- Joined
- Sep 2, 2017
This is my fiction thread, as the title says. This'll be where I post all of my one-shot works of fiction (no chapters, not part of a series), from fanfiction to original stories. Requests are open, if you guys have any, but I unfortunately won't be writing any stories involving eroguro, scat, vore, ryona, wrestling, or catfights, since I'm unfamiliar with these genres. However, I am able to write stories involving BDSM, non-consensual sex, and other genres of fiction. I hope you all enjoy. I will try my best to fill requests in a week, or two weeks at most.
-Antimatter42
Commissions are open, with two spots available. Message me for rates and other details. Fanfiction-related requests will not be accepted.
Please see Post #17 before messaging me about stories on this forum.
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*All characters in short stories (and other works) created by me are ages 18+ and entirely fictional.
Long forgotten is the name of the god this statue is dedicated to, but its effects are unforgettable and irresistible. It has been rumored that she who performs the ritual to unlock the statue’s power will be granted great power over the whole island nation, and a prosperous, long life. Lara, in particular, has chosen to go on this perilous search for this statue out of good will and academic interest; for years, the people of this island have found themselves in a state of population decline and famine, such that now only scores remain. Once Lara performs the ritual, she has full intention of restoring the island nation to its former glory and taking the statue to a museum once all is said and done.
She sports a teal, tank top shirt, short brown cargo shorts, military-style boots, dark-grey fingerless gloves, her signature twin handguns in their twin leather holster, and a small backpack containing ammunition and knives, among other necessary gear, and an earpiece for fast communication. All of this, perfectly emphasizing her brown, braided, ponytail hair, smooth, tanned skin from her time spent under the sun, a deliciously round, well-shaped rump not too big, nor too small, chocolatey brown eyes, and equally round, large, yet supplely firm breasts that bounce perfectly in sync with her movements.
After about eight more minutes of quietly trekking through the jungle, she finds her objective. She looks up at the statue, and sees a large, nude, impressively muscular man with a bald head. He firmly stood in the dirt ground, and his facial expression was similar to that of the famous Statue of David by Michelangelo – composed, and with a piercing gaze to the ground. Its height was at least seven feet.
“Well, Nick. Here it is. I finally found the Jade Statue of Fertility.”
“Good for you, Lara. I'm still looking for a way out of this damn cave,”
Nick says in a stressed, panting tone.
“Aww, are you upset that I won the bet that I would find the statue first?”
“No. It's just so dark and stuffy here. By the way, be careful. That shaman did warn that the statue has a certain effect on anyone near it, especially women.”
“Oh, Come on, Nick. You actually believe that perverted tosser?”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Psh. Yeah, right. Well, I'll report to you later, Nick. Let me know if you find anything else interesting. Lara out.”
I suppose to his credit, the shaman kept staring at my boobs the whole time. Lara sighs, then proceeds clear away all of the moss and dirt off of the statue to prepare for the ritual. So, what does this ritual involve anyway? Once she’s at the final spot, she cleans that up and finds a mysterious stone tablet written in hieroglyphics at the statue’s feet.
“Hmm, what does this say? Ah yes; ‘To free the magical force of the Jade Statue of Fertility, one has to take in and polish his Mighty Rod of Power.’ What the…polish his Mighty Rod of Power? This can’t possibly mean…”
She swallows in slight nervousness, and her mouth begins to feel dry, while even more beads of sweat run down her body. Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding me. I have to literally give a blowjob to a statue? She moves her eyes to stare at the statue’s rather large dick. Well, the tablet’s not wrong. His dick is…mighty, for lack of a better word. It must be at least thirteen inches. And then, her mind quickly returns to the task at hand, and she finds herself blushing.
“God damnit, Lara! You’re a world-renowned archaeologist! There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for the sake of academia!”
And his cock…it looks so… she feels her panties become more moist than usual. She shakes her head to return to reality.
“Ugh, I need to get my head out of the gutter. I just need to call Nick. I mean, come on. I have to give this statue a blowjob! That sounds like utter rubbish.”
Reluctant, and not wanting to do what she clearly has to do, as indicated by the stone tablet, she calls Nick once again.
“Hey, Nick. It’s me, Lara. I need some help in understanding this tablet.”
“Sure, Lara. I’ve got nothing else to do except keep moving through this godforsaken cave.”
“Ahem.” She clears her throat. “There’s a tablet on the statue that says this: ‘To free the magical force of the Jade Statue of Fertility, one has to take in and polish his Mighty Rod of Power.’ And then there’s this sort of icon of a woman taking his…err… ‘rod’…into her mouth and down her throat. I mean, there’s got to be some other way, right? Nick? Nick?”
She then hears Nick burst into laughter. It is loud and maniacal, a laughter from him she had not heard in years.
“I’m sorry, Lara. This is just too funny. Anyway, there’s no doubt about it. You’re gonna have to do it. No wonder the shaman said that only a woman could do it.”
“Nick?! You can’t possibly mean –”
“Ah shit! Sorry, Lara. Something just came up. I gotta go. Anyway, just get the ritual over with before dark, or else the village is gonna be pissed. Nick out.”
“Wait!”
And with that, Nick was out. Lara kicked the ground in frustration. Damnit! Do I really have to do this?! I’m a world-renowned archaeologist who’s on the front cover of National Geographic! Not a bloody whore! She takes a deep breath to compose herself, and takes a long gulp of water from her canteen.
“Well, let’s just get this over with before anyone catches me.”
She gets on her knees and places her hands on the statue’s hips. She, at first, blushes and looks away in utter embarrassment. But her heart beats at the same time in ever so slight excitement. Am I feeling excited? Could Nick really be right about the effects…ugh, what am I saying? It’s rubbish. I’m just nervous about getting seen. I just need to… Lara takes a deep breath and then another gulp of water from her canteen to quench her dry mouth. She then takes off her gloves and puts them in her pocket.
“Well, here goes nothing.”
She opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue, and begins licking away at the tip of the statue’s massive cock. Lick, lick, lick, around the tip, tip, tip...come on, Lara, stay serious. You're a world-famous archaeologist, not some teenage girlie giving her first blowjob. She then spits on her hand and begins stroking the jade cock.
“There we go. It’s getting nice and polished already. I guess all it really needed was a good, old-fashioned spit-shine.”
However, those two minutes she spent stroking the rod were to no avail.
“Oh, come on! Nothing yet. I guess there really don’t have any other choice, then. Fuck it.”
She continues stroking the mighty rod slowly, from the tip to the root as the tablet specified, and giving the tip a lick every few strokes, swirling her tongue around the tip. Finally, she proceeds to take the rod into her mouth, fully engulfing the tip. From tip to root, from tip to root… She closes her eyes and then moves further and further down the rod before finally taking half of it down her throat, and then pulling back to breathe.
“Bloody hell, you really are mighty.”
she says breathily.
After a couple gasps of air and another gulp of water, she engulfs it down her warm, wet mouth again, slathering her tongue on its underside, and feeling both the rod and her nether region become more and more wet. Come on, Lara. Stay focused, not turned on. However, despite her mind telling her to resist the statue’s tempting nature, her body simply gave in, and she felt herself becoming hotter and wetter with a growing sense of lust. This is so weird. I’m getting turned on from blowing a bloody statue. She then began to pick up the pace, bobbing her head faster and slathering her tongue on the jade cock until finally taking the whole of it all the way down her hot, wet throat. Holy shit…did I just…I never cease to amaze myself. Suddenly, she hears Nick on her earpiece, which brings her out of her lust-filled amazement at herself.
“Hey, uh, Lara. You sound like you’re really enjoying that statue’s company.”
“What? No! That’s rubbish, Nick. I just want to make sure that I’m doing this ritual correctly.”
“Yeah. That must be why you’re moaning while deepthroating the statue’s mighty rod. I can still hear you; you know?”
“N-No…I mean yes? I don’t know Nick. Just don’t disturb me. And why the bloody hell are you listening?”
“I’m just making sure you’re safe. We’re partners, aren’t we? Well, anyway, I’m back at the village now. Again, hurry up with the ritual and be done with it before dark. Nick out.”
Ugh, bloody git. I just want to get this right. She then dives her head right back on the jade rod again, moving fast and deep on it, and lightly rubbing her teeth on the underside. She also begins to drool more, both out of lust and excitement. It drenches the rod and dribbles down her chin and towards her lovely boobs. After about several more minutes of continuous, sloppy sucking, Lara pulls back to breathe, and there are numerous strands of her saliva that connect her with the jade cock.
“Fuck, I don’t know what’s happening to me at all. I just can’t stop,” she says breathily. “And why has nothing happened yet?”
Maybe I should try licking his bollocks? After all, what's breakfast with just sausage and no eggs? She then moves further down below the rod to the statue’s balls and proceeds to lick and suck on them. There we go, and then perhaps we try this. She places her right hand on the rod and strokes it as she sucks on the balls.
And then suddenly, the statue makes its move – without Lara even noticing, it grabs the back of her head with both of its mighty hands and proceeds to thrust itself all the way down Lara’s throat. Her eyes dilate with great horror, while she gasps in shock. Holy fuck! What’s it doing?! After going all the way down her throat, the statue then violently thrusts in and out if it, making Lara choke and gag. Shit! This is trap! A booby trap! And I fell right for it! Damnit Lara! Rule number one of archaeology; be wary of booby traps! And of all times, you fall for one right now! The statue continues its merciless assault on her mouth. Even when Lara attempted to bite it to get herself out, it was to no avail, and only resulted in more thrusting down her throat. Ugh, of all the ways I die in my field of work, I die from giving a blowjob to a fucking statue. Fan- fucking-tastic!
More and more torrents of her saliva trickle out of her mouth, down her chin, and onto her breasts. Her breath becomes increasingly ragged and heavy with each hard thrust as her heart beats faster and faster out of fear for her life. The statue notices the large torrents of her saliva, pulls itself out of Lara’s throat, and pushes her to the dirt ground, leaving her a panting, sweaty mess, soaking in her own drool. Oh no. What’s it gonna do to me next? The statue makes a vertical tear down her tank top shirt, exposing her supple breasts, which were as tanned as the rest of her flawless skin. It then forcibly places itself between Lara’s breasts and uses them to give itself a sloppy, wet titfuck.
“AHH!!!”
Lara screams in outright horror as the statue forcibly thrusts itself in and out between her supple, succulent tits.
“Ahh! Help! Anyone! Please! Get this fucking thing off of me!”
No one hears her. After all, she is in the middle of a jungle, several miles from any signs of civilization. I just need to get my gun… When Lara attempts to grab one of her guns on her left holster, she then immediately loses all feeling in her limbs, becoming completely immobile. “Shit! I can’t control my arms now?! What the fuck?!” I have to call Nick. There’s got to be a way I can regain control of my arms and call him. After several more thrusts, the statue completely cums all over her breasts and face, leaving her even more of a mess than she already is.
“Gah! it’s so much!”
After cumming all over her, the statue uses a sort of telekinetic ability to make Lara get on her hands and knees, positioning herself into the doggystyle position. And then it effortlessly rips off her shorts and fucks her pussy with equal vigor.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! I-I can’t handle any more…ahh!”
The statue feels Lara’s pussy twitch as it reaches closer and closer to climax. Lara eventually unleashes a torrent of her own cum all over the jade cock, and the statue then cums in response.
“Ahh!” She shouts, and the rainforest finds itself in a state of temporary silence. Meanwhile, she finds herself completely broken, both mentally and physically. Her eyes are rolled back in an orgasmic daze, her mouth is open with her tongue sticking out like a passed-out dog, her breath is heavy, as though she desperately gasped for air from the intensity of their fucking, and her body feels heavy from her post-orgasmic state. It indeed was what the French termed “le petite mort” for her – the little death. She then raises her left arm to her left ear to call Nick with her earpiece.
“N-Nick? Nick…do you…do you read me? Nick?” She calls while panting heavily.
Nothing.
And then it hits her with the impact of an oncoming bus. Oh fuck! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! No!!! The battery’s dead?! The battery’s fucking dead?! She mashes the button to call Nick in a desperate attempt to be saved, but to no avail. This is it. I’m all alone! The great Lara Croft – fucked to death by the Jade Statue of Fertility! What a way to go on the fucking job! This has got to be the most ingenious booby trap ever conceived by the human race. I knew I should have listened to that shaman.
Less than a second later, she feels her body go stiff and numb. Oh no…not again! Her body straightens itself out, and she lies flat on her back on the muddy ground with her arms at her sides. She’s completely nude from the statue’s rather vigorous pounding earlier. Above her, the sun begins to set below the horizon, while the moon rises into the sky, making the whole scene a beautiful combination of lush green from the rainforest below, orange, and purple. However, this was nothing more than a beautiful setting in a hellish scenario that was the complete ravaging of the unfortunate Lara Croft. Luck had indeed run out for the poor archaeologist. No longer was she the silky, brown-haired, tanned beauty that came in with curiosity and academic passion. Now, she was merely a pathetic whore to a booby trap – a cum receptacle to be later disposed of upon the expiration of her usefulness.
I’m completely done for. This is it. She closes her eyes, and accepts her ultimate fate. Upon opening them, out of the corner of her right eye came forth at least over a dozen monkeys, their eyes clearly showing that they too were lustfully hungry.
“No! Not this! No more! No more!”
She desperately pleas to the statue to not allow her to be further ravaged by the animals of the jungle, but the statue merely stands still, its face still maintaining its composed expression.
“No!”
One by one, the monkeys pounce on her to have their way. And that was all.
Sweat beaded on Lara Croft’s forehead as she stomped her boots into the muddy ground in search of a strange, jade statue. Her brown eyes were alight with a fiery passion and determination as they searched left, right, hither and yonder for the cursed thing, but to no avail. In addition to her brown eyes and her hiking boots, she also sported today a pair of greyish dark-brown cargo shorts and a tank top of the same color to complement her smooth, sun-tanned complexion and her long, brown hair styled into a braided ponytail; additionally, she had on her fingerless gloves, her utility belt with her various knives and excavation tools, and one of her thigh holsters for one of her handguns that always got her out of whatever skirmish she came across.
“Uh, don’t you usually bring both of your pistols, Lara?” asked Matt earlier that morning over breakfast. Matt would be her partner for the assignment that day.
“I figured I’d travel light today,” Lara explained. “More guns means more ammo to carry, right? And for this assignment, it’s pretty unnecessary. I mean, what could go wrong?”
As Lara trekked around in the damp, humid jungle for what felt like forever by this point, Matt’s voice on her earpiece called.
“So, uh, you found that statue yet, Lara?”
“No, no I bloody haven’t, Matt,” she grumbled. “You?”
“Nope,” Matt answered. “Well, at least you have fresh air to breathe. It’s so dark and stuffy in this damn cave.” Lara laughed.
“Aww, what’s wrong? Afraid that I’m gonna eventually be the first to find the statue?”
“Jealous that you’re the one trekking through the jungle instead of me,” Matt remarked. “I mean, you’re the tomb raider after all. You’re better off being here than me. What gives?”
“Technically, yes. But I think...” Lara’s voice trailed off upon cutting away some more leaves with her machete and suddenly stumbling into what she had been searching for for weeks now.
“Blimey!” she exclaimed in triumph. “Matt...I found it.”
“Found what, Tomb Raider?”
“The statue, you bloke.” Lara laughed again at her partner. “I-I don’t know how, but I found it.”
“Well, thank God then,” Matt sighed in relief. “Now if I can just get out of this cave.”
Promptly, Lara walked over to the statue to get a better glimpse of it – it was a bald, completely naked man with only a crown atop his head. He had no face, and he was made entirely of jade, crown and all. The only unique feature that Lara could immediately make out was a long, fully erect penis. Beneath him was a smooth, stone platform he stood on, and on this platform was a tarnished gold plaque caked in mud and leaves, with a series of pictures inscribed on it.
“Huh. There are hieroglyphs inscribed with this statue, Matt,” Lara noticed.
“Crap! That reminds me, Lara,” Matt said. “Please, make sure that you remembered what that shaman told us, about how the statue has a weird effect on any woman near it.” Lara burst into laughter, and it was even louder than earlier.
“You actually believe that perverted tosser? Come on!”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Yeah, right. Expect me to believe that same old man whose eyes were glued to my boobs the whole time.”
“Alright, alright. Fair point, Tomb Raider. Now, about those hieroglyphs – what do they say?” Lara crouched down to the gold plaque and wiped off the mud and leaves; even then, however, she had to squint down at the barely legible pictures.
“‘To free the magical force of the Man of Jade, one has to take in and polish his mighty Rod of Power,’” Lara read. “Whatever that means.”
“I don’t have a single clue either,” said Matt. “Listen, I think I’m gonna hurry up with getting out of this cave and try to return to the village before dark. I think you should also do the same.”
“Well, for once, you’re absolutely right,” said Lara, still trying to make out the meaning of the hieroglyphs.
‘To free the magical force of the Man of Jade, one has to take in and polish his mighty Rod of Power.’ What could that possibly mean?
“Best of luck with the statue, Lara. Be careful, and try to get make sure it gets back to me in one piece. Matt out.” With that, Matt hanged up, leaving Lara completely alone in the jungle.
Like I need to be told all that, by Matt of all people. Bloody git.
Under her breath, Lara mumbled the meaning of the hieroglyphs again. “‘To free the magical force of the Man of Jade, one has to take in and polish his mighty Rod of Power.’” When she leaned in for an even closer look, it immediately dawned on her what the meaning was.
“Oh, bloody hell,” she groaned. “This thing’s actually instructing me to suck that.” Lara pointed her finger at the statue’s manhood in disgust. Various discomforting thoughts flashed in her mind as nausea started to settle in. “Jesus, I have to actually give this statue a blowjob? What kind of sick trick is this?” In frustration, she kicked the muddy ground, only to then splatter her knees in even more mud.
“Bollocks!” she cursed. After several more moments grumbling about the task, she took a deep sigh. Okay, Lara. You’re overreacting. There’s no one around here anyway. Why even care? To further calm herself and quench her dry mouth, she drew her canteen from her utility belt took a long gulp of water.
God. And to think water won’t be the only thing I’ll be swallowing soon. Once she finished, she took a deep breath and stared down at the jade phallus.
“I mean, with just a little water to wash...all this...off...I guess this ritual will at least be somewhat tolerable.” Mustering up all the courage she could, she poured a bit of her water over the phallus and dried it with her shirt; once the task was done, she opened her mouth.
Well, here goes nothing.
Lara began the ritual with a hesitant lick of her tongue against the tip of the jade man’s manhood; she swirled it all around while she kept her eyelids shut in revulsion.
God, I really hope nobody’s around. I’d hate to think what the headlines will be if I’m ever caught.
Lara then upped the ante when she proceeded to wrap her lips around the tip, the feeling of disgust growing ever more. Nevertheless, she suckled on it. Simultaneously, an involuntary feeling started to grow in her in addition to her disgust – a strange feeling of arousal making her gradually wet in her panties. And it wasn’t from sweating.
What the...what’s happening to me?
After several more moments spent on just suckling the tip, Lara went even deeper and deeper, picking up the pace along the way as she began bobbing her head on the jade statue’s manhood, taking his whole length into her mouth and down her throat each time. Spit seeped out of her mouth and coated the shaft and head, as well as dribbling from her lips, and her chin, towards the balls. And then, out of nowhere, an audible moan of pleasure escaped from Lara.
“Oh, what the bloody hell’s happening to me?” she moaned though a mouthful of the jade cock. Eventually, however, Lara found the will to pull her mouth off of it (at least for a moment) and catch her breath. Deeply, she gasped and panted for air while a string of spit from her lips connected her to the tip.
“Lara?”
“Ah!” Suddenly, Matt’s voice came up again on Lara’s earpiece, causing her to scream in startlement.
“Matt?! What the fuck?” she swore.
“S-Sorry, Lara,” Matt apologized. “I didn’t mean to...what are you doing anyway? I keep hearing weird suck –”
“It’s nothing, Matt,” Lara interrupted. God. This is so embarrassing.
An awkward pause between the two ensued as each of them tried to circumvent the fact that one just heard the other fellate a statue, of all things.
“So,” said Matt, finally breaking the pause. “I, uh, finally found my way out of the cave, and I just wanted to let you know about that.”
Lara sighed in frustration and replied, “Well, it’s good to know you’re safe now.”
“Was that the...ritual you were perform –”
“Yes, Matt, it is,” Lara snapped. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Got it? And you better not be recording this call or wanking off to this for all I know.”
“No, I won’t, Lara,” said Matt. “Matt out.” And once again, Lara was left to her own devices in the middle of a jungle with a jade statue sporting a boner bigger than any banger Lara had with her mash from time to time.
Lara’s mind and mouth returned to the statue matter once more. And even though she spent another five minutes or so drooling and deepthroating the rod of power with as much vigor as she could muster, there continued to be no effect whatsoever, save for her increased involuntary arousal from the whole affair.
“Why isn’t there anything happening?” she hissed in frustration. “Unless...” Her eyes then lowered down to the statue’s balls. They were highly detailed, just as the manhood was – slightly shriveled scrotum and everything. And they were perfectly proportional to the girth and length of the rod of power above it.
“Oh, of course!” Lara exclaimed. “Like my friends keep telling me, ‘Never forget the balls.’” She then ducked her head down and began to lightly suckle the balls with her lips while her tongue slathered them. Meanwhile, as if with a mind of its own, her hand snaked down to her crotch and began to massage away at her increasingly moist folds.
Oh, what’s happening to me? Really?! In an attempt to fight off the unwanted touch, she fought her masturbation hand with her other.
Come on! Just...
Before she could successfully win the battle against her own body, the statue suddenly came to life and grabbed Lara by the back of her head; it then proceeded to jam its member all the way down Lara’s throat, making her gag and almost vomit. Muffled screams escaped as she cried for help through the mouthful of the statue’s powerful cock, but to no avail.
Promptly, the statue proceeded to thrust in and out of Lara’s mouth; more streams of spit seeped out and crawled down her lips, to her chin, before either continuing to crawl down to the statue’s balls or landing on her firm, supple tits.
Fuck! What do I do?! Oh, for fuck’s sake, what do I do?!
As the statue slowly picked up the pace at pounding away at her throat, the archaeologist momentarily found freedom of movement in her arms.
Yes! My arms are free again. If I could just...reach for my pistol.
Unfortunately for Lara, however, the moment she managed to draw her gun and point it at the statue’s torso, the statue kicked the gun out of her hand.
Fuck! Why is this happening to me? And why the hell didn’t I bring my other pistol?
It was especially at Lara’s escape attempt that the statue went even harder on Lara’s throat, pounding it at the pace of a jackhammer, whilst simultaneously rendering Lara’s arms useless once again with its unexplainable powers. Lara was now completely at its mercy. No! Her throat became increasingly sore over the course of the whole ordeal to the point where it was unbearable for her; the pain then peaked at the same time the statue did when it made one last thrust into her throat and unleashed its ungodly seed straight into her stomach. Again, with its mystical abilities, it made the unfortunate archaeologist swallow every last drop, savoring each and every time her throat tightened up to swallow. Once it pulled out of Lara’s mouth for the last time, she gasped for every bit of air she could as a mixture of spit and cum spilled down her chin and onto her breasts and the ground beneath her.
“Fucking hell!” she choked, her head bent down as she gagged. Again, much to the Tomb Raider’s misfortune, the statue took advantage of the opportunity and lightly stomped onto the back of Lara’s head, making her face land onto the puddle of spit and cum.
“Argh!” she cried. With her on all fours now, the statue proceeded to rip her shorts, revealing her voluptuous, well-toned, bare ass.
“What are you...ah!” In a split second, the statue penetrated Lara’s womanhood and thrusted in and out of her just as quickly as it did when it was down her throat.
“Fuc...king...hell!” she shouted between thrusts, her agonizing screams echoing throughout the jungle.
Several moments later, Lara the familiar sound of boots against the muddy ground. Oh, thank God! Someone’s coming.
“Help! Help!” she cried. Matt then came into view, full gear and everything, with a nest of messy black hair atop his head and a visible layer of sweat on his almost-sunburned skin. Along with a backpack, an olive-green shirt, tan cargo shorts and dark-brown hiking boots, he also carried on his shoulder a large camera trained on the archaeologist.
“What the Fuck are you doing, Matt?!” she spat, outraged at the sight of him.
“I...I have to film this, Lara. I must film this,” he replied in a monotone voice; his expression, blank. He was in a complete trance, as Lara quickly realized. Oh no! I’m fucked!
As the statue continued its assault on the womb of the Tomb Raider, Matt hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and underwear and pulled those off. He promptly proceeded to stroke himself before Lara whilst maintaining his blank expression, and this further added to the mental and physical pain Lara endured. When she once again took momentary control of her arm, she attempted to scoop up a handful of dirt to throw at the statue despite its lack of any facial features; needless to say, this was also to no avail. And in response, the statue lifted Lara and proceeded to continue pound away at her whilst keeping her in a full Nelson hold.
“Argh!” she cried. “Why can’t I get out of here?” After several more thrusts, the statue fired off another massive load straight into Lara. The pain in her womanhood seared to the point where tears streamed from her eyes. Additionally, her clitoris twitched until she, too, experienced her own orgasm, and an involuntary one at that. A stream of her translucent cum squirted from her vulva and managed to somewhat even land on the tip of Matt’s own cock. Using this as lubrication, he stroked faster and faster until he, as well, came, with the white ropes of his cum landing next to the spit-cum puddle Lara’s face laid in just moments ago.
A perceptible atmosphere of exhaustion in the air came about as all three found themselves with a feeling of post-orgasmic sleepiness washing over them.
“F-Fuck,” Lara panted. Meanwhile, the statue proceeded to drop her back onto the muddy, cum-covered ground that was now making the air smell more like a stuffy brothel in Las Vegas than a humid but refreshing jungle in South America. Once all was said and done, Matt turned the camera on himself.
“Well, you saw it all folks,” he said, before he, too, fell to the ground and dropped the camera in the process. As the sleep slowly overtook him, the statue walked over to its pedestal and returned to its original inanimate state.
Several weeks later, Lara woke up to find herself in a bed. Her mouth was dry, her eyelids heavy with drowsiness. When she took in the familiar scent of hand sanitizer, rubber gloves, and other things used for sanitation, she immediately realized where she was.
“Thank God. A hospital,” she mumbled. Right when she was about to call for a nurse to assist her, a doctor entered.
“Hello, Ms. Croft,” said the doctor.
“H-Hi,” she responded, her voice hoarse. “What happened? How long have I been out?”
“Three weeks to be exact.” Noticing how thirsty she was, he handed her a glass of water that was next to her bed.
“Thank you,” she said. She then took a long gulp, relishing in the newfound hydration.
“Listen, Lara, I’m going to need you to listen very carefully,” the doctor continued. Worried, Lara put the glass back on her nightstand.
“What is it?” she said, her eyebrows raised in alarm.
“You’re pregnant.”
Bollocks!
Once again, there were the usual sounds of chirping birds, rustling trees, and roaring waves and waterfalls in the background back on the island of the Jade statue. These sounds were then quickly interrupted by another, even louder sound.
Promptly appearing in the air was a ship. Visible through the cockpit window was the familiar face of one particular blonde bounty hunter.
Upon making a landing next to the jade statue, Samus, dressed in her zero suit this time, exited her ship and looked around to take in her surroundings.
“What the hell is this place?” Her eyes then landed on that thing that’s taken so many for so long, and this time, there was a visible golden glow emanating from it.
“Hmm...”
To free the magical force of the Man of Jade, one has to take in and polish his mighty Rod of Power.
“Keep firing! And send forth the frontal forces for a counter charge,” said Vorlag, the Orcish general in charge of defending Mordor from the allied forces. More specifically, he was the Orcish general in command of the Uruk-hai; the strongest soldiers of Sauron’s military, and the one the allied forces now had the misfortune to fight in this battle. His skin was ashen gray, his eyes were as black and cold as his very soul, and his figure was tall and immensely muscular, all clad in sharp, black armor. As per Vorlag’s orders, the Orcish archers continued their rapid firing, while the frontal cavalry charged forth on their horses as well. Once both cavalry forces made their deadly kiss on the battlefield with their swords and spears, blood was spilled, and their agonizing shouts could be heard far and yonder. And then off in the distance, just less than a mile away northward, was the beautiful half-elf, Arwen, sealed away in her stone fortress.
“Oh, Aragorn. Please return to me alive,” Arwen muttered under her breath. She sat upon her chair in her bed chamber in great worry. Her breath was ragged and her heart beat in sync to the drums outside as the battle raged on. Her hair was slightly messy and unkempt, yet maintained a silky brown appearance, her skin was flawless and pale, and her eyes were a hypnotic shade of pale green. Her figure was thin, yet lovely, what with the curves of her thighs perfectly emphasized by the pale blue sleeping robes she wore. And yet, despite her youthful beauty, here she was, sickly and weak with a rather troublesome flu that she’d been battling for the past two days or so. Nevertheless, on the morning before the battle, she’d begged of Aragorn.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this. Last night…I don’t know, but I think it’s possible the halflings…Frodo and Sam…they might’ve…”
She hesitated and shuttered at the grim thought. She tried her best to say the words, and yet she kept choking on them. She stood in her bedroom, facing the window to look outside to the grassy fields below her. Behind her stood Aragorn.
“No. That can’t be possible. I’ve had my doubts about them myself, Arwen. But I’m sure that they’ll make it to Mordor…they must,” replied Aragorn.
“In any case, I think it’s best that I join you for the battle. I want to see this to the very -ackph!”
Suddenly, Arwen had a coughing fit as a result of her flu. She then felt her head become light as the world started to spin around her once more. She began to fall until Aragorn had been fortunate enough to catch her and then place her back on her bed. Once doing so, Aragorn grabbed a nearby chair and sat on it. He wore an expression of worry and empathy on his face as he looked to the sickly Arwen. He sighed, placed his left hand on his face, and closed his eyes for a moment. Oh, how I wish you were here, Gandalf. Once he finished his thought, he looked her directly in her eyes and said,
“I’m sorry, but we can’t be together in battle. Not in your condition, at least. I’d never be able to live with myself if you…”
He hesitated for a few seconds, choking on his own words as Arwen did moments ago.
“I promise you this, Arwen; I will return to you. I promise you this on my very soul. Once this battle is over, I will never leave your side again.”
He moved towards her, kissed her forehead, and held her hands. Arwen felt the warmth and intimacy of this simple action, and felt completely assured in him through this. It was through this that she knew that his love for her was pure. And it was for this especial reason that she loved him with equal depth. She then faces him, and they look deeply into each other’s eyes, their hearts fluttering. She moves closer to him, and their lips meet in one long kiss, lasting for what they wished was an eternity. They then finally break.
“For good luck,” she simply says.
Aragorn smiles at her warmly.
“Like I said, I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to return to you once this is all over.”
He then looks out the window outside, and sees the sun just barely shine through the overcast sky.
“I’ve got to go. In the meantime, farewell.”
“Farewell,” Arwen replies.
Aragorn leaves the bedroom without another word, and Arwen falls asleep peacefully for another hour.
And now here he stood, on the battlefield with his sword unsheathed and swinging away at any and all Orcs who dared to attempt to attack him. Over a fortnight of planning and training was spent in order to ensure the success of this battle, and Aragorn certainly had no intention of merely accepting defeat. He was confident that Frodo and his trusty, loyal friend, Sam, would make it through the perils of Mordor and cast that cursed thing that was the One Ring into the fiery, destructive depths of Mount Doom.
“We’re all counting on you, halfling. I hope you make it,” Aragorn muttered under his breath.
As he swung away with his sword, he beheaded one Orc, then commanded his Elven comrade, Legolas.
