Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1048041.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Gen
  Fandom:
      Gossip_(2000), Walking_Dead_(TV), Walking_Dead, Dark_Harbour, Blade_
      (Movie_Series), Blade_-_All_Media_Types, Floating_(1997), Deuces_Wild,
      Judas_Music_Video, Red_Canyon_(2008), Moroz_po_kozhe_|_Moscow_Chill_
      (2007), Six_Ways_to_Sunday_(1997), Messengers_2:_The_Scarecrow, Luster,
      Meet_Me_In_Berlin, Tough_Luck_(2003), A_Crime_(2006)
  Character:
      Travis, Daryl_Dixon, Norman_Reedus, Van, Scud, Young_Man, Marco_Vendetti,
      Judas, Mac_(Red_Canyon), Ray_Perso, Harry, John_Rollins, Sex_Tools
      Delivery_Boy, Meet_Me_In_Berlin_-_Character, Archie, Vincent_Harris
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Fantasizing, Accidental_Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Nipple_Play,
      Anal_Fingering, Thoughts_of_Necrophilia, Genital_Piercing, Come_Eating,
      Come_Marking, Non-Consensual_Bondage, Thoughts_of_Rape, Thoughts_of
      Breast_Fucking, Underage_Masturbation, Pedophilia, Underage_Filming,
      Phone_Sex, Parent/Child_Incest, Hallucinations, Blow_Jobs, Dildos
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-17 Updated: 2016-06-22 Chapters: 16/? Words: 18767
****** Masturbation 101 ******
by BustersJezebel
Summary
     A one-shot series of stories based on character's Norman Reedus has
     played. As per the title, they'll all be masturbating. I plan to
     eventually work my way through the characters he has played over the
     years that I've been able to see him perform. Yes, I am that much of
     a fan. Enjoy.
     Note: I have no ownership of any of these characters though I wish
     otherwise.
Notes
     Okay, here is my version of Travis masturbating in Gossip. He is in
     his room listening to Jones and Derek have sex in the kitchen....
***** Gossip - Travis *****
Travis looks away from his computer with a frown, it takes him hearing the
sound of dishes crashing to realise what is going on out in the kitchen. Derek
was finally nailing Jones. Loudly.
He takes a drink out of the hand-blown crystal glass he’d brought in with him.
Derek’s glass, Derek’s apartment, Derek’s room. Derek’s cock inside Jones.
Not that Travis especially wanted to put his cock in Jones. He liked her and
all, and she was attractive. But Travis was an arse man. He liked arse when he
could get it. If he had a choice, he’d take the back door any day. But that
secret was his. Just like it was his secret that the actual sex of the arse he
fucked was negligible as well.
Women were his preferred medium to work with, professionally and sexually. But
not a lot of them were into anal so Travis had to be…creative. Still Derek and
Jones were making him very aware that he had not had the opportunity to sink
himself into anything never mind a backdoor for more than a year. His shyness
was fucking crippling his fucking. Travis’ brow furrowed as he muddled through
what he’d just thought. Yeah, it made sense. To him anyway.
He looks toward the door as he hears Jones moaning and Derek grunting. Yeah, he
envied Derek his ability to smoothly get women, didn’t envy him the loneliness
that accompanied his life. Travis didn’t have many friends, but the few he did
have were genuine ones. Jones and Derek among them he hoped. But his other
friends weren’t people Derek associated with so he barely knew of them, let
alone knew them. Travis never brought them home.
None of them brought other friends home now that he thought of it. Looking
toward the door again as he takes another drink Travis tries to concentrate on
his work unsuccessfully. Their sounds though were turning him on. Putting down
his drink Travis unsteadily gets up and makes his way to his bed, falling face
down on it before he rolls over on his back. His legs dangling off the sides,
feet flat on the floor. He fumbles his way through unsnapping his coveralls and
manages to shrug them off his shoulders without getting up. Then he pushes them
down exposing his hardening cock and balls to the cool air of Derek’s loft. He
always kept it slightly on the cool side so women’s nipples were always on high
beam he said.
Travis only knew it drove Jones crazy. Speaking of, he moans lightly himself as
he hears Jones moan Derek’s name. One of his hands reaches under his pillow
bringing out the lube he kept there and opening it. His other brushes through
his pubic hair and down to his balls, sliding them in his fingers softly,
Tugging on them a little before he brings it up to put some lube on it. Then as
his other hand lets go of the lube to grasp his cock, the fingers that are
slippery with it move down between his legs, coming to rest at his rosebud
entrance.
Moaning again Travis starts to jerk himself off at the same time he presses two
fingers insistently against his entrance. God that was good. He slides his
fingers up and over the head of his cock, gathering the pre-come there he lets
go of his cock as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks himself off. And
that was even better, he spread his legs further, bringing his feet up to the
side of the bed and laying them flat on the side of it so his legs were spread
wide like a sorority slut.
Pressing his fingers in he pushes two of them inside his hole on a moan that
rivalled Jones moan’s outside in the kitchen. Thankful they were being so noisy
Travis brought his other hand from his mouth back down to his cock and clasped
himself again. He starts to jerk in earnest now, up and down, twisting the head
of his cock on the upstroke, grasping it just that bit firmer each time so he
is gradually increasing the pressure of his hold on himself. His stomach
muscles are clenching in need now.
Then Travis’ hips start to move, fucking his hands, both of them, he pulls his
fingers out of his backside and then pushes three of them inside himself this
time, his neck arching back on another filthy moan of pleasure that Derek and
Jones would have no doubt heard if they weren’t already moaning themselves.
Thank God they were busy with each other as well.
It’s been too long since Travis had fucked himself in the literal sense. He
pushes his fingers inside himself harder, middle finger pressing further,
trying to find…there. That. Hips pistoning now, reaching for orgasm along with
Derek and Jones, Travis fucks himself, middle finger brushing his prostate each
time it pushes inside him. And his other hand grasping his cock harder and
harder each time. His body is quaking in pleasure, his mind blanking with it.
And as Jones gives one long protracted groan of pleasure it pushes Travis'
orgasm to the forefront and he comes as well.
Come ejects itself with force from his cock, three strong stripes fly out and
splatter on his chest before the rest slides out of his cock in a steady
stream, moving down his fingers like water over rapids.
Sighing with pleasure Travis lies there letting his body calm down. One hand
still grasps his cock and the other still has fingers inside himself. He pushes
his middle finger in one more time, gasping as it brushes his prostate before
he pulls them out. Then Travis slides them up his body, over his stomach to rub
through his come.
He then brings them to his lips and closes his mouth around them, moaning again
as he sucks himself from his own fingers. He knows it’s dirty and filthy and
kinky but he always cleans himself this way. Less evidence for Derek or Jones
to find when they take it upon themselves to do his laundry.
Repeating the process until he’s cleaned himself up Travis lets his arms flop
to the side of the bed, legs again resting on the floor. He lies there for some
time, listening to Derek and Jones head upstairs to Derek’s bedroom. Then he
sits up and pulls his coveralls back up his arms.
Taking his drink he heads out to the kitchen and survey’s the damage. Shrugging
he starts to clean up. They’d given him a free show, it was the least he could
do. Plus, it gave him the high road he thought with a chuckle to himself.
***** Walking Dead - Daryl *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is Norman's Daryl Dixon of The Walking Dead
Daryl stood and stretched his hands above his head, interlocking his fingers
together he pushed everything upright. The older he got the stiffer his body
got it felt like. He grinned to himself, wasn’t all about him that was stiff
this morning. He’d been sleeping outside off and on all summer. Was mostly okay
except when he saw more than he should.
Unlocking his hands he lets them drop and rolls his shoulders, first forward
several times & then backward. It doesn’t stop the ache in his cock however.
Last night he’d been treated to a hell of a show. There was no way they’d known
he was there otherwise they would not have done what they did. He can’t stop
his right hand from cupping his cock through his trousers. The faintest of
sighs pushes from his lips as he releases a breath at his own touch.
Fuck that felt good, it had been a long time since he’d had the time or the
inclination to jerk off. But last night had put his need front and centre. He
looks around, all is clear and nothing other than his own cock is rising at the
moment. He smirks at his sick humour before he walks several steps outside to
the overhang. He loves feeling the fresh air on him, on his cock. Leaning back
against the wall Daryl undoes his shirt buttons spreading it open. His nipples
bead as the cool pre-dawn air ghosts over them. His breath huffs out again on a
pleasured sigh. It has been way way too long.
He unbuckles his belt and undoes his trousers but leaves them in place. He
places both index fingers in his mouth and sucks on them lightly. He tastes
like blood, sweat and grit but nothing he hasn’t tasted of before. Licking them
thoroughly he pulls them from his mouth and brushes them lightly, so very
lightly over his nipples. They’ve always been overly sensitive, rubbing and
chafing over material that was too harsh or arousing on his skin. Which is why
he wore what shirts he had to death. Was hard to find something that didn’t
have him walking around with a hard on half the time.
A slight moan slips from him against his will as his index fingers continue to
brush over and over on his nipples. His trousers move outward as his cock
hardens under the attention he is giving his nipples. Any stimulation on them
goes immediately to his cock. Wetting his fingers again he continues to brush
them over his nipples, letting them arouse him almost unbearably, his cock was
so hard in his pants he was surprised it just didn’t break through the worn
material.
Then just as his nipples start to get painful from arousal he slides his
fingers town his torso, one hand stopping at his navel to finger his belly
button, the other continuing to push under his trousers to grasp his hard and
leaking cock. Another moan slips from his mouth and Daryl leans his head back
on the wall, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the early morning sun.
God that felt good.
Moving his other hand from his belly button down to his balls, Daryl cups them,
he lightly pinches the skin liking the little bit of pain he causes himself and
then he tugs on them making his cock jerk in his right hand every time he does
so. That felt even better. He freezes when he hears murmuring voices walk his
way.
Slipping back inside the building he was leaning against Daryl fades into the
shadows as the couple talk around the corner. They stop exactly where he’d been
standing and the man slides his arms around the woman’s hips as he leans in and
takes her mouth. She melts into him and returns his kiss with a soft breathy
moan.
Daryl frowns, he’s never been into soft women, give him lanky angles any day.
He thinks of someone who fits that description and continues to jerk-off in
silence even as he watches another free show. His left hand moves back up to
his nipples and he teases himself to near insanity now as he can’t make a
sound.
And that turned him on more. That he was jerking off watching a couple make-out
in front of him when he was thinking about someone else altogether. His face
contorts in a rictus of self-caused pain as his left hand pinches and twists
his left nipple harshly. His mouth opens though no sound comes out and his eyes
close again in the shadows as his right hand jerks himself off.
When he comes it is all the more intense for the silence he needs to keep, his
come leaves his body, dropping down on the floor and one of his boots with the
faintest of splatters. The kissing couple have no idea he is there.
Right hand still holding his cock Daryl stands stock still as he allows his
heart rate to return to normal. He wipes himself off with his rag and then
shoving it back in his pocket he carefully and quietly does up his zipper and
belt. Buttoning his shirt he leans back and waits for the couple to leave with
a relaxed smile on his face.
***** Dark Harbour *****
Chapter Summary
     This one is from the movie Dark Harbour, if you haven't seen it.
     Norman's character has no name. In the credits he comes up as Young
     Man.
He watches her death throes with pleasure. She was a few breaths away from
being out of his life. There was nothing preventing him from being with her
husband now she was dead. He finds himself getting aroused as he watches her.
