbing cunt and the obscene mark of the Underworld branded above it - a brand that sucked at the mind, seeming almost to writhe.

Drool running from between her parted lips, Lesbina took a jerky, hesitant step into the summoning circle. The ring of power flared as it was penetrated and the brazier's flame trebled in size. A wind born from black infinity swept through the portal, filling the small chamber with its inane, atonal moan.

thrall screamed at the sight of her Mistress stepping into her own ring of power, breaking the protective spells that held the summoned beastress at bay. Even as thrall watched, petrified, the girldemon drew Lesbina into its fatal embrace, the witch's robe disintegrating at the creature's touch. It pulled Lesbina closer, its barbed tail slithering from between its legs to penetrate her already-dripping pussy, stifling the resultant moan by pressing the helpless woman to its lips - and to the fangs beneath.

"Mistress!" thrall's horrified scream seemed to tear Lesbina from her stupor, and she pulled away from the demon long enough to turn to her devoted servant. thrall gasped at the sight of her Mistress's fluttering eyes, the irises now completely invisible.

Lesbina's voice was a throaty gasp, but it sent thrall back into her studying with renewed fervor.

"the . . . trans . . . laaaation . . . only . . . hope . . . ."

thrall stared into the ancient runes, casting upon herself all the cognitive spells she could remember, desperate for meaning to arise from the pages . . . before it was too late.

When it did she cried out, such was her disbelief. Even as she spoke the words aloud, she was reading them again, and again, not quite able to believe her eyes.

"Mistress! The text! It reads . . . Hot Lesbian Action?!"

Lesbina, her face buried between the girldemon's swollen tits, could only utter a muffled moan.

A Bit Darker

May 2008 - 412 words - Someone posted "this one's a bit darker..." in reference to their own flash, and I... did this.

I've never been on top of a building before. This is a tall one, sixty-six floors at the nexus of downtown, and I'm not supposed to be here.

Even the summer wind is cold, this high up. My thighs are numb under the little, flapping skirt.

The door to the roof slams open behind me - like I said, this is trespassing. I put one high-heeled foot on the edge of the roof, setting my weight to step up on the railing. My calves burn from all the stairs I climbed in those heels. I can't take them off.

The security guard is shouting behind me. His boots pat-pat-pat across the rooftop, and I can imagine his belly lolling over the heavy utility belt, he's already panting, still twenty yards away. He doesn't have to keep himself in shape the way I do.

I have all the time in the world to lift my foot up to the railing. It's metal, narrow and slippery with cold, and I'll never be able to balance on it. I'll either fall backwards on my ass, seconds before he gets to me, or I'll fall forward.

Behind me, the guard screams. Looking at the tiny lights below, I don't bother to listen. I put my foot on the railing, and I only need to push off the other leg and I'm free. Air and wind and darkness and fear, and then I'm even less of a person than I am now. Even fewer cares. Even fewer thoughts.

I can't lift my other foot off the ground. I try, and try, and my muscles burn and ache the way my pussy aches with need, but I'm frozen, legs stiff, arms held out wide, a ridiculous mannequin posed for suicide. The guard's arms clap around my waist and he pulls, we fall to the safety of the roof with me on top.

His warm, panting body pressed against me makes me turn, and it's easy for me to free him from his pants. He's stunned, member limp in my hands, and then he's enjoying it as I use my hands and tits and mouth.

My legs are scraped and burning from the rough surface of the roof, but I'm warm and giddy all the way through with relief. Or maybe it's just the knowledge that this poor baffled guard, once I get him stiff and moaning, will pin me to the tar with his weight and fuck me.

Gum Shoe

Oct 2008 - 498 words - Straight humour, in content and wordplay.

The dame walked into my office, but it would be better to say she prowled, or maybe sashayed. All legs from her spike heels to the hem of her leather mini, this voracious vixen flounced into the chair across from my desk and I poured her a long, stiff drink.

"I hear you're good at solving problems," she breathed, her pillowy lips making love to the words, "and I, like... I totally got one."

I slid her drink across the desk and made myself another, downing half in one gulp. The only way not to stare at this jungle cat was to give myself double vision.

"Lay it on me, sugarpie," I said, deciding to play it suave, "If you're enmeshed in a conundrum, yo, I'll find a solution to it."

"Oh thank you," she purred, putting her hands between her knees. She said something else, but all I heard was the sound of her boobs trying to spill out her top.

"Uh, could you repeat that?" I clutched my highball, sweat beading on the glass and on my forehead.

"Well, like, it's this guy I saw, like, one time? And he totally won't leave me alone! I'm 'fraid he's gonna, you know, do something to me." She shivered, her eyes big and scared, scarlet lips shimmering. I began to stand, ready to be her knight in shining armor, but the tent in my trousers said play it cool.

"You've come to the right place, honeyface. This joker won't lay a finger on your pretty little head while I'm around."

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that!" Her giggle brought thoughts of Sadie Stewart back in grade eight, but remembering my first handjob would just get in the way of business. "He says he's going to change me."