“Legolas, order the Elves to fire the catapults!”
“But sir, what of the rest of our forces? We may end up taking more losses,”
said Legolas as he stabbed two other orcs with his dagger.
“We have to counter those archers and have their fire drawn so that we can advance,” said Aragorn.
“Very well.”
Legolas then sprinted as fast as he could to the catapults, careful not to trip over the many corpses of the Orcs. As Aragorn fought, it was only seconds later when he heard Legolas give the order.
“Fire the catapults!”
Another storm of projectiles fell upon the earth, this time against the Orcs. Luckily, the combination of the boulders and arrows were able to hit most of the advancing enemy armies, given the rather bulky, tank-like stature of the grotesque, beastly Orc.
“Advance!” shouted Aragorn.
The allied forces proceeded forth once more, shields raised and their blades at the ready. As they continued their fighting, the Dwarf named Gimli arrived, clad in heavy armor and armed with his signature axe.
“Twenty-five!” he said to Legolas as he continued to chop down each Orc one by one.
"Thirty-two!” replied Legolas.
“Just you wait, Elf!”
Despite the brutality of their offensive fighting style, the Orcish army was forced to resort to their contingency plan after taking heavy losses.
“Retreat!” commanded Vorlag.
“All soldiers, retreat. This battle is lost.”
However, there was much more going on than a mere retreat, as Aragorn and his forces believed. As Vorlag and his Uruk-hai forces retreated south, they split once they reached a river in front of a colossal cliff on the outskirts of their original position.
“What’s happening?” asked Gimli.
“I don’t know, I’m afraid. Stay ready,” said Aragorn.
The allied forces ended their charge, split, and proceeded more slowly. However, seemingly out of nowhere came forth the Dark Lord himself, and a squad of archers at the top of the cliff. And this time, he had finally achieved it. He had finally acquired what he had lost all those centuries ago. On the ring finger of his left hand was the golden One Ring. The ring to rule them all, and in the darkness, bind them.
“Surrender now!”
Sauron’s voice boomed and echoed throughout the battlefield below him.
“Surrender now, and I may spare you! Surrender now, and there shall be no more bloodshed. Resist so foolishly, and you will face a battle that you cannot win. Choose wisely!”
The allied forces halted in their advance the second they heard his voice. Aragorn spun around to face him. As he listened, he found himself frozen – paralyzed with fear at the fact that he was in the presence of possibly the most powerful dark sorcerer in Middle Earth’s history. And then it hit him with the speed and impact of a heavily armed cavalry, and his heart suddenly stopped at its tracks the moment he reached his grim realization. Impossible. T-This can’t be. The halflings…Frodo…Sam…Oh no…
“H-How did you get that?!”
said Aragorn, his voice shaky with crippling fear. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and his mouth became as dry as a desert.
“How did I acquire this? This thing that I have searched for far and yonder for centuries?” said Sauron.
“I shall tell you then. Your ring bearer and his little friend are no more. Alas, it seems their feet weren’t so swift and silent once they arrived in my lands. Luck, it seems, has its limits after all.”
Sauron laughed a deep, cold laugh; a laugh that shook everyone to their very soul and creeped down their backs like a serpent. And with his greatest fears confirmed, Aragorn felt himself become nauseous. He could taste and feel the sourness of his stomach acids build up to the base of his throat, making him barely able to speak now. It was over. All that the Fellowship had fought so hard to achieve. All that they had laid their lives down for – failed. And it was a failure on a scale that was incomprehensible. A failure of epic proportions. A failure that can’t be recovered from. All was lost.
Without any other options, Aragorn spoke to his men.
“My brothers – Elves, Dwarfs…my fellow people of Gondor and Arnor! Even though the ring bearer and his trusty companion – Misters Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee – have fallen, we will not fall in vain! This shall be our last stand! And it will be a glorious one! One that shall mark us as heroes never to be forgotten to the flow of time! We may well fall pitifully, but our fall will be recorded as the greatest one of all! To you, Sauron, may you suffer greatly at our hands! Charge!”
And the allied forces charged forth, not caring about the success or failure of their offense; merely the act of leaving Sauron with the parting gift of his own spilled blood before finally meeting the bitter end that was their deaths. Sauron, however, sniggered under his breath.
“Fools! So be it. Archers! Fire again!”
The Orcish archers on the top of the cliff, as well as the ones led by Vorlag, fired another volley of arrows upon the allied forces. One by one, Elf, Dwarf, horse, and Human alike, fell to the ground like a ragdoll tossed to the floor by a child during playtime as the ground below them became stained with scarlet. Eventually, only Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli remained.
“You have my utmost respects,” said Sauron to those final three standing before him.
“You’ve earned my respects, my mercy, and your last chance to concede. Kneel before me, and you will not only be spared, but you will become generals in my army as a reward.”
“Never!” shouted Gimli in defiance to the Dark Lord. He gripped his axe tightly, and kept himself ready for his last fight.
"Never shall we bow down to such a despicable bastard as yourself!”
“What say the Elf? Will he concede and find glory under my rule, or end up in the same fate as his other pathetic allies?”
In response, Legolas drew his bow as quickly as he could and fired one of his last arrows straight towards Sauron’s neck, grazing the left side of it. Blood seeped out of the wound, and the pain from the arrow came in a sharp flash. Livid beyond anything else, Sauron screamed,
“Foolish to the very end! Very well. Fire!”
“‘twas an honor, and a privilege, to have served alongside you,” said Legolas to Gimli.
“Likewise, Elf,” said Gimli.
And so Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli made their final charge, bows and shields at the ready. The arrows rained down upon them, but they continued running towards the Uruk-hai forces in front of them, giving not a care in the world about some of the arrows that pierced their shoulders. Aragorn then arrived at the Uruk-hai forces first, wielding his sword for the last time, parrying it to defend himself from oncoming attacks and slashing away at the limbs and necks of his enemies. Gimli did the same with his axe, as did Legolas when he drew his dagger. They came to terms with the certainty of their defeat, yet held on to dear life the possibility that they may at least find the chance to escape somehow, if it ever presented itself.
However, it was all for naught, as the Uruk-hai eventually overwhelmed them, stabbing all three of them with their blades. Both Legolas and Gimli were immediately killed while Aragorn stayed alive long enough for his final words and thoughts. Through the pain of the sword that was right through his chest, and his mouthful of blood, Aragorn managed to say,
“One day, you…shall fall. One day.”
We shall meet each other once again, Arwen, but not in this lifetime. I’m so sorry. I hope we meet again. The pain then began to subside, and everything began to fade into nothingness, until he finally succumbed to his death. The Orcs cheered and celebrated their victory, until Vorlag raised his hand to silence his fellow soldiers.
“Not yet. Pockets of resistance remain. My Lord, what shall be the fate of these foolishly stubborn groups?”
Sauron paused for a moment. Deeply, he wished for all pockets of resistance to be captured and tortured by him personally for resisting his rightful rule, yet he understood the herculean nature of this. After all, as he came to understand, the races of Man, Elf, Dwarf, and Hobbit were much more capable than he’d initially believed when he lost the ring all that time ago. For this reason, he said simply,
“Do what you will. Eliminate all resistance groups in one fell swoop. Show no mercy. We are closer to victory than we’ve ever been before. Do not fail me, or there will be dire consequences.”
“As you wish, my lord. Soldiers, march. We head north.”
Arwen winced and cringed as she heard the sounds of blades and arrows pierce the flesh of Orcs, Elves, Dwarfs, and Humans alike. Finally, after deciding that she had waited long enough for Aragorn’s return, she gets up from her seat, strips herself from her sleepwear and puts on her dark, navy blue robe and glove pair she wore whenever she had to go outside, retrieves her sword from under her bed, and goes to the front door for the battle that awaited her, sword at the ready.
“No! Don’t, milady. Elrond and Aragorn ordered us to keep you here and see to it that you’re protected at all costs,”
said one human guard who stood at the front door.
“There’s no point in hiding! I’m tired of running, and I’m tired of hiding! I need to go out there and fight alongside Aragorn!”
“No, wait!”
Arwen persisted and kicked the door open. Bravely, she faced before her her very doom. Vorlag’s forces sniggered at her attempt to defend herself and the fortress. As Vorlag’s forces advanced toward her fortress, archers on the top of the roof proceeded to fire way with their bows as best as they could, killing a few of the advancing Orcs. Arwen looked behind her, and then towards the Orcs, rather confused.
“Fly! Fly milady! It’s too dangerous! Get out of here!”
said the archery commander.
“But –”
“It’s alright, milady. We’ll hold them off.”
“I’ll come back to you with reinforcements. I promise.”
And Arwen sprinted away as fast as she could, going back inside the fortress, and then out of the back door into the forest.
“Keep firing -argh! Ahh!” the archery commander then took an arrow through his torso, proceeding to fall over the crenellations on the roof.
“Sir! No!”
said one of the archers, and they kept firing, both to protect Arwen as best as they could and take revenge for the death of their commander. The arrows came in faster and faster, but to no avail, as Vorlag’s forces began to pour into the fortress.
“Pour the hot oil!” said one archer. “And get to the entrance. We mustn’t let this fortress fall.”
Immediately, many of the Orcs suffered severe burns on their skin from the hot, black substance that was being poured on them from above. Their skin began to peel off in various places, and their agonizing shrieks filled the fortress. And yet, alas, even this was not enough; the Orcs who did enter the fortress, before the hot oil could be poured, finally reached the roof and proceeded to slaughter the human archers one by one. As bravely as they fought, it was ultimately all for naught. Eventually, all of the archers were killed, and the Orcs celebrated their triumph.
“Wait!” commanded Vorlag, as he raised his hand to silence his men.
“Our work is not finished yet. We must find and capture that woman.”
Meanwhile, Arwen kept running, running, running, and running. Her heart beat to such a speed that an ache began to develop in her chest. And yet, she just kept running. She then began to lose track of her surroundings, which caused her trip over a branch on the ground. As she tried to get up as quickly as she could, an arrow narrowly missed her, only just hitting the ground between her fingers. She pulled the arrow out of the ground, and then kept running, until she reached a steep ledge with no trees or leaf piles to cushion her fall below it. She then drew her sword and prepared for her last stand. Only just five seconds later, Vorlag’s army arrived, with Vorlag front and center.
“My, my, what have we got here? You’re a mighty fine woman. Please, tell us your name?”
“Stand back,” spat Arwen. “Stand back, and I may just spare you. If you dare even make a step forward, I’ll cut off every one of your limbs.”
Vorlag laughed, as did the rest of his army. It was loud, and completely filled the forest, drowning out the chirping sounds of the birds and such.
“You? You think you can resist us, when we so greatly outnumber you? You? When we have archers that can hit the eye of an eagle from a mile away? You? When we have men armed with axes who can behead a man as cleanly and swiftly as the sharpest blade in the world?”
“I fear no man, skilled or unskilled, cowardly or brave. I will fight to the last breath.”
The Uruk-hai sniggered again, and then Vorlag gave her an offer.
“It’s up to you to decide your own fate, milady. But you do have two choices; you can lay down your blade and surrender to us. Should you do so, you will become the Dark Lord's mistress, properly providing your most intimate services to your master. Or, you can die here, and meet the same fate as your pitiful general. What was his name? Ah, yes, Aragorn. Choose wisely.”
Arwen grit her teeth as tears began to leak out of the corner of her eyes. Aragorn…no! You said you’d return. Suddenly, feelings of vengeance began to course through her body, her heart beat faster as her muscles began to tense up. Without even thinking, she rushed towards the Uruk-hai soldiers, specifically towards Vorlag. However, just as she was going to strike the Orcish general, he parried the attack with his own blade, and then pulled out a dagger to take a cut at her wrist that was holding her sword.
-Start of Rape Scene/Ending-
“Argh!” She winced and screamed from the pain of the crudely made blade. Once she attempted to pull her sword away from Vorlag, he caught her arm, pulled her sword out of her hands, and then tossed it off of the ledge. Vorlag then pulled her face towards his, and then breathily said,
“You know, since your beauty is just so breath-taking, let me take my time to admire it before you’re gone for good.”
As she was manhandled and breathily spoken to by Vorlag, she could smell the absolute foulness of his breath. It made her nauseous, and so much so that she spat in his face in rage and disgust. Vorlag wiped his face with his right hand.
“Feisty, are we? That’s all right, you’re still quite the prize for me, milady. To the victor go the spoils. Men, grab her by her shoulders!”
Several Orcs behind Arwen proceeded to lift Arwen by her shoulders, while Vorlag continued holding her by her legs. As he held her legs, he proceeded to rip off a large portion of the bottom half of her robes, leaving her panties as the only thing protecting her pristine womb against the vile hands of Valrog. Of course, the panties were completely useless, as Valrog then ripped the panties off of her waist, exposing the most intimate part of her body. Vorlag sniggered at his prize while his men celebrated and cheered gleefully and nastily, exposing their yellowed teeth and fangs.
“To the victor go the spoils,” Vorlag repeated, as he proceeded to undo his pants and unsheathe his more personal sword, which, of course, was his massive phallus. Once unsheathing it, his carnal desire for Arwen grew, he felt his heart beat faster and faster, and he licked his lips as though a delicious feast were before him. Overcome with lust, he swiftly and forcefully thrusted himself into Arwen’s pale, slightly hairy slit, causing her to shout various curses and agonizing screams, which filled the forest along with the continued cheering of the Orcish army.
“Argh! Please! Stop it!” Arwen begged.
“Not until you concede,” spat Vorlag.
As he thrusted in and out of her, he found himself in pure ecstasy. The sensations he received from being inside her were pure bliss, more intoxicating than any ale or pipe-weed Middle Earth had to offer. Her walls perfectly hugged the width of his phallus; it was neither too tight, nor too loose. In spite of the lack of lubrication, Vorlag’s arousal remained, as Arwen’s agonizing screeches fueled his sadistic desires. Eventually, he found himself close, twitching in extreme pleasure as he slowly reached climax. And then only a second later, he finally released his seed into Arwen, as those white ropes of his semen kept coming and coming into her.
Meanwhile, Arwen felt completely violated. She’d hoped to save herself for her wedding with Aragorn, but with him gone, all was truly lost. Her desire for vengeance became replaced with fear and despair as she felt her muscles become stiff and tense. So filled with fear she became that she felt as though she could not move at all. All she could do at that point was wait for the end, and pray for its swift arrival. Alas, her end would never arrive swiftly, if at all, as she hoped, as once Vorlag finished his duties inside of her, he beckoned three other Orcs to join the fray. One entered her mouth, one entered her anus, and the last one inserted itself into her crevice, which began to leak of Vorlag’s seed. Again, all Arwen could feel was pain, fear, and despair. She choked and gagged from the salty, putrid taste of the Orc in her mouth, while she winced in complete pain from the other two who were in her other two orifices. The pain was sharp and never-ending, as if she were slowly being split apart. And then, once more, all three of the Orcs twitched gleefully inside of her until they unleashed their own torrents of their seed into her and onto her face and torso. By this point, all she could smell was sweat and the pungent scent of Orcish reproduction fluids.
Once those three had their fill, another three came forth, and so on, until Arwen eventually found herself mind-broken. Her thoughts were reduced into nothing more than sensation as she too orgasmed from the whole affair, albeit unwillingly. Her womb twitched painfully until it too unleashed its own torrents of fluid all over the grotesque phallus of the last Orc who continued orgasming inside of her. Once he pulled himself out, all that came out of Arwen’s most precious place was the fluid of the whole Uruk-hai force. At the same time, her mouth was open, and drool leaked at the corners.
And then, finally, while her eyes were rolled back from the painful sensations of the vicious rape she had the utmost misfortune to experience, Arwen spoke through her mouthful of Orcish fluids.
“I…I surrender. I am yours…I am the Dark Lord’s…I concede…” Her hearing was dimmed as the pain slowly began to fade away. She yearned that this was death she was experiencing, but alas, she could never be more wrong. She then fell into unconsciousness, and that was all.
Several hours later, she woke up. Her mouth was dry, and its taste was unpleasant to the point where she desperately wished to vomit, but simply couldn’t. As she opened her eyes, she could feel them ache as she instantly saw brightness through the window above her. Once she acclimated, she looked through it, and saw the One Ring in the Dark Lord’s hands. She then looked up and saw him in his black, spiked armor and billowing cape. More fear and despair filled her, yet all she could do was stand there, completely hopeless. Meanwhile, Sauron saw her glimpse at the corner of one of his eyes, and then looked directly into them.
“To the victor go the spoils,” Sauron said. After all, he indeed was the victor. He had finally found the One Ring. He had won.
“Mrs. Blair, your client is ready. Shall I let him into your office now?” she asks from behind my closed door. Ugh, great. Naptime just has to be over, doesn’t it? I think to myself in my sleep-deprived stupor. An hour ago, I was doing research for around six different cases before dozing off.
“Uh, Give me a moment, Linda. I just need to clear my office first,” I drowsily reply, almost slurring. After a couple more seconds of shut-eye, I finally force myself to get up. I’m really going to miss laying on my cool desk.
I get out of my desk to stand in front of my mirror on my door to fix my messy, long black hair. Usually, I tie it into a bun, but this time, I just straighten it out. When I finally straighten it out, I take one final glance at myself to make sure I look alright for my client. Clothing-wise, I’m in my gray, sleeveless turtle-neck sweater for today, as well as my black blazer, my ever-so-slightly tight office skirt, my black strapped high heels, and my thinly framed, square-rimmed glasses, which often leave people getting lost in my dark-blue eyes due to how strongly they emphasize them. Figure-wise, at twenty-eight years old, I’m taller than average and unintentionally voluptuous; my ass very subtly protrudes from my skirt, making it look bigger than it really is. Adding to this has been my biweekly visits to the yoga studio near my home since last year. As for my breasts. they have always been on the larger side, much to the amusement of my friends in high school, and the arousal of all the boys, who loved ogling at nerdy little me all too frequently. Even today, men approach me everywhere I go, and it sure as hell isn’t for legal advice. To my disappointment, my skin still looks kind of pale, despite the hot summer weather as of late.
“At least it looks flawless as ever,” I mutter under my breath. Finally, I turn around and gaze at my office. It’s an oak-paneled, grey-carpeted room, with my desk right in front of me, displaying on top of it my transparent acrylic placard that has my name in bold white lettering: Heather Blair, Attorney at Law. Behind it is a vertical window that covers one section of the wall, and on both sides of that are my bookshelves loaded with most of the basic research I need. On my far left is a black leather couch I lay on every once in a while, when I have time to kill, while on my far right is a small table with a coffee machine on top of it and a bottle of strong, four-year-old whiskey in one of the drawers.
Beautifully, the afternoon sun shines through my window, and I find myself almost lost in it, until I shake myself back to reality and clear up my desk by stacking all of my papers and books in one corner of the room while all of my pens go into my desk-drawers.
“Okay, Linda. Let him in,” I say afterwards. The door opens, and a young man in a red flannel and denim jeans walks into the room. Woah, he’s handsome. Along with the flannel and jeans, he has a stubbled, sort of chiseled face, chestnut hair, and sun-kissed skin, and through his flannel, I can see some slight muscle.
“‘Evening,” he says, his voice rather husky. “I’m Derrick Smith. So, you’re that lawyer lady on those commercials, right? Heather Blair?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s me, alright. Ha!”
“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you. You’re even prettier in person.”
“Oh, thanks. You too, hands- I mean, Mr. Smith.” Almost immediately, I feel the room temperature rise a couple hundred degrees. Even more-so, I feel as though my heart’s beating so fast and hard that Derrick could see it through my clothes. When he stretches out his hand to shake mine, and I shake it, I feel a strong, yet gentle grip. Oh, come on, Heather. You’re pushing thirty…and married for crying out loud! I curse myself. I just…need to compose myself and breathe slowly. He’s just really handsome is all. I’m faithful to my husband. I’m faithful to my husband. I’m faithful to my husband. Throughout the conversation, I repeat this mantra to stay focused.
“So, Mr. Smith. What’ve we got today?” I continue. Taking his hand, we walk over to my couch and begin discussing his defense.
After about an hour or so of discussing his defense, we finally come to an agreement that we would expand more on this the next time we meet. During this time, I gradually become more and more comfortable around him. And yet, at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel mesmerized by his own deep green eyes. And then, out of nowhere, it hits me with the force of a freight train, and my heart suddenly stops. Crap, I forgot about…that amendment.
It all started about last year or so, with the case of a man who was wrongly convicted of murder. All the evidence seemed to point to this – his nervous behavior around police, his reactions to the questions asked of him, and his overall tendency to uncontrollably shake and stutter; he simply couldn’t help it. With the cards stacked against him, he was sentenced to life in prison – until he appealed his sentence and brought up his medical documents pertaining to his diagnosis regarding his shaking and stuttering. He served eight months of his prison sentence before finally being released. In the wake of this, there was outrage about the way the justice system handled things, and as a result, a new amendment to the constitution was passed – the twenty-eighth amendment.
Also known as the Wilson Amendment, it declared that all lawyers were to receive proper instruction in the realm of oral sex in relation to their sexual orientation. Lesbian female lawyers performed cunnilingus on their female clients, gay male lawyers performed fellatio on their male clients, et cetera, et cetera. Both clients and attorneys became required to disclose their sexual orientation to each other. Orgasms through oral stimulation became just as important as a proper legal defense so as to ensure that clients were as relaxed and comfortable as they could possibly be. And unfortunately, I became a lawyer in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or so I thought.
Derrick proceeds to get up from my couch. Unsure as to how to address this part of my career, I impulsively get on my knees and place my hand on his crotch. Surprised, Derrick quickly recoils from my actions and wears an expression of borderline fear.
“Mrs. Blair! What the hell are you doing?!”
Damnit! Why did I do that?! For a short moment, I close my eyes and swallow, before slowly informing Derrick of this part of the business I find myself oh-so hesitant to describe, let alone perform in.
“Oh…um, I apologize for the suddenness of my actions, Mr. Smith, but I was under the impression that you read the full contents of our contract before-hand.”
Confused, Derrick replies, “Err, no, I didn’t. How was I supposed to expect…that? I mean, aren’t you supposed be a lawyer, not a hooker?”
“Ugh, please don’t refer to me by that term, Mr. Smith,” I say, shuddering at that word. “Anyway, to explain, as part of the rule of Attorney-Client Privilege under our contract and the laws of the Constitution from the passing of the twenty-eighth amendment, you are automatically granted the privilege of utilizing my mouth in any way you see fit pro bono.” God, it’s amazing I didn’t stutter at all while saying that mouthful…speaking of which.
“I’m sorry, but could you put that in actual English, please?”
Oh, come on. This should be obvious to you already. Slightly impatient by this point, but still wanting to remain professional, I continue in a slightly blunter way.
“You are entitled to free fellatio from me, as per the twenty-eighth amendment of the constitution, which was passed just back in January.”
And just like that, Derrick’s face transitions from a look of surprise to one of childish excitement in less than a second. Boys, they really all are the same, aren’t they? Furtively, I giggle, and I see that Derrick notices the ghost of a smile on my face.
“Wait, you've got to be kidding me. 'free fellatio' as in a free blowjob from a hot lawyer like you?” he says.
“Thank you for the compliment,” I say as I feel a faint blush grow on my cheeks. This is so weird. I get told that all the time. Why is he any different? “And yes, you are entitled to a free blowjob from me under the rule of Attorney-Client Privilege. Studies have shown that the world of law is extremely stressful for both attorneys and clients, which can lead to all sorts of legal problems. Hence, all lawyers are now given instruction in oral sex, even myself.”
“Awesome! I could really use a blowjob right about now.” Derrick excitedly moves my hands to the lower part of his hips and unbuckles his belt. However, before he gets down to unzipping his pants after unbuckling his belt, I stop him in his tracks, putting my hands on his.
“Wait. Before we do this, I…” The rest of my sentence fails to come out of my mouth, and I find myself reluctant to admit that, shockingly enough, I’m a virgin; my husband hasn’t exactly been the most available to me since we married six months ago. Instead, he’s been all around the country, making deals with various companies. Always on his phone, ever staring at the screen, and never saying a word to me.
“What is it, Mrs. Blair?” Derrick asks with a hint of concern in his tone.
Damnit! Just tell him already! I take a deep breath and sigh, before finally getting the full extent of my thoughts out.
“I’m a virgin, Derrick.”
“What?”
“Yep, you’ve heard right. As a matter of fact, this will be my first time giving a blowjob, let alone seeing a man’s dick.”
“Okay, I’ll be –”
“No, it’s fine, Derrick. Do what you will. But yes, be slow, and please don’t cum on my face.” Afterwards, I move Derrick’s hands away from his pants zipper, and unzip it myself. Once I pull down his pants and underwear, his impressively large cock pops out, making me jump and almost hitting my face. Startlingly enough, I find that it’s already erect. It must’ve been at least seven inches long, and half an inch wide.
Upon seeing it, I feel a cocktail of emotions I haven’t experienced since college; nervousness, excitement, amazement, hunger. I feel my mouth almost water at the sight of it, and I’m barely able to contain my feelings when I say breathily,
“Well, this is…of a considerable size. I'll do my best to please you, but feel free to change attorneys if my methods are not to your satisfaction.” There, I said everything that needed to be said. Time to finish the rest of the job.
I grasp Derrick’s dick with my left hand, stroking it very slowly. As I do this, I look into his eyes once more, and feel myself mesmerized in them again. Even more-so, a desire to perform this job the best I can. I stroke it a couple times until I remove my hand to spit in it, before continuing to stroke him. As I keep stroking, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. Impressed by this, I proceed to close my eyes and lick the tip in order to savor the texture and flavor. I really should maintain an air of professionalism while doing this, but it’s just such a nice dick. The flavor has a hint of saltiness to it, probably due to a little sweat or something. As for the texture, it keeps getting harder and harder. I never thought I'd actually be seeing the real thing, let alone stroking it.
A few more licks in, I kiss the head and then drag my tongue on the underside of the shaft down to his balls. I kiss and lightly suck on them, making Derrick visibly shudder in pleasure, trying his best to contain himself and savor the moment. Meanwhile, along with my sense of excitement and arousal, I feel a moisture grow between my legs, and deeply, I hope that he doesn’t notice my panties anytime soon.
After several more licks and kisses to his perfect cock and balls, I drag my tongue back to his head take it into my mouth. Again, sucking it lightly while still maintaining eye contact with him through my glasses. That’s right, Heather. Maintain eye contact. It’s rule number one of giving a good blowjob. As I keep going, I feel the moisture between my legs grow more and more. Despite me trying to lie to myself that it’s just the heat, I know that deep down, it’s because I’m getting more and more turned on by the second. Suck the head and stroke the shaft; rule number two of giving a good blowjob. Meanwhile, I can see how much Derrick is enjoying this, as his mouth forms a perfect O in amazement. Wanting him to react more, I take him as far down my throat as I can, taking in a little more than half of it. Once I pull back, I gag a little and notice the few strings of spit between my lips and his dick.
“Woah! Y-You’re doing a more-than-satisfactory job, Mrs. Blair.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. But I’m only just starting.” I try once again to take him as far down my throat as I can. This time, I almost take all of him before pulling back just a little, still having my lips wrapped around his cock. I then go at it again, moving faster and faster with my mouth, bobbing back and forth while my hands grip his thighs. Within a few more seconds, and with as much determination and vigor as I can muster, I finally take the whole thing to the back of my throat. Immediately, I find myself driven over the edge, and start fingering myself with my right hand. I push aside my panties and feel my soaking wet folds. And because of this, I easily fit two of my fingers right into my slit.
On the other hand, Derrick is in obvious bliss, closing his eyes once I take all of him to savor the sensations he’s feeling.
“Oh, God! That…feels so good,” he says as I continue moving back and forth, faster and faster. So much so, in fact, that I can feel my saliva escape my bottom lip and crawl down my chin. And yet, I find myself not caring at all. Instead letting myself get lost in the sensation of swallowing his dick. In fact, at one point, I’m able to stick my tongue out and actually touch his balls while having him down my throat.
As my saliva crawls from my bottom lip, down to my chin, dripping and pooling on my sweater, I gather it in my left hand and begin stroking him again, making sure to suck him hard and deep. I suck as fast as I possibly can, loving every inch of him down my throat while Derrick writhes in pure bliss, curling his toes in his shoes. He grips my desk tightly, desperately trying to maintain composure until losing it completely. He grabs my head, and pulls me back to take a break. Once I’m off his cock, I breathe deeply.
“Was that…too much for you,” I say, giggling from my intoxication with his cock.
“I think so. You’re…intense. Hands down, the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten.”
“Ha-ha! Thank yo- aagh!” Quickly, Derrick slams me down on his dick again using both of his hands, making me take the whole length down my throat before violently thrusting in and out of my mouth.
“Like you said earlier, Heather. I can use your mouth in any way I see fit pro bono. I’m gonna take full advantage of this offer.”
“mph! Shlow…down!” I say, protesting. But it’s no use. He just continues to forcefully fuck my mouth as more and more spit leaks out, falling onto the floor, while black tears stream down my face, ruining my makeup.
And yet, despite my protesting, my more carnal side enjoys every second of this oral domination over me. As a matter of fact, I find myself realizing that my right hand is still massaging my moist crevice.
After several more thrusts in and out of my mouth, Derrick’s dick begins to twitch.
“Ungh, I’m gonna cum, Heather!”
Fuck, me too! Oh, why am I liking this so much? I ask myself in my intoxicated state of mind. Eventually, we cum together simultaneously. Derrick’s seed floods my mouth, almost burning my throat and stomach, yet strangely in a very pleasurable fashion that allows me to swallow it all. Taste-wise, it’s a salty deliciousness that I find myself unable to get enough of. As for my pussy, it too cums a lot, leaving a visible spot on my carpet.
Finally, Derrick pulls himself out of my mouth, and his dick gradually returns to its original flaccid state.
“Sorry for doing that Heather,” Derrick says while panting from his intense orgasm. “But like I said, that is the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.”
For a couple seconds, there is a pause for me to catch my breath, but it feels like an eternity until I finally regather my strength and reply,
“You’re…welcome. And thank you. I’m glad my…p-performance is to your satisfaction. Make sure to leave a good review online.”
“Ahem, so, uh, are you two finished with business now?” Less than a second later, my secretary knocks on the door and checks on us.
“Yeah, we’re done now. Is there another client in need of service and consultation?” I say.
“Yes, Mrs. Blair.”
“Tell them I’m on lunch break or something.” I then turn to Derrick and say, “Well, I look forward to seeing you again soon.” I get up and kiss his cheek before fixing myself in front of my mirror. I’m a complete mess.
“Hey, by the way, do you think we can grab some coffee sometime? My treat.” Derrick says.
Damnit! As hot as he is, I have to turn him down. I force myself to smile and speak as courteously as I can.
“I’m sorry, Derrick. You’re…really good-looking. But I’m married. This ring on my finger should’ve been obvious enough.” I raise my hand to his eye level, showing him the gold-and-diamond wedding ring on my finger.
Crestfallen, Derrick replies, “Oh, I understand, Mrs. Blair. I’m…sorry I made this awkward for us. I look forward to our next meeting though. ‘til next time!” He quickly pulls his pants and underwear back up and buckles them, before finally exiting my office, clearly in a state of embarrassment.
Meanwhile, I grab a tissue and wipe off some of the makeup on my face and the drool at the drool around my mouth before tossing it in the waste bin next to my desk. Afterwards, I lock my door and retrieve the whiskey from my drawer and pour a glass for myself. As I regretfully sip from my glass, I walk to my window, and see Derrick drive away, off into the distance as the afternoon sun sets below the horizon.