And he’s never been one to deny himself pleasure.
It’s why he’d killed her after all, her husband was going to bring him lots of
pleasure. And not just financial. He unbuckles his belt and shoves his hand
down inside his baggy jeans and underwear. He groans as he watches her body
twitch and seize in front of him.
Burying his remorse down deep he pulls his cock out of his jeans and stands
there as he strokes himself off watching her. She was kind of beautiful for a
woman he guessed. Understated…what was the word he was after? Elegant she was
elegant. Despite the shit she’d told him she got up to, she still came off as
elegant. And starved. She’d been starved for affection.
Again the remorse tries to rise and he chokes it off. David was right, they’d
have gotten nothing if he’d divorced Alexis, that’s why she had to die. But
he’d liked her. He groans slightly as he sees her finally still and her head
slips to the side. She’d been sweet to kiss. So sweet. And soft which he
normally didn’t like.
Men were his game, plain and simple. But he thinks he could’ve fucked her. His
eyes wander down her soaking form as the rain continues. The fleeting remorse
he’d suffered is gone completely now as he looks down at her figure. He moves
between her legs. She’d still be warm, he could fuck her. It is only the
thought that he didn’t have a condom that stops him.
Not that it would be an issue, it was going to be obvious that she’d killed
herself to everyone, but not too obvious. One had to be careful after all. And
so he starts to stroke himself off as he simply watches her slack face. She was
fully dead now, eyes open and staring, not looking at him though he wishes they
were.
God, that feels good, he likes to stroke himself off while watching. He likes
to stroke himself off while David prepares himself to receive his cock. It’s
dirty and filthy to get David to stick his own fingers inside himself,
stretching himself for his cock.
Grinning he thinks how most will assume in a few years’ time when they go
public that he’s David’s boy, that couldn’t be further from the truth. He
didn’t bottom. Ever. David was the bottom in their relationship. And he liked
being fucked up the arse too, he begged for it, writhing on his own fingers,
waiting for his cock, while he sat back and stroked himself off, threatening to
just come and leave David wanting. God that was hot.
Making them beg, he lived for it. His hand moves steadily now as images from
his past flash through his mind. The dead woman at his feet is forgotten as
images of the men he’s fucked and humiliated into submission arouse his cock.
It is hard and leaking in his hand as he twists it toward orgasm.
His other hand is on his balls, he simply cups them, feeling them fill and get
tight with his seed. Seed he’s going to splatter over the woman beneath him and
let the rain wash it away before he goes back to David and leaves. He’ll come
back to David when it’s all settled. Unless he gets a better offer.
Gasping for breath as he fucks his hand hard and fast he lets his head fall
back, rain splattering on his face. He opens his mouth and sticks out his
tongue the better to catch the raindrops. He wants it all, everything. And the
thought of everything is enough to push him over the edge.
Come boils from his cock and drips down his hand and onto the leaves and dead
body at his feet. Fuck that feels good. He’d needed to come. He’d been unable
to get off since he’d been on the Island what with hanging about Alexis and
David. And as soon as he went back to the house he’d need to be gone again.
The young man looks down at the dead face at his feet. He grins at the come
that has splattered on her body, watching as the rain rinses it away. He grabs
what he needs to so nothing untoward is left there for when he body is found
and walks back to the house tucking his cock back in his pants as he does so.
His last thought of her before she slips from his mind for eternity is that he
thinks he would have enjoyed fucking her.
***** Scud - Blade II *****
Chapter Notes
     I've set this story during Blade II. The pact has been made,
     bloodsuckers have invaded Blade's lair but no deaths have yet
     occurred.
Scud slips quietly into his room. He doesn’t like being around the high born
bloodsuckers. Most of them won’t stop looking at him like he’s a fucking meal.
And he’s been a meal more than enough times already thank you very fucking
much. His hand ghosts over his stomach as he lays down on the bed pulling up
his shirt.
The scars are horrific but they’re part of him now. From when he’d began his
time with Blade he’d healed, become human again but it wasn’t enough. The dead
bloodsuckers had given him a thirst for more. He wanted something that he
couldn’t ever have with Blade, he wanted to be more.
Tossing a cigarette into his mouth and fishing a lighter out of his baggy pants
Scud lit it up. One hand rested on his scarred stomach lightly pressing down
and the other moved lazily, taking the cigarette to and from his mouth. When he
exhaled he blew smoke rings. Amusing himself he inhaled deeply wishing he was
smoking weed and then blew several out at once.
Finishing his cigarette he lights another off the tail end of the first one.
He’s finally realised what he’s feeling. He’s feeling….needy. Most of the time
here he jacks off in the shower, he hasn’t had a woman in quite some time.
Going out only during the day puts a crimp in his usual pick-up places as he
was a night owl. But this fucking town was way too dangerous and he had a
healthy dose of self-preservation. Plus, he worked at night now.
So continuing to smoke Scud slides his hand down to his pants. He unbuckles
them easily and shoves his hand inside pushing under his underwear he grabs a
firm hold on his cock. He closes his eyes briefly. Felt fucking good. He
remembered the cold vampiric hands of one of the females on his cock from the
night he’d gotten his scars and his cock jerked in his hand. Yeah, even better.
The cold hand on his warm hard cock almost forcing it into flaccid submission.
But Scud was different, he hadn’t gone soft, her ice-like hands had made him
harder, she had been surprised, he liked to think pleasantly so but within
minutes she’d torn the shit out of his stomach so who the fuck knew? Gripping
his cock Scud squeezes it firmly. Then he slides his hand down and tugs on the
ring he still had there. He was fucking lucky it hadn’t been ripped out of his
dick that night the way they’d laid into him. And he was fucked if he was gonna
go to Blade and get him to take out the ball so he could unhook it.
So he’d suffered through the soreness and the scabs around the ring until it
had finally healed. And now he could use it again. Hooking his thumb through it
Scud pulls on it and his hips start to move in time with his pulls. He loves to
get himself off this way, just tugging on the ring.
His left hand continues to smoke and when he’s smoked the cigarette down to the
filter he drops it on the concrete floor and pushes his pants down over his
hips exposing his hard cock and right hand in his ring tugging on it to anyone
who decided to walk in. He hadn’t locked his door. He never locked his door. B
never visited his room and Whistler didn’t even know where he slept he thought.
Bloodsuckers didn’t count as far as he was concerned. Closing his eyes Scud’s
left hand roves over his scars as his right thumb continues to pull on the
ring, over and over. His cock is hard now and standing up facing his chin so he
starts to pull the ring upward toward him instead. Scud pulled and tugged at
the ring, not touching his cock in any other way. His left and scratches
lightly over his balls as his right thumb pulls harder.
Finally letting his hips start to move he opens his eyes to see them flex, he’s
so fucking white now, he never gets any daylight, he’s started taking fucking
supplements because of his lack of vitamin D. And then a shadow moves by the
door and his eyes dart over there not expecting to see anything at all. He
freezes completely when he sees the bloodsucker there watching him. A glint of
gold on a finger tells him who it is.
They don’t move in any other way now he’s aware of them. And Scud suddenly
realises they’d wanted him to know he was being watched. They were either
testing him or they got off on watching him as well as him knowing about it.
“Like to watch huh?” His voice is husky from cigarettes and arousal. The shadow
doesn’t move. So he continues. Tugging on his ring harder now he has an
audience and his left hand pushes down under his balls to his arse, he doesn’t
enter himself however just presses and circles his hole. He doesn’t have time
to fuck himself tonight.
Pushing his head back Scud deliberately exposes his neck vulnerably to the
bloodsucker wondering if they’ll take him up on his silent invitation. But they
don’t move at all. So he opens his eyes and watches them watching him. That he
can’t see their eyes makes it even more erotic.
Finally Scud moves his left hand up to grasp his cock even as his right thumb
continues to tug and pull on the ring. His left hand starts to pull down in
direct contrast to his right. It’s a painful maneuver but it brings him off
hard and fast. Looking down at himself Scud sees pre-com dotting his stomach
and he lets go of his cock and swipes his left hand through it, bringing it to
his mouth, sucking lightly on it before he takes it back to his cock.
He feels more than see’s the shadow move restlessly at that movement. “Oh, you
like that do you? Want to taste me? You’d be most welcome to sweetheart.” The
shadow doesn’t move, but Scud hadn’t expected them to. He closes his eyes to
them the better to focus on himself. On his toes curling inside his heavy
boots, his hips jerking up and down in time with his thumb pulling on his ring.
Fuck that felt good.
Feeling the tensing of his back muscles that signaled his impending orgasm Scud
opened his eyes again looking over at the shadow. Then his eyes flutter shut as
one final hard tug on the ring makes him come. His left hand pulls down harshly
even as his right pulls and his back arches, neck moving back vulnerably again.
With his eyes closed he doesn’t see the quick move forward and then back as the
bloodsucker checks their movement forward to taste his long sexy white throat
as he swallows convulsively through his orgasm.
When he has regained his breath he opens his eyes to look down at himself. His
left hand is fine, his right has been covered in his own come and it is smeared
on his stomach. Letting go of his ring he brings it to his mouth but is stopped
before he can lick it off by a soft hiss. He looks over at the shadow. “Oh, now
you want to taste?” He is slightly sarcastic having gotten himself off he wants
to clean himself up and try to work some more.
The shadow moves, coalescing into a solid form as it flows toward the bed.
***** Floating - Van *****
Chapter Notes
     This one-shot is of Norman's character Van from the movie Floating.
     I've extrapolated my particular scene from the scene in the car
     during the movie where Van and Doug were racing Flip and Jase who
     were on motorcycles in case you haven't seen the movie.
"Pussies!" Van leans over, way too close to Doug as he yells out the driver's
side window to Flip and Jase. He tilts his head back looking up at the open
sunroof as the music blares and Doug drives determinedly.
"Yeah…" Van trails off as he kicks back in his seat. He's hazy with the pot
still swirling in his brain and the alcohol in his blood. It's an irresistible
combination that never fails to give him a hard on and now was no exception.
When he added in the lean smooth body beside him Van felt his cock rise and
tent his cargo's. "Fuck." He mutters this quietly to himself, palming his cock
quickly to adjust it hoping Doug doesn't notice.
"Man, what?" Doug looks down and his eyes shoot up to Van's. "Ah, you ah." He
breaks off and shakes his head. "Fuck, go ahead man, ain't nothing I haven't
seen before if you know what I mean." He laughs quietly to himself making Van
remember Doug does in fact prefer dick.
And there went his cock again. Ignoring his thoughts Van takes Doug at his word
and opens his cargo's letting his cock out. He'd had no underwear today because
he'd been too lazy to wash for the past week or so and his father never fucking
did laundry at all.
"Fuuccckkkkkkk…' Van draws the word out softly as his hand clasps his cock. His
thumb rides the tip and he feels his pre-come already leaking.
"Taste it for me." Doug's words are soft enough that Van can ignore him if he
chooses to. But…he lifts his hand and sucks his thumb into his mouth, licking
off his pre-come with a moan that was all for Doug. Now it's Doug's turn to
swear and shift in his seat. His speed slows down as he focuses more on Van and
what Van is doing. Which is scandalous really.
Pushing his cargo's down and pulling out his balls Van plays with them as his
other hand jerks his cock, lazy and slow. He wants to take his time, make it
good for him and for Doug. Pinching the skin of his balls lightly Van moans
again and his cock jerks, his thumb feeling more wetness. Without prompting
this time he moves his thumb to his mouth and sucks the pre-come off again.