First thought: this chick in a diaper, spanking her for being a naughty girl... nope, I'd missed something. I leaned forward over the desk, into the Grand-Canyon vertigo of a peek down her cleavage.

"Come again?"

"Oh!" She closed her eyes for a second, lips parted, then giggled again. "Oh. He says he's gonna change me, 'cause he only likes girls with big tits and small brains!"

I dragged my jaw off the blotter, tasted ink. "Could you stand up for a second?"

"Like, sure!"

"Great. Now turn around... slower. Yeah, like that." I looked her up, and I looked her down, and even though my brain had way more-important things to do, truth dawned on me.

"So this guy, he hasn't done anything to you yet?"

"Like, nope!"

"But you're pretty sure he will."

"Like, totally!"

"Okay," I said, coming around from behind my desk. She noticed the trouser tent, was clearly thinking about unzipping the flap.

"So, like... can you help me, and stuff?"

She licked her lips - the stud on her long tongue decided it.

"Yeah, kittentits," I guided her hand to my fly, and I zinged out like a spring-loaded boxing glove.

"I'll take your case."

Untitled Maid Flash

Jan 2009 - 231 words - The character has a gender-neutral name. I guess this could happen to anybody.

"I'm a pretty bimbo maid. I'm a pretty bimbo maid. I'm a pretty bimbo maid." The headphones in her ears just kept repeating that, over and over, in a happy feminine singsong voice. It was enough to lock out any other thought.

She had minced around the apartment in her towering heels, following the vacuum cleaner across the floor, the recording blasting over the sound of its motor.

Now she was on all fours, ass wiggling high in the air as she scrubbed the kitchen tile. Imagining being seen like this, in the tiny black dress with the frilly apron, the sheer pantyhose, the rubber gloves, always turned her on hard.

When the apartment was spotless, her legs slid together and her back straightened. The feather duster fell from her hands as they bladed stiffly at her sides. Her eyes unfocused for a moment as she clicked the MP3 player off and her mind echoed, utterly empty with the voice's sudden absence.

A moment later, personality returned. Alex stripped on the way to the bedroom, tossing the music player-turned-brainwasher aside and flopping on the bed. The cleanup routine always did it - Alex was painfully aroused. The release that was soon to come was almost as pleasurable as the knowledge that next weekend the apartment would need cleaning again.

To think, tidying the bachelor pad used to be such a chore.

Doubt

Mar 2009 - 349 words - Dark. Who wants to be jaded towards their hottest fantasy?.

She laid her head against his bare thigh and watched his cock. It was limp now, and she wanted it hard, wanted him to put it where she was already wet.

He stroked her hair and looked at the wall. He wondered when he'd tire of her, and what he'd tell her then.

"You should hypnotize me," she said, lips close to his member so he'd feel the touch of her breath, "and make me suck your cock."

He looked down, saw her in his lap, eyes rolled up to look at him. He couldn't help but harden at that submissive posture. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Make me your drone." She saw it twitch, from the corner of her eye. "Make me your mindless blowjob doll. Just a sextoy."

"Urrh." He was stiffening now, despite himself. Her sultry whisper, the eager need underneath it. "Alright."

Her eyes went wide at the trigger, and she straightened up in her kneeling posture, lips already shaping themselves around his cock. He sighed long and slow as she began to suck.

The thousand-yard stare in her eyes, the utter lack of awareness always did him in. Even as she sucked he imagined what he'd say when he broke it off, got no more than four words in, over and over.

He'd never found someone so eager to indulge him, so in tune with the weird, random things that got his rocks off. He used to think this was all he'd ever been looking for.

Warm wet lips, up and down his shaft. He was tingling now, rigid, pulsating. "Every time you swallow my cum, your will gets weaker," he'd said to her. Now he wished that dependency didn't exist. Maybe he shouldn't-

"Gaaahh! Uhhhmm..." Her eyes rolled partway back behind the lids as she swallowed every drop.

She lay on his stomach later as he stroked her hair. Languid, absentminded strokes, and she asked him, "was that good, honey?"

"Yeah," he said, after a second. He was staring at the ceiling. Couldn't see anything in the dark. "Best hypnotized head in the world, baby.

"Thanks."

Addict

Apr 2009 - 150 words - Also dark, in its way.

"I'm getting worried about you."

I whirled around - shit. She was awake, standing disheveled in the doorway. Mostly-awake, anyway. Her body was slumped, eyes half-closed, voice quiet. On the computer screen, creamy flesh writhed, eyes grew wide and glassy, hypnotized voices moaned "Yes, Master..."

"Have you been staying up later every night?"

I didn't know what to say. Hidden from her view, my erection throbbed where it stood, trapped by the waistband of my underpants. A bottle of lube sat on the desk, bulbous and purple amidst unpaid bills and an empty cereal bowl.

"I have to wake up for work in three hours. Please come to bed for a while."

She turned and left. The hypnoporn continued to pulsate on my screen. One hand crept back down to my dick.

I have a problem, I thought. And I looked back at the empty doorway.

...Maybe more than one.

Cumming Cents

Aug 2009 - 568 words - And now, humour again! It's a goddamn carnival ride in here.

"Hey, check it out - a lucky penny."