I’m sorry, Derrick. I really am.
Anyway, there’s a downpour outside the place I do this – Jerry’s Booth, a name that’s subtle enough for a rather shoddy establishment. It’s a mundane, grey concrete building, with a neon sign above the entrance – Jerry’s Booth, it says in bright white lettering. And at the bottom of the name is an even less subtle logo – an erect dick, and an open, eager mouth.
Despite the wetness of the weather, today is as dry and boring as ever without her around; I wait for what feels like forever while donned in my uniform – a pair of red latex gloves that stretch over my elbows, slightly covering my left-arm tattoo, a red corset, a tight black miniskirt, and a pair of strapped high-heels. I’m also required by Jerry (my boss) to always keep my blonde hair in pigtails, my face caked in enough makeup to bring out my reddish-brown eyes, and my body as curvaceous as I can make it. Frankly, this whole affair makes me look like one of the biggest bimbo sluts in this city, but that’s the whole point, and it pays the bills. A girl’s gotta eat.
As the pitter-patter of the rain continues on with no end in sight, so does the annoying flickering of the sign outside...and then there’s her. All these things annoy me to the point of me slamming my head into my pillow as I try to drown it all out.
“Oh, why did that session have to be so fun?” I mumble. “And why didn’t I take that damn money?” In frustration, and as a way to soften it, I pound my pillow a few times before trying to give my arm a stretch...until I feel something.
“Huh? Is that...her bag?” I mutter. When I raise my head to check, my suspicions are immediately confirmed. “It is her bag!” Quickly, I get down to business and rummage through it to get the money she owes to both me and Jerry...until an idea pops up in my head.
Wait...she forgot her bag; she’ll want to come back here again to get it back. I feel a grin quickly spread on my face as I start putting all her stuff back in the bag. She’ll want to come back here again to get this bag back, which means...
“I might just get a second session...with her!” I excitedly whisper. I then zip her bag back up, hug it under my arm to guard it, and eagerly await her return, or at least, await the end of my shift at this sketchy place.
A few moments pass, and my patience begins to almost boil over, warming me through the bitter cold of this rainy weather. Oh, come on! Why hasn’t she come back yet? I mean, she’s lucky I didn’t decide to steal this stuff. My eyes dart towards her Georgio Armani sunglasses, and for a moment, I feel the urge to just take them from her bag right then and there as payment, but fight it off. And right as I start to leave my station, she returns.
She enters through the squeaky glass door, and then nervously stands below the magenta light at the entrance. My heart races, and I feel an even greater urge to just run to her and unbuckle her pants, but keep it cool. She’s dressed in a tight, but drab, light-grey hoodie that’s soaked right through, showing underneath a dark-blue tank top, and no bra under that, revealing her small, perky tits; she’s also wearing her rain-soaked khakis, and through that, I see the outline of that thing that’s gotten me wetter than the world outside.
And yet, it’s impossible to look at that thing without seeing the rest of her – she’s an adorable, black-haired little thing, with a freckled, green-eyed face, and a delicately pale and thin frame; the whole package in my books.
“Hi!” I squeak, just like the door. God, I hope I didn’t sound too eager there.
“H-Hi,” she nervously replies. “I-I’m just here to get my bag back.”
“You’re sure...or you want something to go with that?” I reply, making sure to slowly enunciate each word; I seductively lick my lips, and she bites hers in hesitation.
“I...” She looks down in confusion and blushes, while her dick eagerly salutes me, making my mouth water at the sight of it.
“Just come over here, and I’ll make sure that second time’s especially a charm,” I say.
“O-Okay.” She then shakily steps toward me, her face as visibly and adorably flushed as ever. “W-Wait,” she hesitates and stops. “I’m not sure if I can pay you for a sec – ”
“No need to worry,” I interject, waving my arm in disregard. “I’ll make you a deal; you can pay me after we’re finished. It’d just be for your first session earlier. That’s two for the price of one! Call it a first-timer deal.”
“G-Great. Thank you!” she says. Her lips slowly curve into a shy smile while her blush remains. Oh, I hope I’ll get to kiss those again, I think to myself. After spending a moment more of hesitation (much to my mild irritation), she gets back to approaching me and stops once her crotch is just inches away from my face. Immediately, I get right to work; I swiftly unbuckle her belt again and pull her pants and underwear down. And just like a Jack-in-the-box, her cock pops right out lands just atop my nose.
“Woah! Well, hey there yourself, little fella,” I playfully quip. “Don’t worry, I’m excited to have some fun with you again too.” I gently grasp the shaft with one hand and massage her balls with my other, stroking and massaging her slowly.
“Oh...God. Y-Your hands are so soft,” she moans.
“I’m glad you think so,” I smugly respond. After several more moments of having her at the mercy of my palm and fingers, I make my move; I stop stroking and massaging her, and place both my hands on her thighs; I then lick her head, and once again, there’s that salty, sweet, intoxicating taste I just can’t get enough of, making me wrap my tongue around it.
“How do you like that?” I manage to say while I continue tonguing away at her delicious dick.
“Amazing,” she gasps. “I...I think this might be better than earlier.” I laugh at her reply, and when she feels my hot breath on her head, she squirms a little. How cute.
After I decide that her head has received enough of my attention, I drag my tongue along the rest of her length; first, it’s along both sides, and then along the underside, eventually reaching her tip again. Once it’s all nice and wet, I dig right in.
“Welp. Time for that second helping,” I say before I stuff her into my mouth once again. And even though I’ve already felt her once, it still feels as orgasmic as then. I slowly move back and forth, with my lips wrapped around her beautifully smooth cock, and continue swirling my tongue all over the place to give her my full attention. God, I could never get enough of her.
As I bob my head faster and deeper on her delicious cock, she makes a gentle tug at my pigtails.
“H-Hey,” she says, her knees buckling, and her face cringing from the intense sensations. “Do you mind if I...”
In response, I give her a thumbs up, just as I did on our first time, and she gives me the treatment I truly deserve – she tightly holds on to both of my pigtails and proceeds to completely use my throat, pounding it like a jackhammer at a dizzying pace. To intensify the sensations, I stick my tongue out and lick away at her smooth balls while she’s in my mouth. Drool leaks out, and it crawls from the tip of my tongue, down my chin, and onto my pillow.
“Oh...f-fuck!” She moans whilst she closes her eyes, losing herself completely. That’s right. Use me, I muse. I wanna be your personal cocksucker. As she keeps on thrusting in and out of my throat, I feel the area between my legs grow wetter and wetter by the second, so much so that I move my hand from her thigh to my body, slithering it down to my wet pussy, where I start massaging it; less than a moment later, my index finger slips right in, between my sopping folds. Oh fuck!
With both of these things happening, I feel my clit twitch ever closer to cumming; the girl’s delicious futa dick does the same, making me even more excited. God, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on before. I’m so close.
“Holy shit!” she moans. Before I know it, I feel her thrust her entire length down my throat, making me swallow it all as black, makeup-stained tears crawl down my cheeks. Less than a second later, she pulls out to give both herself and me a breather, leaving behind a strand of my drool, and a trail of my lipstick running down her cock.
“D-Do you mind if I...” she gestures to my face with her finger.
“Of course!” I breathily squeak, feeling the most excited than I’ve ever been about this. “You can cum on my face. I’m yours to use for however long you want.”
“Hey!” someone shouts from behind the front door as they bang on it. “Some of us have been waiting in line here for the past eight minutes.”
“Just wait your turn like the rest of ‘em, buddy!” I respond. I then turn my eyes back to her. “Listen, like I said, I’m glad to be of help...really. So, take all the time you need.” She nods in agreement and returns to using me, putting herself back in my mouth again to fuck it at an even faster pace. And through all my gagging, I hear the men outside grunt in disapproval.
“Oh s-shit! You’re gonna make me cum!” she groans. I proudly grin and continue slathering my tongue all over her, working her with my throat with as much vigor as I can muster while feeling her twitch faster and faster.
“I’m cumming!” she screams. To my surprise, however, she makes one shot down my throat, and then pulls out to cum all over my face, covering me in warm, white ropes. Tonight certainly won’t be spent shivering in the cold. Meanwhile, I finger-fuck myself faster, massaging my clitoris with my thumb while I thrust my index and middle fingers in and out. Within seconds, I cum too, and I squirt all over my station. Exhausted as shit, I collapse onto my pillow, reduced to a panting, cum-covered mess.
After spending a few more moments to catch my breath, I break the silence and speak. “H-Hey, uh, do you think you could let go of my pigtails?” I ask.
“O-Oh. Sorry,” she stammers.
“No, it’s fine. I just need to get something from my purse behind me.” From my purse, I grab a napkin and wipe my face with it before sneakily putting it back without her noticing. I can’t wait to play with this later.
“That was amazing,” she gasps.
“Fucking intense,” I remark, before turning to face her again. “So. The payment?”
“R-Right!” Sheepishly, she grabs her bag and takes out a wad of hundreds, deftly shuffling through them with her long fingers. God, I can only imagine what those fingers could do to me.
“How much do I owe you exactly?” she asks.
“The usual price for a session here is two-fif –”
“Here’s three-hundred,” she blurts as she thrusts three of the bills into my hand. “You can keep the extra fifty as a tip, and as compensation if I was a little awkward during our session.”
Damn, she really does have some major confidence issues. Slowly, I rise from my station and hold her face in my hands. Without a word, I put my lips to hers, giving my all into kissing her again. I then plant one bill in her back pocket and tuck the other two into the strap of my miniskirt while she hungrily tries to explore the rest of my body with her tongue and hands before I stop her midway and part from the kiss.
“O-Oh. S-Sorry about...that,” she says.
“No, it’s fine. That was hot,” I assure her. “It’s just...we can’t be doing that here.”
“Hey!” another man behind the front door barks.
“Shit. It’s Jerry. My boss,” I say acidly. “Yes?” I call to him.
“How much longer are gonna go? It’s fucking pouring out here, and some of my customers have been waiting for over twenty minutes now.”
“We’re just finishing up,” I snap. “Just...give me a moment.” I then turn my eyes back to her. “We never introduced each other, have we? My name’s Cynthia, but they call me Sindy around here; Sindy, with an ‘S’.”
“Angel,” she replies. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise...well, I guess you should get going now before Jerry barges in here with a shotgun.”
“Right you are,” Angel says, laughing, but with a hint of disappointment in her tone. She pulls her pants and underwear back up and rezips and re-buckles them.
“Don’t forget your bag...oh and one more thing.” Hastily, I turn around again and grab a napkin and a pen from my purse. I then scrawl onto it my phone number.
“Here,” I say as I hand the napkin to her. “Call me whenever you want. Maybe we can also meet for coffee later?”
“Coffee’s good,” Angel says. She then tucks the napkin into her bag and takes care to make sure she’s really holding onto it this time. Before she exits through the door, she faces me one last time.
“Well, bye...for now I hope.”
“See you later, Angel. Make sure you leave us a good review online.” I then blow her one final kiss, making her sheepishly grin at me. She then turns on her heel, and leaves through the squeaky door without another word.
Less than a moment later, my next customer walks in – a rather burly man with a moustache.
“I believe I’m next,” he grunts.
“You know the procedure,” I drone. Despite my cold demeanor toward the rest of my customers during the remainder of my shift, that warm feeling remains, as does memory of her adorable blush and smile.
I can’t wait to see her again.
“H-Hey!” Dylan protested as I dragged him behind me down the hall. “Would you care to explain why the hell you’re dragging me with you at the moment?”
“I’ll tell you when I can,” I snapped. Today was not the day for me to take my time and be friendly. Especially today, as a matter of fact. When I took out my phone to check the time, I felt my heart almost leap out of my mouth.
“Damnit, forty-five minutes left until the exam,” I whispered under my breath. I hastened our pace, making us practically run; much to our luck, there was still no one to stop us and ask questions.
A short moment later, I saw a door with a sign on it appear out of the corner of my eye.
Yes! A janitor’s closet. Relief instantly washed over me in an awesome wave, and quickly, I opened the door and shoved Dylan inside before entering. I then shut the door behind me, and felt the darkness swiftly envelope us.
“Really, Kota?” said Dylan with acid in his voice. “Don’t tell me you brought me here for a quick fu –”
“No, I didn’t,” I spat as I searched for a light switch. Once I did, I flipped it on; a light bulb above us flickered on, and continued doing so for the rest of the time we were in that closet.
Today, Dylan was sporting a red hoodie with a white long-sleeve underneath, along with a pair of jeans, blue Converse shoes, and a dark-grey baseball cap worn backwards over his messy blonde hair.
On the other hand, there was me; today, I was wearing my usual pair of grey leggings and a white Calvin Klein tank top, with an unbuttoned red flannel over it. When I looked down at the bucket of water at my feet, I looked into my reflection and took in my details to compose
myself – compared to my best friend (and Dylan’s step-sister), Carolyn, I was taller, and had a more athletic physique. Strawberry blonde hair crowned the top of my head, all tied into a neat bun, and behind my contact lenses were a pair of reddish-brown eyes. On my backpack on the floor, was my sewn-in nametag – Dakota Williams, it read.
“Any time now, Kota?” asked Dylan, his impatience threatening to boil over into outright anger.
“Okay, okay,” I said, raising my hands up as a gesture of surrender. “Look, I needed you here today for a quick favor, but it’s one that’s not exactly what –”
“Come on, Kota. Just spit it out already.” Irritated, I take a deep sigh to compose myself. As you wish, Dylan.
“I need to...I need to blow you, Dylan,” I blurted.
“Oh,” was all that Dylan mustered; unsurprisingly, an awkward silence between the two of us followed. There was nothing to break the silence at all (save for my hitched breathing from my ensuing embarrassment), what with everyone being in class, teacher and student alike.
“So,” said Dylan, finally breaking the deafening silence. “You’re too shy to let me fuck you, so instead, you’re gonna just blow me until you get the courage to go all the way.”
“NO!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I felt my blush spread across my face; had it not been for the low amount of light in the closet, Dylan would’ve probably noticed how I was as red as my physics textbook.
“Look,” I whispered. “I have an exam for stats in half an hour. I need to suck your dick, ‘cause apparently, it’s supposed to help me memorize things better.”
“What?” Dylan stood as still as a tree, his eyes fixated on me, as though he just saw me transform into a flying pig or something.
“Let me put it this way,” I said as patiently as I could, though I could’ve sworn I sounded more condescending than I meant to be. “I suck your cock, swallow your cum. Done deal. Alright?”
“Look,” Dylan responded, still confused. “Don’t get me wrong, Kota; I’m not against getting my dick sucked, especially by you. But how in the hell is it supposed to help you memorize things. Why don’t we just sit down here and study?”
“Because swallowing your cum’s supposed to have certain vitamins that help me memorize things like crazy,” I blurted again. “While sucking you by itself would act as some form of muscle memory and as a way to pace myself. Okay?” Slowly, Dylan began to reach for his belt while still all confused, judging by his face.
“I shouldn’t have to keep telling you this, but don’t believe everything you read on the internet, Kota,” he said, sighing. “You know what? Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. I could use a...mouth...to get a load off me anyway.”
“Whatever you say, Dylan. The site I learned this off of had some Latin text in it, so it’s probably true,” I snapped, mildly annoyed by his sudden horniness. Once his dick was out and his pants were all the way down to his ankles, I jumped at the sight of it, but not for the reasons you’d think.
“Oh, God,” I blurted. “Even in this dimness, I can see it.”
“You impressed or intimidated, Kota?” Dylan asked, still standing there as stiffly as his cock. “I mean, there are other ways to go about –”
“No, no,” I interrupted. “I don’t have time. I couldn’t even bother cheating if I tried; the teacher said he’d be watching over us like a hawk today.” I then got down on my knees; by that point my heart really started to race, and it felt as though it was about to burst out of my chest at any moment.
“So, you’re sure about this?”
“Seeing as I’m out of choices now, Dylan, my only answer to that is ‘yes.’” Without another word, I opened my mouth and got to work. Not knowing where to even start, I wrapped my lips around the tip and sucked on it for a good several moments. Meanwhile, Dylan winced at the sensation at first, but then slowly eased into it.
“Well,” he said awkwardly. “This, coming from you, feels weird and great all at once.”
Instead of responding, I continued with my little experiment and kept sucking the tip. About a second later though, I then felt Dylan graze his hand against the back of my head; when I looked into his eyes and noticed his desperation for more, I granted his request – I took his cock deeper into my mouth and sucked harder. To add to the sensation, I flicked my tongue against the tip this time, as well as took hold of his knees.
A “pop” sound echoed around us in the closet when I pulled back to breathe. “How’d you like that?” I remarked breathily.
“It was...good,” Dylan responded, with shock and awe on his face.
“Good,” I said; I returned to sucking him again, and this time, I took him even deeper, to the point where half of him was down my throat. When I pulled back again for a breather, I started to feel dizzy from the lack of air; on the other hand, a wave of information I remembered reading about from last week suddenly came to me.
“I remember now!” I exclaimed at random. “World War II started in September, when the German army utilized the strategy of ‘blitzkrieg’ against Poland.”
Dylan’s expression quickly transformed into downright confusion. “What?” he asked.
“World War II started in September, when the German army utilized the strategy of ‘blitzkrieg’ against Poland,” I repeated.
“Right. I...look forward to seeing how much smarter you’ll get just by blowing me.”
“Whatever, Dylan,” I replied quickly, before returning to my little experiment. I picked up the pace and began bobbing my head on him even faster, taking him in inch by inch into my mouth, all without even using my hands.
Meanwhile, with all the patience of a spoiled baby by this point, Dylan grabbed the back of my head and shoved himself all the way into my throat.
“Fine then,” he grunted. “Since you say you’re getting so smart from this, let’s see you turn into a blue-faced Albert Einstein then.” For the next five seconds or so (what I could only consider the next five years for all I cared), I held Dylan’s manhood all the way into the back of my throat, and much to my surprise, I didn’t even feel myself gag for much of that time; on the other hand, the dizziness started to settle in, despite my best attempts at breathing through my nose.
“Come on, Kota,” Dylan grunted again. “I’m not letting go until you turn blue.” After several slaps at his thighs, Dylan finally released me from his grasp; immediately, I coughed, gagged, and gasped for air, spit flying from my mouth and drenching Dylan’s cock.
Oh...God, I thought. That was kinda...hot.
“Well, that was...exhilarating,” I gasped. Meanwhile, I felt more information flooding my mind like crazy – not only was I remembering various important dates and people from World War II, but what the quadratic formula was, how to handle series and sequences and use sigma notation, among a bunch of other stuff. Hell, when Dylan re-entered my mouth and stuffed himself all the way down my throat to hold himself in there for another couple of seconds, I swore that for a moment, I was hallucinating a diagram of the Pythagorean theorem, along with what sine, cosine and tangent were, ignoring the torrent of my saliva slowly coating his cock.
“God! I’m amazed I haven’t even cum yet,” he grunted, his hands holding on to the back of my head for dear life. When I tapped his thigh again with one hand, he pulled out; thick strings of my spit connected me to the tip of his cock, and along with that, I could see the subtle glistening of his pre- cum slowly streaming out.
When I pulled out my phone to check for the time, my heart started to race when I realized I had only ten minutes left until the exam.
“Curses!” I exclaimed. “I’ve only ten minutes left. Quick, proceed to repeatedly thrust in and out of my mouth until climax with as much vigor as you can muster. Take care to ejacu –”
Without a moment’s hesitation, and a look on his face akin to a child who’d just been given a 100% discount at a candy store, Dylan rammed himself into my mouth again and pounded it hard, both his hands grasping my head for stability. Meanwhile, I continued to cough and gag, spit flying out and drenching Dylan’s member; on the other hand, there was that resultant dizziness I got from being gagged that I slowly came to find intoxicating. I just kept wanting more.
“Keep...going,” I said through mouthfuls of Dylan’s impressive phallus. Shortly after that, I started tasting something slightly salty.
“Ungh...fuck!” Dylan swore as he continued thrusting. “Your throat’s so tight...I’m gonna cum any second now.” Ooh. I can’t wait to see what happens.
“I'm cumming in your mouth!” Dylan continued. Before I knew it, I felt him erupt, gushing torrent upon torrent of his seed onto my tongue and down my throat; eagerly, I swallowed as much as I could to really maximize the effects of his seed on my intelligence. Once I pulled out and swallowed it all, I licked the remnants off my lips and swallowed that too.
“Mm. That was surprisingly good,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Dylan, dumbfounded, his eyes wide open, as though he’d just witnessed a unicorn flying along the arches of a double rainbow.
Meanwhile, I pulled out my phone once again to check the time. “Shit! Five minutes left before the exam.” Quickly, I got back onto my feet and shouldered my bag. “Thanks for the study-drink,” I said breathily. I then kissed Dylan on the cheek, and left without a word.
Yep, I’m definitely feeling smarter now; I gotta try that again soon.
The pandemic is in full swing, the city streets are about as quiet as a church, and here I am with my cheeks rested on my desk as I laid fast asleep.
Strewn around my room was the usual clutter – beer bottles, cigarette butts, empty Adderall bottles that I bought from my best friend, Dylan, and papers galore – letters from my landlord about rent long overdue, and homework assignments that might well take me years before I finally finish them. And on my desk was my laptop with a blank page opened, and a mug of stale, cold instant coffee.
About a few minutes into my seemingly endless, procrastinating slumber, my phone vibrated, making for a rather rude interruption that bitterly brought me back out of the dream world and into the real one.
“Can’t I just get five more minutes?” I mumbled under my breath, my voice raspy. I glanced at my phone to find a text.
Kota: finished your paper yet?
“As if I’ll ever,” I remarked. With some reluctance, I finally rose from my desk to, at last, type out the first words of my paper – my name – Josh Ramirez.
“Two down, a couple more thousand to go,” I said. Just when I was about to type the rest of the paper, there was a rude knock at the door.
“Josh!” a voice called out through my door. “You there? You didn’t answer my text.”
I replied with a sigh. “Didn’t think I needed to. So what?”
“We’re study partners, aren’t we? Isn’t communication key?”
Not thinking of anything more to say in that moment, I got up from my chair to open my door; standing in the hallway was none other than Dakota Williams (or Kota, as me and Dylan called her). The strawberry-blonde hair atop her head was neatly tied into its usual bun, and she stood before me at a height a few inches taller than me, with a visibly athletic build from her frequent visits to the gym, which often led to quite a bit of ogling from my classmates (though how she never noticed this was beyond me). Clothing-wise, I could tell that she chose it all in a haste – a turquoise surgical face mask, jeans tattered at the knees, worn-out sneakers with no socks, and a stretched-out white Calvin Klein tank top.
“Josh?” I prompted him. Aren’t you gonna let me in?”
“Oh! Right. Yeah, come in.” He stood aside to let me enter, before continuing with, “Let me just go on record – it’s weird seeing you wear that face mask. I feel like an alien being captured by a government scientist.”
“Hey, this COVID thing’s no joke,” I said, still standing in the hallway.
“I never said it was,” he responded. “But I don’t think it’s that big of a deal either.”
Just when I was about to open my mouth for another counterattack, I closed it and decided not to discuss the topic any further. Forget it. I do not have the energy for this right now. I entered the apartment and took a moment to glance at him and the room while I took off my mask once Josh closed the door.
“Ugh! You’re lucky that cleanliness isn’t mentioned on the rules of conduct here,” I commented.
“Hey, Ernest Hemingway regularly lived like this,” he countered. “And so did Albert Einstein.”
Josh was no different from his apartment in his appearance either; there was a stubble on his face, and his black hair was as bedraggled as ever. He wore a cheap tan t-shirt, and at his waist was nothing more than a pair of plaid boxers. Surprisingly though, his teeth maintained their pristine, straight white look, and his body started to show some muscle after he finally caved in and joined me in going to the gym two months ago. Granted, a skincare routine would be a welcome addition, since his complexion’s been a little pimply lately from all that pizza. How he never noticed this was beyond me.
“Where are your roommates anyway?” I asked, slightly taken aback by the emptiness of the apartment.
“They’re out shopping,” Josh explained. “I don’t know when they’ll return.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be for a while.” I then took my seat at my classmate’s desk and unpacked my things.
“Alright,” he said, changing the subject and slowly taking his own seat at his desk. “The paper, let’s go over it again.”
“– so my basic point is that sex preferences aren’t really universal, but dependent on culture and other factors.”
“Yeah...totally,” I responded, more distantly than I intended whilst I kept watching her mouth in a trance. “You know what? I think I know the real reason why you wear a mask these days.” Why the hell did I say that?
Immediately, my study partner’s expression went from confident and scholarly, to completely confused, as though I really had revealed myself to be an alien.
“Okay?” she said. What does that –”
“Dylan told me,” I spat out. “Dylan told me.” By this point, the temperature in the room must’ve skyrocketed to at least two-hundred degrees; there was a layer of sweat on my palms and temples now, and my heart raced faster than Usain Bolt ever could.
“Told you what, Josh?” For Fred Fuchs’ sake!
“That you give good head,” I finally said. Well, at least it’s finally out of my system.
While normally, this would be something that eased my tension, the exact opposite happened when Kota practically turned the same shade of red as me once I said what was really on my mind.
It was in that instant that I felt pretty much the same as Josh, as far as I could tell, and I deeply wished that I just burst into flames and disintegrated right then and there. And yet, here I was, slacking off and talking to my dumbfounded classmate. All the while, I was screaming in my head, “God, Josh must be thinking how much of a slut I am. BUT IT WAS JUST AN EXPERIMENT!!!”
“Alright. Listen,” I said, giving my all into sounding as calm and composed as I could despite the redness of my face. “Some things are best left in the bedroom.” Or janitor’s closet for that matter. “You got that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I get you. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Thank you.”
He seemed relieved once I put the matter to rest (so I thought), and the two of us spent the next half-hour or so planning out the paper and comparing first drafts. The room and the world outside was as quiet as ever, and things overall went well without a hitch – that is, until he started wanting some music.
“You have any music preferences?” he asked while he scrolled through his phone.
“Pop’s a guilty pleasure of mine once in a while,” I replied nonchalantly. Josh cackled.
“Pop?” he said, his sly smirk continuing on to no end. “Pop?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “I swear, you’re a broken record today.”
“Sorry, it’s just...” he paused for a moment after his smirk faded away and his expression went blank; I could’ve sworn that in that moment, his breathing hastened, and his eyes darted from my breasts to my face. “I figured you were more of a jizz...jazz listener. Sorry.”
Ugh, I should’ve known Dylan would open his mouth. Why the hell didn’t I tell him to keep things secret?
I sighed and thought long and hard (no pun intended) in silence for a bit, and then looked up to admire my work. Josh made some real progress over these past two months – his shoulders are much broader, his pecs, biceps, and other muscles have really developed to the point where I honestly could gaze at them through his shirt for long periods of time, and even his posture’s become much straighter, whether he’s sitting or standing. I had to admit that he deserved a reward. Not to mention, the fact that we’re both single...
“Alright, Josh.”
“What?” my head-in-the-gutter partner asked.
“I’ll suck your cock.” You’re blowable enough.
“What –”
“I’ll. Suck. Your. Cock,” I purred, enunciating every word. “I’ve got writer’s block, you’re distracted by what could only be called an open secret by this point, no amount of study chatter’s gonna keep you focused on more pressing matters...how about I prove those rumors true.”
In an effort to appear coolheaded, Josh jeered. “You think my cum will be a real help, huh? I don’t mind.”
Holding back a smirk, I countered with, “Sounding cute definitely isn’t in your skillset. Lucky that acting the part is.” Just as I started to slide off my chair, Josh stopped me.
“Wait,” he said. “What if my roommates –”
Deciding to show instead of tell, I continued sliding off my chair, and then planted myself under my classmate’s desk, his crotch directly in my face.
“Problem solved,” I quipped.
Kota licked her lips to moisten them. Noticing her still all red in the face, I assured her with, “You know, I didn’t say that I wanted you to suck my dick; I said that I didn’t mind, and I just wanted you to confirm what Dylan told me.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” the rumored “Mouth Mistress” countered as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of my boxers. “Confirming what Dylan told you. Unless you don’t want this, and –”
“No, I do,” I blurted out. “It’s just...if you don’t want this...”
She stopped for a moment and looked down in thought. She whispered something that I couldn’t make out, before continuing with, “Back when I tried this with Dylan, it was just a little experiment of what I read online about how ingesting cum might correlate with intelligence...I think it worked...”
She stopped midsentence, probably noticing that my expression returned to its original dumbfounded state that I couldn’t help. I mean, how the hell do cum and intelligence have anything to do with each other at all?
My study partner left her sentence unfinished and, in one swift motion, pulled my boxers down to my ankles. Adding more fuel to the blaze that was my utter embarrassment, nervousness, and excitement was the fact that my cock popped out, revealing itself at full mast.
“A bit of pubic hair, huh?” She commented. “Lucky that I don’t mind.”
She went straight to work; she grasped my rod with one hand and reached for my balls with her other. She darted her tongue out her mouth slowly licked away at my cockhead.
“Oh gosh!” I exclaimed, wincing at the sudden sensation.
“You alright?” she asked, her worry barely contained.
“Just surprised, is all,” I spat out. “Keep going.” I licked my lips to moisten them; it wasn’t until now that I realized how dry they were from my nervousness and anticipation of the whole affair. Not to mention, my heart kept racing faster than it ever had while I was on Adderall, while the temperature of the room got hotter and muggier by the second. Damn! It’s amazing that I managed to get hard at all.
Kota licked my cockhead and massaged my shaft and balls for the next several moments; no words were shared between us, and the only sound present other than the usual ambience was her tongue delicately licking me and her hands pumping my shaft caressing my balls. She suddenly upped the ante when she opened her mouth wide and took my whole length down her throat. Before I knew it, I was feeling a wet tightness around me that I never wanted to leave, so I savored the seconds slowly ticking by while she held me down her throat like the phenomenal cocksucker she was, before pulling back to reveal a torrent of her drool coating me and connecting her lips to my cockhead. She breathed heavily, but there was nevertheless a sense of pride in her tone that made her that much hotter.
“You liked that? You’re still surprised?”
“Y-Yes,” I spluttered out, my voice hoarse. “I’m liking the surprises.”
“Grgh! Grgh!”
“F-Fuck, Kota!” Josh groaned, his knees trembling while he grasped the armrests of his chair for dear life as I vigorously sucked his fully hard phallus. Drool continued pouring from my lips and all it, in addition to his swollen balls that I massaged with my other hand.
Almost predictably, a torrent of information flooded my head, and I found myself suddenly out of the slump that was my writer’s block.
“I know what to write now!” I exclaimed through a mouthful of his member, though this fell on deaf ears as he leaned back and closed his eyes to relish the sensation of my tight, wet throat and soft tongue caressing the underside of his shaft. And all the while, those same images as before flashed before me – graphs that I could use for my essay, a diagram of the Pythagorean theorem, photos of various historical events. All this, plus the subtle dizzy sensation from the brief lack of air every now and then as I bobbed my head made for an experience more intoxicating than any drug I’ve ever tried before; alcohol, Adderall, weed – they all paled in comparison to the feeling of fellating a big, smooth gonad.
“Exhilarating!” I exclaimed again through a mouthful as Josh’s balls collided with my chin every and then and twitched closer and closer to orgasm.
Her head pretty much became a blur in motion as she sped up her bobbing on my manhood. Her tongue protruded from her lips and slathered the underside of my shaft and occasionally brushed against my balls.
“Fuck! Your tongue’s so soft,” I moaned in pure ecstasy.
“Mm-hm,” she agreed, her cheeks filled with my member. She puckered her lips such that they formed an airtight suction all around me that I just couldn’t (and never wanted to) escape from.