Then he moves his hand back down to his cock and starts jerking himself off
again.
But Van wants more. He rolls his head on the seat over to Doug who is
alternating between the road and watching Van handle his own cock. He wonders
if Doug fucks or gets fucked thinking of the magazine he'd seen at Doug's as
his hands continue to play with himself. And that gives him an idea. He moves
his hand from his balls to his mouth and he sucks on his fingers lewdly.
When they're nice and wet he moves them down and under his balls, spreading his
legs even further and beginning to jerk his cock in earnest now Van slowly
pushes his middle finger inside himself. "Fuck." He says as he feels his hole
stretch to receive something for the first time. "Fuck." It burned, but it felt
fucking amazing.
"Burns doesn't it?" Doug asks him conversationally As if Van wasn't sitting
beside him, cock in one hand and finger of the other stuck up his own arse.
Fucker.
"Yeah." Van is shocked at his voice, it's breathy, breathless even. He sounds
like a fucking girl. Just then the car hits a pothole and Van's middle finger
is jostled in his arse and he feels it press against something that sets off
fireworks inside him. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Jesus fucking Christ…." His words
trail off as he tries to find that spot again, his toes are curling inside his
deck shoes, his hips jerking uncontrollably and his cock is leaking pre-come
copiously now.
He hears Dough chuckle wickedly. "Van meet prostate, prostate meet Van."
"Fucker." Van says, it's the only word he can form. His legs spread as wide as
they can as his finger searches inside himself and his hand jerks his cock. He
lifts it for a few seconds to lick it again when Doug suddenly reaches across
the car and grabs it. Without even looking at Van he brings his hand to his
lips this time and pushes Van's fingers inside his mouth to lick Van's pre-come
off. "Dirty fucker." Van manages to articulate as Doug's tongue slides up and
down each finger in his mouth. Moving between the cracks in each finger
sinuously.
Van yanks his hand from Doug's wet randy mouth and puts it back on his cock.
"You're the one jacking off in my car man." Doug's voice is dry, but Van can
see him moving restlessly in the seat as he continues to drive, though a lot
slower now.
"Gonna come all over your fucking dash too man." Van finds his arousal ratchet
up just that bit more with every word he forces himself to speak. It's a turn
on, forcing himself to speak, to focus on the warm body beside him.
Eyes closing, head leaning back on the seat, legs spread and finger working for
his prostate inside himself Van settles down to focus on one thing. Coming. His
middle finger pushes in and out of his hole and he moans loudly deciding to add
a second finger. He moans again as he does this and the car jostles him again
and his fingers grazes his prostate. Those fucking fireworks go off again and
Van feels his cock tighten even more and his balls draw up as they prepare to
blow.
His moan as he comes is long and protracted, his cock jerks in his hand, come
spurting from him and landing not the dash but the windscreen. Van moans
repeatedly as he continues to come and Doug swears as he looks at the
windscreen and see's the come on it, dripping down and some of it dropping back
off onto the dash. "You motherfucker." He says to Van as he continues to come.
Van finds himself coming and laughing at the same time as Doug's disgruntled
words penetrate the orgasm fog in his brain. Lifting his head for a few seconds
Van see's the come splattered on the dash and windscreen and laughs harder as
he rests his head back against the headrest again and finishes milking his
cock.
Lifting his hand he licks his come off himself and ignores Doug's grumbled
protest again. Then he brushes off his pants and does them back up. "Where the
fuck are we?" He asks belatedly.
"Nearly back in town, you were too far gone to even realise I turned around
man." Doug laughs at him this time.
"Okay." Van is happy and sated with booze, pot and now an orgasm. If he had
some munchies life would be perfect. When Doug drops him off some time later
Van takes off his shirt to wipe the come away.
"Leave it. I'll do it." Doug says.
"Yeah, you got something to wipe it off with?" Van asks.
"Sure do, night man." Doug grins at Van and reverses back before Van can even
shut the door. Shaking his head Van heads inside.
It is two days later when they're fishing quietly on the pond together than Van
asks. "Hey Douglas, did you get my come off okay?"
"Sure did." Doug answers as he looks out at the water.
"What'd you use?" Van asks. Doug looks over at him, eyes hooded. Then he looks
away again without answering. Van moves uncomfortably as his cargos tighten.
Doug wouldn't have? Would he? Van looks at him again and Doug is looking back
with that same look on his face. He did.
"You're a dirty fucker, you know that? Doug laughs and Van joins him.
***** Judas of Judas *****
Chapter Summary
     Okay this is set after the beer and bathtub scene of Judas. I did
     check, there is technically no ‘relationship’ between Judas and Mary
     Magdalene. This extrapolation is purely from my imagination, using my
     muse Norman Reedus’ character Judas from Lady Gaga’s music video.
     This chapter is AU from the music video itself as well as a fantasy
     Wingfic. And I’m sorry to those who are religious but in this little
     vignette, Mary Magdalene is a whore of epic proportions though I know
     she actually wasn’t.
Chapter Notes
     When I say Wingfic I should perhaps clarify that it is a dirty,
     smutty Wingfic.
His shoulders twitch as he pours the beer over her arse. Then as Jesus looks
over her shoulder at him he jerks his head in acknowledgement of his victory
and stands up, stepping out of the tub. Judas circles his head on his
shoulders, rotating and stretching his neck. Sometimes that stopped it. He
hears his neck crack and knows he needs to get away, that nothing will stop it
tonight. He needs.
He waves his hands and his clothes are dry, boots back on his feet and a new
beer is in his hand. Flicking a glance back at the tub were the lovers are
still together and getting naked he slides his glance over both of them. His
eyes glow pewter in the low light as he feels his body temperature increase.
Before Jesus realises what is happening Judas has turned and vanished from the
room.
On his bike Judas declines company of any of the willing females that surround
them. They’re always around, like leeches. Wanting to stroke him, stroke them.
He drinks his beer without pause and crushes the can as he tosses it away and
starts his bike. He needs the wind on his face. Pushing his sunglasses up on
his head he opens all his eyes to the night and starts his bike, heading for
the hills. His twitch is worsening and he hopes he’ll get to his cabin before
they manifest. Jesus won’t be happy if he does that and unaware humans see him.
As he leaves the populated areas behind Judas’ shoulders relax slightly and his
twitching lessens. When he pulls up at his cabin he switches off his bike and
heads inside. She was a fire in his blood. That she had chosen didn’t mean he
didn’t still want her. As he vanishes his clothing with a thought Judas stands
in the middle of his cabin and looking back over his left shoulder he lets his
wings manifest. He sees them sweep out of his body, the ink of his tattoos on
his back colouring them a dark charcoal grey. His body relaxes as he feels his
feathers stir in the breeze of the door he’d left open. He looks toward the
back door and it opens too and then as he looks at all the windows they open as
well.
But it is not enough, not tonight. He’ll never have her again, his mind knows
that, his heart has accepted it. But his body has not. He feels himself
hardening and his wings twitch again, wanting to be touched, stroked as he
touches and strokes his own cock while walking through the house and out his
back door onto his deck. And so sitting down in his chair with the low back
that still allows him to keep his wings fully extended Judas touches himself
and becomes mired in memory.
The memory of Mary Magdalene watching him, he always starts with that. She’d
watched him as much as she’d watched Jesus, right from the beginning. He’d
ignored the human at first. He was never one to dally with humans, but she had
won him over, big doe eyes, sly smile and her bitchy sense of humour. And one
night when he’d been drunk and his wings had manifested as they did when any of
them drank heavily she had touched them.
Deliberately he knew. She was fully aware that their wings shouldn’t be touched
except by their mates, but she’d touched his anyway. And he’d crumbled under
her touch, falling to his knees, his wings spread up around them as she
continued to stroke them until he had boiled over at her feet. His come like an
offering on the floor of the bathroom he’d been hiding in.
And now, now he is alone, she a human had chosen Jesus, he of the golden wings,
the same colour as his crown. Judas closes his eyes, his heart weeping blood,
his wings rustling lightly as he moves them around his body, hugging himself.
His right hand strokes his cock as his left strokes his wings, both give him
pleasure. But he needs more tonight.
So he closes his eyes and leans back in the chair, letting his arms dangle down
by his sides and he moves his wings, bringing them forward over his body. He
strokes himself with them, sweeping them up and down his body, by turns softly
and then harshly as well. He can see with his mind’s eye that never really
closes how he looks, leaning back, legs spread like the whore he now knows Mary
Magdalene to be as he touches himself with his own wings, getting pleasure from
himself as he can get from no other.
The tip of his left wing reaches for his cock at last, skating across the head,
it gathers up the pre-come and brings it to his mouth for him to lick and
taste. He wets the feathers as he licks himself and they dry as soon as they
leave his mouth. Suddenly Judas needs a shower. He stands and moves to the open
shower he has on his deck. Switching on the water he steps under its soothing
coolness and shakes himself, spreading his wings and then each individual
feather to allow them to be wetted down as well.
He moans as the water trails through his feathers. Covering them soaking them,
making him harder. Leaning his forearm on the wall of his house he lets his
head fall forward, the water streaming down his body and wings, cooling him
even as his blood begins to heat. He fists his other hand on his cock and let’s
his wings drape around him, almost like a shroud. Judas moans long and low as
his hand starts to move on his cock.
He remembers how Mary Magdalene had continued stroking his wings until he was
erect again and how she had taken his cock in her hand, still stroking his
wings with her other hand and how she had lead him to a stall and let him fuck
her, all the while she stroked his wings, wings he now let’s stroke his own
body. And Judas remembers doing the one thing it was forbidden for them to do,
at all ever.
He allowed her to pluck a feather from him, a keepsake she said. And a notch.
He’d had no idea until several weeks later, after numerous hurried fucks
against walls and in bathrooms as she still rode on the back of Jesus’ bike.
Still looking back for him, still making him walk behind her instead of beside
her. And there in the club after she’d pushed him down the stairs for making a
comment to Jesus about them he had seen her belt.
A feather belt. Made up of numerous coloured feathers hanging from it. Blue,
red, yellow, purple. And there among the mostly bright jewel tones was one
muted charcoal grey one. Out of place by virtue of its colour alone. It was
then he had realised she was not his, would never be his and that by letting
her take his feather, he had forsaken ever finding his own mate.
A cry of anguish leaves his lips as he continues to jerk himself off, he needs
this, needs it tonight. And so Judas punishes himself with thoughts of Mary
Magdalene and Jesus, fucking each other, now as he is sure they were, probably
still in the bathtub he’d left them in. How he’d seen her go down on Jesus one
night a few weeks back, how Jesus wings had manifested and swept back in
pleasure as he had come into her willing mouth. Just as he himself had come
into it only hours before that same night.
Another moan leaves his throat, low and full of pain, pain he is deliberately
causing himself by remembering what he will never have, or never take again.
Falling to the floor Judas kneels there asking for forgiveness even as he
continues to touch himself. His hand is a blur now and he cocoons himself with
his wings, allowing his inner feathers to unfurl and stroke his skin, causing
it to tingle in arousal. And then suddenly he arches back, his hand leaving his
cock as both his hands rest on the deck floor behind him and his wings take
over.
Stroking him, hard and fast, his feather’s cupping his cock so much better than
a hand ever could. More feathers stroking his balls, and his rosette, one
curling into itself and pressing inside him even as another slowly and surely
presses inside his cock, filling him, forcing the orgasm he has to be dry and
painful. So very dry and painful as punishment. He can come, but he can’t come.