"Oh?" Lindy slid her big sunglasses down her elegant nose to glance at the pavement. "How about that."

We were walking back from the gelato place, it was ninety degrees outside, and my hands were getting sticky from iced milk, but I had to see this thing through before I took another bite.

"Why don't you, uh, pick it up?"

She licked a mouthful of gelato off the little plastic spoon and let the spoon slide, long and slow, out of her mouth. Ooh.

"Because it's a penny, my dear. And, like eating celery, the reward gained is not worth the energy expended."

"Aw, c'mon. Remember when we were kids? How exciting it was to find a penny on the sidewalk like this?"

That would've been about the time we met - on this very street, in fact. Lindy running, an exotic vision with her dark skin and wild black hair bouncing as she chased the softball into traffic... I'd loved her ever since.

She rolled her eyes and straightened her sunglasses. "Some of us have come a long way since then, doofus." But she bent over anyway, little khaki shorts clinging to curves more delicious than her amaretti-pistachio, and picked up the penny. I could feel my heart pounding underneath my tongue.

"This is odd," she said, standing up and holding the penny close for inspection, "it's not..." And she stopped, stiffened. Her mind, if this had worked, empty and open.

"Lindy?" Gelato was running freely down my fingers now, but I didn't even notice.

"Yes, master?" She sounded distracted, distant, like she was watching her Spanish soaps.

"Ohh... oh, okay. Wow. Um..." I tried to think of some kind of test, my eyes settling on the cup of liquefying dessert she still held in one hand. "Lindy, drip some of that gelati on your chest."

"Yes, master." Still clutching the penny along with her little spoon, Lindy extracted a scoop of gelato and, with a sort of exaggerated jerky motion, brought it up to her collarbone and dumped it down the soft, tanned skin exposed by her tank top.

I watched, paralyzed, as the viscous beige fluid disappeared into the space between her breasts.

The sound of chatter behind me made me turn around: the two girls who'd been standing behind us at the gelato place were sauntering towards us, laughing with each other as they ate their desserts. Lindy was staring into space, her own confection forgotten.

"Lindy. Okay. I need you to go home, go to the bedroom, get naked, and bend over the bed. I want you to be wet for me, okay? I'll be home in a minute..."

"Yes, master," Lindy said from behind me as I turned away. She began the walk to our place - just around the corner - but my attention was back on the approaching duo.

I reached into my pocket. Just the thought of Lindy's thighs spread around her waiting pussy had me hard, and I had to shove my erection out of the way to reach the coins. As the girls approached, I let the two remaining pennies drop to the pavement, stepped off the sidewalk behind a bush, and waited. I love Lindy, of course, but who'd turn down the chance to do three mind-controlled hotties at once?

This was going to be my lucky day.

Irresistible Bargain

Nov 2009 - 207 words - I've no idea what I've come to like so much about shoes.

Spikes. Platforms. Clear plastic, all of it. If you'd seen them, you'd agree:

Those are some slutty, ridiculous shoes.

And if you'd seen them in the window, right under the "Out of Business Sale! Up to 80% Off!!" sign, you might have wondered what they were going for, despite yourself.

You might have stood in the street, the store's neon making the shoes glow pink as you stared, and despite the glances of passersby felt yourself getting up on tiptoe.

Calves tightening, imagining. The little skirt you'd wear. Your clean-shaven pussy underneath it. Wet from the hungry stares of those you're offered to.

No panties as you spread your new shoes far, far apart. Not unless you had a pole to grind on while you slid them off.

You might have found yourself inside, stroking the spikes. Pumping them, lips helplessly parted and moist. Picturing all the strippers, all the sluts who wore these before.

You might have felt the bed under your back as you hooked your knees over shoulders, toes curling around cheap, glossy plastic as you fuck, and moan, and cum.

You might have seen them, and felt all that, just like me.

And you might also have bought them, no matter the cost.

How Do You

Dec 2009 - 212 words - Sort-of humour. Sort-of hot.

"It's only been ONE session with this doc - who's got a hella rack, by the way - and already she's dyeing her hair? I dunno, man. This was supposed to make her less uptight, but-"

Cliff ground to a halt at the sudden look on Doug's face. Doug's eyes, looking over his shoulder...

"She's standing right behind me, isn't she?"

She was. All five-foot-one of Cassie, plus the six-inch heels on her leather thigh-highs - and those were new, too, the tags still on. She tossed a mane of shocking-pink hair over one shoulder and tugged a zipper down to expose her cleavage.

Vast, creamy cleavage she no longer hid under sweaters.

Cassie arched an eyebrow at Cliff and tapped her foot, her lips a tight line.

"Uhh... listen, honey, don't take this the wrong way. It's just, I mean, I liked you fine before. You know that, right?"

Three quick, loud steps brought her face-to-face with him, hands on her hips. Cliff's throat was tight.

So were his pants.

Fifteen minutes later, Cliff's dick pumping deeper and deeper into her lubed-up ass, Cassie looked over her shoulder with Doug's cum dripping off her face and skewered Cliff with her stare.

"How do you like me now?"

He could only moan.