Just as started to feel a pressure build within me from the intense sensations, there was another knock on my door. Fuck!
With the fear overtaking me, I put Kota to a complete stop and pulled her mouth off me.
“Yes!” I called out to the people outside the door. When I glimpsed down at my multi-talented friend, she mouthed something to the effect of “Your roommates are here?”
I nodded to her in agreement, and heard one of my roommates call back with, “Hey, Josh! Me and the guys are thinking of hitting up a burger joint tonight.”
“N-No can do,” I said. “I’ve got a paper to finish, remember?”
“Right. Yeah,” my roommate realized. “Shame...wait, weren’t you supposed to meet with Kota for help on that?”
“She took a raincheck,” I explained. When I glimpsed down again, I noticed her slowly and quietly continuing to suck me whilst mumbling something to herself that I couldn’t make out. Somehow managing to keep my composure, I continued with, “Guys, I’m sorry, but could you just leave me alone for now. I really need to finish this paper.”
“We understand, Josh,” said another voice. Dylan?
Not saying another word, my roommates left. And with each footstep fading off into the distance, I felt a pound of weight disappear off my chest. Finally!
Once they left, I glanced at the time on my computer, and it suddenly dawned on me.
“Shit!” I shouted. “K-Kota, we need to...ah, fuck!”
She returned to her original intensity as she conflated my urgency to finish the essay with a warning that I was about to cum. And again, and again, she spoke through mouthfuls of my cock, praising me for allowing her to suck it and acquire even more information she needed for the essay.
“Graphs...sixty-seven percent...1907...George Williams,” she spouted at random, her words hardly understandable as she spoke pretty much only in tongues.
Resisting the building pressure and the urge to cum, I finally mustered enough strength to pull the fellatrix off me again; an audible “pop” sound ensued, and another torrent of her drool was unleashed that was enough to coat both my cock and balls, and lightly moisten the cushion of my office chair.
“What?” she asked, her breathing heavy, but her tone oozing with an intoxicated enthusiasm to return to sucking me.
Barely able to utter anything intelligible, I spoke.
“Essay...almost due.”
“How long?” she asked expectantly. Jeez! I just said that it was almost due!
“Fifteen minutes left,” I said.
“Josh,” I said. “I want you to get on my laptop and work on both on my essay and yours.”
“What?” he spluttered, gazing at me as though I had suddenly asked him to sprout wings and fly away. “Kota, you want me to write two essays in fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll dictate my words to you,” I explained. “Trust me.”
Josh said nothing more and went to work on both of our essays, his hands flying across the keyboards at a frantic speed. Meanwhile, the urge to have a penis in my mouth and down my throat got stronger, as though I would die of hunger if I ignored it. On pure instinct, I returned to the task at hand with more vigor than ever and continued draining Josh’s Johnson with my mouth. Wanting to enhance the sensation further, I lightly caressed the underside of his shaft with my teeth, and I achieved the desired effect when I noticed his hips buckle whilst his toes curled.
“Holy-fucking-shit! Oh-my-God!” he exclaimed as though a taser shocked him. The twitching grew stronger in my mouth with each passing second; the anticipation of it all made me sucker harder and faster, making for a positive feedback loop that I both never wanted to – and couldn’t wait to see – end.
Meanwhile, I kept my eyes glued to the two computer screens and typed at a speed that I wished the people at Guinness World Records were watching right now. I could’ve sworn that I somehow became the fastest typist in the world in that moment. Not to mention, a torrent of information flooded my mind and manifested in the words appearing on the two laptops – stuff like the various theories on sexuality by Sigmund Freud and the like, or the stuff on evolution from Darwin. In that very moment, it was just me, Kota, and the two laptops – nothing else mattered in the universe except me getting the best head in history, and finishing the two essays before time ran out.
Kota pulled her mouth off me and swallowed my load before finally saying something barely understandable.
“You turned in the essays?”
“Yeah,” I said breathily. “I don’t know what happened. While you sucked my cock, all of a sudden, I knew exactly what you wanted me to write for both our essays. Like it was telepathy or something.”
It goes without saying that telling her this newfound information visibly perplexed her. Knowing that information could not only be gained – but also transferred – through sucking dick...none of it made sense to me either.
“This is strange,” said Kota, mildly unsettled but nevertheless interested in what else could happen. “You...I...”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Talk about a telepathic blowjob.” I shrugged my shoulders. Mentally, I accepted what just happened and didn’t give it any further thought. I mean, the universe has never been something that one could call “logical”, right?
“Tell me exactly what happened as I fellated your penis, Josh,” I said, in a tone a little bit more robotic than I intended.
“Well,” said Josh slowly, as though he were carefully considering each word he wanted to say. “Um...I was getting closer and closer, and I don’t know. I...”
“I beseech you, Josh,” I said. “What, pray tell, happened exactly as I fellated your penis?”
He sighed in contemplation; I suppose it was weird enough that I got smart off semen, but the fact that he could receive information at all from me through giving him fellatio was outright maddening indeed.
“So, I was typing our essays, right?” he said. “Well...I don’t know how else to put it. I just instinctively knew what you wanted me to write. And it’s not like we’ve known each other for years; we’ve only known each other for five minutes.”
Still confused, though having a slightly better understanding of things now, I got up and dusted off my knees.
“You know, I think I know what I have to do next,” I said.
“You do?” Of course, you already know.
Amused and annoyed all at once (and somehow managing to contain the feelings from leeching into my tone), I grabbed a tissue from the desk and wiped my mouth before throwing it in the trash. I replied to Josh’s question with, “You’ll get your turn eventually.”
I packed my things and turned on my heel. Slowly, I approached the door; as I did so, I noticed something on the reflection of the mirror hanging on the back of the door – Josh’s mouth opened into a perfect “O” in complete excitement and anticipation.
You shall get your turn soon, fellow scholar.
Just as I touched the doorhandle to open it, Josh called out.
“Cleopatra!”
Smirking, I asked, “What?”
“See you later, Cleopatra,” he remarked, a similar smirk growing on his face.
“You too...Johnson,” I said. And with that, I walked out the door and closed it.
Yeah, sure. What was probably going to happen next was Dylan getting his turn with Kota; that goes without saying, since she blew him first. But I guess knowing that I would eventually get my turn too made things that much better. And then it occurred to me.
With an excited shakiness, I pulled my boxers back on and picked up my phone to dial up Dylan.
Time to really put her to the test.
“Hello?”
-Antimatter42
Commissions are open, with two spots available. Message me for rates and other details. Fanfiction-related requests will not be accepted.
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*All characters in short stories (and other works) created by me are ages 18+ and entirely fictional.
Note: As the title says, this is a fanfiction of the Fifty Shades series by E.L. James. This one takes place during the events of the second book, and is between Ana and Elena.
A/N: Excerpt from the book:
From: Lincoln, Elena
Subject: Lunch Date
Date: June 13 2011 10:15
To: Anastasia Steele
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Anastasia
I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?
Elena Lincoln
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Holy Crap – not Mrs. Robinson! How the hell did she find my e-mail address? I put my head in my hands. Can this day get any worse?
A/N: End of excerpt.
Of all the people to email me midway through my back-and-forth with my control freak extraordinaire boyfriend, Christian Grey, it’s Mrs. Robinson. For a moment, I want to shout at my monitor again, but then I take a deep breath and compose myself. Why doesn’t he trust me? Why can’t he just understand that people are supposed to trust each other in a relationship? My subconscious condescendingly sneers at me behind her book. I love him. I really do, but he’s just such a control freak. All I want to do is attend the symposium in New York with Jack. I have no intention whatsoever to sleep with him, but Christian just doesn’t get it. Then, there’s Mrs. Robinson. Now, she wants to have lunch with me. Speaking of which, I look at my reflection on the monitor, and I see before me a meek, young girl with brown hair too messy, blue eyes too large for her face, skin too pale, and a frame too thin. All of this fighting has left me borderline emaciated. I really need to eat. I look down at my desk and pick up and eat my forgotten tuna sandwich Mrs. Jones made me this morning. As always, it’s delicious. Maybe Mrs. Robinson can be of help? Ugh, I shudder at the disgusting thought, and it almost kills my appetite. But then I start thinking deeper about her email to me. Maybe we did get off on the wrong foot. Maybe she really did help Christian through his adolescence, despite how sick and obviously fucked up their relationship was. I then decide to reply to her email.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Re: Lunch Date
Date: June 13 2011 10:20
To: Elena Lincoln
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mrs. Lincoln
Perhaps we did get off on the wrong foot, and perhaps I misjudged you. I’m not free for lunch this week, but we can meet for dinner this Friday at nine. How’s that?
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To my surprise, she replies the next minute.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Lincoln, Elena
Subject: Great!
Date: June 13 2011 10:21
To: Anastasia Steele
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’m glad you understand. Meet me at the Heathman. I’ll see you then. Thank you.
Elena Lincoln
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sigh once more to compose myself. Alright, I guess it’s dinner with Elena, then. This’ll be interesting.
Taylor drops me off at the front of the Heathman, and I’m in my grey low-back, off-shoulder, short-sleeved dress and high-heeled dress shoes Christian had Taylor buy me the day before. He’ll never stop spoiling me whenever the chance presents itself. When I told him that I was meeting Elena for dinner tonight, he seemed very relieved. I’ll never understand the relationship he had with her, though. Again, it’s obviously fucked up, and it’s probably why he’s into this lifestyle…but like I said, maybe there is a logical explanation Mrs. Robinson can give me. When I go through the doors and enter the bar, I see Elena seated at the counter with a glass of champagne in hand. She smiles and gazes straight into my eyes, and though I smile in return, I’m instantly reminded of my reaction to her the first time I saw her. I feel a blush spread across my face while my palms sweat and my heart beats faster than normal. Ugh, get your head out of the gutter, Ana. You can’t possibly be into girls as well, can you? It’s probably just the summer heat. My subconscious nods side-to-side in disapproval. Yeah, I’m not into girls. I’m just intimidated by her, that’s all. But I have to admit, she is very attractive – platinum blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, deep, penetrating sapphire blue eyes, and a curvy figure draped in a black dress with a red sash that perfectly complements the shape of her – oh, what is going on with me?! I shake my head to get myself back into reality, and then sit next to her at the counter. Enthusiastically, she asks,
“Oh, Ana. I’m so glad you came. How are you?”
I try my best to smile as sweetly as possible, and reply,
“Oh, things have been good, Mrs. Robi- I mean, Elena.”
“Oh, so that’s what you think of me, Ana? As Mrs. Robinson from The Graduate?”
N-No, I’m not into women, especially women like her. I’m just intimidated. And what is with this this damned summer heat? Defensively, I whisper,
“I call you Mrs. Robinson because of your sick games and your tendency to seduce boys who are way too young for you.”
She giggles, and says,
“Oh, Ana. You’ll never understand this lifestyle. You see, I helped Christian learn to take control. Look where he is now; a billionaire CEO – your billionaire CEO boyfriend, might I add.”
Realizing that she might’ve gotten too far, her face softens, as does her voice.
“I’m sorry. Here, what do you want? It’s on me.”
Grateful at her offer, I ask for a Cosmopolitan, the same drink me and my mother shared back at the hotel in Savannah, Georgia. Once my drink arrives, I take a long sip from it, savoring the fruitiness of the flavor from the cranberry juice.
About two Cosmos later, I start to feel a little more courageous. Although, I also start to feel slightly dizzy. During this span of time, I tell her more about my relationship with Christian, the incident three weeks ago regarding how hard he hit me and the ensuing break-up, and how we got back together.
“Ana, you really are still an innocent girl at heart, aren’t you? There’s still so much more to sex that you’ve yet to learn. And then there’s the fact that Christian traveled all the way to Georgia just to see you. Trust me, he loves you more than anything. I helped him understand that. You just need to understand, but you’re so insecure.”
She’s right. He did travel thousands of miles just to see me. And here I am, fighting the woman who’s helped him understand that he loves me so much. Guilt washes over me, and I look down at my drink in shame. Mrs. Robinson notices this and places her hand on my shoulder to put me back at attention, and I look at her face once again. Her smile, combined with this amount of contact makes me blush even more, and the air becomes even hotter, while my mouth becomes drier. I then take another sip of my Cosmo once she removes her hand from my shoulder. She then says,
“You know, Ana, ever since we first met, you’ve been acting so strangely. You always seem either very awkward or very angry with me-”
“It’s because you’re so fucked-up,” I snap. “The things you did to Christian when he was a teen, what you took away from him…just…all of it.”
Despite the newfound courage the alcohol has given me, I feel even more shivers run down my spine, while Mrs. Robinson sighs in response, and then says,
“We need to talk about this in a more private place. Come.”
Mrs. Robinson offers her hand, but I ignore it and get up from the bar stool. As we’re walking, I realize that I feel moist between my legs, and the air feels so hot whenever I’m with this woman. Get a grip on yourself, Ana! We walk to the elevator and enter it, and Mrs. Robinson presses the button to the top floor. I’m not into girls, I’m just intimidated by her. I’m just intimidated by her. As I repeat this mantra in my head, Mrs. Robinson seductively whispers in my ear, “I’d really like to bite that lip, too.” I feel even hotter as my ear tingles from her hot breath. Ugh, Christian’s right. What is it with elevators? As the elevator continues going up, Mrs. Robinson’s smile becomes more smugly seductive, and she steps behind me to snake her right hand down my body, up my thighs, and towards my panties.
“N-No, stop…that.”
She doesn’t say anything, and she instead keeps doing what she’s doing, rubbing and massaging my vulva with her middle finger. My breathing becomes more ragged and to the point of me moaning.
“J-Just sto -ahh!”
She inserts her index finger into me while at the same time moving her middle finger to my clitoris to rub it. Holy shit! She then licks my ears and whispers,
“You aren’t stopping me. Do you like this?”
“N-No…it’s -ng! It’s…Oh God!”
She moves her left hand up my breasts and begins massaging both of them, rubbing my nipples through my dress while she peppers kisses from my shoulders to my neck.
“It’s alright. Close your eyes and let this happen. Or you can just tell me to stop.”
Yet, as much as I want this to stop, and as much as my mind keeps saying no, my body and my inner goddess keep saying otherwise, eventually taking control of me and making me give in to her advances. Fuck it. She then turns my head to hers and we kiss very deeply. Her tongue enters my mouth and attacks my tongue mercilessly. I weakly attempt to fight back and a sloppy tongue-fight ensues, which I then lose in, and she continues her assault, feeling my teeth and licking away at the insides of my cheeks and tongue as well.
Once our kiss breaks for us to gasp for air, there is a strand of saliva that connects our lips together.
“Christian was right about everything. You are so sweet and beautiful,” she says breathily.
“I – uh – ”
The elevator reaches its destination, and Mrs. Robinson drags me by my arm down the hall and to her hotel room. She takes her keys out of her purse, and unlocks the door, slamming it shut once we are inside. To the left of us is a small seating area comprised of a luxurious black leather couch and a black armchair, both surrounding a glass coffee table. There is also a flat-screen on the wall in front of the couch, and a large glass window to the far left giving us a perfect view of the nighttime city skyline. To the right of us is a rather small kitchen with a minifridge, some cupboards, a sink, a coffee machine, and a microwave. And then in front of us is the bedroom behind an open door, with a large bed, another window with a view of the skyline, and a master bathroom.
Elena drags me into the bedroom and pushes me to the bed. “Hands over your head,” she says in the same sexily commanding voice as Christian would use. I obey, and she takes the red sash around her dress to tie my wrists together. She kisses me in an assuring manner, pressing her body against mine. Then, she pushes my dress and my bra down, exposing my breasts. She suckles on my left nipple while softly pinching and rubbing my right one. Since we’re in the privacy of her hotel bedroom, my moans are a lot louder.
“Yes, moan for me, Ana.” She hungrily says.
“O-Oh God. Th-this is so intense…gah!”
She softly bites my left nipple.
“Listen, Anastasia. Since this is your first time with a woman, I’ll do my best to be gentle with you. If it becomes to much, just tell me to stop. All I want to do is make you comfortable with your body.”
I nod to tell her I understand, and she quickly and lightly bites my left nipple again.
“Just let yourself go. Close your eyes and feel it all.”
She then slowly snakes down to the bottom half of my body, rubbing my thighs and my stomach before removing my panties as though she were unwrapping a Christmas present. “You’re so moist. Bon appetite,” she whispers, and I feel a light tingle from her hot breath again. She dives right in, aggressively tonguing at my moist folds. I feel her whole mouth on me, and it’s a hot, wet sensation, and because my hands are tied, I’m completely at her mercy. Oh fuck.
“You. Are. So. Sweet” she whispers between each lick. She then takes it further and inserts her index, middle, and ring fingers on her right hand into me. I writhe in the pleasurable sensations and completely lose myself. “
“Oh, G-God. E-Elena. I-uh…I…ahh!”
Within seconds, I lose myself completely. My orgasm is intense, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Elena laps away at everything I let out, and I’m left a panting mess of myself. Elena then removes herself from between my legs and undresses herself. Once she’s completely nude, she moves her own vagina just inches away from my face before she says,
“Your turn. Make me cum, Ana.”
She then pushes herself down onto my mouth, and I obey like the obedient sub she’s turned me into. My God, she’s good. So this is what I’ve been missing out on the whole time I thought I only liked guys? I lap at her vagina, occasionally circling my tongue around her clitoris and giving her affection to her vulva.
“Ooh, yes Ana. Just like that. Keep going.”
Her taste is sweet, with a hint of tanginess and saltiness. It’s intoxicating, and I continue tonguing away at it. Her moans became louder and louder while I felt the lips of her vulva twitch in pleasure. Within less than a minute, she came wildly, her juices pouring into my mouth while I drank them and relished in their flavor.
“Oh God, Ana. This really is your first time with a woman?”
I nod at her, feeling both flattered and proud of myself for making Elena orgasm like that.
“In any case, give your hands to me again.”
She unwraps the sash around my wrists, but then ties it around them again, this time between one of the poles in the headboard of the bed. She also takes on of the pillow cases and thins them out such that they can serve as a blindfold. She ties that around my eyes, and I’m completely blind. All I can do now is feel.
“You’re gonna love this, Ana. Move your legs apart. This is called scissoring.”
I move my legs apart, and I then gasp, suddenly feeling her vulva against mine.
“Just move in sync with me against my pussy.”
At first, it’s slow, and I’m completely unsure of myself, especially what with the blindfold. But then the pace picks up, and the pressure within me begins to build. Oh Shit!
“Yes, Ana. Just like that, baby.”
This deeply intense kissing between our lips that between our legs sends me over the edge in minutes, and I moan just as loudly as before. It’s a kiss I never thought I’d be receiving. Me and Kate have discussed the idea of trying out lesbianism before, but I furiously declined, while she giggled in response.
“Alright, Ana, alright! I’ll never bring it up again.”
I’m then thrown back to the present when Elena shouts,
“Oh shit, Ana. I’m gonna…I-I’m gonna -nngh!"
We cum simultaneously, and we fall on our backs to the bed, both panting messes. Elena then gets up and kisses me deeply again. Our tongues instinctively intertwine once more before she breaks the kiss to breathe. “Good night,” she whispers, and we both pass out due to the utter intensity of our sex.
The next morning, I wake up drowsy, but deliciously content. On the alarm clock on the nightstand next to me, it reads 10:30am. When I try to get up, I realize that I’m blindfolded while my wrists are bound, and then I remember last night’s events and blush and smile.
“Uh, Elena, could you help me out of these?”
Elena slowly wakes up and says,
“W-What? Oh, Ana. Sorry about that. Here.”
She unties me and removes the blindfold.
“I’m gonna make some tea after I get my phone for a moment. Do you want some?”
“I think I’d much rather have you,”
“Ha ha! Very funny, Mrs. Robinson.”
“Well, you’re confident and glowing this morning.”
I giggle and walk to the dresser where my clothes are. For a moment, I look at the alarm on the nightstand next to me; it reads 10:30am. And then I look out through the window, and outside is a quiet, overcast morning with small rays of sunshine here and there. Damn, last night was intense. I then see my reflection on the mirror; my hair is in its usual just-fucked mess I get whenever I’m with Christian, but on the other hand there’s something more, something I don’t always get the morning after when I’m with Christian – my face is glowing, and I’m smiling goofily in an intoxicated sort of way; Elena’s right. Sex with women really is this amazing? Or was I just drunk from the Cosmos last night…no, last night was just…amazing. I don’t have any other words to describe it. Damn, I guess what they say about older women is true. I bend over to get my phone out of the pockets of my jeans while Mrs. Robinson goes to the bathroom. I turn it on and find three missed calls and three texts from Christian.
I reply to his texts.
Christian immediately replies.
And that’s that. I put on a white robe I found hanging on the bedroom door and go to the kitchen to make myself some tea. I look into the cupboards and find a teapot and some bags of Twinings. Wow. They have my favorite tea brand. I put fill the teapot with water and put the teabags in. A couple minutes later, Elena comes into the kitchen wrapped in a white towel while the teapot is hissing.
“So what did you think of last night, Ana? Judging by your body’s reactions, I’d say you were quite pleased.”
“It was…”
I blush and pause. She finishes my sentence when she says,
“I know, Ana. It was amazing. You weren’t so bad yourself at pleasing me.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Robinson. I’m flattered.”
“It’s funny that you call me that, and kind of sexy.”
“Okay, Mrs. Robinson.”
“Haha! Anyway, listen, Ana. When I say you’re a beautiful, talented young woman, I mean it. Christian’s a very lucky man.”
“I always hear that, but he’s athletic, rich, popular…and then there’s me, a shy bookworm.”
“Don’t say that. Your innocence, your courageousness in stepping up to Christian to tell him to stop, and your bookworm personality…those are your best traits, Ana. Like I said, you’re a catch, perfect for Christian in every way.”
She lifts my face by my cheek to face her, and she kisses me in assurance. Our eyes are both closed as we kiss. I don’t think sparks will ever fly when I kiss Christian the way Elena kisses me. I don’t know why, but there’s a certain intimacy I have with Elena that I don’t with Christian. Then again, like she’s told me, I just need to give this life another chance. Once the kiss ends, she says,
“If you ever have any more trouble with Christian again, just come to me, okay? I’m always free for a night out, especially since Linc these days hardly ever pays attention to me the way you did last night.”
“Who’s Linc?”
“My husband. I’ll tell you about him later.”
Mrs. Robinson then orders room service. It arrives the same time my tea is finished brewing. I heartily eat my breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, as does she while eating her omelet. Once we finish our breakfast, Elena calls Christian.
“Hello, Christian. Sorry about everything, but you’re right; she’s quite a lightweight. she’s fine now, though. You can call Taylor to pick her up.”
I then grab all of stuff, get out of my robe, and change into my clothes from last night, taking care to restore my hair back to its original state. Once Taylor is at the door, I kiss Elena goodbye.
“Bye, Elena.”
“Ana,” she nods.
And then off I go, feeling more content and comfortable with my body than I’ve ever been in my whole life. I look forward to what Christian has in store for me. I quietly giggle to myself.
“How have you been feeling, Ms. Steele?” Taylor asks.
“Never better, Taylor.”
With age comes experience.
A/N: Excerpt from the book:
From: Lincoln, Elena
Subject: Lunch Date
Date: June 13 2011 10:15
To: Anastasia Steele
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Anastasia
I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?
Elena Lincoln
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Holy Crap – not Mrs. Robinson! How the hell did she find my e-mail address? I put my head in my hands. Can this day get any worse?
A/N: End of excerpt.
Of all the people to email me midway through my back-and-forth with my control freak extraordinaire boyfriend, Christian Grey, it’s Mrs. Robinson. For a moment, I want to shout at my monitor again, but then I take a deep breath and compose myself. Why doesn’t he trust me? Why can’t he just understand that people are supposed to trust each other in a relationship? My subconscious condescendingly sneers at me behind her book. I love him. I really do, but he’s just such a control freak. All I want to do is attend the symposium in New York with Jack. I have no intention whatsoever to sleep with him, but Christian just doesn’t get it. Then, there’s Mrs. Robinson. Now, she wants to have lunch with me. Speaking of which, I look at my reflection on the monitor, and I see before me a meek, young girl with brown hair too messy, blue eyes too large for her face, skin too pale, and a frame too thin. All of this fighting has left me borderline emaciated. I really need to eat. I look down at my desk and pick up and eat my forgotten tuna sandwich Mrs. Jones made me this morning. As always, it’s delicious. Maybe Mrs. Robinson can be of help? Ugh, I shudder at the disgusting thought, and it almost kills my appetite. But then I start thinking deeper about her email to me. Maybe we did get off on the wrong foot. Maybe she really did help Christian through his adolescence, despite how sick and obviously fucked up their relationship was. I then decide to reply to her email.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Re: Lunch Date
Date: June 13 2011 10:20
To: Elena Lincoln
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mrs. Lincoln
Perhaps we did get off on the wrong foot, and perhaps I misjudged you. I’m not free for lunch this week, but we can meet for dinner this Friday at nine. How’s that?
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To my surprise, she replies the next minute.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Lincoln, Elena
Subject: Great!
Date: June 13 2011 10:21
To: Anastasia Steele
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’m glad you understand. Meet me at the Heathman. I’ll see you then. Thank you.
Elena Lincoln
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sigh once more to compose myself. Alright, I guess it’s dinner with Elena, then. This’ll be interesting.
Taylor drops me off at the front of the Heathman, and I’m in my grey low-back, off-shoulder, short-sleeved dress and high-heeled dress shoes Christian had Taylor buy me the day before. He’ll never stop spoiling me whenever the chance presents itself. When I told him that I was meeting Elena for dinner tonight, he seemed very relieved. I’ll never understand the relationship he had with her, though. Again, it’s obviously fucked up, and it’s probably why he’s into this lifestyle…but like I said, maybe there is a logical explanation Mrs. Robinson can give me. When I go through the doors and enter the bar, I see Elena seated at the counter with a glass of champagne in hand. She smiles and gazes straight into my eyes, and though I smile in return, I’m instantly reminded of my reaction to her the first time I saw her. I feel a blush spread across my face while my palms sweat and my heart beats faster than normal. Ugh, get your head out of the gutter, Ana. You can’t possibly be into girls as well, can you? It’s probably just the summer heat. My subconscious nods side-to-side in disapproval. Yeah, I’m not into girls. I’m just intimidated by her, that’s all. But I have to admit, she is very attractive – platinum blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, deep, penetrating sapphire blue eyes, and a curvy figure draped in a black dress with a red sash that perfectly complements the shape of her – oh, what is going on with me?! I shake my head to get myself back into reality, and then sit next to her at the counter. Enthusiastically, she asks,
“Oh, Ana. I’m so glad you came. How are you?”
I try my best to smile as sweetly as possible, and reply,
“Oh, things have been good, Mrs. Robi- I mean, Elena.”
“Oh, so that’s what you think of me, Ana? As Mrs. Robinson from The Graduate?”
N-No, I’m not into women, especially women like her. I’m just intimidated. And what is with this this damned summer heat? Defensively, I whisper,
“I call you Mrs. Robinson because of your sick games and your tendency to seduce boys who are way too young for you.”
She giggles, and says,
“Oh, Ana. You’ll never understand this lifestyle. You see, I helped Christian learn to take control. Look where he is now; a billionaire CEO – your billionaire CEO boyfriend, might I add.”
Realizing that she might’ve gotten too far, her face softens, as does her voice.
“I’m sorry. Here, what do you want? It’s on me.”
Grateful at her offer, I ask for a Cosmopolitan, the same drink me and my mother shared back at the hotel in Savannah, Georgia. Once my drink arrives, I take a long sip from it, savoring the fruitiness of the flavor from the cranberry juice.
About two Cosmos later, I start to feel a little more courageous. Although, I also start to feel slightly dizzy. During this span of time, I tell her more about my relationship with Christian, the incident three weeks ago regarding how hard he hit me and the ensuing break-up, and how we got back together.
“Ana, you really are still an innocent girl at heart, aren’t you? There’s still so much more to sex that you’ve yet to learn. And then there’s the fact that Christian traveled all the way to Georgia just to see you. Trust me, he loves you more than anything. I helped him understand that. You just need to understand, but you’re so insecure.”
She’s right. He did travel thousands of miles just to see me. And here I am, fighting the woman who’s helped him understand that he loves me so much. Guilt washes over me, and I look down at my drink in shame. Mrs. Robinson notices this and places her hand on my shoulder to put me back at attention, and I look at her face once again. Her smile, combined with this amount of contact makes me blush even more, and the air becomes even hotter, while my mouth becomes drier. I then take another sip of my Cosmo once she removes her hand from my shoulder. She then says,
“You know, Ana, ever since we first met, you’ve been acting so strangely. You always seem either very awkward or very angry with me-”
“It’s because you’re so fucked-up,” I snap. “The things you did to Christian when he was a teen, what you took away from him…just…all of it.”
Despite the newfound courage the alcohol has given me, I feel even more shivers run down my spine, while Mrs. Robinson sighs in response, and then says,
“We need to talk about this in a more private place. Come.”
Mrs. Robinson offers her hand, but I ignore it and get up from the bar stool. As we’re walking, I realize that I feel moist between my legs, and the air feels so hot whenever I’m with this woman. Get a grip on yourself, Ana! We walk to the elevator and enter it, and Mrs. Robinson presses the button to the top floor. I’m not into girls, I’m just intimidated by her. I’m just intimidated by her. As I repeat this mantra in my head, Mrs. Robinson seductively whispers in my ear, “I’d really like to bite that lip, too.” I feel even hotter as my ear tingles from her hot breath. Ugh, Christian’s right. What is it with elevators? As the elevator continues going up, Mrs. Robinson’s smile becomes more smugly seductive, and she steps behind me to snake her right hand down my body, up my thighs, and towards my panties.
“N-No, stop…that.”
She doesn’t say anything, and she instead keeps doing what she’s doing, rubbing and massaging my vulva with her middle finger. My breathing becomes more ragged and to the point of me moaning.
“J-Just sto -ahh!”
She inserts her index finger into me while at the same time moving her middle finger to my clitoris to rub it. Holy shit! She then licks my ears and whispers,
“You aren’t stopping me. Do you like this?”
“N-No…it’s -ng! It’s…Oh God!”
She moves her left hand up my breasts and begins massaging both of them, rubbing my nipples through my dress while she peppers kisses from my shoulders to my neck.
“It’s alright. Close your eyes and let this happen. Or you can just tell me to stop.”
Yet, as much as I want this to stop, and as much as my mind keeps saying no, my body and my inner goddess keep saying otherwise, eventually taking control of me and making me give in to her advances. Fuck it. She then turns my head to hers and we kiss very deeply. Her tongue enters my mouth and attacks my tongue mercilessly. I weakly attempt to fight back and a sloppy tongue-fight ensues, which I then lose in, and she continues her assault, feeling my teeth and licking away at the insides of my cheeks and tongue as well.
Once our kiss breaks for us to gasp for air, there is a strand of saliva that connects our lips together.
“Christian was right about everything. You are so sweet and beautiful,” she says breathily.
“I – uh – ”
The elevator reaches its destination, and Mrs. Robinson drags me by my arm down the hall and to her hotel room. She takes her keys out of her purse, and unlocks the door, slamming it shut once we are inside. To the left of us is a small seating area comprised of a luxurious black leather couch and a black armchair, both surrounding a glass coffee table. There is also a flat-screen on the wall in front of the couch, and a large glass window to the far left giving us a perfect view of the nighttime city skyline. To the right of us is a rather small kitchen with a minifridge, some cupboards, a sink, a coffee machine, and a microwave. And then in front of us is the bedroom behind an open door, with a large bed, another window with a view of the skyline, and a master bathroom.