Just as he is starting to wind down from his orgasm the feather inside his cock
pulls itself out and Judas’ back arches as his come boils from him, splattering
down on the floor of the deck as the shower continues to beat down on him. His
other feathers continuing to stroke him, comforting now, as he slowly calms
down.
The next day Judas is eating breakfast when he feels Jesus pull up. He opens
his cabin door wearing sweatpants and his wings. He is home, he can manifest
them whenever he wants. Jesus comes in as Judas walks back to the kitchen, he
pours another cup of coffee for himself and sits down. His jacket is on the
table. His name has been removed and he leans forward sliding it toward Jesus.
Taking it up, Jesus unfurls the patch with his name on it. He nods and rolls it
back up, putting it in his pocket.
And then he pulls something out of an inside pocket. It is a feather, charcoal
grey in colour. He’d gotten it back. Judas stares at it for the longest time as
Jesus puts it on the table. He floats it toward him and takes it in his own
hand. Pursing his lips he looks up at Jesus standing there ready to go. He nods
and Jesus turns and leaves. Judas lets the feather go and it floats back to his
wings, he winces as it digs and burrows its way back in.
Regaining the capacity to find his mate was never meant to be painless. But
Judas would always be thankful to Jesus for giving him the opportunity.
***** Marco of Deuces Wild *****
Chapter Summary
     Marco of Deuces Wild, my version of what he may or may not have done
     to Betsy.
“Stupid fucking cunt!” Marco yells at Betsy as she writhes underneath him
trying to get away. She was a fucking pathetic fighter, even for a girl. If
she’d been his girl he’d have made sure she could take care of herself,
especially against guys like him.
“Some fucking man you have, can’t even teach you to take care of yourself.
C’mon cunt, fight me now, FIGHT ME!” Marco screams in her face spittle flying
all over her and suddenly Betsy swings a hand up slapping him soundly. “Yes,
now that’s what I’m talking about, c’mon more.” But Betsy doesn’t have more in
her. “Fucking pathetic. Should fuck you so you know what it’s like to fuck a
real man, not some pussy wannabe like Leon the Douche.”
Laughing at his own joke Marco stands. He’s trussed Betsy up and now he looks
down at her. Methodically he takes out his switchblade and watches as she
freezes when he opens it. Smiling Marco looks at her. “What? Think I’m gonna
use this one you? Don’t flatter yourself Douche Bitch.”
Marco slices off Betsy’s buttons and spreads her blouse open. “Oh now what to
we have here?” He questions as he squats over her looking closely at a very
faint hickey on Betsy’s abdomen, nearly hidden by her bra. “Lover Douche likes
to bite a bit does he? Me too.” So saying Marco kneels down and bites and sucks
the swell of Betsy’s breast above her bra. He ignores her screams as he laughs
and bites at the same time. He tightens his jaw and scrapes his teeth
deliberately as he pulls off and he hardens as Betsy can’t help the moan of
pain that leaves her mouth.
“I bet I can make you scream with pleasure you know. I’m not one to brag or
anything but I’m pretty good with the ladies, even or maybe ‘specially the
unwilling ones. No is never no you know.” Marco says to her with a smile as he
licks Betsy’s blood from his lips.
Kneeling up he moves back until he can sit on Betsy’s thighs. His eyes wander
over her and he stands. “Could fuck your sweet cunt but I ain’t gonna spend
where Leon the Douche has so consider yourself passed over. Lotta’ guys ain’t
gonna take Douche leavings you know, gonna have to look outside the block for
your husband.” Marco is undoing his slacks as he speaks and he gets harder as
he sees the fear in Betsy’s eyes. But he sees something else too and like a
leech he grabs hold.
“Oh, you wanna get married do you and your head Douche won’t put a ring on it?
Aw sweetheart, I feel for you I really do, but you know he ain’t gonna live
through the week.” Marco reaches inside his underwear and pulls out his cock.
He’s hard and leaking and getting more so as he continues to look at Betsy.
“Don’t worry cunt, you don’t have to do a damn fucking thing, this is for your
Douche.”
Looking to make sure Betsy is still bound securely Marco starts to jerk off as
he stands over her, watching her carefully as he does so. He can see her close
her eyes but they don’t stay closed. She opens them and watches him mutely, her
eyes crawling over him as if he was a bug. Turned him on like nothing even if
she’d just as soon as spit on him.
Stroking and twisting Marco lifts his hand briefly licking off his pre-come,
fuck that tasted good. “Fuck.” He speaks softly as he starts to stroke himself
off again. He wanted to fuck her tits. She had a nice rack. Marco’s eyes
flutter and he breathes deeply, his breath comes faster he strokes harder.
“Jesus.” He says to himself as he scrapes his nails along his length. He could
feel his pre-come just fucking oozing from him he was so desperate. Marco
pinches his balls lightly and tugs on them as he feels them draw up. He hadn’t
had enough pussy since being released, he’d done nothing the night he’d got out
except take the edge off. Fuck he needed more and now. Closing his eyes Marco
lets his head fall back as he continues to jerk off, one hand on his balls the
other on his cock.
“Oh yeah baby, gonna come all over you and send you back to your Douche, don’t
forget to tell him who marked you now.” Marco’s eyes roll and he finally gives
up talking as his orgasm rolls over him and his right hand is a blur on as he
jerks himself to completion.
“Fuckkkkkk.” He draws the word out as his come shoots from his body with force
and lands on Betsy, streaking her face, chest and abdomen. When he’s finished
milking himself Marco finally opens his eyes and looks down at her and grins.
“Now you are a sight for sore eyes Douche bitch.” He cleans himself up and then
bends over Betsy and smears his come all over her exposed skin even rubbing
some into her dark pubic hair and the now messy bleached hair on her head. She
reeked of him. Marco smiled. She looked perfect.
Moving carefully Marco let her hands go and lets her untie her own legs. Then,
“Get the fuck back to your pussy boy now, move it!” Marco punctuates his words
with a kick to Betsy’s ribs as he then grabs her hair and pulls her to her feet
and back out on the street. Then he plants his boot in her arse and pushes her
on her way. Her sobs carry behind her as she walks away from him. She stumbles
and then several shaky steps later she starts to run, a shambling imitation of
one, but a run nonetheless. “That’s it, run you cunt run!” He yells after her
before walking back inside.
Fuck he needed to come again then he needed to find a piece of arse to actually
screw.
 
***** Mac of Red Canyon *****
Chapter Summary
     Mac of Red Canyon having his first orgasm. For those with weak
     stomach's this is MAC remember, a psychopath. He is a master
     manipulator, a player. And when I describe him as pre-pubescent I
     mean exactly that.
     For the mentally retarded who will no doubt check this chapter AGAIN
     after your nasty reviews & DM's I give you the dictionary meaning of
     pre-pubescent:
     1. Occurring prior to puberty. 2. That has not yet reached puberty.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Mac slips silently down the side of the motel. It's a new habit he's picked up,
spying on overnight guests out back of the Luna Mesa. He's seen some kinky shit
in the few weeks he's been doing it. He'd started doing it the day he'd woken
with his first hard on.
He knew about sex, couldn't live with Walter and hang around the bar and not
know about it. Plus Walter and that Ashton bitch were at each other when they
thought he wasn't around. Mac smiles and the man walking to his room from the
bar shivers at the sight.
It was a cold smile, an evil smile, for someone so young he thought.
Coming around the back of the motel Mac slips the grate off. He kneels down and
crawls inside. The room he wants is the fifth grate down. When he's at the
grate he settles down, pushing a hand inside his jeans he watches the man and
two women in the room.
Something had been off about them when they'd checked in. Something had raised
his antenna. And he was right. They were already at it. The man was watching
the two women go at each other. They were kissing and he was sitting in a chair
watching them. More, he was filming them.
Mac pulls his hand out and watches. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to
see the man. He needed to learn. Sitting there he watches while the man directs
the women through bringing each other off. He is hard, continues to be hard,
the women are fairly hot, old though. But they're not going to help him come.
The guy, Mac wants to see him. He waits as patiently as he can which is not
well at all. He sees the man get up and move out of his line of sight so he
waits for him to come back. When he does he surprises the shit out of Mac. He
sits down on the floor right beside the grate.
"You enjoying yourself boy?" He asks quietly so he doesn't disturb the women.
Mac freezes. Fucker had seen him.
He brazens it out. "No." He answers honestly.
"Yeah, don't like ladies then huh?" The guy moves a bit closer, his legs
stretch out in front of him.
"Yeah, I like girls, I'm not a fag." Mac answers with irritation.
"Then why the fuck don't you like these women?" The guy asks him.
"Came to watch you." Mac says bluntly.
"Why?" The guy has calmed down and is curious now.
"Wanted to learn how to jerk off." The guy stops moving and doesn't answer
straight away.
"What's it worth?" He finally answers Mac.
"Ain't got cash." Mac says. The guy laughs.
"Let me film you jerking yourself off for the first time, I'll talk you though
it and film you. That be okay boy?" Mac bristles at being called boy but he
turns and crawls out of the building. He puts the grate back on and then moves
around and knocks on the door of room five.
The dude answers it and hauls him inside, "Bathroom, all your clothes off and
shower. Scrub yourself, wash your hair, use the girls shit. Want you squeaky
clean boy."
Mac feels his hard on rub on his pants. He obeys the man to the letter.
When he walks back out with one of the motels scratchy towels around his skinny
hips the women are gone. The bed has been remade and the guy is sitting on the
chair facing it with the camera on the tripod, the red light isn't lit.
"Okay boy, sit here on the bed, towel off." Mac settles on the bed letting the
towel drop on the floor. Even though he's not fully grown Mac is not shy. He is
just starting to shoot up, his hands and feet are an adult in size though the
rest of his body is still stuck in pre-pubescence. "Handsome boy, your show is
going to fetch a very pretty price lad."
The man settles on the chair, leans back and lights a cigarette. He offers Mac
one and he accepts. The dude was good-looking enough himself, pretty, but not
in a girly way. Inhaling deeply the man watches Mac closely through the smoke
he exhales.
He gets a surprise when Mac copies his inhale and exhales a perfect smoke ring.
"No stranger to smoking I see." He murmurs with a half-smile. "Guess I'm not
corrupting you too much then am I boy?" Mac looks at him like he's crazy and
doesn't answer. The guy's half-smile turns into a full on grin.
"Now, I'm going to ask you your name, how old you are and ask you if you've
ever jerked off before. The only lie in your answers is your name. Don't give
me your real one, give me a made up one. Then I'll start jerking off and you
copy me, when you come I want you to slick up your fingers and then lick it
off. That's the only time I want you to look head on at the camera." The guy
paused to finish his cigarette and to give Mac time to pick a name for himself.
"Got all that boy? Need me to go over anything again?" He stubs out his
cigarette and motions for Mac to pass his over which he does.
"No, ain't stupid." Is all Mac answers.
"I never thought you were boy, I never thought you were." The man answers
quietly. Then he stands and toes off his shoes, he isn't wearing any socks. He
unbuttons his shirt next and tosses it back onto the table behind him and then
he looks at Mac as he unbuckles his belt and strips his chinos off along with
his briefs.
Settling back on the chair he spreads his legs, then his hand flicks out to the
camera and he turns it on. The red light goes on so Mac knows he's being
recorded.