Elena drags me into the bedroom and pushes me to the bed. “Hands over your head,” she says in the same sexily commanding voice as Christian would use. I obey, and she takes the red sash around her dress to tie my wrists together. She kisses me in an assuring manner, pressing her body against mine. Then, she pushes my dress and my bra down, exposing my breasts. She suckles on my left nipple while softly pinching and rubbing my right one. Since we’re in the privacy of her hotel bedroom, my moans are a lot louder.
“Yes, moan for me, Ana.” She hungrily says.
“O-Oh God. Th-this is so intense…gah!”
She softly bites my left nipple.
“Listen, Anastasia. Since this is your first time with a woman, I’ll do my best to be gentle with you. If it becomes to much, just tell me to stop. All I want to do is make you comfortable with your body.”
I nod to tell her I understand, and she quickly and lightly bites my left nipple again.
“Just let yourself go. Close your eyes and feel it all.”
She then slowly snakes down to the bottom half of my body, rubbing my thighs and my stomach before removing my panties as though she were unwrapping a Christmas present. “You’re so moist. Bon appetite,” she whispers, and I feel a light tingle from her hot breath again. She dives right in, aggressively tonguing at my moist folds. I feel her whole mouth on me, and it’s a hot, wet sensation, and because my hands are tied, I’m completely at her mercy. Oh fuck.
“You. Are. So. Sweet” she whispers between each lick. She then takes it further and inserts her index, middle, and ring fingers on her right hand into me. I writhe in the pleasurable sensations and completely lose myself. “
“Oh, G-God. E-Elena. I-uh…I…ahh!”
Within seconds, I lose myself completely. My orgasm is intense, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Elena laps away at everything I let out, and I’m left a panting mess of myself. Elena then removes herself from between my legs and undresses herself. Once she’s completely nude, she moves her own vagina just inches away from my face before she says,
“Your turn. Make me cum, Ana.”
She then pushes herself down onto my mouth, and I obey like the obedient sub she’s turned me into. My God, she’s good. So this is what I’ve been missing out on the whole time I thought I only liked guys? I lap at her vagina, occasionally circling my tongue around her clitoris and giving her affection to her vulva.
“Ooh, yes Ana. Just like that. Keep going.”
Her taste is sweet, with a hint of tanginess and saltiness. It’s intoxicating, and I continue tonguing away at it. Her moans became louder and louder while I felt the lips of her vulva twitch in pleasure. Within less than a minute, she came wildly, her juices pouring into my mouth while I drank them and relished in their flavor.
“Oh God, Ana. This really is your first time with a woman?”
I nod at her, feeling both flattered and proud of myself for making Elena orgasm like that.
“In any case, give your hands to me again.”
She unwraps the sash around my wrists, but then ties it around them again, this time between one of the poles in the headboard of the bed. She also takes on of the pillow cases and thins them out such that they can serve as a blindfold. She ties that around my eyes, and I’m completely blind. All I can do now is feel.
“You’re gonna love this, Ana. Move your legs apart. This is called scissoring.”
I move my legs apart, and I then gasp, suddenly feeling her vulva against mine.
“Just move in sync with me against my pussy.”
At first, it’s slow, and I’m completely unsure of myself, especially what with the blindfold. But then the pace picks up, and the pressure within me begins to build. Oh Shit!
“Yes, Ana. Just like that, baby.”
This deeply intense kissing between our lips that between our legs sends me over the edge in minutes, and I moan just as loudly as before. It’s a kiss I never thought I’d be receiving. Me and Kate have discussed the idea of trying out lesbianism before, but I furiously declined, while she giggled in response.
“Alright, Ana, alright! I’ll never bring it up again.”
I’m then thrown back to the present when Elena shouts,
“Oh shit, Ana. I’m gonna…I-I’m gonna -nngh!"
We cum simultaneously, and we fall on our backs to the bed, both panting messes. Elena then gets up and kisses me deeply again. Our tongues instinctively intertwine once more before she breaks the kiss to breathe. “Good night,” she whispers, and we both pass out due to the utter intensity of our sex.
The next morning, I wake up drowsy, but deliciously content. On the alarm clock on the nightstand next to me, it reads 10:30am. When I try to get up, I realize that I’m blindfolded while my wrists are bound, and then I remember last night’s events and blush and smile.
“Uh, Elena, could you help me out of these?”
Elena slowly wakes up and says,
“W-What? Oh, Ana. Sorry about that. Here.”
She unties me and removes the blindfold.
“I’m gonna make some tea after I get my phone for a moment. Do you want some?”
“I think I’d much rather have you,”
“Ha ha! Very funny, Mrs. Robinson.”
“Well, you’re confident and glowing this morning.”
I giggle and walk to the dresser where my clothes are. For a moment, I look at the alarm on the nightstand next to me; it reads 10:30am. And then I look out through the window, and outside is a quiet, overcast morning with small rays of sunshine here and there. Damn, last night was intense. I then see my reflection on the mirror; my hair is in its usual just-fucked mess I get whenever I’m with Christian, but on the other hand there’s something more, something I don’t always get the morning after when I’m with Christian – my face is glowing, and I’m smiling goofily in an intoxicated sort of way; Elena’s right. Sex with women really is this amazing? Or was I just drunk from the Cosmos last night…no, last night was just…amazing. I don’t have any other words to describe it. Damn, I guess what they say about older women is true. I bend over to get my phone out of the pockets of my jeans while Mrs. Robinson goes to the bathroom. I turn it on and find three missed calls and three texts from Christian.
* Ana, where are you? *
* Ana, so help me, call me or else you’ll be getting one hell of a punishment tonight. *
* Ana!!! *
* Ana, so help me, call me or else you’ll be getting one hell of a punishment tonight. *
* Ana!!! *
I reply to his texts.
* im alright, Christian. Just had a hangover last night. Elena let me stay for the night in her room. *
Christian immediately replies.
* Thank God. *
And that’s that. I put on a white robe I found hanging on the bedroom door and go to the kitchen to make myself some tea. I look into the cupboards and find a teapot and some bags of Twinings. Wow. They have my favorite tea brand. I put fill the teapot with water and put the teabags in. A couple minutes later, Elena comes into the kitchen wrapped in a white towel while the teapot is hissing.
“So what did you think of last night, Ana? Judging by your body’s reactions, I’d say you were quite pleased.”
“It was…”
I blush and pause. She finishes my sentence when she says,
“I know, Ana. It was amazing. You weren’t so bad yourself at pleasing me.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Robinson. I’m flattered.”
“It’s funny that you call me that, and kind of sexy.”
“Okay, Mrs. Robinson.”
“Haha! Anyway, listen, Ana. When I say you’re a beautiful, talented young woman, I mean it. Christian’s a very lucky man.”
“I always hear that, but he’s athletic, rich, popular…and then there’s me, a shy bookworm.”
“Don’t say that. Your innocence, your courageousness in stepping up to Christian to tell him to stop, and your bookworm personality…those are your best traits, Ana. Like I said, you’re a catch, perfect for Christian in every way.”
She lifts my face by my cheek to face her, and she kisses me in assurance. Our eyes are both closed as we kiss. I don’t think sparks will ever fly when I kiss Christian the way Elena kisses me. I don’t know why, but there’s a certain intimacy I have with Elena that I don’t with Christian. Then again, like she’s told me, I just need to give this life another chance. Once the kiss ends, she says,
“If you ever have any more trouble with Christian again, just come to me, okay? I’m always free for a night out, especially since Linc these days hardly ever pays attention to me the way you did last night.”
“Who’s Linc?”
“My husband. I’ll tell you about him later.”
Mrs. Robinson then orders room service. It arrives the same time my tea is finished brewing. I heartily eat my breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, as does she while eating her omelet. Once we finish our breakfast, Elena calls Christian.
“Hello, Christian. Sorry about everything, but you’re right; she’s quite a lightweight. she’s fine now, though. You can call Taylor to pick her up.”
I then grab all of stuff, get out of my robe, and change into my clothes from last night, taking care to restore my hair back to its original state. Once Taylor is at the door, I kiss Elena goodbye.
“Bye, Elena.”
“Ana,” she nods.
And then off I go, feeling more content and comfortable with my body than I’ve ever been in my whole life. I look forward to what Christian has in store for me. I quietly giggle to myself.
“How have you been feeling, Ms. Steele?” Taylor asks.
“Never better, Taylor.”
Beware of occupational hazards.
The sun shines brightly overhead above the horizon in the cloudless blue sky, and there are only three things that could be heard on an unnamed island in the Pacific Ocean – the chirping of exotically colored birds, the wet stomping of boots upon the muddy ground, and the chopping of vines and leaves off of their stems from the calculated waving of a machete. It is here that we see the attractive archaeologist, Lara Croft, tear through the jungle with a look of determination and academic passion on her face. I’ve just got to find that Jade Statue before Nick does. Then, we’ll be seeing who owes the other dinner tonight. She smirks to herself, confident in knowing that indeed she will be the first to find this mysterious jade statue – a statue known to the local people as the Jade Statue of Fertility.Long forgotten is the name of the god this statue is dedicated to, but its effects are unforgettable and irresistible. It has been rumored that she who performs the ritual to unlock the statue’s power will be granted great power over the whole island nation, and a prosperous, long life. Lara, in particular, has chosen to go on this perilous search for this statue out of good will and academic interest; for years, the people of this island have found themselves in a state of population decline and famine, such that now only scores remain. Once Lara performs the ritual, she has full intention of restoring the island nation to its former glory and taking the statue to a museum once all is said and done.
She sports a teal, tank top shirt, short brown cargo shorts, military-style boots, dark-grey fingerless gloves, her signature twin handguns in their twin leather holster, and a small backpack containing ammunition and knives, among other necessary gear, and an earpiece for fast communication. All of this, perfectly emphasizing her brown, braided, ponytail hair, smooth, tanned skin from her time spent under the sun, a deliciously round, well-shaped rump not too big, nor too small, chocolatey brown eyes, and equally round, large, yet supplely firm breasts that bounce perfectly in sync with her movements.
After about eight more minutes of quietly trekking through the jungle, she finds her objective. She looks up at the statue, and sees a large, nude, impressively muscular man with a bald head. He firmly stood in the dirt ground, and his facial expression was similar to that of the famous Statue of David by Michelangelo – composed, and with a piercing gaze to the ground. Its height was at least seven feet.
“Well, Nick. Here it is. I finally found the Jade Statue of Fertility.”
“Good for you, Lara. I'm still looking for a way out of this damn cave,”
Nick says in a stressed, panting tone.
“Aww, are you upset that I won the bet that I would find the statue first?”
“No. It's just so dark and stuffy here. By the way, be careful. That shaman did warn that the statue has a certain effect on anyone near it, especially women.”
“Oh, Come on, Nick. You actually believe that perverted tosser?”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Psh. Yeah, right. Well, I'll report to you later, Nick. Let me know if you find anything else interesting. Lara out.”
I suppose to his credit, the shaman kept staring at my boobs the whole time. Lara sighs, then proceeds clear away all of the moss and dirt off of the statue to prepare for the ritual. So, what does this ritual involve anyway? Once she’s at the final spot, she cleans that up and finds a mysterious stone tablet written in hieroglyphics at the statue’s feet.
“Hmm, what does this say? Ah yes; ‘To free the magical force of the Jade Statue of Fertility, one has to take in and polish his Mighty Rod of Power.’ What the…polish his Mighty Rod of Power? This can’t possibly mean…”
She swallows in slight nervousness, and her mouth begins to feel dry, while even more beads of sweat run down her body. Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding me. I have to literally give a blowjob to a statue? She moves her eyes to stare at the statue’s rather large dick. Well, the tablet’s not wrong. His dick is…mighty, for lack of a better word. It must be at least thirteen inches. And then, her mind quickly returns to the task at hand, and she finds herself blushing.
“God damnit, Lara! You’re a world-renowned archaeologist! There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for the sake of academia!”
And his cock…it looks so… she feels her panties become more moist than usual. She shakes her head to return to reality.
“Ugh, I need to get my head out of the gutter. I just need to call Nick. I mean, come on. I have to give this statue a blowjob! That sounds like utter rubbish.”
Reluctant, and not wanting to do what she clearly has to do, as indicated by the stone tablet, she calls Nick once again.
“Hey, Nick. It’s me, Lara. I need some help in understanding this tablet.”
“Sure, Lara. I’ve got nothing else to do except keep moving through this godforsaken cave.”
“Ahem.” She clears her throat. “There’s a tablet on the statue that says this: ‘To free the magical force of the Jade Statue of Fertility, one has to take in and polish his Mighty Rod of Power.’ And then there’s this sort of icon of a woman taking his…err… ‘rod’…into her mouth and down her throat. I mean, there’s got to be some other way, right? Nick? Nick?”
She then hears Nick burst into laughter. It is loud and maniacal, a laughter from him she had not heard in years.
“I’m sorry, Lara. This is just too funny. Anyway, there’s no doubt about it. You’re gonna have to do it. No wonder the shaman said that only a woman could do it.”
“Nick?! You can’t possibly mean –”
“Ah shit! Sorry, Lara. Something just came up. I gotta go. Anyway, just get the ritual over with before dark, or else the village is gonna be pissed. Nick out.”
“Wait!”
And with that, Nick was out. Lara kicked the ground in frustration. Damnit! Do I really have to do this?! I’m a world-renowned archaeologist who’s on the front cover of National Geographic! Not a bloody whore! She takes a deep breath to compose herself, and takes a long gulp of water from her canteen.
“Well, let’s just get this over with before anyone catches me.”
She gets on her knees and places her hands on the statue’s hips. She, at first, blushes and looks away in utter embarrassment. But her heart beats at the same time in ever so slight excitement. Am I feeling excited? Could Nick really be right about the effects…ugh, what am I saying? It’s rubbish. I’m just nervous about getting seen. I just need to… Lara takes a deep breath and then another gulp of water from her canteen to quench her dry mouth. She then takes off her gloves and puts them in her pocket.
“Well, here goes nothing.”
She opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue, and begins licking away at the tip of the statue’s massive cock. Lick, lick, lick, around the tip, tip, tip...come on, Lara, stay serious. You're a world-famous archaeologist, not some teenage girlie giving her first blowjob. She then spits on her hand and begins stroking the jade cock.
“There we go. It’s getting nice and polished already. I guess all it really needed was a good, old-fashioned spit-shine.”
However, those two minutes she spent stroking the rod were to no avail.
“Oh, come on! Nothing yet. I guess there really don’t have any other choice, then. Fuck it.”
She continues stroking the mighty rod slowly, from the tip to the root as the tablet specified, and giving the tip a lick every few strokes, swirling her tongue around the tip. Finally, she proceeds to take the rod into her mouth, fully engulfing the tip. From tip to root, from tip to root… She closes her eyes and then moves further and further down the rod before finally taking half of it down her throat, and then pulling back to breathe.
“Bloody hell, you really are mighty.”
she says breathily.
After a couple gasps of air and another gulp of water, she engulfs it down her warm, wet mouth again, slathering her tongue on its underside, and feeling both the rod and her nether region become more and more wet. Come on, Lara. Stay focused, not turned on. However, despite her mind telling her to resist the statue’s tempting nature, her body simply gave in, and she felt herself becoming hotter and wetter with a growing sense of lust. This is so weird. I’m getting turned on from blowing a bloody statue. She then began to pick up the pace, bobbing her head faster and slathering her tongue on the jade cock until finally taking the whole of it all the way down her hot, wet throat. Holy shit…did I just…I never cease to amaze myself. Suddenly, she hears Nick on her earpiece, which brings her out of her lust-filled amazement at herself.
“Hey, uh, Lara. You sound like you’re really enjoying that statue’s company.”
“What? No! That’s rubbish, Nick. I just want to make sure that I’m doing this ritual correctly.”
“Yeah. That must be why you’re moaning while deepthroating the statue’s mighty rod. I can still hear you; you know?”
“N-No…I mean yes? I don’t know Nick. Just don’t disturb me. And why the bloody hell are you listening?”
“I’m just making sure you’re safe. We’re partners, aren’t we? Well, anyway, I’m back at the village now. Again, hurry up with the ritual and be done with it before dark. Nick out.”
Ugh, bloody git. I just want to get this right. She then dives her head right back on the jade rod again, moving fast and deep on it, and lightly rubbing her teeth on the underside. She also begins to drool more, both out of lust and excitement. It drenches the rod and dribbles down her chin and towards her lovely boobs. After about several more minutes of continuous, sloppy sucking, Lara pulls back to breathe, and there are numerous strands of her saliva that connect her with the jade cock.
“Fuck, I don’t know what’s happening to me at all. I just can’t stop,” she says breathily. “And why has nothing happened yet?”
Maybe I should try licking his bollocks? After all, what's breakfast with just sausage and no eggs? She then moves further down below the rod to the statue’s balls and proceeds to lick and suck on them. There we go, and then perhaps we try this. She places her right hand on the rod and strokes it as she sucks on the balls.
And then suddenly, the statue makes its move – without Lara even noticing, it grabs the back of her head with both of its mighty hands and proceeds to thrust itself all the way down Lara’s throat. Her eyes dilate with great horror, while she gasps in shock. Holy fuck! What’s it doing?! After going all the way down her throat, the statue then violently thrusts in and out if it, making Lara choke and gag. Shit! This is trap! A booby trap! And I fell right for it! Damnit Lara! Rule number one of archaeology; be wary of booby traps! And of all times, you fall for one right now! The statue continues its merciless assault on her mouth. Even when Lara attempted to bite it to get herself out, it was to no avail, and only resulted in more thrusting down her throat. Ugh, of all the ways I die in my field of work, I die from giving a blowjob to a fucking statue. Fan- fucking-tastic!
More and more torrents of her saliva trickle out of her mouth, down her chin, and onto her breasts. Her breath becomes increasingly ragged and heavy with each hard thrust as her heart beats faster and faster out of fear for her life. The statue notices the large torrents of her saliva, pulls itself out of Lara’s throat, and pushes her to the dirt ground, leaving her a panting, sweaty mess, soaking in her own drool. Oh no. What’s it gonna do to me next? The statue makes a vertical tear down her tank top shirt, exposing her supple breasts, which were as tanned as the rest of her flawless skin. It then forcibly places itself between Lara’s breasts and uses them to give itself a sloppy, wet titfuck.
“AHH!!!”
Lara screams in outright horror as the statue forcibly thrusts itself in and out between her supple, succulent tits.
“Ahh! Help! Anyone! Please! Get this fucking thing off of me!”
No one hears her. After all, she is in the middle of a jungle, several miles from any signs of civilization. I just need to get my gun… When Lara attempts to grab one of her guns on her left holster, she then immediately loses all feeling in her limbs, becoming completely immobile. “Shit! I can’t control my arms now?! What the fuck?!” I have to call Nick. There’s got to be a way I can regain control of my arms and call him. After several more thrusts, the statue completely cums all over her breasts and face, leaving her even more of a mess than she already is.
“Gah! it’s so much!”
After cumming all over her, the statue uses a sort of telekinetic ability to make Lara get on her hands and knees, positioning herself into the doggystyle position. And then it effortlessly rips off her shorts and fucks her pussy with equal vigor.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! I-I can’t handle any more…ahh!”
The statue feels Lara’s pussy twitch as it reaches closer and closer to climax. Lara eventually unleashes a torrent of her own cum all over the jade cock, and the statue then cums in response.
“Ahh!” She shouts, and the rainforest finds itself in a state of temporary silence. Meanwhile, she finds herself completely broken, both mentally and physically. Her eyes are rolled back in an orgasmic daze, her mouth is open with her tongue sticking out like a passed-out dog, her breath is heavy, as though she desperately gasped for air from the intensity of their fucking, and her body feels heavy from her post-orgasmic state. It indeed was what the French termed “le petite mort” for her – the little death. She then raises her left arm to her left ear to call Nick with her earpiece.
“N-Nick? Nick…do you…do you read me? Nick?” She calls while panting heavily.
Nothing.
And then it hits her with the impact of an oncoming bus. Oh fuck! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! No!!! The battery’s dead?! The battery’s fucking dead?! She mashes the button to call Nick in a desperate attempt to be saved, but to no avail. This is it. I’m all alone! The great Lara Croft – fucked to death by the Jade Statue of Fertility! What a way to go on the fucking job! This has got to be the most ingenious booby trap ever conceived by the human race. I knew I should have listened to that shaman.
Less than a second later, she feels her body go stiff and numb. Oh no…not again! Her body straightens itself out, and she lies flat on her back on the muddy ground with her arms at her sides. She’s completely nude from the statue’s rather vigorous pounding earlier. Above her, the sun begins to set below the horizon, while the moon rises into the sky, making the whole scene a beautiful combination of lush green from the rainforest below, orange, and purple. However, this was nothing more than a beautiful setting in a hellish scenario that was the complete ravaging of the unfortunate Lara Croft. Luck had indeed run out for the poor archaeologist. No longer was she the silky, brown-haired, tanned beauty that came in with curiosity and academic passion. Now, she was merely a pathetic whore to a booby trap – a cum receptacle to be later disposed of upon the expiration of her usefulness.
I’m completely done for. This is it. She closes her eyes, and accepts her ultimate fate. Upon opening them, out of the corner of her right eye came forth at least over a dozen monkeys, their eyes clearly showing that they too were lustfully hungry.
“No! Not this! No more! No more!”
She desperately pleas to the statue to not allow her to be further ravaged by the animals of the jungle, but the statue merely stands still, its face still maintaining its composed expression.
“No!”
One by one, the monkeys pounce on her to have their way. And that was all.
Beware of occupational hazards
Bright-blue, sunlit skies, white, sandy beaches, roaring waves, palm trees rustling in the wind, and colorful birds chirping deep in the vibrantly green jungle – a paradise, right? Unfortunately, this would never be the case for one particular British archaeologist.
Sweat beaded on Lara Croft’s forehead as she stomped her boots into the muddy ground in search of a strange, jade statue. Her brown eyes were alight with a fiery passion and determination as they searched left, right, hither and yonder for the cursed thing, but to no avail. In addition to her brown eyes and her hiking boots, she also sported today a pair of greyish dark-brown cargo shorts and a tank top of the same color to complement her smooth, sun-tanned complexion and her long, brown hair styled into a braided ponytail; additionally, she had on her fingerless gloves, her utility belt with her various knives and excavation tools, and one of her thigh holsters for one of her handguns that always got her out of whatever skirmish she came across.
“Uh, don’t you usually bring both of your pistols, Lara?” asked Matt earlier that morning over breakfast. Matt would be her partner for the assignment that day.
“I figured I’d travel light today,” Lara explained. “More guns means more ammo to carry, right? And for this assignment, it’s pretty unnecessary. I mean, what could go wrong?”
As Lara trekked around in the damp, humid jungle for what felt like forever by this point, Matt’s voice on her earpiece called.
“So, uh, you found that statue yet, Lara?”
“No, no I bloody haven’t, Matt,” she grumbled. “You?”
“Nope,” Matt answered. “Well, at least you have fresh air to breathe. It’s so dark and stuffy in this damn cave.” Lara laughed.
“Aww, what’s wrong? Afraid that I’m gonna eventually be the first to find the statue?”
“Jealous that you’re the one trekking through the jungle instead of me,” Matt remarked. “I mean, you’re the tomb raider after all. You’re better off being here than me. What gives?”
“Technically, yes. But I think...” Lara’s voice trailed off upon cutting away some more leaves with her machete and suddenly stumbling into what she had been searching for for weeks now.
“Blimey!” she exclaimed in triumph. “Matt...I found it.”
“Found what, Tomb Raider?”
“The statue, you bloke.” Lara laughed again at her partner. “I-I don’t know how, but I found it.”
“Well, thank God then,” Matt sighed in relief. “Now if I can just get out of this cave.”
Promptly, Lara walked over to the statue to get a better glimpse of it – it was a bald, completely naked man with only a crown atop his head. He had no face, and he was made entirely of jade, crown and all. The only unique feature that Lara could immediately make out was a long, fully erect penis. Beneath him was a smooth, stone platform he stood on, and on this platform was a tarnished gold plaque caked in mud and leaves, with a series of pictures inscribed on it.
“Huh. There are hieroglyphs inscribed with this statue, Matt,” Lara noticed.
“Crap! That reminds me, Lara,” Matt said. “Please, make sure that you remembered what that shaman told us, about how the statue has a weird effect on any woman near it.” Lara burst into laughter, and it was even louder than earlier.
“You actually believe that perverted tosser? Come on!”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Yeah, right. Expect me to believe that same old man whose eyes were glued to my boobs the whole time.”
“Alright, alright. Fair point, Tomb Raider. Now, about those hieroglyphs – what do they say?” Lara crouched down to the gold plaque and wiped off the mud and leaves; even then, however, she had to squint down at the barely legible pictures.
“‘To free the magical force of the Man of Jade, one has to take in and polish his mighty Rod of Power,’” Lara read. “Whatever that means.”
“I don’t have a single clue either,” said Matt. “Listen, I think I’m gonna hurry up with getting out of this cave and try to return to the village before dark. I think you should also do the same.”
“Well, for once, you’re absolutely right,” said Lara, still trying to make out the meaning of the hieroglyphs.
‘To free the magical force of the Man of Jade, one has to take in and polish his mighty Rod of Power.’ What could that possibly mean?
“Best of luck with the statue, Lara. Be careful, and try to get make sure it gets back to me in one piece. Matt out.” With that, Matt hanged up, leaving Lara completely alone in the jungle.
Like I need to be told all that, by Matt of all people. Bloody git.
Under her breath, Lara mumbled the meaning of the hieroglyphs again. “‘To free the magical force of the Man of Jade, one has to take in and polish his mighty Rod of Power.’” When she leaned in for an even closer look, it immediately dawned on her what the meaning was.
“Oh, bloody hell,” she groaned. “This thing’s actually instructing me to suck that.” Lara pointed her finger at the statue’s manhood in disgust. Various discomforting thoughts flashed in her mind as nausea started to settle in. “Jesus, I have to actually give this statue a blowjob? What kind of sick trick is this?” In frustration, she kicked the muddy ground, only to then splatter her knees in even more mud.
“Bollocks!” she cursed. After several more moments grumbling about the task, she took a deep sigh. Okay, Lara. You’re overreacting. There’s no one around here anyway. Why even care? To further calm herself and quench her dry mouth, she drew her canteen from her utility belt took a long gulp of water.
God. And to think water won’t be the only thing I’ll be swallowing soon. Once she finished, she took a deep breath and stared down at the jade phallus.
“I mean, with just a little water to wash...all this...off...I guess this ritual will at least be somewhat tolerable.” Mustering up all the courage she could, she poured a bit of her water over the phallus and dried it with her shirt; once the task was done, she opened her mouth.
Well, here goes nothing.
Lara began the ritual with a hesitant lick of her tongue against the tip of the jade man’s manhood; she swirled it all around while she kept her eyelids shut in revulsion.
God, I really hope nobody’s around. I’d hate to think what the headlines will be if I’m ever caught.
Lara then upped the ante when she proceeded to wrap her lips around the tip, the feeling of disgust growing ever more. Nevertheless, she suckled on it. Simultaneously, an involuntary feeling started to grow in her in addition to her disgust – a strange feeling of arousal making her gradually wet in her panties. And it wasn’t from sweating.
What the...what’s happening to me?
After several more moments spent on just suckling the tip, Lara went even deeper and deeper, picking up the pace along the way as she began bobbing her head on the jade statue’s manhood, taking his whole length into her mouth and down her throat each time. Spit seeped out of her mouth and coated the shaft and head, as well as dribbling from her lips, and her chin, towards the balls. And then, out of nowhere, an audible moan of pleasure escaped from Lara.
“Oh, what the bloody hell’s happening to me?” she moaned though a mouthful of the jade cock. Eventually, however, Lara found the will to pull her mouth off of it (at least for a moment) and catch her breath. Deeply, she gasped and panted for air while a string of spit from her lips connected her to the tip.
“Lara?”
“Ah!” Suddenly, Matt’s voice came up again on Lara’s earpiece, causing her to scream in startlement.
“Matt?! What the fuck?” she swore.
“S-Sorry, Lara,” Matt apologized. “I didn’t mean to...what are you doing anyway? I keep hearing weird suck –”
“It’s nothing, Matt,” Lara interrupted. God. This is so embarrassing.
An awkward pause between the two ensued as each of them tried to circumvent the fact that one just heard the other fellate a statue, of all things.
“So,” said Matt, finally breaking the pause. “I, uh, finally found my way out of the cave, and I just wanted to let you know about that.”
Lara sighed in frustration and replied, “Well, it’s good to know you’re safe now.”
“Was that the...ritual you were perform –”
“Yes, Matt, it is,” Lara snapped. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Got it? And you better not be recording this call or wanking off to this for all I know.”
“No, I won’t, Lara,” said Matt. “Matt out.” And once again, Lara was left to her own devices in the middle of a jungle with a jade statue sporting a boner bigger than any banger Lara had with her mash from time to time.
Lara’s mind and mouth returned to the statue matter once more. And even though she spent another five minutes or so drooling and deepthroating the rod of power with as much vigor as she could muster, there continued to be no effect whatsoever, save for her increased involuntary arousal from the whole affair.
“Why isn’t there anything happening?” she hissed in frustration. “Unless...” Her eyes then lowered down to the statue’s balls. They were highly detailed, just as the manhood was – slightly shriveled scrotum and everything. And they were perfectly proportional to the girth and length of the rod of power above it.
“Oh, of course!” Lara exclaimed. “Like my friends keep telling me, ‘Never forget the balls.’” She then ducked her head down and began to lightly suckle the balls with her lips while her tongue slathered them. Meanwhile, as if with a mind of its own, her hand snaked down to her crotch and began to massage away at her increasingly moist folds.
Oh, what’s happening to me? Really?! In an attempt to fight off the unwanted touch, she fought her masturbation hand with her other.
Come on! Just...
Before she could successfully win the battle against her own body, the statue suddenly came to life and grabbed Lara by the back of her head; it then proceeded to jam its member all the way down Lara’s throat, making her gag and almost vomit. Muffled screams escaped as she cried for help through the mouthful of the statue’s powerful cock, but to no avail.
Promptly, the statue proceeded to thrust in and out of Lara’s mouth; more streams of spit seeped out and crawled down her lips, to her chin, before either continuing to crawl down to the statue’s balls or landing on her firm, supple tits.
Fuck! What do I do?! Oh, for fuck’s sake, what do I do?!
As the statue slowly picked up the pace at pounding away at her throat, the archaeologist momentarily found freedom of movement in her arms.
Yes! My arms are free again. If I could just...reach for my pistol.
Unfortunately for Lara, however, the moment she managed to draw her gun and point it at the statue’s torso, the statue kicked the gun out of her hand.
Fuck! Why is this happening to me? And why the hell didn’t I bring my other pistol?
It was especially at Lara’s escape attempt that the statue went even harder on Lara’s throat, pounding it at the pace of a jackhammer, whilst simultaneously rendering Lara’s arms useless once again with its unexplainable powers. Lara was now completely at its mercy. No! Her throat became increasingly sore over the course of the whole ordeal to the point where it was unbearable for her; the pain then peaked at the same time the statue did when it made one last thrust into her throat and unleashed its ungodly seed straight into her stomach. Again, with its mystical abilities, it made the unfortunate archaeologist swallow every last drop, savoring each and every time her throat tightened up to swallow. Once it pulled out of Lara’s mouth for the last time, she gasped for every bit of air she could as a mixture of spit and cum spilled down her chin and onto her breasts and the ground beneath her.