"So boy, what's your name?" He asks making a minute adjustment to the camera so
Mac is framed perfectly.
"Zeke." Mac answers clearly.
"Zeke huh? That short for anything?" The guy keeps going, by his raised eyebrow
Mac knows his name choice had surprised him.
"Yeah, Ezekiel." Mac can tell he's surprised him again as both eyebrows go up
this time.
"Old bible name, I like it. So, Zeke. How old are you?"
"I'm twelve today." Both eyebrows again. Mac nearly laughs at the look on the
man's face. Guy must deal with retards real regular-like if his answers are
surprising him.
"And you want to learn how to jerk off, so you've never had an orgasm before
boy?" Mac shakes his head.
"No, I've never come before." He looks evenly at the man, his every breath
telling him to hurry the fuck up. The man obliges with a smile.
"Okay then, let's get to it then boy, spread your legs, let us get a good look
at that cock of yours." The man grins when Mac's cock jerks at his words. "Oh
we like that don't we? Like the thought of people watching your cock, jerk and
fill and eventually spill." Mac's cock reacts visibly to every word the man
speaks.
Mac looks down at it. Watches it get hard. He's got no pubic hair yet, just a
faint light brown fuzz that is irritating him more than anything. His balls
aren't like the man's two separate heavy sac's. He looks at them and jerks his
head.
"My balls gonna end up like yours?" The man reaches down and tugs on his balls
and Mac follows suit, his left hand reaching down and fondling them, tugging
them lightly. His cock jerks even more and Mac is fascinated to see a drop of
liquid pool on the tip of it.
"Yes boy, your balls will grow with you, they'll separate eventually too and
you'll end up with a full thatch of pubic hair too." The man watches Mac as Mac
watches him. He's never been into boys but something about this boy who has
adult eyes is making him genuinely hard. He would not need to take any pills to
perform this night. "You ready to learn how to come boy?"
"Been ready since I got here." Mac answers shortly. The man laughs quietly.
"So you have boy, so you have." He jerks his head at Mac's right hand. "Take
yourself in hand now, firm, not tight. Feel yourself. Feel your skin, how soft
it is covering your cock, how warm, feel how your cock pulses in your hand."
The man fondles his own cock as he watches Mac obey his every word.
The boy's brow was furrowed as he did indeed fondle himself. The man watched
and suddenly found his heat skip a beat as the boys eyes opened and looked him
ferally. The boy really was feral he thought. Beautifully so. This tape was
going to make him a fortune.
Mac watches the man watching him. He tilts his head to the side as he watches
the man's hand on his own cock. "You a good size? You know, average or shit?"
He asks bluntly. He looks up in time to see a smile ghost across the man's face
before it disappears.
"Above average actually boy." Mac's eyebrows raise this time.
"Yeah? Guess I am too then." He answers snidely and the guy laughs softly.
"There is nothing average about you boy, least of all the size of that cock
you've got between your legs." The man's lips thin as he starts to stroke
himself firmer. Without him saying anything Mac follows his movements.
His eyes close briefly. This felt better, much better. "I like this." He says
and without any prompting he grips himself harder as he watches himself now,
not the man. When he grips harder more of the liquid seeps out of his cockhead.
"Fuck, yes." He says to himself softly. He ignores the man now, ignores the
camera as his arm jerks hard and fast, he is going to come and come soon.
Mac's toes curl on the worn carpet of room five of the motel attached to the
Luna Mesa. But Mac is not in the room, he is inside his own head, feeling his
cock pulse with every heartbeat, his right arm is rigid with tension as he
grips his cock as tightly as he possibly can.
The man murmurs for him to slow down, to ease off, be gentler but he doesn't.
He can't. He is already mired in the pleasure of his first full on arousal. He
needs to come now, he needs to. And Mac has just realised that for him to come,
it needs to be hard, fast and violent.
Watching with something akin to awe the man sees the boy grow in front of his
eyes. His cock gets harder, the pre-come seeps from him steadily now, his toes
are curling, the boy's ribs are showing with his every deep breath. His right
arm is going to kill him tomorrow from the way he's strangling his cock.
And a light bulb goes off, dollar signs flash before the man's eyes. The boy,
this boy is getting off on the pain. That is what is getting him off. All his
thoughts of gentle jerking off, eventual fingering, letting the girls back to
jerk him off and blow him. All of them fly out the window in the face of the
sheer ferocity he sees in the face of the boy in front of him.
Fisting his own cock the man jerks himself off hard and fast as well, he wants
to come and be calm for the discussion he's about to have with this man-child
in front of him.
Mac lets his head fall back, his left hand is still holding his balls, he tugs
on them sharply and hears a breath followed by a soft curse from the still-
watching man. Raising his head Mac opens his eyes and looks at him through his
lashes. "You into boys then?" He asks, his voice is hoarse in arousal. His eyes
flutter closed again.
"No, Zeke I'm not, though you tempt me otherwise." The words are soft and make
Mac grin. And they make him come. But Mac remembers his deal. He lets his
orgasm roll through him, his toes curling so hard his arches cramp.
"Fuck." He mutters at the pain as it prolongs his orgasm. His right arm is
corded, muscles writhing as he jerks hard and fast. His left hand suddenly
clenches, crushing his balls in his grip and Mac simply shoots again. He barely
hears the muttered swearing of the man filming him.
A sudden stinging pain across his face jerks his head to the side and allows
his orgasm to recede. His right arm stops moving and his grip on his cock
loosens slightly. Opening his eyes slowly Mac lets his breathing settle. He
looks down at himself.
"Shit's everywhere." He mutters. But he scraps his hand through it and brings
it to his lips. Then he looks the camera for a few seconds, prolonging what
he's about to do, then he disobeys the man and looks directly at him before he
slowly licks his middle finger.
Snorting the man simply points to the camera and having made his point Mac
looks at the camera as he licks his come off the rest of his fingers. He swipes
his fingers through his come twice more, licking each finger individually as he
looks at the camera. As he gets to his last finger he looks back over at the
man and slowly puts it in his mouth and closes his lips over it, then he opens
them and licks it, making like he's licking a cock.
The man's own cock rises again as he watches. But he doesn't touch it. Mac
grins at the man ignoring the camera. "Thought you weren't into boys?" He
questions softly.
"I'm not, you're the devil Zeke, the very devil." Mac grins and then feeling
the endorphins still running through him from his first orgasms he looks at the
camera and raising his middle finger he flips it off then sticks out his tongue
and rubs his middle finger over it before he stands up and walks back to the
bathroom.
He gets in the shower again and cleans up. Then he dresses. He looks at himself
in the mirror. His eyes blaze blue fire back at him. He wanted more, hopefully
this guy would deliver.
When he returns to the bedroom, the guy is sitting at the table fully dressed,
there are two open beers in front of him. The camera is off and packed away.
Without prompting Mac sits down and the guy pushes a beer and his cigarettes
across the table.
Mac grins at he lights up. The guy lights up as well and looks at Mac.
"You've got an angel's face you know boy. I'm going to make a lot of money from
that tape. I'm willing to share it with you, provided we do more. I'm through
here every three or four weeks." He says no more, doesn't ask, doesn't beg
though he wants to.
"What else do you want me to do?" Mac asks as he smokes and drinks. He watches
the guys shoulders relax infinitesimally and knows that he'll be back.
More, he's going to let Mac play to his heart's content.
Later, when they've agreed on terms and what Mac will do next time the man
comes back he's letting him out the door when he says out of the blue. "Happy
birthday boy." Mac grins at him.
"Ain't my birthday yet." The man narrows his eyes at him and Mac laughs in his
face.
"When is it? How old will you be?" He asks evenly. Mac shrugs.
"A couple of months. And I'll be twelve then." He saunters away back toward the
bar going in the back entrance. The man stares after him as a shiver moves down
his spine.
Chapter End Notes
     As usual when it comes to Mac he tied me down and had his way with
     me. And now he's screaming at me for an expansion of the above.
     Thoughts?
***** Ray of Moscow Chill *****
Chapter Summary
     Ray celebrates after making the ATM's at the beginning of Moscow
     Chill spew money onto the street.
Man, that felt good. Sticking it to the bigwigs. Making them give up the
people's money, giving it back to the people. Ray sips the alcohol, lets it
blast through his system as he sits on the fire escape of his rooftop.
Watching the sun go down though takes his high with it. But fuck, he needs to
celebrate. He takes another couple of sips and then screws the lid back on the
bottle. Shoving it in his backpack he stands and turns around, climbing onto
the ladder, he backs down to his floor.
Unlocking his window Ray scoots inside. Dumping his stuff he undresses, leaving
a trail of clothes as he heads to the shower.
Once he'd warmed up some more he wrapped a towel around himself and banged on
the old-fashioned radiator a couple of times to get it going again.
Standing there Ray lets the warm air blast over his body. He hooks up his
laptop again and reroutes his connections to attach to a regular user of the
service he's about to call. Then he picks up the cordless he'd invested in and
hits redial number one.
He has six numbers programmed in and the other five are restaurants. Pizza,
Italian, Subs, Chinese and a little hole in the wall Eastern European place
that did the best stroganoff he'd had the pleasure of tasting.
They were numbered two through six. One was special. One was Ellie. He waits
the couple of rings it always takes to answer and then says his name and who he
wants. Then he hangs up. Twenty minutes later it rings again, dragging him from
a couple of online blogs he'd been reading about the mysterious way several
ATM's in the city had started spewing money today.
"Yeah?" Ray answers.
"Hey baby, how's my boy this evening?" Ray stops what he's doing and takes a
breath. Her voice was so fucking sexy. It was like the smoothest caramel sauce,
the kind made from butter and brown sugar and lots of steady stirring. It
was fucking edible.
He couldn't believe his luck the night he'd been trolling the sites and
eavesdropped on her conversation. He'd come right along with every one of her
clients. What he hadn't realised was that she knew he was listening. One night
after a guy had gone she hadn't hung up, she'd stayed on the line and then she
blown Ray's mind all over again.
She'd talked to him, to him. About what she was doing to herself, what she
wanted him to do her. And then she'd hung up. Never asked him his name what he
was doing. But each time once a night when he listened in, she'd stay on the
line and do the same thing.
It had taken him nearly a month to speak to her. And so they'd begun. And now
here they were. He'd started booking her.
"Ellie, one sec." Ray stands and moves to the mattress on the floor. Flopping
on it, he rolls over on his back and opens the towel leaving himself naked for
what is about to happen.
"You comfortable baby?" Ellie asks him.
"I am now, tell me what you're wearing." Ray asks her. He's convinced her to
tell him the truth with that if nothing else.
"You sure? I'm not dressed very sexy tonight baby."
"I'm sure, tell me." Each time Ellie speaks Ray strokes his cock. Her voice
sliding up and down his spine, making goose bumps appear and disappear with no
rhyme or rhythm all over his body.
"Okay, well…" She draws out the word knowing how much Ray gets off on her
voice, " I'm wearing a pair of my man's sweatpants, with a thong and a sports
bra and a band t-shirt." Ray breathes as Elle mentions wearing her boyfriend's
sweatpants. Fuck.
"What band?" Ray asks her.
"Motorhead." Ellie answers him.
"Nice, your man know you wear his sweatpants and make him smell like pussy?" He
questions her with a smile in his voice.
"Baby, he loves to take them off me," She stops and moans for him here before
continuing. "With his teeth, scraping and biting and nipping at my skin all
along the way. Sucking on me, marking me up so I can't wear short skirts or
tank tops for days because he's left so many bruises on me." Ray groans now as
his hand starts to move faster on his cock.