“Fucking hell!” she choked, her head bent down as she gagged. Again, much to the Tomb Raider’s misfortune, the statue took advantage of the opportunity and lightly stomped onto the back of Lara’s head, making her face land onto the puddle of spit and cum.
“Argh!” she cried. With her on all fours now, the statue proceeded to rip her shorts, revealing her voluptuous, well-toned, bare ass.
“What are you...ah!” In a split second, the statue penetrated Lara’s womanhood and thrusted in and out of her just as quickly as it did when it was down her throat.
“Fuc...king...hell!” she shouted between thrusts, her agonizing screams echoing throughout the jungle.
Several moments later, Lara the familiar sound of boots against the muddy ground. Oh, thank God! Someone’s coming.
“Help! Help!” she cried. Matt then came into view, full gear and everything, with a nest of messy black hair atop his head and a visible layer of sweat on his almost-sunburned skin. Along with a backpack, an olive-green shirt, tan cargo shorts and dark-brown hiking boots, he also carried on his shoulder a large camera trained on the archaeologist.
“What the Fuck are you doing, Matt?!” she spat, outraged at the sight of him.
“I...I have to film this, Lara. I must film this,” he replied in a monotone voice; his expression, blank. He was in a complete trance, as Lara quickly realized. Oh no! I’m fucked!
As the statue continued its assault on the womb of the Tomb Raider, Matt hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and underwear and pulled those off. He promptly proceeded to stroke himself before Lara whilst maintaining his blank expression, and this further added to the mental and physical pain Lara endured. When she once again took momentary control of her arm, she attempted to scoop up a handful of dirt to throw at the statue despite its lack of any facial features; needless to say, this was also to no avail. And in response, the statue lifted Lara and proceeded to continue pound away at her whilst keeping her in a full Nelson hold.
“Argh!” she cried. “Why can’t I get out of here?” After several more thrusts, the statue fired off another massive load straight into Lara. The pain in her womanhood seared to the point where tears streamed from her eyes. Additionally, her clitoris twitched until she, too, experienced her own orgasm, and an involuntary one at that. A stream of her translucent cum squirted from her vulva and managed to somewhat even land on the tip of Matt’s own cock. Using this as lubrication, he stroked faster and faster until he, as well, came, with the white ropes of his cum landing next to the spit-cum puddle Lara’s face laid in just moments ago.
A perceptible atmosphere of exhaustion in the air came about as all three found themselves with a feeling of post-orgasmic sleepiness washing over them.
“F-Fuck,” Lara panted. Meanwhile, the statue proceeded to drop her back onto the muddy, cum-covered ground that was now making the air smell more like a stuffy brothel in Las Vegas than a humid but refreshing jungle in South America. Once all was said and done, Matt turned the camera on himself.
“Well, you saw it all folks,” he said, before he, too, fell to the ground and dropped the camera in the process. As the sleep slowly overtook him, the statue walked over to its pedestal and returned to its original inanimate state.
Several weeks later, Lara woke up to find herself in a bed. Her mouth was dry, her eyelids heavy with drowsiness. When she took in the familiar scent of hand sanitizer, rubber gloves, and other things used for sanitation, she immediately realized where she was.
“Thank God. A hospital,” she mumbled. Right when she was about to call for a nurse to assist her, a doctor entered.
“Hello, Ms. Croft,” said the doctor.
“H-Hi,” she responded, her voice hoarse. “What happened? How long have I been out?”
“Three weeks to be exact.” Noticing how thirsty she was, he handed her a glass of water that was next to her bed.
“Thank you,” she said. She then took a long gulp, relishing in the newfound hydration.
“Listen, Lara, I’m going to need you to listen very carefully,” the doctor continued. Worried, Lara put the glass back on her nightstand.
“What is it?” she said, her eyebrows raised in alarm.
“You’re pregnant.”
Bollocks!
Sometime in the distant future...
Once again, there were the usual sounds of chirping birds, rustling trees, and roaring waves and waterfalls in the background back on the island of the Jade statue. These sounds were then quickly interrupted by another, even louder sound.
Promptly appearing in the air was a ship. Visible through the cockpit window was the familiar face of one particular blonde bounty hunter.
Upon making a landing next to the jade statue, Samus, dressed in her zero suit this time, exited her ship and looked around to take in her surroundings.
“What the hell is this place?” Her eyes then landed on that thing that’s taken so many for so long, and this time, there was a visible golden glow emanating from it.
“Hmm...”
To free the magical force of the Man of Jade, one has to take in and polish his mighty Rod of Power.
To the victor go the spoils.
“Death to the Dark Lord!” Admirable in their bravery, armed to the teeth, and allied to see things to the end, the alliance of the Humans, Elves, and Dwarfs, led by the valiant Aragorn with their swords raised to the skies, charged forward on horseback to fight off the savage, animalistic army of creatures that were known as Orcs. In response to this charge, the Orcs unleashed a volley of arrows from their bows, and the overcast sky became as dark as night from their falling presence. The allied forces lifted their shields to the heavens, and the arrows fortunately failed to penetrate them.“Keep firing! And send forth the frontal forces for a counter charge,” said Vorlag, the Orcish general in charge of defending Mordor from the allied forces. More specifically, he was the Orcish general in command of the Uruk-hai; the strongest soldiers of Sauron’s military, and the one the allied forces now had the misfortune to fight in this battle. His skin was ashen gray, his eyes were as black and cold as his very soul, and his figure was tall and immensely muscular, all clad in sharp, black armor. As per Vorlag’s orders, the Orcish archers continued their rapid firing, while the frontal cavalry charged forth on their horses as well. Once both cavalry forces made their deadly kiss on the battlefield with their swords and spears, blood was spilled, and their agonizing shouts could be heard far and yonder. And then off in the distance, just less than a mile away northward, was the beautiful half-elf, Arwen, sealed away in her stone fortress.
“Oh, Aragorn. Please return to me alive,” Arwen muttered under her breath. She sat upon her chair in her bed chamber in great worry. Her breath was ragged and her heart beat in sync to the drums outside as the battle raged on. Her hair was slightly messy and unkempt, yet maintained a silky brown appearance, her skin was flawless and pale, and her eyes were a hypnotic shade of pale green. Her figure was thin, yet lovely, what with the curves of her thighs perfectly emphasized by the pale blue sleeping robes she wore. And yet, despite her youthful beauty, here she was, sickly and weak with a rather troublesome flu that she’d been battling for the past two days or so. Nevertheless, on the morning before the battle, she’d begged of Aragorn.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this. Last night…I don’t know, but I think it’s possible the halflings…Frodo and Sam…they might’ve…”
She hesitated and shuttered at the grim thought. She tried her best to say the words, and yet she kept choking on them. She stood in her bedroom, facing the window to look outside to the grassy fields below her. Behind her stood Aragorn.
“No. That can’t be possible. I’ve had my doubts about them myself, Arwen. But I’m sure that they’ll make it to Mordor…they must,” replied Aragorn.
“In any case, I think it’s best that I join you for the battle. I want to see this to the very -ackph!”
Suddenly, Arwen had a coughing fit as a result of her flu. She then felt her head become light as the world started to spin around her once more. She began to fall until Aragorn had been fortunate enough to catch her and then place her back on her bed. Once doing so, Aragorn grabbed a nearby chair and sat on it. He wore an expression of worry and empathy on his face as he looked to the sickly Arwen. He sighed, placed his left hand on his face, and closed his eyes for a moment. Oh, how I wish you were here, Gandalf. Once he finished his thought, he looked her directly in her eyes and said,
“I’m sorry, but we can’t be together in battle. Not in your condition, at least. I’d never be able to live with myself if you…”
He hesitated for a few seconds, choking on his own words as Arwen did moments ago.
“I promise you this, Arwen; I will return to you. I promise you this on my very soul. Once this battle is over, I will never leave your side again.”
He moved towards her, kissed her forehead, and held her hands. Arwen felt the warmth and intimacy of this simple action, and felt completely assured in him through this. It was through this that she knew that his love for her was pure. And it was for this especial reason that she loved him with equal depth. She then faces him, and they look deeply into each other’s eyes, their hearts fluttering. She moves closer to him, and their lips meet in one long kiss, lasting for what they wished was an eternity. They then finally break.
“For good luck,” she simply says.
Aragorn smiles at her warmly.
“Like I said, I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to return to you once this is all over.”
He then looks out the window outside, and sees the sun just barely shine through the overcast sky.
“I’ve got to go. In the meantime, farewell.”
“Farewell,” Arwen replies.
Aragorn leaves the bedroom without another word, and Arwen falls asleep peacefully for another hour.
And now here he stood, on the battlefield with his sword unsheathed and swinging away at any and all Orcs who dared to attempt to attack him. Over a fortnight of planning and training was spent in order to ensure the success of this battle, and Aragorn certainly had no intention of merely accepting defeat. He was confident that Frodo and his trusty, loyal friend, Sam, would make it through the perils of Mordor and cast that cursed thing that was the One Ring into the fiery, destructive depths of Mount Doom.
“We’re all counting on you, halfling. I hope you make it,” Aragorn muttered under his breath.
As he swung away with his sword, he beheaded one Orc, then commanded his Elven comrade, Legolas.
“Legolas, order the Elves to fire the catapults!”
“But sir, what of the rest of our forces? We may end up taking more losses,”
said Legolas as he stabbed two other orcs with his dagger.
“We have to counter those archers and have their fire drawn so that we can advance,” said Aragorn.
“Very well.”
Legolas then sprinted as fast as he could to the catapults, careful not to trip over the many corpses of the Orcs. As Aragorn fought, it was only seconds later when he heard Legolas give the order.
“Fire the catapults!”
Another storm of projectiles fell upon the earth, this time against the Orcs. Luckily, the combination of the boulders and arrows were able to hit most of the advancing enemy armies, given the rather bulky, tank-like stature of the grotesque, beastly Orc.
“Advance!” shouted Aragorn.
The allied forces proceeded forth once more, shields raised and their blades at the ready. As they continued their fighting, the Dwarf named Gimli arrived, clad in heavy armor and armed with his signature axe.
“Twenty-five!” he said to Legolas as he continued to chop down each Orc one by one.
"Thirty-two!” replied Legolas.
“Just you wait, Elf!”
Despite the brutality of their offensive fighting style, the Orcish army was forced to resort to their contingency plan after taking heavy losses.
“Retreat!” commanded Vorlag.
“All soldiers, retreat. This battle is lost.”
However, there was much more going on than a mere retreat, as Aragorn and his forces believed. As Vorlag and his Uruk-hai forces retreated south, they split once they reached a river in front of a colossal cliff on the outskirts of their original position.
“What’s happening?” asked Gimli.
“I don’t know, I’m afraid. Stay ready,” said Aragorn.
The allied forces ended their charge, split, and proceeded more slowly. However, seemingly out of nowhere came forth the Dark Lord himself, and a squad of archers at the top of the cliff. And this time, he had finally achieved it. He had finally acquired what he had lost all those centuries ago. On the ring finger of his left hand was the golden One Ring. The ring to rule them all, and in the darkness, bind them.
“Surrender now!”
Sauron’s voice boomed and echoed throughout the battlefield below him.
“Surrender now, and I may spare you! Surrender now, and there shall be no more bloodshed. Resist so foolishly, and you will face a battle that you cannot win. Choose wisely!”
The allied forces halted in their advance the second they heard his voice. Aragorn spun around to face him. As he listened, he found himself frozen – paralyzed with fear at the fact that he was in the presence of possibly the most powerful dark sorcerer in Middle Earth’s history. And then it hit him with the speed and impact of a heavily armed cavalry, and his heart suddenly stopped at its tracks the moment he reached his grim realization. Impossible. T-This can’t be. The halflings…Frodo…Sam…Oh no…
“H-How did you get that?!”
said Aragorn, his voice shaky with crippling fear. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and his mouth became as dry as a desert.
“How did I acquire this? This thing that I have searched for far and yonder for centuries?” said Sauron.
“I shall tell you then. Your ring bearer and his little friend are no more. Alas, it seems their feet weren’t so swift and silent once they arrived in my lands. Luck, it seems, has its limits after all.”
Sauron laughed a deep, cold laugh; a laugh that shook everyone to their very soul and creeped down their backs like a serpent. And with his greatest fears confirmed, Aragorn felt himself become nauseous. He could taste and feel the sourness of his stomach acids build up to the base of his throat, making him barely able to speak now. It was over. All that the Fellowship had fought so hard to achieve. All that they had laid their lives down for – failed. And it was a failure on a scale that was incomprehensible. A failure of epic proportions. A failure that can’t be recovered from. All was lost.
Without any other options, Aragorn spoke to his men.
“My brothers – Elves, Dwarfs…my fellow people of Gondor and Arnor! Even though the ring bearer and his trusty companion – Misters Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee – have fallen, we will not fall in vain! This shall be our last stand! And it will be a glorious one! One that shall mark us as heroes never to be forgotten to the flow of time! We may well fall pitifully, but our fall will be recorded as the greatest one of all! To you, Sauron, may you suffer greatly at our hands! Charge!”
And the allied forces charged forth, not caring about the success or failure of their offense; merely the act of leaving Sauron with the parting gift of his own spilled blood before finally meeting the bitter end that was their deaths. Sauron, however, sniggered under his breath.
“Fools! So be it. Archers! Fire again!”
The Orcish archers on the top of the cliff, as well as the ones led by Vorlag, fired another volley of arrows upon the allied forces. One by one, Elf, Dwarf, horse, and Human alike, fell to the ground like a ragdoll tossed to the floor by a child during playtime as the ground below them became stained with scarlet. Eventually, only Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli remained.
“You have my utmost respects,” said Sauron to those final three standing before him.
“You’ve earned my respects, my mercy, and your last chance to concede. Kneel before me, and you will not only be spared, but you will become generals in my army as a reward.”
“Never!” shouted Gimli in defiance to the Dark Lord. He gripped his axe tightly, and kept himself ready for his last fight.
"Never shall we bow down to such a despicable bastard as yourself!”
“What say the Elf? Will he concede and find glory under my rule, or end up in the same fate as his other pathetic allies?”
In response, Legolas drew his bow as quickly as he could and fired one of his last arrows straight towards Sauron’s neck, grazing the left side of it. Blood seeped out of the wound, and the pain from the arrow came in a sharp flash. Livid beyond anything else, Sauron screamed,
“Foolish to the very end! Very well. Fire!”
“‘twas an honor, and a privilege, to have served alongside you,” said Legolas to Gimli.
“Likewise, Elf,” said Gimli.
And so Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli made their final charge, bows and shields at the ready. The arrows rained down upon them, but they continued running towards the Uruk-hai forces in front of them, giving not a care in the world about some of the arrows that pierced their shoulders. Aragorn then arrived at the Uruk-hai forces first, wielding his sword for the last time, parrying it to defend himself from oncoming attacks and slashing away at the limbs and necks of his enemies. Gimli did the same with his axe, as did Legolas when he drew his dagger. They came to terms with the certainty of their defeat, yet held on to dear life the possibility that they may at least find the chance to escape somehow, if it ever presented itself.
However, it was all for naught, as the Uruk-hai eventually overwhelmed them, stabbing all three of them with their blades. Both Legolas and Gimli were immediately killed while Aragorn stayed alive long enough for his final words and thoughts. Through the pain of the sword that was right through his chest, and his mouthful of blood, Aragorn managed to say,
“One day, you…shall fall. One day.”
We shall meet each other once again, Arwen, but not in this lifetime. I’m so sorry. I hope we meet again. The pain then began to subside, and everything began to fade into nothingness, until he finally succumbed to his death. The Orcs cheered and celebrated their victory, until Vorlag raised his hand to silence his fellow soldiers.
“Not yet. Pockets of resistance remain. My Lord, what shall be the fate of these foolishly stubborn groups?”
Sauron paused for a moment. Deeply, he wished for all pockets of resistance to be captured and tortured by him personally for resisting his rightful rule, yet he understood the herculean nature of this. After all, as he came to understand, the races of Man, Elf, Dwarf, and Hobbit were much more capable than he’d initially believed when he lost the ring all that time ago. For this reason, he said simply,
“Do what you will. Eliminate all resistance groups in one fell swoop. Show no mercy. We are closer to victory than we’ve ever been before. Do not fail me, or there will be dire consequences.”
“As you wish, my lord. Soldiers, march. We head north.”
Arwen winced and cringed as she heard the sounds of blades and arrows pierce the flesh of Orcs, Elves, Dwarfs, and Humans alike. Finally, after deciding that she had waited long enough for Aragorn’s return, she gets up from her seat, strips herself from her sleepwear and puts on her dark, navy blue robe and glove pair she wore whenever she had to go outside, retrieves her sword from under her bed, and goes to the front door for the battle that awaited her, sword at the ready.
“No! Don’t, milady. Elrond and Aragorn ordered us to keep you here and see to it that you’re protected at all costs,”
said one human guard who stood at the front door.
“There’s no point in hiding! I’m tired of running, and I’m tired of hiding! I need to go out there and fight alongside Aragorn!”
“No, wait!”
Arwen persisted and kicked the door open. Bravely, she faced before her her very doom. Vorlag’s forces sniggered at her attempt to defend herself and the fortress. As Vorlag’s forces advanced toward her fortress, archers on the top of the roof proceeded to fire way with their bows as best as they could, killing a few of the advancing Orcs. Arwen looked behind her, and then towards the Orcs, rather confused.
“Fly! Fly milady! It’s too dangerous! Get out of here!”
said the archery commander.
“But –”
“It’s alright, milady. We’ll hold them off.”
“I’ll come back to you with reinforcements. I promise.”
And Arwen sprinted away as fast as she could, going back inside the fortress, and then out of the back door into the forest.
“Keep firing -argh! Ahh!” the archery commander then took an arrow through his torso, proceeding to fall over the crenellations on the roof.
“Sir! No!”
said one of the archers, and they kept firing, both to protect Arwen as best as they could and take revenge for the death of their commander. The arrows came in faster and faster, but to no avail, as Vorlag’s forces began to pour into the fortress.
“Pour the hot oil!” said one archer. “And get to the entrance. We mustn’t let this fortress fall.”
Immediately, many of the Orcs suffered severe burns on their skin from the hot, black substance that was being poured on them from above. Their skin began to peel off in various places, and their agonizing shrieks filled the fortress. And yet, alas, even this was not enough; the Orcs who did enter the fortress, before the hot oil could be poured, finally reached the roof and proceeded to slaughter the human archers one by one. As bravely as they fought, it was ultimately all for naught. Eventually, all of the archers were killed, and the Orcs celebrated their triumph.
“Wait!” commanded Vorlag, as he raised his hand to silence his men.
“Our work is not finished yet. We must find and capture that woman.”
Meanwhile, Arwen kept running, running, running, and running. Her heart beat to such a speed that an ache began to develop in her chest. And yet, she just kept running. She then began to lose track of her surroundings, which caused her trip over a branch on the ground. As she tried to get up as quickly as she could, an arrow narrowly missed her, only just hitting the ground between her fingers. She pulled the arrow out of the ground, and then kept running, until she reached a steep ledge with no trees or leaf piles to cushion her fall below it. She then drew her sword and prepared for her last stand. Only just five seconds later, Vorlag’s army arrived, with Vorlag front and center.
“My, my, what have we got here? You’re a mighty fine woman. Please, tell us your name?”
“Stand back,” spat Arwen. “Stand back, and I may just spare you. If you dare even make a step forward, I’ll cut off every one of your limbs.”
Vorlag laughed, as did the rest of his army. It was loud, and completely filled the forest, drowning out the chirping sounds of the birds and such.
“You? You think you can resist us, when we so greatly outnumber you? You? When we have archers that can hit the eye of an eagle from a mile away? You? When we have men armed with axes who can behead a man as cleanly and swiftly as the sharpest blade in the world?”
“I fear no man, skilled or unskilled, cowardly or brave. I will fight to the last breath.”
The Uruk-hai sniggered again, and then Vorlag gave her an offer.
“It’s up to you to decide your own fate, milady. But you do have two choices; you can lay down your blade and surrender to us. Should you do so, you will become the Dark Lord's mistress, properly providing your most intimate services to your master. Or, you can die here, and meet the same fate as your pitiful general. What was his name? Ah, yes, Aragorn. Choose wisely.”
Arwen grit her teeth as tears began to leak out of the corner of her eyes. Aragorn…no! You said you’d return. Suddenly, feelings of vengeance began to course through her body, her heart beat faster as her muscles began to tense up. Without even thinking, she rushed towards the Uruk-hai soldiers, specifically towards Vorlag. However, just as she was going to strike the Orcish general, he parried the attack with his own blade, and then pulled out a dagger to take a cut at her wrist that was holding her sword.
-Start of Rape Scene/Ending-
“Argh!” She winced and screamed from the pain of the crudely made blade. Once she attempted to pull her sword away from Vorlag, he caught her arm, pulled her sword out of her hands, and then tossed it off of the ledge. Vorlag then pulled her face towards his, and then breathily said,
“You know, since your beauty is just so breath-taking, let me take my time to admire it before you’re gone for good.”
As she was manhandled and breathily spoken to by Vorlag, she could smell the absolute foulness of his breath. It made her nauseous, and so much so that she spat in his face in rage and disgust. Vorlag wiped his face with his right hand.
“Feisty, are we? That’s all right, you’re still quite the prize for me, milady. To the victor go the spoils. Men, grab her by her shoulders!”
Several Orcs behind Arwen proceeded to lift Arwen by her shoulders, while Vorlag continued holding her by her legs. As he held her legs, he proceeded to rip off a large portion of the bottom half of her robes, leaving her panties as the only thing protecting her pristine womb against the vile hands of Valrog. Of course, the panties were completely useless, as Valrog then ripped the panties off of her waist, exposing the most intimate part of her body. Vorlag sniggered at his prize while his men celebrated and cheered gleefully and nastily, exposing their yellowed teeth and fangs.
“To the victor go the spoils,” Vorlag repeated, as he proceeded to undo his pants and unsheathe his more personal sword, which, of course, was his massive phallus. Once unsheathing it, his carnal desire for Arwen grew, he felt his heart beat faster and faster, and he licked his lips as though a delicious feast were before him. Overcome with lust, he swiftly and forcefully thrusted himself into Arwen’s pale, slightly hairy slit, causing her to shout various curses and agonizing screams, which filled the forest along with the continued cheering of the Orcish army.
“Argh! Please! Stop it!” Arwen begged.
“Not until you concede,” spat Vorlag.
As he thrusted in and out of her, he found himself in pure ecstasy. The sensations he received from being inside her were pure bliss, more intoxicating than any ale or pipe-weed Middle Earth had to offer. Her walls perfectly hugged the width of his phallus; it was neither too tight, nor too loose. In spite of the lack of lubrication, Vorlag’s arousal remained, as Arwen’s agonizing screeches fueled his sadistic desires. Eventually, he found himself close, twitching in extreme pleasure as he slowly reached climax. And then only a second later, he finally released his seed into Arwen, as those white ropes of his semen kept coming and coming into her.
Meanwhile, Arwen felt completely violated. She’d hoped to save herself for her wedding with Aragorn, but with him gone, all was truly lost. Her desire for vengeance became replaced with fear and despair as she felt her muscles become stiff and tense. So filled with fear she became that she felt as though she could not move at all. All she could do at that point was wait for the end, and pray for its swift arrival. Alas, her end would never arrive swiftly, if at all, as she hoped, as once Vorlag finished his duties inside of her, he beckoned three other Orcs to join the fray. One entered her mouth, one entered her anus, and the last one inserted itself into her crevice, which began to leak of Vorlag’s seed. Again, all Arwen could feel was pain, fear, and despair. She choked and gagged from the salty, putrid taste of the Orc in her mouth, while she winced in complete pain from the other two who were in her other two orifices. The pain was sharp and never-ending, as if she were slowly being split apart. And then, once more, all three of the Orcs twitched gleefully inside of her until they unleashed their own torrents of their seed into her and onto her face and torso. By this point, all she could smell was sweat and the pungent scent of Orcish reproduction fluids.
Once those three had their fill, another three came forth, and so on, until Arwen eventually found herself mind-broken. Her thoughts were reduced into nothing more than sensation as she too orgasmed from the whole affair, albeit unwillingly. Her womb twitched painfully until it too unleashed its own torrents of fluid all over the grotesque phallus of the last Orc who continued orgasming inside of her. Once he pulled himself out, all that came out of Arwen’s most precious place was the fluid of the whole Uruk-hai force. At the same time, her mouth was open, and drool leaked at the corners.
And then, finally, while her eyes were rolled back from the painful sensations of the vicious rape she had the utmost misfortune to experience, Arwen spoke through her mouthful of Orcish fluids.
“I…I surrender. I am yours…I am the Dark Lord’s…I concede…” Her hearing was dimmed as the pain slowly began to fade away. She yearned that this was death she was experiencing, but alas, she could never be more wrong. She then fell into unconsciousness, and that was all.
Several hours later, she woke up. Her mouth was dry, and its taste was unpleasant to the point where she desperately wished to vomit, but simply couldn’t. As she opened her eyes, she could feel them ache as she instantly saw brightness through the window above her. Once she acclimated, she looked through it, and saw the One Ring in the Dark Lord’s hands. She then looked up and saw him in his black, spiked armor and billowing cape. More fear and despair filled her, yet all she could do was stand there, completely hopeless. Meanwhile, Sauron saw her glimpse at the corner of one of his eyes, and then looked directly into them.
“To the victor go the spoils,” Sauron said. After all, he indeed was the victor. He had finally found the One Ring. He had won.
*Note: Star Virgin is not a character of mine, rather one conceived by
P
princeofpain
. All credit goes to him for designing this character.
“W-Where am I? Who are you? Please, just let me go, or at least tell me what’s happening.”
No response. She then takes on a much more aggressive, threatening tone.
“Hey, listen to me. Tell me what the hell’s happening to me, and where I am. If you don’t, you can be sure as hell that I will get out of these ropes eventually. Do you have any idea who I am, and what I’m capable of?”
Once again, no response. Instead, Star Virgin receives a whipping to her breasts, which sends a sharp pain that courses throughout her body.
“Argh!” she cries. And then she hears the sultry voice of a woman whom she guesses is only a few years older than her.
“You won’t be needing your powers for today, miss.”
“What do you mean?! Who are you?!” asks Star Virgin.
“You’ll see. Just allow me to strike a few more keys, and…voila.” Once the sultry-voiced woman strikes the final key on her laptop, she walks over to Star Virgin to take off her blindfold.
Upon removal of the blindfold, the first thing she sees is herself on the screen of the laptop, in her red lipstick, her silky, long black hair, her athletically muscular figure in its flawlessly pale-skinned splendor, and her costume, which comprises of a white slingshot bikini that covers merely her nether region and her nipples on her large, roundly firm breasts, her white gloves that reach just below her elbow, her long white cape, her white boots that stretch up to just below her knees, and her purple eye mask that is colorfully complemented by her vibrantly green eyes. Again, all tied to a St. Andrew’s cross.
She then glances at her surroundings and sees that she is in a windowless dark bedroom lit only by scented candles that are hung on the walls throughout. As for the walls themselves, they are of a blood-red color with black trimmings on the top and bottom edges, while the floor is of a dark wood, possibly walnut. To the left of her is the door that likely led to either a hallway or the living room. Behind her is a bed that has a dark-red mattress and pillow set, while the blanket is black, as is the bed’s headboard. And to the right of it is a mahogany nightstand with a lamp on top of it.
Finally, she looks to the source of the voice she heard. The woman before her has a voluptuous figure with supple breasts that were slightly larger than hers, as well as a black snake tattoo that slithers down the entire length of her left arm. She is dressed in a black corset that is mostly leather, and her leggings are of a black latex, as are the gloves that reached just below her shoulders. Additionally, she wears a maroon thong, and black stiletto boots that stretch slightly above her ankles. Her hair is of a silvery shade of blonde tied in a bun, and her skin is smoothly pale, yet has a somewhat tanned tinge to it. In her left hand, she holds a long whip, while in the other, she holds two clamps that are connected to an electrical generator under the desk behind her where her laptop is.
“Today, Star Virgin, is my lucky day, as is the world’s,” she venomously says.
“W-What are you saying? Get me out of these ropes and off this cro –”
“I’m afraid not, Bethany Booker.”
Immediately, Star Virgin gasps and feels herself become completely paralyzed with shock at this revelation coming right out of the mysterious woman’s mouth. Beads of sweat run down her temples as her muscles became tense with fear. Despite this, she tries her best to keep up a brave façade.
“H-How do you know my name? How the hell did you find that out?!”
“Oh, come on, Bethany. You really think you’re that good at hiding your identity? Really? Just look at your pathetic excuse of a costume. Not even your superpowers could help you at disguising yourself, if they can even do that to begin with. And you call yourself a superhero? Pathetic.” Once again, the blonde-haired woman strikes Star Virgin across her breasts, this time with much more vigor, and with an overtone of anger.
“Ah!” Star Virgin cries.
“I see your nipples are particularly sensitive; they’re really sticking out. Are you enjoying this, or is there something more that I’m not aware of?”
“Fuck! You!”
The blonde-haired woman strikes Star Virgin again with her whip. And again, and again, and again. After another strike, her breasts begin to change from their original paleness to a slight shade of red.
“I’m getting tired of this area. How about here?” The blonde-haired woman proceeds to lightly massage Star Virgin’s pristine pussy with her left foot, which she notices makes Star Virgin squirm and become slightly moist. Even more so, Star Virgin feels herself become increasingly weak. As hard as she tries to break free from the bonds and take down the blonde-haired woman, she simply couldn’t as her arms slowly become more and more limp by the second.
“I see a spot growing on your bikini. Are you getting wet from this, Bethany?” the woman says.
“N-No! What the hell are you even saying? Stop it, or I’ll make you, bitch,” Star Virgin growled. Insulted, the blonde-haired woman whips Star Virgin across her face, causing a slight cut on her left cheek that begins to bleed.
“I do have a name, you know? It most certainly isn’t ‘bitch’. It’s Dominica!”
She whips Star Virgin across her breasts again, and then right on her moist slit between her legs. Meanwhile, in addition to the searing pain on her face, breasts, and pussy, Star Virgin also feels an initial sense of bewildered familiarity at this malicious voice, and then a pang of guilt. That voice…I know I’ve heard it before, but where…unless… Star Virgin gasps again, realizing that the very woman before her – is her former best friend.
She was the one person she trusted the most in the world, and the one she fought alongside when they were partners in their heroism. And yet, here she is now; a mere shadow of her former self, both literally and metaphorically, what with her black dominatrix outfit.
“Evelyn, is that you?” Star Virgin asked. A single tear fell out of the corner of her eye.
“I ordered for you to call me Dominica, did I not?!” Dominica asked in a clearly exasperated tone. She then strikes Star Virgin again between her legs, directly on her pussy. Star Virgin winces from the sharp pain, begging in her mind for it all to stop. By this point, she is barely able to feel her limbs anymore. Strength is no longer an option for her. All she can do now is either endure the pain, or keep Evelyn talking.
“Evelyn, what happened?” Star Virgin asked as her eyes began to stream, both from bitter guilt and the agonizing pain.
In response, Dominica laughs loudly and mirthlessly, and then says, “Evelyn? I haven’t heard that name in forever. Ever since you…abandoned me to those sick fucks back in that alleyway two years ago, it left a permanent mental scar on me. This is what you get, you backstabbing bitch!”
Dominica strikes Star Virgin two more times on the inner part of her thighs and her breasts. Oh, Evelyn. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I never meant to. I just…my reflexes kicked in, and I couldn’t help but keep chasing that one guy. She sobs and keeps her eyes closed as the tears continue to stream down her face, and she begins reliving the painful memory. Flashes of the man she was chasing down the alleyway, along with the agonized screams of the former version of Evelyn, flash in her mind before immediately being brought back to the present by another flogging to her crevice.
“Argh!” she cries again.
“Like I said, this is what you get, you backstabbing bitch!” Evelyn responds.
“Look, Evelyn. I’m so sorry. I never meant to abandon you like that. Everything was happening so fast, and –”
“Too fucking late, Bethany! Now, given the obvious hunger your fans have for you, and your current circumstances, you have three choices – either I host a special meet-up and have you go through exactly what I went through with those horndogs you call your fans, I livestream your entire torture and reduce you to nothing more than a hungry fucktoy, or I choose for you. What’ll it be, Bethany?”
Shit! Either way, I’m fucked. Oh, what do I do? What do I do? Oh God, what do I do?!
“You’ve got five seconds left to make your choice, Star Slut,” Dominica says.
“No, wait. I –”
“Five!”
“Please, Evelyn. Gimme more time –”
“Four!”
“Three!”
“Two!”
Damnit. What do I do?!
“One more second, Star Slut!”
“Alright! I choo –”
“You’re out of time, Star Slut. I’m choosing for you. The whole world is about to know the truth behind who the real Star Virgin is.” Dominica takes a camera that is on a tripod away from where it was on top of the desk, and places it directly in front of Star Virgin. She then strikes the final key on her laptop, and the camera begins recording, as indicated by the blinking light on top of the screen. She proceeds to stand in front of the camera and face it to obscure Star Virgin and create an atmosphere of suspense before presenting her.
“Good evening to all those watching our show tonight!” Dominica exclaims as she stands, facing the camera. “You’re about to see the greatest show of your lives; one in which you will never see your precious heroine the same way ever again. I present to you… Star Virgin!” Dominica steps aside, and the comments section of her livestream begins to explode with opinions ranging from disgust to desire.
“Star Virgin never stops short of amazing. She’s saved so many lives. Has donated so much of her money to various charities, and has just been an all-around amazing woman. She is possibly the greatest heroine of our generation…and yet, tonight, I am about to show you a side of her you have never quite seen before. Watch with utter surprise the complete enjoyment she is about to experience from her utter humiliation here on this stream tonight.”
Dominica proceeds to attach the two clamps she held on her other hand onto Star Virgin’s nipples. On the other hand, this whole affair is nightmarishly surreal for Star Virgin. She could feel within herself a mixture of guilt and absolute loathing for her former best friend in addition to the cold metal clamps on her nipples. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dominica walk to the generator under her desk to turn it on.
“N-No. Please. Don’t do it,” she says weakly. But it’s no use. Once the generator is turned on, painful shocks course through her body in a wave, as though a tsunami were indiscriminately annihilating an entire town in its path, never stopping. She screams, she cries, and she wails, while everyone watching her on the stream merely sit there, savoring every pleasurable second they could have. For them, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Star Virgin bare it all, both physically and emotionally.
“Holy shit, this is fucking hot!” said one comment.
Another said, “Is this for real???” All in all, there was a general sense of ecstasy, confusion, and outright disbelief at the utter horror Star Virgin was experiencing.
After several shocks to Star Virgin’s nipples, Dominica makes the decision to change the torture. As the St. Andrew’s cross is attached to a post standing in the center of the room, Dominica is able to bend the post such that Star Virgin faces the floor now, with her back facing the ceiling.
“Perfect,” Dominica mutters under her breath. She then walks over the nightstand next to the bed and opens the cabinet to reveal a bowl of hot wax. She picks up this bowl, and begins to drip the hot wax on Star Virgin’s back.
“Ahh! Please! Someone, call for hel –” Star Virgin is interrupted by Dominica stuffing her right hand into Star Virgin’s mouth to gag her. She bends down to whisper in her ear.
“Shh. This is what you deserve, Star Slut,” she says. At this point, Star Virgin’s limbs are completely numb. No longer can she move them at all. The only sensations she experienced now were the burns from both the whippings and the hot wax, and her skin crawling from Dominica’s whispering. She grits her teeth from the pain while she closes her eyes shut. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak, she repeats to herself in her head. Thank God I read the Art of War before signing up for this shit.
Meanwhile, after dripping several drops of the wax on Star Virgin’s back, Dominica proceeds to take out a large waxing strip from her desk where the laptop is, and lays it on her back. She pats this strip a couple of times, making sure it fully sticks. And then, she forcefully rips it off of Star Virgin’s back, revealing a couple of small hairs.
“Ahhhhhhh!” She cries. Her back now completely covered in a pale shade of red with some small tears here and there leaking a little blood. On the other hand, the comments on the stream simply continue. Not a soul in the slightest even considers calling for help.
Sadistically amused at both the comments and Star Virgin’s agony, Dominica laughs a genuine laugh, as though driven mad and drunk from the power she got to exercise over her former mentor.
“So, how do you like that, huh, boys? Ha-ha! And there’s more coming too.”
After ripping the waxing strip so violently off of Star Virgin’s back, Dominica returns the post back to its original upright position, with Star Virgin directly facing the camera. She then leans herself against Star Virgin and kisses her deeply. She forces her tongue into her mouth, savoring its taste and texture, exploring every inch available, from her teeth to the insides of her cheeks. Initially, she faces resistance from Star Virgin, dueling her tongue in a sloppy fight for dominance as Star Virgin attempts to push out Dominica, but to no avail, as Star Virgin then decides to concede and bide her time for the chance break free from her bonds. As the kiss continues, Star Virgin feels Dominica’s hand snake to the back of her head to remove her purple eye mask. Feeling this, she moves her head to the side in an attempt to obscure her face, breaking the kiss.
“Mmph. Dominica, just stop…ahh!” she breathily says. After removing Star Virgin’s purple mask, Dominica moves aside Star Virgin’s thong, and then inserts her index finger into her moist crevice. She moans in confusion and pleasure at Dominica’ actions, while at the same time protesting with all her might, if at all, given her circumstances.
“Come on, Star Slut,” Dominica hungrily says. “Are you gonna use your super-strength on me and do something about this, or are you just gonna stand there, and take it like the whore you are?”
“-ngh! F-Fuck you!” Star Virgin whispers. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak, Star Virgin mentally repeated. Meanwhile, despite the admittedly slight pleasure she felt from Dominica’s index finger deep in her slit, she mostly felt a throbbing, stinging pain deep inside herself, as well as outside from the electrical shocks and the floggings.
On the other hand, Dominica was loving every second she had while controlling Star Virgin. She then proceeded to insert her middle finger into Star Virgin’s moist crevice, further adding to the pain-pleasure combination. And then a third, then a fourth, up until all of her fingers thrusted themselves into Star Virgin’s pussy. Star Virgin continued to moan in protest, but to no avail. After thrusting her fingers in and out several more times, Dominica pulled them out and showed them to both the camera and to Star Virgin herself. They were visibly soaked in her juices, what with several strings between her fingers. Dominica then thrusted her fingers back into Star Virgin’s mouth, forcing her to taste herself.
“Hehe! Go on, Booker. I know how much you love the taste of your own cunt,” Dominica whispers. After this, she removes her fingers and gives them a lick, conspicuously enjoying the flavor as though she’d just discovered some new exotic fruit.
“Mmm,” she says, her eyes closed for a moment. “Now, I’ve gotta give that another taste.” She then bends down and dives right into Star Virgin’s cunt, lapping away at it and savoring its sweet, slightly salty flavor. Eventually, she inserts her tongue all the way inside Star Virgin’s now-saturated crevice. Star Virgin squirms and writhes from the rather slippery, sloppy sensation she receives from Dominica’s skillful oral performance, what with the kisses and the back-and-forth licks, as well as the equally careful attention to her clitoris.
At the same time, Dominica finds herself completely lost in her pleasure from the amount of control she had over Star Virgin. She snakes her left hand down from her breasts, and then onto her own pussy to finger it. Within a minute, both Star Virgin and Dominica reach their climaxes simultaneously. Moaning right in front of the camera. As for the audience watching the whole affair, they were having the time of their lives, filling the website with comment after comment demanding more and more.
“Heh! You boys sure loved that, huh?” said Dominica to the camera, still clearly dazed from her orgasm. She stands back up, though weak at the legs, and retrieves another item of hers from the desk, this time presenting itself in the form of a strap-on dildo. Oh, God. Why can’t you just stop already, Evelyn? Star Virgin says think to herself, now filled with utter dread, and still weak from her orgasm. Dominica puts it on and first rubs the dildo against Star Virgin’s pussy, making sure to make it moist and well-lubricated, before thrusting it all the way in. Once more, Star Virgin cries in pain in response, not enjoying anything at all. It is a slow, painful process, with Dominica moving in and out. Several seconds later, the pace begins to pick up, with Dominica thrusting faster and faster, continuing to deeply tongue-kiss her with as much aggression and vigor as she could muster. Star Virgin grunts in response, but to no avail, feeling the full force of Dominica render her completely at her mercy. And yet, in spite of all this, she could also feel her pussy twitch closer and closer to orgasm. About a minute and a half, she finally comes undone, unwillingly unleashing her orgasmic juices all over not only Dominica’s dildo, but over the entirety of her crotch. Afterwards, Star Virgin pants heavily from her release, while Dominica smirks.
“Feels good, doesn’t it,” Dominica whispers to Star Virgin. She then turns to the camera, then says, “There’s more where that came from, boys. I’ve got all day. Hell, I’m only just getting started.”
Oh, when is this going to end? Why not just kill me already?
Alas, the poor heroine’s death wish never came. Only her nether regions, which came again, and again, and again. The livestream continued on and on, never stopping, ever rendering her more and more weak until she finally passes out.
“Evelyn…I’m so sorry,” she weakly manages to say, before succumbing to weakness. And yet, the livestream continued. The show went on, uninterrupted.
To corrupt that which is pure is the greatest pleasure of all.
At first, all Star Virgin saw was black, and in the darkness, she felt the world spin around her. From this dizziness, she could feel the sickly sourness of her stomach acids build up at the bottom of her throat. Through this nauseous dizziness, she could hear the sounds of someone typing away on a laptop, and then pacing back and forth every few seconds in what she supposed were high-heeled boots. Olfactorily, the only scent she could pick up was the artificial smell of vanilla and cherries. In an attempt to get out of this odd and uncomfortable situation, she moves her hands and legs, only to realize that they are tied and spread, with her arms held high and her legs spread wide, all tied to what she guesses is a St. Andrew’s cross (i.e., the x-shaped post found in BDSM-themed rooms). She then tries her best to speak, despite her mouth feeling as dry as the deserts of Egypt.
“W-Where am I? Who are you? Please, just let me go, or at least tell me what’s happening.”
No response. She then takes on a much more aggressive, threatening tone.
“Hey, listen to me. Tell me what the hell’s happening to me, and where I am. If you don’t, you can be sure as hell that I will get out of these ropes eventually. Do you have any idea who I am, and what I’m capable of?”
Once again, no response. Instead, Star Virgin receives a whipping to her breasts, which sends a sharp pain that courses throughout her body.
“Argh!” she cries. And then she hears the sultry voice of a woman whom she guesses is only a few years older than her.
“You won’t be needing your powers for today, miss.”
“What do you mean?! Who are you?!” asks Star Virgin.
“You’ll see. Just allow me to strike a few more keys, and…voila.” Once the sultry-voiced woman strikes the final key on her laptop, she walks over to Star Virgin to take off her blindfold.
Upon removal of the blindfold, the first thing she sees is herself on the screen of the laptop, in her red lipstick, her silky, long black hair, her athletically muscular figure in its flawlessly pale-skinned splendor, and her costume, which comprises of a white slingshot bikini that covers merely her nether region and her nipples on her large, roundly firm breasts, her white gloves that reach just below her elbow, her long white cape, her white boots that stretch up to just below her knees, and her purple eye mask that is colorfully complemented by her vibrantly green eyes. Again, all tied to a St. Andrew’s cross.
She then glances at her surroundings and sees that she is in a windowless dark bedroom lit only by scented candles that are hung on the walls throughout. As for the walls themselves, they are of a blood-red color with black trimmings on the top and bottom edges, while the floor is of a dark wood, possibly walnut. To the left of her is the door that likely led to either a hallway or the living room. Behind her is a bed that has a dark-red mattress and pillow set, while the blanket is black, as is the bed’s headboard. And to the right of it is a mahogany nightstand with a lamp on top of it.
Finally, she looks to the source of the voice she heard. The woman before her has a voluptuous figure with supple breasts that were slightly larger than hers, as well as a black snake tattoo that slithers down the entire length of her left arm. She is dressed in a black corset that is mostly leather, and her leggings are of a black latex, as are the gloves that reached just below her shoulders. Additionally, she wears a maroon thong, and black stiletto boots that stretch slightly above her ankles. Her hair is of a silvery shade of blonde tied in a bun, and her skin is smoothly pale, yet has a somewhat tanned tinge to it. In her left hand, she holds a long whip, while in the other, she holds two clamps that are connected to an electrical generator under the desk behind her where her laptop is.
“Today, Star Virgin, is my lucky day, as is the world’s,” she venomously says.
“W-What are you saying? Get me out of these ropes and off this cro –”
“I’m afraid not, Bethany Booker.”
Immediately, Star Virgin gasps and feels herself become completely paralyzed with shock at this revelation coming right out of the mysterious woman’s mouth. Beads of sweat run down her temples as her muscles became tense with fear. Despite this, she tries her best to keep up a brave façade.
“H-How do you know my name? How the hell did you find that out?!”
“Oh, come on, Bethany. You really think you’re that good at hiding your identity? Really? Just look at your pathetic excuse of a costume. Not even your superpowers could help you at disguising yourself, if they can even do that to begin with. And you call yourself a superhero? Pathetic.” Once again, the blonde-haired woman strikes Star Virgin across her breasts, this time with much more vigor, and with an overtone of anger.
“Ah!” Star Virgin cries.
“I see your nipples are particularly sensitive; they’re really sticking out. Are you enjoying this, or is there something more that I’m not aware of?”
“Fuck! You!”
The blonde-haired woman strikes Star Virgin again with her whip. And again, and again, and again. After another strike, her breasts begin to change from their original paleness to a slight shade of red.
“I’m getting tired of this area. How about here?” The blonde-haired woman proceeds to lightly massage Star Virgin’s pristine pussy with her left foot, which she notices makes Star Virgin squirm and become slightly moist. Even more so, Star Virgin feels herself become increasingly weak. As hard as she tries to break free from the bonds and take down the blonde-haired woman, she simply couldn’t as her arms slowly become more and more limp by the second.
“I see a spot growing on your bikini. Are you getting wet from this, Bethany?” the woman says.
“N-No! What the hell are you even saying? Stop it, or I’ll make you, bitch,” Star Virgin growled. Insulted, the blonde-haired woman whips Star Virgin across her face, causing a slight cut on her left cheek that begins to bleed.
“I do have a name, you know? It most certainly isn’t ‘bitch’. It’s Dominica!”
She whips Star Virgin across her breasts again, and then right on her moist slit between her legs. Meanwhile, in addition to the searing pain on her face, breasts, and pussy, Star Virgin also feels an initial sense of bewildered familiarity at this malicious voice, and then a pang of guilt. That voice…I know I’ve heard it before, but where…unless… Star Virgin gasps again, realizing that the very woman before her – is her former best friend.
She was the one person she trusted the most in the world, and the one she fought alongside when they were partners in their heroism. And yet, here she is now; a mere shadow of her former self, both literally and metaphorically, what with her black dominatrix outfit.
“Evelyn, is that you?” Star Virgin asked. A single tear fell out of the corner of her eye.
“I ordered for you to call me Dominica, did I not?!” Dominica asked in a clearly exasperated tone. She then strikes Star Virgin again between her legs, directly on her pussy. Star Virgin winces from the sharp pain, begging in her mind for it all to stop. By this point, she is barely able to feel her limbs anymore. Strength is no longer an option for her. All she can do now is either endure the pain, or keep Evelyn talking.
“Evelyn, what happened?” Star Virgin asked as her eyes began to stream, both from bitter guilt and the agonizing pain.
In response, Dominica laughs loudly and mirthlessly, and then says, “Evelyn? I haven’t heard that name in forever. Ever since you…abandoned me to those sick fucks back in that alleyway two years ago, it left a permanent mental scar on me. This is what you get, you backstabbing bitch!”
Dominica strikes Star Virgin two more times on the inner part of her thighs and her breasts. Oh, Evelyn. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I never meant to. I just…my reflexes kicked in, and I couldn’t help but keep chasing that one guy. She sobs and keeps her eyes closed as the tears continue to stream down her face, and she begins reliving the painful memory. Flashes of the man she was chasing down the alleyway, along with the agonized screams of the former version of Evelyn, flash in her mind before immediately being brought back to the present by another flogging to her crevice.
“Argh!” she cries again.
“Like I said, this is what you get, you backstabbing bitch!” Evelyn responds.
“Look, Evelyn. I’m so sorry. I never meant to abandon you like that. Everything was happening so fast, and –”
“Too fucking late, Bethany! Now, given the obvious hunger your fans have for you, and your current circumstances, you have three choices – either I host a special meet-up and have you go through exactly what I went through with those horndogs you call your fans, I livestream your entire torture and reduce you to nothing more than a hungry fucktoy, or I choose for you. What’ll it be, Bethany?”
Shit! Either way, I’m fucked. Oh, what do I do? What do I do? Oh God, what do I do?!
“You’ve got five seconds left to make your choice, Star Slut,” Dominica says.
“No, wait. I –”
“Five!”
“Please, Evelyn. Gimme more time –”
“Four!”
“Three!”
“Two!”
Damnit. What do I do?!
“One more second, Star Slut!”
“Alright! I choo –”
“You’re out of time, Star Slut. I’m choosing for you. The whole world is about to know the truth behind who the real Star Virgin is.” Dominica takes a camera that is on a tripod away from where it was on top of the desk, and places it directly in front of Star Virgin. She then strikes the final key on her laptop, and the camera begins recording, as indicated by the blinking light on top of the screen. She proceeds to stand in front of the camera and face it to obscure Star Virgin and create an atmosphere of suspense before presenting her.
“Good evening to all those watching our show tonight!” Dominica exclaims as she stands, facing the camera. “You’re about to see the greatest show of your lives; one in which you will never see your precious heroine the same way ever again. I present to you… Star Virgin!” Dominica steps aside, and the comments section of her livestream begins to explode with opinions ranging from disgust to desire.
“Star Virgin never stops short of amazing. She’s saved so many lives. Has donated so much of her money to various charities, and has just been an all-around amazing woman. She is possibly the greatest heroine of our generation…and yet, tonight, I am about to show you a side of her you have never quite seen before. Watch with utter surprise the complete enjoyment she is about to experience from her utter humiliation here on this stream tonight.”
Dominica proceeds to attach the two clamps she held on her other hand onto Star Virgin’s nipples. On the other hand, this whole affair is nightmarishly surreal for Star Virgin. She could feel within herself a mixture of guilt and absolute loathing for her former best friend in addition to the cold metal clamps on her nipples. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dominica walk to the generator under her desk to turn it on.
“N-No. Please. Don’t do it,” she says weakly. But it’s no use. Once the generator is turned on, painful shocks course through her body in a wave, as though a tsunami were indiscriminately annihilating an entire town in its path, never stopping. She screams, she cries, and she wails, while everyone watching her on the stream merely sit there, savoring every pleasurable second they could have. For them, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Star Virgin bare it all, both physically and emotionally.
“Holy shit, this is fucking hot!” said one comment.
Another said, “Is this for real???” All in all, there was a general sense of ecstasy, confusion, and outright disbelief at the utter horror Star Virgin was experiencing.
After several shocks to Star Virgin’s nipples, Dominica makes the decision to change the torture. As the St. Andrew’s cross is attached to a post standing in the center of the room, Dominica is able to bend the post such that Star Virgin faces the floor now, with her back facing the ceiling.
“Perfect,” Dominica mutters under her breath. She then walks over the nightstand next to the bed and opens the cabinet to reveal a bowl of hot wax. She picks up this bowl, and begins to drip the hot wax on Star Virgin’s back.
“Ahh! Please! Someone, call for hel –” Star Virgin is interrupted by Dominica stuffing her right hand into Star Virgin’s mouth to gag her. She bends down to whisper in her ear.
“Shh. This is what you deserve, Star Slut,” she says. At this point, Star Virgin’s limbs are completely numb. No longer can she move them at all. The only sensations she experienced now were the burns from both the whippings and the hot wax, and her skin crawling from Dominica’s whispering. She grits her teeth from the pain while she closes her eyes shut. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak, she repeats to herself in her head. Thank God I read the Art of War before signing up for this shit.
Meanwhile, after dripping several drops of the wax on Star Virgin’s back, Dominica proceeds to take out a large waxing strip from her desk where the laptop is, and lays it on her back. She pats this strip a couple of times, making sure it fully sticks. And then, she forcefully rips it off of Star Virgin’s back, revealing a couple of small hairs.
“Ahhhhhhh!” She cries. Her back now completely covered in a pale shade of red with some small tears here and there leaking a little blood. On the other hand, the comments on the stream simply continue. Not a soul in the slightest even considers calling for help.
Sadistically amused at both the comments and Star Virgin’s agony, Dominica laughs a genuine laugh, as though driven mad and drunk from the power she got to exercise over her former mentor.
“So, how do you like that, huh, boys? Ha-ha! And there’s more coming too.”
After ripping the waxing strip so violently off of Star Virgin’s back, Dominica returns the post back to its original upright position, with Star Virgin directly facing the camera. She then leans herself against Star Virgin and kisses her deeply. She forces her tongue into her mouth, savoring its taste and texture, exploring every inch available, from her teeth to the insides of her cheeks. Initially, she faces resistance from Star Virgin, dueling her tongue in a sloppy fight for dominance as Star Virgin attempts to push out Dominica, but to no avail, as Star Virgin then decides to concede and bide her time for the chance break free from her bonds. As the kiss continues, Star Virgin feels Dominica’s hand snake to the back of her head to remove her purple eye mask. Feeling this, she moves her head to the side in an attempt to obscure her face, breaking the kiss.
“Mmph. Dominica, just stop…ahh!” she breathily says. After removing Star Virgin’s purple mask, Dominica moves aside Star Virgin’s thong, and then inserts her index finger into her moist crevice. She moans in confusion and pleasure at Dominica’ actions, while at the same time protesting with all her might, if at all, given her circumstances.
“Come on, Star Slut,” Dominica hungrily says. “Are you gonna use your super-strength on me and do something about this, or are you just gonna stand there, and take it like the whore you are?”
“-ngh! F-Fuck you!” Star Virgin whispers. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak, Star Virgin mentally repeated. Meanwhile, despite the admittedly slight pleasure she felt from Dominica’s index finger deep in her slit, she mostly felt a throbbing, stinging pain deep inside herself, as well as outside from the electrical shocks and the floggings.
On the other hand, Dominica was loving every second she had while controlling Star Virgin. She then proceeded to insert her middle finger into Star Virgin’s moist crevice, further adding to the pain-pleasure combination. And then a third, then a fourth, up until all of her fingers thrusted themselves into Star Virgin’s pussy. Star Virgin continued to moan in protest, but to no avail. After thrusting her fingers in and out several more times, Dominica pulled them out and showed them to both the camera and to Star Virgin herself. They were visibly soaked in her juices, what with several strings between her fingers. Dominica then thrusted her fingers back into Star Virgin’s mouth, forcing her to taste herself.
“Hehe! Go on, Booker. I know how much you love the taste of your own cunt,” Dominica whispers. After this, she removes her fingers and gives them a lick, conspicuously enjoying the flavor as though she’d just discovered some new exotic fruit.
“Mmm,” she says, her eyes closed for a moment. “Now, I’ve gotta give that another taste.” She then bends down and dives right into Star Virgin’s cunt, lapping away at it and savoring its sweet, slightly salty flavor. Eventually, she inserts her tongue all the way inside Star Virgin’s now-saturated crevice. Star Virgin squirms and writhes from the rather slippery, sloppy sensation she receives from Dominica’s skillful oral performance, what with the kisses and the back-and-forth licks, as well as the equally careful attention to her clitoris.
At the same time, Dominica finds herself completely lost in her pleasure from the amount of control she had over Star Virgin. She snakes her left hand down from her breasts, and then onto her own pussy to finger it. Within a minute, both Star Virgin and Dominica reach their climaxes simultaneously. Moaning right in front of the camera. As for the audience watching the whole affair, they were having the time of their lives, filling the website with comment after comment demanding more and more.
“Heh! You boys sure loved that, huh?” said Dominica to the camera, still clearly dazed from her orgasm. She stands back up, though weak at the legs, and retrieves another item of hers from the desk, this time presenting itself in the form of a strap-on dildo. Oh, God. Why can’t you just stop already, Evelyn? Star Virgin says think to herself, now filled with utter dread, and still weak from her orgasm. Dominica puts it on and first rubs the dildo against Star Virgin’s pussy, making sure to make it moist and well-lubricated, before thrusting it all the way in. Once more, Star Virgin cries in pain in response, not enjoying anything at all. It is a slow, painful process, with Dominica moving in and out. Several seconds later, the pace begins to pick up, with Dominica thrusting faster and faster, continuing to deeply tongue-kiss her with as much aggression and vigor as she could muster. Star Virgin grunts in response, but to no avail, feeling the full force of Dominica render her completely at her mercy. And yet, in spite of all this, she could also feel her pussy twitch closer and closer to orgasm. About a minute and a half, she finally comes undone, unwillingly unleashing her orgasmic juices all over not only Dominica’s dildo, but over the entirety of her crotch. Afterwards, Star Virgin pants heavily from her release, while Dominica smirks.
“Feels good, doesn’t it,” Dominica whispers to Star Virgin. She then turns to the camera, then says, “There’s more where that came from, boys. I’ve got all day. Hell, I’m only just getting started.”
Oh, when is this going to end? Why not just kill me already?
Alas, the poor heroine’s death wish never came. Only her nether regions, which came again, and again, and again. The livestream continued on and on, never stopping, ever rendering her more and more weak until she finally passes out.
“Evelyn…I’m so sorry,” she weakly manages to say, before succumbing to weakness. And yet, the livestream continued. The show went on, uninterrupted.
There's a first time for everything.
First, there’s the knock at my door that almost makes me fall from my desk, and then there’s that same monotonous tone from my secretary.
“Mrs. Blair, your client is ready. Shall I let him into your office now?” she asks from behind my closed door. Ugh, great. Naptime just has to be over, doesn’t it? I think to myself in my sleep-deprived stupor. An hour ago, I was doing research for around six different cases before dozing off.
“Uh, Give me a moment, Linda. I just need to clear my office first,” I drowsily reply, almost slurring. After a couple more seconds of shut-eye, I finally force myself to get up. I’m really going to miss laying on my cool desk.
I get out of my desk to stand in front of my mirror on my door to fix my messy, long black hair. Usually, I tie it into a bun, but this time, I just straighten it out. When I finally straighten it out, I take one final glance at myself to make sure I look alright for my client. Clothing-wise, I’m in my gray, sleeveless turtle-neck sweater for today, as well as my black blazer, my ever-so-slightly tight office skirt, my black strapped high heels, and my thinly framed, square-rimmed glasses, which often leave people getting lost in my dark-blue eyes due to how strongly they emphasize them. Figure-wise, at twenty-eight years old, I’m taller than average and unintentionally voluptuous; my ass very subtly protrudes from my skirt, making it look bigger than it really is. Adding to this has been my biweekly visits to the yoga studio near my home since last year. As for my breasts. they have always been on the larger side, much to the amusement of my friends in high school, and the arousal of all the boys, who loved ogling at nerdy little me all too frequently. Even today, men approach me everywhere I go, and it sure as hell isn’t for legal advice. To my disappointment, my skin still looks kind of pale, despite the hot summer weather as of late.
“At least it looks flawless as ever,” I mutter under my breath. Finally, I turn around and gaze at my office. It’s an oak-paneled, grey-carpeted room, with my desk right in front of me, displaying on top of it my transparent acrylic placard that has my name in bold white lettering: Heather Blair, Attorney at Law. Behind it is a vertical window that covers one section of the wall, and on both sides of that are my bookshelves loaded with most of the basic research I need. On my far left is a black leather couch I lay on every once in a while, when I have time to kill, while on my far right is a small table with a coffee machine on top of it and a bottle of strong, four-year-old whiskey in one of the drawers.
Beautifully, the afternoon sun shines through my window, and I find myself almost lost in it, until I shake myself back to reality and clear up my desk by stacking all of my papers and books in one corner of the room while all of my pens go into my desk-drawers.
“Okay, Linda. Let him in,” I say afterwards. The door opens, and a young man in a red flannel and denim jeans walks into the room. Woah, he’s handsome. Along with the flannel and jeans, he has a stubbled, sort of chiseled face, chestnut hair, and sun-kissed skin, and through his flannel, I can see some slight muscle.
“‘Evening,” he says, his voice rather husky. “I’m Derrick Smith. So, you’re that lawyer lady on those commercials, right? Heather Blair?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s me, alright. Ha!”
“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you. You’re even prettier in person.”
“Oh, thanks. You too, hands- I mean, Mr. Smith.” Almost immediately, I feel the room temperature rise a couple hundred degrees. Even more-so, I feel as though my heart’s beating so fast and hard that Derrick could see it through my clothes. When he stretches out his hand to shake mine, and I shake it, I feel a strong, yet gentle grip. Oh, come on, Heather. You’re pushing thirty…and married for crying out loud! I curse myself. I just…need to compose myself and breathe slowly. He’s just really handsome is all. I’m faithful to my husband. I’m faithful to my husband. I’m faithful to my husband. Throughout the conversation, I repeat this mantra to stay focused.
“So, Mr. Smith. What’ve we got today?” I continue. Taking his hand, we walk over to my couch and begin discussing his defense.
After about an hour or so of discussing his defense, we finally come to an agreement that we would expand more on this the next time we meet. During this time, I gradually become more and more comfortable around him. And yet, at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel mesmerized by his own deep green eyes. And then, out of nowhere, it hits me with the force of a freight train, and my heart suddenly stops. Crap, I forgot about…that amendment.
It all started about last year or so, with the case of a man who was wrongly convicted of murder. All the evidence seemed to point to this – his nervous behavior around police, his reactions to the questions asked of him, and his overall tendency to uncontrollably shake and stutter; he simply couldn’t help it. With the cards stacked against him, he was sentenced to life in prison – until he appealed his sentence and brought up his medical documents pertaining to his diagnosis regarding his shaking and stuttering. He served eight months of his prison sentence before finally being released. In the wake of this, there was outrage about the way the justice system handled things, and as a result, a new amendment to the constitution was passed – the twenty-eighth amendment.
Also known as the Wilson Amendment, it declared that all lawyers were to receive proper instruction in the realm of oral sex in relation to their sexual orientation. Lesbian female lawyers performed cunnilingus on their female clients, gay male lawyers performed fellatio on their male clients, et cetera, et cetera. Both clients and attorneys became required to disclose their sexual orientation to each other. Orgasms through oral stimulation became just as important as a proper legal defense so as to ensure that clients were as relaxed and comfortable as they could possibly be. And unfortunately, I became a lawyer in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or so I thought.
Derrick proceeds to get up from my couch. Unsure as to how to address this part of my career, I impulsively get on my knees and place my hand on his crotch. Surprised, Derrick quickly recoils from my actions and wears an expression of borderline fear.
“Mrs. Blair! What the hell are you doing?!”