"Ellie, suck his cock for me Ellie." He says to her.
"Oh baby, that get you hot, me sucking on my man's cock for you, you are
naughty, like to listen, like to watch don't you, you naughty man?"
"Oh yeah Ellie, I like to listen to your voice, fucking makes me come every
time, and fuck yeah, I'd like to watch you suck his cock, my cock. A cunt
even." Ray says all of his fantasies to the woman he's never met on the other
end of the line. He'd found out what she looked like after listening to her
voice for a week.
The voice matched the face and the body. He'd not been expecting that. Had just
wanted to put a face to her. It wouldn't' have mattered what she looked like at
all. And the fucking face he'd gotten was fucking Raquel Welch. Sharp
cheekbones, olive skin, deep-set eyes, low brows and a messy mass of black
curly hair.
But, he'd never told Ellie he knew what she looked like. Closing his eyes Ray
brings her face to his mind as his hand slows down on his cock. "Want you to
make me come baby, fuck your man's mouth for me, made him feel so good." He
talks with her like he's never spoken to another woman in his life.
The relative – to Ellie anyway – anonymity of the phone sex let him be the man
he wanted to be sometimes, at least in his fantasies. "Fuck, I wish I had your
mouth wrapped around my cock Ellie." He says quietly interrupting her talk of
deep throating her man.
She's quick he has to give her that. With her next breath she is going down on
him, taking him slow and steady, flicking his cock with her tongue and then
slowly running her piercing over it. "Yeah Ellie, love your piercing." He's
never been able to find out if the piercing is real. But he thinks it is.
Ray almost feels Elle's tongue on his cock as his hands slide over it slowly,
he snakes one hand out shoving the phone between his face and shoulder and
snags his lube. Then he pours it on his cock and the hand still holding it.
"Fuck," He says quietly as the coolness slides all over him. He closes the
bottle and drops it on the bed. "Fuck yeah, let me fuck your mouth Ellie."
His hands are running all over his cock now, phone still held with his
shoulder. One hand slides over his balls, tugging on them, palming them,
stroking the soft flesh there, feeling it draw up. His other hand stays on his
cock. Moving faster now his hand strokes up and down, twisting a little over
his head, letting his thumb dig a little, just a little into his slit.
"You dirty slut, fuck. You'd do that?" Ray's voice is breathless with arousal
now as he listens to Elle talk about how she'd fingerfuck him as she sucked him
off. "No," He says with a huffing laugh as she tells him to do it to himself
now. "No Ellie, fuck." But she is using her voice, so soft and silky and
smooth, it was a voice people would kill for he thought.
With a sigh he contorts his body and hooks up a leg. "I feel like a slut
spreading like this Ellie." He says and listens to her coax him into pushing a
finger inside his own arse. He'd kill for her voice he amends his earlier
thought as he winces in the act of pushing two fingers inside himself.
He's never had anything go inside him before. It felt strange.
Managing to keep the phone in place he listens to Ellie telling him how to move
his fingers and what to look for and, "Holy fuck! What the fuck?" Ray questions
on a moan now as his fingers brush something inside himself.
Ellie's husky chuckle comes down the line like fog, dark and misty and somehow
wet. Ray closes his eyes to everything, immersing himself in Ellie. Her voice
telling him to stroke himself off, play with his slit and to keep prodding that
spot inside him.
And when Ray comes he comes with visions of a black-haired olive-skinned woman
sucking on his cock like she owned it. His cock jerks and spurts come up his
chest while he feels his backside clench and spasm around his fingers. Fuck.
"Fuck me." He says softly as he lies there covered in his own come and lube
squishing around in very weird places.
"Maybe one day baby, my boyfriend, he likes to watch you know." Ray snorts.
"Sure thing Ellie, sure thing." He listens to Ellie's drenchingly sexy laughter
and feels his cock twitch again before they say goodnight.
Ray thumbs off the cordless phone and throws it on his pillow. Then he stands
and moves back to the shower. Fucking hell of a way to celebrate shoving it to
'the man in charge' he thought.
***** Harry of Six Ways to Sunday *****
Chapter Notes
     Harry of Six Ways to Sunday, set before he takes up his job as an
     enforcer. Based around that bathtub scene at the beginning of the
     movie.
Harry relaxes in the bath. His mother knows just how he likes his bathwater.
And he has the pillow and everything. He has to let her wash him still but he
likes that. Closing his eyes he relaxes into the water.
When his mother comes in he answers her questions as he keeps his eyes closed.
He has to be careful or he won’t get what he wants.
“You okay Harry? Not feeling well?” As she asks his mother brushes her hand
across his forehead checking his temperature.
“No, I’ve got a bit of a headache, sometimes the heat at work gets to me, you
know that Ma.” Harry says in a censuring tone. Careful. He says to himself. Be
careful.
“Hmm, I remember. Well you should see if you can soak it away a little longer
then my baby. I’ll come back in ten minutes.” His mother leans over the tub and
kisses him on the lips. She lingers as she always does and Harry lets her as he
always does. He inhales deeply and looks at her breasts.
They feel like pillows when he hugs her, or rests his head on them.
Pulling away finally, his mother leaves the room. She doesn’t shut the door.
She never shuts the door.
But that’s okay. He can be quiet.
Harry slowly slides his hand into the water and clasps his dick. He holds it
firmly, letting it harden from his touch alone. He walks a fine line, knowing
his mother is listening for any untoward sound.
When he’s hard Harry begins to stroke himself slowly. It feels good, like
nothing else. His mind is a blank initially but that doesn’t last either.
Soft pillowey breasts come into his mind, with a voluptuous figure and blonde
hair attached. Letting his eyes flutter closed Harry leans back on his plastic
bath cushion and thinks of lying on those bountiful breasts.
Of kissing them, holding them, unwrapping them and licking them. His dick is
leaking now, he can feel it as he squeezes himself.
He aches with the need to thrust, to move to effect his release but can’t,
moving will ripple the water and his mother will come in. And so he suffers
through high arousal but no relief.
His mind returns to the breasts and now arms hold him in return. Cuddling him,
coddling him. They stroke his back, his naked back and then his chest.
Harry’s face pulls up in a grimace as his dick gets harder in his hand. He is
squeezing it mercilessly now knowing his time is running out.
With his hand holding himself as hard as he can Harry’s mind conjurers his
mother’s hands stroking slowly down his body to his dick. They clasp him softly
and begin to stroke him as he cannot do to himself unless he’s outside the
house.
Both hands stroke him and then one moves to his balls. Harry feels them draw up
as his mind feels them being stroked and lightly pinched.
Mouth opening on a rictus of pleasure-pain Harry tightens his grip on his dick
even further as his mind blessedly empties and his orgasm erupts from him
silently.
He doesn’t move a muscle beyond his buttocks clenching and releasing as his
dick releases sperm into the water around him to float to the surface.
Gathering his breath for a few precious seconds Harry moves silently to pull
the plug on the bathwater. He stands making sure his semen is down the drain
and not on him anywhere before he steps out of the tub. He has just grabbed a
towel when his mother walks back in.
“Feeling better baby?” She asks him, pressing close and putting her hand on his
flushed forehead again. “You’re still a little flushed.”
Jerking away Harry wipes the towel over his face, giving himself a few seconds.
“I’m fine Ma. Gonna go to bed.” He allows his mother to dress him in his
pyjamas and comb his hair and then he shoos her from the room on the pretext of
taking a pee.
He’s always put his foot down on going to the toilet, the door gets closed. She
got her way more than enough.
Before he does that though he checks the tub for any leftover semen, swiping
his bare hand around it. Nothing.
Harry takes his piss and lets his mother put him to bed.
 
***** John of Messengers 2: The Scarecrow *****
Chapter Notes
     Set after John spies on the woman in the field as she gives him a
     show.
John threw his clothes on the floor of the bathroom and stepped over the lip of
the tub and into the shower. It was freezing, the cold water being a welcome
shock on his skin, jerking him back to awareness of where he was.
It was a scorching day to be in the fields. He closed his eyes and bent his
head, letting the water fall like icicles down over the back of his neck and
slide down his spine and into the crack of his ass.
He spread his legs and the water, now warmed from being on his skin, dripped
over his hole and onto his balls where it then fell to the floor.
His eyes were closed, the water was warming, but he didn't want that, didn't
need that. He twisted the faucet to all the way cold and shivered as goose
bumps rose over his skin wherever the water hit him.
Where had she come from? Why had she been there? Had she seen him?
The questions churned in his brain even as he took one hand off the wall and
fisted his cock. He listened with half an ear to the rest of the house though
he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.
She had been stacked, long sleek limbs, unblemished skin and from what he could
see, not a tan line in sight. When she'd let that dress slip down her curves he
had gasped.
She had been perfection, his every wet dream realised, alive and standing right
there in front of him.
Jerking hard and fast now, John tries to come and be done with it, his mind
trying to shy away from his fantasy woman, it was wrong, he was being
unfaithful even if it was just in his mind.
But another part of him, a smaller insidious part of him was telling him that
his wife did the same thing. Hadn't he come upon her just a few days ago with
that fucking jock from high school? Wasn't she out with him doing something far
worse than he was now?
Wasn't she?
His mind drops back to the blonde, her breasts had sat high on her chest, her
nipples had been like hard points, John felt that if he'd reached out and
touched them, they would have cut him like broken glass.
Shaking his head, John jerks his cock, his fist a blur, the cold water turning
his skin to one mass of freezing cold despite the heat of the day, but he
doesn't feel it.
His whole body is straining now, pushing for orgasm, for something more.
Something more than this life he has now.
This land that he was born of, will take everything from him if he'll let it.
Another hand touches him and he gasps.
She is here. How is she here? He steps back even as she steps forward into the
shower with him, heat oozing off her skin like a blistering sore.
Trying to form words, John watches in shock as she drops to her knees and takes
him in her mouth. His hips stutter as he feels her wet mouth close around him.
"Use me John, use me however you want, it's what I'm here for. Then you can go
back to work."
Frowning, John looked down at her. "Use me John, use me and go back to work the
land." She said now.
Stepping back, John fisted himself again. "Touch me, touch my balls." He
whispered, wondering where his wife was that this woman had managed to sneak
into his home, upstairs and into his bedroom and through to his bathroom.
Ignoring his mind shrieking at him, John jerks his cock, sliding his fist over
it harshly. Deliberately dragging his callused palm over his head, roughing
himself up. It was what he deserved.
There was no way this wasn't adultery. Shoving his conscience away, John
watched her watching him as her fingers stroked his scrotum, her long middle
finger stroking the soft skin behind, pushing lightly on his perineum, letting
him know of the pleasure that could be found there.
"Do it." He ordered her in a cracked whisper.
Pulling back, she sucked that long finger into her mouth, wetting it thoroughly
before she went back to his balls and beyond.
Right hand working feverishly, John's left hand reached forward and grasped the
blonde's hair, digging into the surprisingly coarse strands harshly he tilts
her head back and digs his thumb into the hinge of her jaw.
Obeying his instruction, she opens her jaw and John moans now as he sees her
tongue snake out and around her lips before she left it there, waiting for his
come.
Closing his eyes to everything now, John let his orgasm roll through him, his
come spurting out of his cock and landing on the blondes waiting tongue. He
opens his eyes to see her still looking up at him, his come still on her tongue
and splattered over her cheek.
"Swallow it." He ordered her hoarsely.
Blinking slowly, she worked her jaw against his thumb and closed her mouth, her
tongue slipping out and over her face as her other hand withdrew from between
his legs and wiped her mouth.
Then she sucked her own fingers clean. His wife never did that.
Leaning back against the wall shakily, John watched as she stood and stepped
out of the tub, wringing out her dress, she tossed a sly look over her shoulder
at John and put her hand on the doorknob.
"Back to work now, you've had your release." Frowning, John watched her leave.
                                  ##########
Something crawls across his face and John bats at it. Several moments later
it's back, scratching across his face. Opening his eyes, John looks up
drowsily.
Blue sky, sun high enough that he realises it's mid-morning.
"What the hell?" He mumbled as he sat up, looked around.
He was naked and…covered in straw and… "Fuck!" He exclaimed as he stood. The
head of the scarecrow tumbled off his groin to land on the ground at his feet.
Shoving his hands through his hair, John looked around. "What the hell?" He
questioned himself again as he stared. Beer cans, his clothing scattered around
him and straw. From the scarecrow?
Skin crawling, John stared down at the head of the thing, it had something
dried in its mouth.
Kneeling hesitantly, John reached for it. Picking it up, he brought it close to
his face.
It smelled familiar, he realised. Scraping his thumb across the dried flakes,
he sniffed and then stuck his thumb in his mouth.
Semen, it was semen. His semen. He'd…
John's mind fractured as he dropped the head of the scarecrow as if scalded,
his hands grabbed his clothes and he stumbled around as he dragged them on.
Leaving the damn scarecrow on the ground, John ran toward the house.
Behind him, the straw slowly began to move, forming and coalescing back into
the body of the scarecrow. Then the head rolled around on the ground and moved
toward the body, screwing itself back together.
Turning, the sunken eye sockets watched John run back toward what he thought
was safety.
***** Luster - Sex Tools Delivery Boy *****
Chapter Notes
     In Luster Norman is credited as Sex Tools Delivery Boy - Norman
     Reedis.
You can see Norman’s entire part in the movie here: Luster
 
===============================================================================
 
“Fuuccckkkk…” He drew the word out. Long and slow, just like he rode his hand.
The slave had had a mouth like a fucking hoover. If a hoover sucked nice and
wet.
The groan came out of him again in the back room of the sex store. He was
working tonight, would have a lot more sex tools to deliver being as it was
Friday.
“Yeah.” He muttered to himself now as he opened his eyes and looked down at his
hand, looked at his cock as he fucked his hand.
Envisioning that hot mouth around him again, those doe brown eyes looking up at
him, the bruised neck working his cock, spit tracking out of one side of his
mouth as the boy obeyed his master and blew his cock into eternity.
“Jesus.” He felt his cock jerk in his hand, pre-come beaded the tip, pearled
around the head and dripped over his fingers where he gripped himself, it added
to the lube he’d filched from the counter in the bathroom.
It wasn’t like other’s didn’t do what he was doing. The owner kept lube and
shit in there for that reason. Testing, he always said to the newbies.
“Uh.” He can’t form words, still thinking of that kids fucking mouth. And the
kiss he’d been given by his Sir, and the half kiss he’d gotten. Made him almost
want to look at being a boy himself even though he knew he’d be a fucking brat
of a boy.
No submissive in him, not a fucking shred. Jesus though, he needed. Swallowing
as he lets his head fall back on the wall, he thrust his hips out and focused
his thoughts back in the bathroom of the music dudes workplace. Money, he’d
fucking taken money to be given a blow job.
How many people could say they’d been paid to receive? No one he knew, that was
for sure.
“Shit.” He could feel his balls drawing up so he clamped down on the base of
his cock with his other hand. Staving off his orgasm, he didn’t want to come
too soon. He wanted to remember, to feel.
Closing his eyes to everything but the feeling of that mouth sucking and
swallowing him down, he began to feel. His shirt rasping over his now sensitive
skin, his feet sweating in his tennis shoes.
His cock, sliding through his wet, grasping hand, the difference he could feel
between the lube and his pre-come. His smell, sweat, deodorant, lube and
arousal. That was better. Feeling himself swell again, he let his orgasm draw
closer.
But that mouth draws him back. It had been sheer, lustful perfection. It didn’t
matter that the guy was blowing him for his Sir, it mattered that he’d been
blown. It had felt good, fucking good.
Feeling his toes curl in his tennis shoes, he moaned not caring if he was
heard. He’d heard worse from this very room when he’d been on the outside.
He watches now, his hand a blur on his cock, his head all red and the purple
vein sticking out. He can feel the blood pounding as he jerks himself off. His
pre-come just oozing from him now, nice and steady, his hand is getting almost
too wet to keep a firm grip on himself.
Gasping, he arches his hips off the wall, his cargoes fall down his legs and
his other hand moves back as he shoves two fingers inside himself, suddenly
needing the extra stimulation. It had been too long since he’d been fucked. His
hole was grasping and greedy, almost sucking on his fingers, trying to pull him
inside his own body.
“Fuck!” His swears for real this time, not a long drawn out word of pleasure
but a vicious curse, knowing he wanted more and couldn’t get it. He needed a
thick hard cock ramming into him to help him come and he had nothing but his
hand.
How the fuck had he gone from remembering one of the better blow jobs he’d
received to needing a fucking cock up his ass to come?
Because it’s been too long since you’ve been fucked. The voice inside his head
whispered. The boy today had made him realise he needed, he liked to be fucked
even though he usually did the fucking.
The boy had made him realise he’d be on the prowl tonight and every night until
he found a hard, thick cock to split him wide and make him come. To ram him
over and over until he was nothing but a quivering mass of sweat and semen. A
cock big enough for him to ride it until his thighs gave out, a cock to fill
him over and over until come just sloshed inside him with every breath he took.
Now though, he glanced at the dildo’s on the counter and let them be. “Fuck
knows where they’ve been.” He said to himself. And he was too far gone to be
bothered shoving a condom on one or cleaning it before he used it.
His fingers would have to do.
Working himself off now, his hand is a blur. His other hand spreads his cheeks,
two fingers corkscrewing inside him until… ”JesusfuckingChrist.” He cursed as
his hips jerked and stuttered and his balls flew up and then emptied as his
come just…hurtled from his cock in long jetting spurts.
He watched in bemusement as the mirror was splattered, followed by the dildos
and then the floor. Too aroused and exhausted from the mother of all orgasms to
care he continued to jerk himself off, milking himself until his balls dropped.
Empty of seed for the time being, they dangled between his legs, languid with
their release.
His arm was aching like a bitch, the tendons in his forearm singing from the
beating he’d just given them. Usually he was kind of lazy at jerking off. Not
today. That mouth had been worth its weight in gold.
He jumps at the banging on the door followed by the words that he has another
delivery. Looking at the mess he’s made he grimaces but bends and pulls his
briefs and cargos back up.
After buckling his belt, he grabs the paper towels from the bench and wipes up
the floor. Tossing the towels, he grabs more and wipes down the mirror.
Looking at the dildo, he gives it a half-hearted wipe before wrapping it in the
paper towel and then taking it to the lunch room where he shoves it in the
dishwasher with the other ones and the few dishes.
Considering his clean-up a job well done compared to what other’s leave behind,
he grabs the bags and invoices and is off to make his next delivery.
 
***** Jonathon of Bad Seed *****
Chapter Summary
     If you haven't seen Bad Seed, I've put the link to it on YouTube in
     the chapter. If you have, then you know this is my version of one of
     the letters Jonathon wrote to Emily. A little more subtle than I
     usually am.
Bad Seed is available on YouTube here
===============================================================================
 
 
Dear Emily,
I wanted to write and say how much I miss you. But I had to stop because I am
missing you so much, when I wrote that first sentence it made me hard. I could
smell your hair, the scent of your skin. The icing sugar I spilt on it last
week when we were baking together.
Licking it off you…I thought of that as I touched myself. It’s on my mind
today. The radio in the store played that song by The Divinyls. Remember? I
Touch Myself. It made me think of us and when we were last together.
How you touched yourself for me, let me watch you as you pleasured yourself.
How your fingers dipped inside, you got so wet Emily. So very wet. And I got so
very hard when I heard that song today and thought of you.
You could say I was primed for action tonight. Because when I sat down to write
you, I ended up touching myself. I never got to reciprocate last week, so allow
me to reciprocate now.
I’m naked as I sit down to write you. I like to write to you when I’m naked.
Freshly showered, still a little damp, my hair is still dripping. I’ve combed
it straight back like you like. I’m on my own, no other plans than to write you
this letter.
When you touch me Emily, your hands are so soft on my skin, like I imagine a
butterfly’s wings to be as they flap, barely rippling the air. You stroke my
hair back from my face, run your fingers over my eyebrows like you do, my
cheekbones before you palm my face and draw me in for a kiss.
Your lips are so pliant on mine, like I could just mould them however I wanted.
They open beneath me and I slide my tongue against yours, stroking the
underside of yours, where no one else has ever touched you.
It’s an incredible feeling to know that I’ve literally touched you where no one
has ever touched you Emily. That you and Preston kiss, but he doesn’t slide his
tongue under yours, it turns me on to know I’ve got something of you that if he
hasn’t touched by now then he never will.
When you touch me I always get hard. I’m hard now as I write this and I’ve
already touched myself thinking of you, brought myself to orgasm thinking of
you. How you tasted so sweet when I licked the icing sugar from your skin. How
I went and got the container and then sprinkled it all over you so I could lick
it all off.
How sticky you were when I finished, how sticky we both were. How the icing
sugar melted in your juices and that your juices tasted even more amazing. You
are amazing Emily, you complete me, make my life complete. You ease my burden
and I will always love you for that.
My cock is hard, aching for you. I’m leaking again, that smear up on the right
hand side of the page? That’s my pre-come Emily from where I touched myself and
then touched the paper as I thought of you. Can you smell me on the paper? I
smell you on yours when I get them in the mail. Your very essence bleeds onto
the page.
That smear down there on the left though? That’s my come Emily. When I came
before, I splattered on your letter as well as the bed. My cock was so hard,
like a steel rod, engorged and almost purple I was so ready for to come for
you, imagining you touching me. Imagining touching myself with you watching me.
Watching as I stroke my cock up and down, slowly like we’ve got all the time in
the world. Watching you watching my cock, my hand on my cock as I bring myself
off. For you, always just for you. I hope you don’t mind the come stain? I
don’t think you will. Will you run your fingers over it, trying to taste me
when you read this? I hope you do. It turns me on to think of you tasting me.
Just the thought of touching myself for you is getting me hard again. So hard,
achingly so Emily. I’m thankful I can touch myself with my left hand and write
to you with my other. You’re going to make me come again you know. You always
do, I’m always so much more with you.
You make me need and want. You make me more. Oh God, I’m stroking myself as I
write to you, hard and fast because I can’t help it, I need you so much, your
sweet warmth.
I love you Emily. I will always love you.
Jonathon.
===============================================================================
Preston laid the letter flat on the kitchen table, it was speckled now with his
tears. Tears of impotent fury. His right hand lay palm flat on the table, the
thumb resting on the smudged spot on the top right of the paper, just as he
imagined this Jonathon’s had been in order to put that particular smudge on the
paper.
His left fingers quest over the more obvious smudges at the bottom left of the
page. Fighting internally, his left hand grasped the letter and raised it to
his nose. He inhaled deeply before an anguished cry left him and he crumpled
the letter into a tightened ball, flinging it away with all of his strentgh.
 
 
 
 
***** Meet Me In Berlin *****
Chapter Summary
     In Meet Me Berlin Norman's character doesn't have a name. And no
     pseudo name appears on the credits either. I've set this post eye
     surgery.
Meet Me In Berlin can be found hereif you'd like to see it.
===============================================================================
 
“Mr. … can you hear me?” The words repeat themselves, flat and toneless as
English isn’t their native language.
“Yeah.” He finally answers, clearing his throat which causes a dull throbbing
in his head and eye. Oh yeah, he’d had his surgery today, or was it yesterday.
“Day is it?” He slurred to them.
“It is Friday, you have your surgery, it very well. Doctor will be to see you
soon.” The missing words appeared in his mind so he could make sense of what
she had said and he grunts in acquiescence.
                                  ##########
It is two days later before he feels up to calling her. She sounds pleased to
hear from him. Tells him she will be going outside her own apartment next week
to see her doctor for a check-up. If her doctor approves it, she will come to
visit him.
Excitement thrums in his blood as her slightly stilted English says this. He
can’t help but get his hopes up, flying on the concoction of drugs they’re
shoving in through his IV every few hours. No self-medicating pain pump here.
It’s late when they finish talking, his blood is still thrumming. Putting the
phone down and feeling around in the dark for the charger, he shoves it into
the power socket. He hadn’t charged it since before his surgery.
Just as he’s settling down, the night nurse comes in and changes his IV, also
pushing through a couple of syringes too. He watches her ass without realising.
Wonders what she looks like. They’d described themselves to each other, but
still.
Did she have a round bitable ass? Where her nipples pink or brown? They hadn’t
gotten specific in that regard. But he wanted to know. Watching the nurse bend
down and then up again and do her job, he’s struck wondering about whether he
and she will have sex, will they see each other naked? Would she like his cock,
would he like her pussy?
The thoughts cause a stirring which surprises him. He hasn’t had an erection,
not even a morning one since before his accident. He was both gratified and
happy that he appeared to be in working order.
When the nurse leaves with a barely understandable good night, he pushes his
hand under the covers, pulls up his hospital gown and strokes himself.
God, that felt good better than good, it felt fantastic. Amazing. Even if he
was doing it himself. Closing his eyes now, he let go of everything, the pain,
the uncertainty of the long term effects of his surgery. Having to go through
metal detectors when he went back home, whether he’d look the same once all the
swelling went home. When he could get a haircut again.
All of it was shoved to the side, pushed under the warm weight of a woman he’d
never seen, who was nothing but a voice on the phone, stilted words that
couldn’t hide the sly sense of humour he got to be on the receiving end of
occasionally.
Stroking himself, his palm a little cool because they didn’t believe in keeping
their hospital rooms warm over here for some weird reason. His cock was hard
now, it made him smile. Knowing he had a little time before another check was
made, he slowed down and took his time.
Moved up and down his cock slowly, not holding himself too tight as friction
wasn’t something he was fond of. But damn, it was still good.
He needed this. Needed to come,
Settling his shoulders against the bed, he scrunches down carefully, then he
brings his hand back up to his mouth and spits on it a couple of times, it
would have to do.
He remembered how she’d been in the toilet one of the first times he’d rung,
pictured here there now, though in the shower. Her messy blonde hair wet and
slicked back, her hands running over her body, meandering over her breasts and
down to the darker thatch of hair covering her wet, burgeoning lips, lips he
imagined pouting for him and him alone.
Groaning quietly, he stroked himself a little harder, making sure to be careful
of the IV in his body, his cock felt strange, alien almost in his hand, he
hadn’t touched it other than to wash it since the catheter had been removed.
Feeling himself deflate slightly, he returns to watching her in the shower.
Pale skin, the tattoo she’d mentioned on her left hip, he wanted to kiss it,
lick and suck on the red rose she had there. And so he did, fisting his cock in
his hand, his mind kisses and licks the red rose on her hip, strokes over it as
his fingers quest inside her.
And he’d fuck his hand at the same time, get her off with one hand and himself
with the other while he sucked on her rose. In more ways than one. He snorts a
laugh as he rolls his head and his hips begin to move, pushing his cock in and
out of his hand.
Spit-slick skin squishes across his palm aas he licks the red rose. His other
hand flicks his nipples a few times, making himself jerk as he imagines
slipping and sliding in her warmth.
Frantically now, he spits on his hand again before he starts to jerk himself
off in earnest. Hard and fast, knowing full well a nurse could still walk in at
any time.
Just as his balls draw up and he feels his orgasm approach, his mobile rings.
“Fuck!” He hissed. Reaching for it, he answers in case it’s family.
Still holding himself tightly with his other hand, He lets himself lie flat as
her voice comes across the line. “Hey.” She talks innocently and he feels like
a dirty pervert as he begins to fondle himself again, getting himself hard on
her talking to him.
Doing his best to keep his breathing in check, he uses her voice to get off,
stroking himself frantically, almost straining his arm and neck muscles they’re
so rigid. He can hear the slapping sound of his skin but hopes it doesn’t carry
across the phone.
And then, in the midst of her talking about her mother, his orgasm erupts.
Semen explodes out of him in a torrential flood, erupting onto his stomach,
coating him in a fine white liquid. His voice is a little breathless when he
talks to her but she doesn’t act like anything is amiss.
Several minutes later, just as he’s cleaned himself up with some tissues, she
asks him a question.
“So I am thinking I heard you masturbating, I hope you did enjoy yourself?” She
asks him, her English is good for the most part, so he must have flustered her
a little when she realised what he was doing.
“Uh, fuck. Yeah, yeah. I, uh, you called right in the middle.” He felt himself
flushing as he hasn’t in years.
“That is okay, it is something we all do you know, even if one does not mention
it.” Laughing lightly he agreed.
 
***** Archie of Tough Luck *****
Chapter Summary
     Archie of Tough Luck. I didn't mess around with this one. If you've
     seen the movie, you know exactly the scene I'm talking about...
Christ, she was hot. Archie stepped into the showers after divesting himself of
his clothes, he was going to need to find another pair of pants soon, at least
sweats so he could wash his slacks. He only had the one pair.
Christ, she was hot. He thought again as he palmed his cock, still tumescent
from watching his bosses’ wife writhe around half-naked on stage with an albino
python making itself at home, almost nesting on her, where she was hottest.
He’d honestly half expected the thing to try and enter her, the way it had
slithered around her mound the whole time.
“Between her fucking legs.” He muttered to himself now, thoughts coalescing
into words that sputter out of him as he jerks his cock hard and fast. Not as
if he was going to finish before someone else came in to use the other men’s
shower, but he could try.
“Christ. Fuck, fucking obscene.” Eyes closed, Archie's hand makes short work of
his hard on, pushing his orgasm forward like a freight train as he replays
Divana’s erotically charged dance. “Snake was after her like it wanted to fuck
her.” He says now as images of the albino python’s body sinuously sliding back
and forth, letting its own skin draw warmth from where Divana without a doubt
ran hottest.
As he’d sat there, Archie had fancied he could smell the sugary sweet scent
Divana’s arousal wafting out from the stage.
Thinking of it now though had Archie’s come boiling up to erupt from his cock
as he moaned louder than he’d intended.
He hears the fucking moron from the game booth opposite him swear at him in
disgust but ignores the banging on his cubicle door as he rests his head on the
wall and lets the piss-weak stream of water rain down on him, cleaning his come
away.
Christ she was hot. He thought yet again as he finally began to wash himself
down after his breath returned to normal.
***** Vincent of A Crime *****
Points:
I’ve been hesitant to do A Crime due to the one-shot over on fanfiction.net
titled Pavlov’s Daughter by a author that doesn’t appear to be active anymore.
I’ve never read the song lyrics. Anyone who knows me knows I can’t stand them
interspersed into a song, but I did read the story. So, I’ve reversed the
voyeurism…
===============================================================================
 
 
Vincent stepped back further into the shadows, watching Alice as she and the
man left the bar. He’d seen her with him a few times lately, she was still
badgering him to go out with her though. Now he was even more hesitant.
Drifting along behind them, he follows without even realising, until they duck
inside a door to an old office block by the look of it. At first glance Vincent
thought they were heading to another bar or something, but as he slowly
follows, the man opens a door, closes it and they’re gone. Wandering around a
little he sees mailboxes and realises the place had people living in it.
Looking around, he trails them unobtrusively. Finding them by sound, he sees
the door of what must be the man’s apartment shut with a quiet click. Looking
around, jerking as he hears a train going past.
Another person going into their own apartment brings him back to his senses.
What the hell was he doing? Shaking his head, Vincent moved back to the door
and stepped out onto a sidewalk. “Damn.” He muttered. He’d come out of another
entrance, not paying any attention to where he was going.
Trailing along, Vincent realises he’s on the side of the building where the
man’s apartment should have windows. Looking up, he sees the fire escape, just
as an elevated train rolls past loudly.
Stepping along the sidewalk, he looks at the ladder attached to the fire
escape. Like an invitation, it was already extended. Muttering to himself at
his stupidity, unsure of what he wants to see, never mind what he expects to
see, Vincent, climbs the ladder. Spying the grating over an old shop, lights
glowing dimly within. Very dimly, he realises as he stops on the landing. The
place was one story above ground level, just level with the train line, another
one clacking past as he looks around gingerly.
Watching, he sees them strip economically, Alice’s breasts bouncing as the man
shoves her face first to a tiled wall, his massive cock hard, leaking, as he
ploughs straight into her from behind.
“Fuck.” Vincent whispered as Alice moaned and pushed back onto the man spearing
her. His hands grasp her breasts and tug on her nipples, pulling them down,
flattening them as he uses them as leverage to get further inside her.
Without realising, Vincent’s own hand palms his cock, fingers gliding over it,
stroking it as he watched the fucking couple in front of him. He’d never been
this rough with any woman. Alice seemed to be reveling in it.
Yet another train rattles past, the couple and Vincent both too lost in their
pleasure to even hear it. Vincent’s hand is inside his jeans now, button and
zipper undone as he strokes himself off. He moaned, a broken sound of pleasure
as the man pulled out of Alice and knelt, diving in between her legs, shaking
his head as he gnawed on her pussy, fingers spearing inside her, keeping her
hips moving as he kept fucking her.
Then he pulled back and spat on her pussy, rubbing it in, before standing,
turning, and ramming back inside what Vincent was very sure would be a warm,
clinging pussy, milking him as he levered in and out.
Alice braced herself on the wall, pushing back on the man. Vincent could see
her face, her mouth open, moaning he could tell, her plush lips stretched over
her teeth in almost a grimace.
Tugging on his cock now, Vincent fisted himself, his other hand holding himself
at the base as he worked in earnest, his toes curling, he tilted his head back,
neck arching and eyes closing as he erupted onto the dirty grate of the fire
escape, shuddering even as a train went past yet again.
Breathing heavy, he opened his eyes, watching the night sky above him as he
felt his heartbeat slow down. Wiping his hand on the scarf that was dangling
from his neck, Vincent tucked himself away and fled down the stairs and ladder
of the fire escape. No thought of anyone or anything in his head as he ran.
At home that evening, he keeps the lights off, watching his small television,
Vicky curled up beside him, ignoring the ringing phone that he knew would be
Alice.
Always Alice.
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