Damnit! Why did I do that?! For a short moment, I close my eyes and swallow, before slowly informing Derrick of this part of the business I find myself oh-so hesitant to describe, let alone perform in.
“Oh…um, I apologize for the suddenness of my actions, Mr. Smith, but I was under the impression that you read the full contents of our contract before-hand.”
Confused, Derrick replies, “Err, no, I didn’t. How was I supposed to expect…that? I mean, aren’t you supposed be a lawyer, not a hooker?”
“Ugh, please don’t refer to me by that term, Mr. Smith,” I say, shuddering at that word. “Anyway, to explain, as part of the rule of Attorney-Client Privilege under our contract and the laws of the Constitution from the passing of the twenty-eighth amendment, you are automatically granted the privilege of utilizing my mouth in any way you see fit pro bono.” God, it’s amazing I didn’t stutter at all while saying that mouthful…speaking of which.
“I’m sorry, but could you put that in actual English, please?”
Oh, come on. This should be obvious to you already. Slightly impatient by this point, but still wanting to remain professional, I continue in a slightly blunter way.
“You are entitled to free fellatio from me, as per the twenty-eighth amendment of the constitution, which was passed just back in January.”
And just like that, Derrick’s face transitions from a look of surprise to one of childish excitement in less than a second. Boys, they really all are the same, aren’t they? Furtively, I giggle, and I see that Derrick notices the ghost of a smile on my face.
“Wait, you've got to be kidding me. 'free fellatio' as in a free blowjob from a hot lawyer like you?” he says.
“Thank you for the compliment,” I say as I feel a faint blush grow on my cheeks. This is so weird. I get told that all the time. Why is he any different? “And yes, you are entitled to a free blowjob from me under the rule of Attorney-Client Privilege. Studies have shown that the world of law is extremely stressful for both attorneys and clients, which can lead to all sorts of legal problems. Hence, all lawyers are now given instruction in oral sex, even myself.”
“Awesome! I could really use a blowjob right about now.” Derrick excitedly moves my hands to the lower part of his hips and unbuckles his belt. However, before he gets down to unzipping his pants after unbuckling his belt, I stop him in his tracks, putting my hands on his.
“Wait. Before we do this, I…” The rest of my sentence fails to come out of my mouth, and I find myself reluctant to admit that, shockingly enough, I’m a virgin; my husband hasn’t exactly been the most available to me since we married six months ago. Instead, he’s been all around the country, making deals with various companies. Always on his phone, ever staring at the screen, and never saying a word to me.
“What is it, Mrs. Blair?” Derrick asks with a hint of concern in his tone.
Damnit! Just tell him already! I take a deep breath and sigh, before finally getting the full extent of my thoughts out.
“I’m a virgin, Derrick.”
“What?”
“Yep, you’ve heard right. As a matter of fact, this will be my first time giving a blowjob, let alone seeing a man’s dick.”
“Okay, I’ll be –”
“No, it’s fine, Derrick. Do what you will. But yes, be slow, and please don’t cum on my face.” Afterwards, I move Derrick’s hands away from his pants zipper, and unzip it myself. Once I pull down his pants and underwear, his impressively large cock pops out, making me jump and almost hitting my face. Startlingly enough, I find that it’s already erect. It must’ve been at least seven inches long, and half an inch wide.
Upon seeing it, I feel a cocktail of emotions I haven’t experienced since college; nervousness, excitement, amazement, hunger. I feel my mouth almost water at the sight of it, and I’m barely able to contain my feelings when I say breathily,
“Well, this is…of a considerable size. I'll do my best to please you, but feel free to change attorneys if my methods are not to your satisfaction.” There, I said everything that needed to be said. Time to finish the rest of the job.
I grasp Derrick’s dick with my left hand, stroking it very slowly. As I do this, I look into his eyes once more, and feel myself mesmerized in them again. Even more-so, a desire to perform this job the best I can. I stroke it a couple times until I remove my hand to spit in it, before continuing to stroke him. As I keep stroking, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. Impressed by this, I proceed to close my eyes and lick the tip in order to savor the texture and flavor. I really should maintain an air of professionalism while doing this, but it’s just such a nice dick. The flavor has a hint of saltiness to it, probably due to a little sweat or something. As for the texture, it keeps getting harder and harder. I never thought I'd actually be seeing the real thing, let alone stroking it.
A few more licks in, I kiss the head and then drag my tongue on the underside of the shaft down to his balls. I kiss and lightly suck on them, making Derrick visibly shudder in pleasure, trying his best to contain himself and savor the moment. Meanwhile, along with my sense of excitement and arousal, I feel a moisture grow between my legs, and deeply, I hope that he doesn’t notice my panties anytime soon.
After several more licks and kisses to his perfect cock and balls, I drag my tongue back to his head take it into my mouth. Again, sucking it lightly while still maintaining eye contact with him through my glasses. That’s right, Heather. Maintain eye contact. It’s rule number one of giving a good blowjob. As I keep going, I feel the moisture between my legs grow more and more. Despite me trying to lie to myself that it’s just the heat, I know that deep down, it’s because I’m getting more and more turned on by the second. Suck the head and stroke the shaft; rule number two of giving a good blowjob. Meanwhile, I can see how much Derrick is enjoying this, as his mouth forms a perfect O in amazement. Wanting him to react more, I take him as far down my throat as I can, taking in a little more than half of it. Once I pull back, I gag a little and notice the few strings of spit between my lips and his dick.
“Woah! Y-You’re doing a more-than-satisfactory job, Mrs. Blair.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. But I’m only just starting.” I try once again to take him as far down my throat as I can. This time, I almost take all of him before pulling back just a little, still having my lips wrapped around his cock. I then go at it again, moving faster and faster with my mouth, bobbing back and forth while my hands grip his thighs. Within a few more seconds, and with as much determination and vigor as I can muster, I finally take the whole thing to the back of my throat. Immediately, I find myself driven over the edge, and start fingering myself with my right hand. I push aside my panties and feel my soaking wet folds. And because of this, I easily fit two of my fingers right into my slit.
On the other hand, Derrick is in obvious bliss, closing his eyes once I take all of him to savor the sensations he’s feeling.
“Oh, God! That…feels so good,” he says as I continue moving back and forth, faster and faster. So much so, in fact, that I can feel my saliva escape my bottom lip and crawl down my chin. And yet, I find myself not caring at all. Instead letting myself get lost in the sensation of swallowing his dick. In fact, at one point, I’m able to stick my tongue out and actually touch his balls while having him down my throat.
As my saliva crawls from my bottom lip, down to my chin, dripping and pooling on my sweater, I gather it in my left hand and begin stroking him again, making sure to suck him hard and deep. I suck as fast as I possibly can, loving every inch of him down my throat while Derrick writhes in pure bliss, curling his toes in his shoes. He grips my desk tightly, desperately trying to maintain composure until losing it completely. He grabs my head, and pulls me back to take a break. Once I’m off his cock, I breathe deeply.
“Was that…too much for you,” I say, giggling from my intoxication with his cock.
“I think so. You’re…intense. Hands down, the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten.”
“Ha-ha! Thank yo- aagh!” Quickly, Derrick slams me down on his dick again using both of his hands, making me take the whole length down my throat before violently thrusting in and out of my mouth.
“Like you said earlier, Heather. I can use your mouth in any way I see fit pro bono. I’m gonna take full advantage of this offer.”
“mph! Shlow…down!” I say, protesting. But it’s no use. He just continues to forcefully fuck my mouth as more and more spit leaks out, falling onto the floor, while black tears stream down my face, ruining my makeup.
And yet, despite my protesting, my more carnal side enjoys every second of this oral domination over me. As a matter of fact, I find myself realizing that my right hand is still massaging my moist crevice.
After several more thrusts in and out of my mouth, Derrick’s dick begins to twitch.
“Ungh, I’m gonna cum, Heather!”
Fuck, me too! Oh, why am I liking this so much? I ask myself in my intoxicated state of mind. Eventually, we cum together simultaneously. Derrick’s seed floods my mouth, almost burning my throat and stomach, yet strangely in a very pleasurable fashion that allows me to swallow it all. Taste-wise, it’s a salty deliciousness that I find myself unable to get enough of. As for my pussy, it too cums a lot, leaving a visible spot on my carpet.
Finally, Derrick pulls himself out of my mouth, and his dick gradually returns to its original flaccid state.
“Sorry for doing that Heather,” Derrick says while panting from his intense orgasm. “But like I said, that is the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.”
For a couple seconds, there is a pause for me to catch my breath, but it feels like an eternity until I finally regather my strength and reply,
“You’re…welcome. And thank you. I’m glad my…p-performance is to your satisfaction. Make sure to leave a good review online.”
“Ahem, so, uh, are you two finished with business now?” Less than a second later, my secretary knocks on the door and checks on us.
“Yeah, we’re done now. Is there another client in need of service and consultation?” I say.
“Yes, Mrs. Blair.”
“Tell them I’m on lunch break or something.” I then turn to Derrick and say, “Well, I look forward to seeing you again soon.” I get up and kiss his cheek before fixing myself in front of my mirror. I’m a complete mess.
“Hey, by the way, do you think we can grab some coffee sometime? My treat.” Derrick says.
Damnit! As hot as he is, I have to turn him down. I force myself to smile and speak as courteously as I can.
“I’m sorry, Derrick. You’re…really good-looking. But I’m married. This ring on my finger should’ve been obvious enough.” I raise my hand to his eye level, showing him the gold-and-diamond wedding ring on my finger.
Crestfallen, Derrick replies, “Oh, I understand, Mrs. Blair. I’m…sorry I made this awkward for us. I look forward to our next meeting though. ‘til next time!” He quickly pulls his pants and underwear back up and buckles them, before finally exiting my office, clearly in a state of embarrassment.
Meanwhile, I grab a tissue and wipe off some of the makeup on my face and the drool at the drool around my mouth before tossing it in the waste bin next to my desk. Afterwards, I lock my door and retrieve the whiskey from my drawer and pour a glass for myself. As I regretfully sip from my glass, I walk to my window, and see Derrick drive away, off into the distance as the afternoon sun sets below the horizon.
I’m sorry, Derrick. I really am.
Sometimes, it's the most extraordinary things in life that appear the most ordinary.
One day, I’m laying around in a booth, routinely blowing guy after guy. The next day, I suck off a chick with a dick, and now I just can’t stop thinking about her. Making matters worse is the fact that this happened just a moment ago; I even still have her taste in my mouth. Damn, I thought. That was fun. I need more clients like that.
Anyway, there’s a downpour outside the place I do this – Jerry’s Booth, a name that’s subtle enough for a rather shoddy establishment. It’s a mundane, grey concrete building, with a neon sign above the entrance – Jerry’s Booth, it says in bright white lettering. And at the bottom of the name is an even less subtle logo – an erect dick, and an open, eager mouth.
Despite the wetness of the weather, today is as dry and boring as ever without her around; I wait for what feels like forever while donned in my uniform – a pair of red latex gloves that stretch over my elbows, slightly covering my left-arm tattoo, a red corset, a tight black miniskirt, and a pair of strapped high-heels. I’m also required by Jerry (my boss) to always keep my blonde hair in pigtails, my face caked in enough makeup to bring out my reddish-brown eyes, and my body as curvaceous as I can make it. Frankly, this whole affair makes me look like one of the biggest bimbo sluts in this city, but that’s the whole point, and it pays the bills. A girl’s gotta eat.
As the pitter-patter of the rain continues on with no end in sight, so does the annoying flickering of the sign outside...and then there’s her. All these things annoy me to the point of me slamming my head into my pillow as I try to drown it all out.
“Oh, why did that session have to be so fun?” I mumble. “And why didn’t I take that damn money?” In frustration, and as a way to soften it, I pound my pillow a few times before trying to give my arm a stretch...until I feel something.
“Huh? Is that...her bag?” I mutter. When I raise my head to check, my suspicions are immediately confirmed. “It is her bag!” Quickly, I get down to business and rummage through it to get the money she owes to both me and Jerry...until an idea pops up in my head.
Wait...she forgot her bag; she’ll want to come back here again to get it back. I feel a grin quickly spread on my face as I start putting all her stuff back in the bag. She’ll want to come back here again to get this bag back, which means...
“I might just get a second session...with her!” I excitedly whisper. I then zip her bag back up, hug it under my arm to guard it, and eagerly await her return, or at least, await the end of my shift at this sketchy place.
A few moments pass, and my patience begins to almost boil over, warming me through the bitter cold of this rainy weather. Oh, come on! Why hasn’t she come back yet? I mean, she’s lucky I didn’t decide to steal this stuff. My eyes dart towards her Georgio Armani sunglasses, and for a moment, I feel the urge to just take them from her bag right then and there as payment, but fight it off. And right as I start to leave my station, she returns.
She enters through the squeaky glass door, and then nervously stands below the magenta light at the entrance. My heart races, and I feel an even greater urge to just run to her and unbuckle her pants, but keep it cool. She’s dressed in a tight, but drab, light-grey hoodie that’s soaked right through, showing underneath a dark-blue tank top, and no bra under that, revealing her small, perky tits; she’s also wearing her rain-soaked khakis, and through that, I see the outline of that thing that’s gotten me wetter than the world outside.
And yet, it’s impossible to look at that thing without seeing the rest of her – she’s an adorable, black-haired little thing, with a freckled, green-eyed face, and a delicately pale and thin frame; the whole package in my books.
“Hi!” I squeak, just like the door. God, I hope I didn’t sound too eager there.
“H-Hi,” she nervously replies. “I-I’m just here to get my bag back.”
“You’re sure...or you want something to go with that?” I reply, making sure to slowly enunciate each word; I seductively lick my lips, and she bites hers in hesitation.
“I...” She looks down in confusion and blushes, while her dick eagerly salutes me, making my mouth water at the sight of it.
“Just come over here, and I’ll make sure that second time’s especially a charm,” I say.
“O-Okay.” She then shakily steps toward me, her face as visibly and adorably flushed as ever. “W-Wait,” she hesitates and stops. “I’m not sure if I can pay you for a sec – ”
“No need to worry,” I interject, waving my arm in disregard. “I’ll make you a deal; you can pay me after we’re finished. It’d just be for your first session earlier. That’s two for the price of one! Call it a first-timer deal.”
“G-Great. Thank you!” she says. Her lips slowly curve into a shy smile while her blush remains. Oh, I hope I’ll get to kiss those again, I think to myself. After spending a moment more of hesitation (much to my mild irritation), she gets back to approaching me and stops once her crotch is just inches away from my face. Immediately, I get right to work; I swiftly unbuckle her belt again and pull her pants and underwear down. And just like a Jack-in-the-box, her cock pops right out lands just atop my nose.
“Woah! Well, hey there yourself, little fella,” I playfully quip. “Don’t worry, I’m excited to have some fun with you again too.” I gently grasp the shaft with one hand and massage her balls with my other, stroking and massaging her slowly.
“Oh...God. Y-Your hands are so soft,” she moans.
“I’m glad you think so,” I smugly respond. After several more moments of having her at the mercy of my palm and fingers, I make my move; I stop stroking and massaging her, and place both my hands on her thighs; I then lick her head, and once again, there’s that salty, sweet, intoxicating taste I just can’t get enough of, making me wrap my tongue around it.
“How do you like that?” I manage to say while I continue tonguing away at her delicious dick.
“Amazing,” she gasps. “I...I think this might be better than earlier.” I laugh at her reply, and when she feels my hot breath on her head, she squirms a little. How cute.
After I decide that her head has received enough of my attention, I drag my tongue along the rest of her length; first, it’s along both sides, and then along the underside, eventually reaching her tip again. Once it’s all nice and wet, I dig right in.
“Welp. Time for that second helping,” I say before I stuff her into my mouth once again. And even though I’ve already felt her once, it still feels as orgasmic as then. I slowly move back and forth, with my lips wrapped around her beautifully smooth cock, and continue swirling my tongue all over the place to give her my full attention. God, I could never get enough of her.
As I bob my head faster and deeper on her delicious cock, she makes a gentle tug at my pigtails.
“H-Hey,” she says, her knees buckling, and her face cringing from the intense sensations. “Do you mind if I...”
In response, I give her a thumbs up, just as I did on our first time, and she gives me the treatment I truly deserve – she tightly holds on to both of my pigtails and proceeds to completely use my throat, pounding it like a jackhammer at a dizzying pace. To intensify the sensations, I stick my tongue out and lick away at her smooth balls while she’s in my mouth. Drool leaks out, and it crawls from the tip of my tongue, down my chin, and onto my pillow.
“Oh...f-fuck!” She moans whilst she closes her eyes, losing herself completely. That’s right. Use me, I muse. I wanna be your personal cocksucker. As she keeps on thrusting in and out of my throat, I feel the area between my legs grow wetter and wetter by the second, so much so that I move my hand from her thigh to my body, slithering it down to my wet pussy, where I start massaging it; less than a moment later, my index finger slips right in, between my sopping folds. Oh fuck!
With both of these things happening, I feel my clit twitch ever closer to cumming; the girl’s delicious futa dick does the same, making me even more excited. God, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on before. I’m so close.
“Holy shit!” she moans. Before I know it, I feel her thrust her entire length down my throat, making me swallow it all as black, makeup-stained tears crawl down my cheeks. Less than a second later, she pulls out to give both herself and me a breather, leaving behind a strand of my drool, and a trail of my lipstick running down her cock.
“D-Do you mind if I...” she gestures to my face with her finger.
“Of course!” I breathily squeak, feeling the most excited than I’ve ever been about this. “You can cum on my face. I’m yours to use for however long you want.”
“Hey!” someone shouts from behind the front door as they bang on it. “Some of us have been waiting in line here for the past eight minutes.”
“Just wait your turn like the rest of ‘em, buddy!” I respond. I then turn my eyes back to her. “Listen, like I said, I’m glad to be of help...really. So, take all the time you need.” She nods in agreement and returns to using me, putting herself back in my mouth again to fuck it at an even faster pace. And through all my gagging, I hear the men outside grunt in disapproval.
“Oh s-shit! You’re gonna make me cum!” she groans. I proudly grin and continue slathering my tongue all over her, working her with my throat with as much vigor as I can muster while feeling her twitch faster and faster.
“I’m cumming!” she screams. To my surprise, however, she makes one shot down my throat, and then pulls out to cum all over my face, covering me in warm, white ropes. Tonight certainly won’t be spent shivering in the cold. Meanwhile, I finger-fuck myself faster, massaging my clitoris with my thumb while I thrust my index and middle fingers in and out. Within seconds, I cum too, and I squirt all over my station. Exhausted as shit, I collapse onto my pillow, reduced to a panting, cum-covered mess.
After spending a few more moments to catch my breath, I break the silence and speak. “H-Hey, uh, do you think you could let go of my pigtails?” I ask.
“O-Oh. Sorry,” she stammers.
“No, it’s fine. I just need to get something from my purse behind me.” From my purse, I grab a napkin and wipe my face with it before sneakily putting it back without her noticing. I can’t wait to play with this later.
“That was amazing,” she gasps.
“Fucking intense,” I remark, before turning to face her again. “So. The payment?”
“R-Right!” Sheepishly, she grabs her bag and takes out a wad of hundreds, deftly shuffling through them with her long fingers. God, I can only imagine what those fingers could do to me.
“How much do I owe you exactly?” she asks.
“The usual price for a session here is two-fif –”
“Here’s three-hundred,” she blurts as she thrusts three of the bills into my hand. “You can keep the extra fifty as a tip, and as compensation if I was a little awkward during our session.”
Damn, she really does have some major confidence issues. Slowly, I rise from my station and hold her face in my hands. Without a word, I put my lips to hers, giving my all into kissing her again. I then plant one bill in her back pocket and tuck the other two into the strap of my miniskirt while she hungrily tries to explore the rest of my body with her tongue and hands before I stop her midway and part from the kiss.
“O-Oh. S-Sorry about...that,” she says.
“No, it’s fine. That was hot,” I assure her. “It’s just...we can’t be doing that here.”
“Hey!” another man behind the front door barks.
“Shit. It’s Jerry. My boss,” I say acidly. “Yes?” I call to him.
“How much longer are gonna go? It’s fucking pouring out here, and some of my customers have been waiting for over twenty minutes now.”
“We’re just finishing up,” I snap. “Just...give me a moment.” I then turn my eyes back to her. “We never introduced each other, have we? My name’s Cynthia, but they call me Sindy around here; Sindy, with an ‘S’.”
“Angel,” she replies. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise...well, I guess you should get going now before Jerry barges in here with a shotgun.”
“Right you are,” Angel says, laughing, but with a hint of disappointment in her tone. She pulls her pants and underwear back up and rezips and re-buckles them.
“Don’t forget your bag...oh and one more thing.” Hastily, I turn around again and grab a napkin and a pen from my purse. I then scrawl onto it my phone number.
“Here,” I say as I hand the napkin to her. “Call me whenever you want. Maybe we can also meet for coffee later?”
“Coffee’s good,” Angel says. She then tucks the napkin into her bag and takes care to make sure she’s really holding onto it this time. Before she exits through the door, she faces me one last time.
“Well, bye...for now I hope.”
“See you later, Angel. Make sure you leave us a good review online.” I then blow her one final kiss, making her sheepishly grin at me. She then turns on her heel, and leaves through the squeaky door without another word.
Less than a moment later, my next customer walks in – a rather burly man with a moustache.
“I believe I’m next,” he grunts.
“You know the procedure,” I drone. Despite my cold demeanor toward the rest of my customers during the remainder of my shift, that warm feeling remains, as does memory of her adorable blush and smile.
I can’t wait to see her again.
There are booksmarts. And then there are bedsmarts.
Your college years, what exactly do you remember about them – The heavy drinking? The hangovers on the mornings after? Or waking up naked next to your step brother? For me, it was the last one, and so much more.
Anyway, just to get the introductions over with, my name is Carolyn Brown. When I was eighteen in high school, I wasn’t like other girls, as cliché as this sounds; I was skinny, meek, and mild-mannered. I had pale skin peppered with pimples on both my face and shoulders, and curly brown hair tied in a bun that got in my way whenever I peered down at my homework or whatever book I read; I wore thick-rimmed glasses that made my green eyes look as though they were about to cover my face, and I had smaller-than-average breasts paired with an equally small bum, both of which were always concealed by baggy sweaters and jeans. The only thing about me, other than my eyes, that could be considered “big” was my own brain, what with how much success I found when it came to my studies, especially with English; it was to such an extent that I ended up graduating high school with full honors and a special award for my excellence in writing. Although, when I was asked to stand at the podium to give my speech, I found myself utterly paralyzed in my seat as my eyes darted at the audience, all their faces trained on me. And so, in my stead, my mother gave my speech while I sat in a state of silent shame.
On the other hand, my mother was the complete opposite of me – crowning her head were long, wavy strands of golden blonde hair, and complementing those were a pair of eyes that were bluer than the sapphire necklace she gifted me last Christmas. Body-wise, you could tell in an instant how experienced she was with both her health, and the bedroom – she was subtly plump, with curves in all the right places, and paired with that was a buxom that all the boys stared at, all while I’m left alone in her shadow with my books.
Everything, however, changed in 2014, as I began the fall semester of my second year of college. During the summer break before it started, I received a phone call from my councilor, who told me what I could only consider an utter horror at the time.
“Carolyn,” he said, the regret in his tone as audible as the living room television behind me. “Lemme start off by saying that you’re a smart girl; don’t ever doubt that about yourself.”
“Thank you?” I responded, confused.
“Now, with that said, I’m gonna be honest and tell you this – you’re all book smarts, but you don’t know how to apply those yet.”
“Come again?”
“It’s extremely rare that I tell students this, but I advise you to take a gap year. Just don’t register for classes until next year. And in the meantime, try to...explore your talents a little bit more.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson. But I’m still not quite sure I understand. I’m doing very well in my classes as usual, and I’m pretty much almost done, just like you said on our last meeting.”
“Carolyn, grades aren’t the only things that employers look for.” It was at this sentence when my heart stopped, and it all started to dawn on me – I’ve hardly had a social life outside family and acquaintances. For most of my life at least, I’ve worked with people and laughed with my family, but that was all. And I pretty much never spent time in any clubs; neither in high school, nor college, except for that one year in poetry club in the former.
“I see,” I replied curtly.
“I’m sorry, Carolyn. It’s just...employers want experience. And right now, you don’t really have any.” There was then a long pause as I tried to find the next thing to say, only to falter each time. It wasn’t until my councilor continued that the silence was broken, though this time, in a softer tone.
“Look, this is something that’s easily taken care of. Like I said, take a gap year and use this time to find out where you might be able to apply your skills outside the classroom. And then, you can return to finish your education. Sound good?”
“Sounds...good,” I repeated back with an air of uncertainty.
“Good.” Without another word, he hanged up, and once again, just like back at graduation, I was left paralyzed in place, still holding onto the phone. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
About two days later, after the phone call, I finally decided that it was time to start making those changes.
“Hey, um, Mom?” I asked during breakfast.
“Yes, Carrie?” she said, her back turned to me as she washed the dishes.
“I was wondering; could we...go to the mall sometime on Saturday?”
“What?”
“Umm...” Startled and more nervous than I ever was before, I paused in my words again as I left them hanging in the same way that the little bit of over-easy egg held onto my fork.
“So. Carolyn wants to go to the mall?” said one smug voice. I jumped in my seat and quickly turned around, and in an instant, I knew who it was – my step-brother.
“It’s none of your business, Dylan,” I snapped.
“Hey, now calm down there, Miss. I just overheard is all.” In spite of the faux innocence, the smugness was written all over Dylan, and it wasn’t just on his face; with messy blond hair from having just woken up, he was leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs that led to our bedrooms above us, his hips angled in that loose fashion; they were just as loose as those light-grey sweatpants he wore for pajamas, along with a white long-sleeve that accentuated his arm muscles; they looked strong enough to carry me bridal style before pou – oh what the hell am I thinking!
“So, you really wanna go to the mall,” Mom interjected, trying to change the subject. “This certainly sounds like a first from you.”
“And it won’t be the last.”
“Dylan, that’s enough,” Mom scolded. “Sure, I’ll take you, Carrie. What were you looking for in particular?”
“Clothes and makeup,” I said through gritted teeth, now more embarrassed than ever with Dylan still lingering behind me.
“That’s a surprise. But sure, I’ll take you to the mall on Satur –” Before Mom could finish her sentence, the phone rang, which she quickly answered.
“Hello? Oh, it’s you, Mr. Collins. How are you...you want me to work overtime on Saturday?”
Oh. Not this again.
“I see...well, I guess there’s nothing else that can be done,” Mom continued. “I’ll see you on Saturday then.” She then hanged up on the phone and turned to me, dejected in both her expression and posture. “I’m sorry, dear,” she sighed. “I won’t be able to take you to the mall on Saturday, what with work and all.”
“Oh,” was all I could muster as a response.
“Hey, maybe I can take her,” Dylan suggested.
“Hell no,” I protested.
“Heh. Another first from my step-sis.”
“Both of you, enough,” Mom said, her expression stern again. “And you, watch your language, young lady. Of all people, I expected better from you.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I mumbled sheepishly as I started to feel the shame in me sink in.
“Look,” Mom continued in a more optimistic manner. “I think this would be a good opportunity for the both of you to spend some quality time together. You two are always off in your own little worlds, and I think it’s time for those barriers to be broken.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Mom,” Dylan agreed.
Damn you, Dylan.
Saturday came around, and I woke up that morning with that usual sense of grudge, though it wasn’t from a lack of sleep this time. Once I was out of bed, I fixed up my sheets and took a quick glance at my bedroom – looking back, I didn’t exactly have the best tastes when I first arranged it all; it was a room with walls painted mossy green, with dark-wood trimmings on the top and bottom edges. To the right of my bed was my desk, where I did all my homework and such, and next to that was my bookshelf with all my books from my favorite authors – Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, Mary Shelley, etc. To the left of my bed was my dresser with my lamp on top of it, which was my only source of light, just as I liked it, and next to the lamp was my window, with the red curtains pulled over it. All in all, the only actual “girly” thing in my room was a poster of a local indie pop-rock band from my school that was taped to the wall in front of me; it was something of a guilty pleasure of mine, and not without its mortifying moments.
“I guess my councilor really was right after all,” I conceded. Promptly, I turned on my heel and proceeded to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, showered, and for the first time in my life, applied perfume to myself and styled my hair, keeping it loose; not tied in a bun like I always did. Before that fateful phone call with my councilor.
“Baby steps, Carolyn. Baby steps,” I mumbled to myself whilst struggling against the stubborn knots with my comb.
“Hey, uh, Carrie? You almost done there?” Dylan asked outside the bathroom door.
“Y-Yeah, I’m almost done,” I repeated back to him.
“Great. If you could just pick up the pace a little, that’d be great. You do know how packed the freeway gets in the morning, right?”
“Yes, I know, Dylan.” Finally, after spending a total of fifteen minutes putting myself through the Cinderella treatment, I was finished. I took one last glance at myself in the mirror before leaving – I was dressed in a pair of dark-grey leggings, with a white t-shirt to complement that; in addition, I wore my red flannel over this, but this time, I left the flannel unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up. The only familiar item of clothing I had on now was my old, slightly battered pair of denim Converse sneakers.
There. Step one of Project Princess, I thought. And with that, I went to my living room to grab my house keys, and left with Dylan.
The drive to the mall was taciturn and awkward for what felt like an eternity. Against my will, my eyes kept darting toward Dylan – the thing is, as much as I hated to admit it, he was...attractive, especially in this very moment. His arm muscles were even more noticeable, what with the black tank top he wore, and that one expression he always had whenever he drove – it was tense, focused, and it made me feel safe...safer than whenever I was with Mom, especially what with his fiery amber eyes fixated on the road ahead.
“So,” he said as he drove, his lips curving into a subtle grin. “You really wanna go to the mall and buy some clothes for once? Or are you meeting your secret Adderall dealer?”
“The former, Dylan,” I snarled.
“Oh, good. Along the way, I’d like to meet up with some of my friends at the food court, if you don’t mind.” Oh, how splendorous.
“Fine, Dylan. You’re the one at the wheel after all,” I droned.
“Yes, ma’am.”
When we arrived at the mall, we parked in the second floor of the parking lot beside it, and walked up to what could only be called a giant concrete box, with some large windows here and there. Once we were inside, we entered into a vast interior that almost left me stunned – there was a skylight in the center of the ceiling, where rays of sunshine from outside illuminated the numerous stores stacked on top of each other on each floor. In the center of the mall, just below the skylight, there was a water fountain, and surrounding that were the elevators to all four floors.
“Jeez, if only you could see yourself right, right now,” said Dylan, chuckling at me with that familiar asshole laugh I always hear from the jocks at school.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I sighed.
At the first store we visited, we picked up two new pairs of shoes – one for Dylan, and one for myself, with me picking a pair of wicker flat-heels for the summer. At the second store we went to, I picked out a new flannel for myself; a blue plaid one this time, along with a denim jacket and some boots for the fall. About a moment before we bought everything, we headed into the fitting room, and suffice to say, it was stuffy...and hot.
“Here, try these on,” said Dylan as he handed me a pair of jeans. As I stripped out of my leggings, I noticed Dylan out of the corner of my eye, his back turned to me whilst he stared at the mirror behind me with that typical look of hunger on his face that I see on all the other boys at the school assemblies whenever the cheerleading squad came to the stage. And once again, as much as I hated to admit it, it was...arousing, and for the first time in my life, I felt sexy. Then again, this is Dylan I’m talking about – my step-brother for crying out loud!
“Admiring the view?” I snapped.
“Appreciating my lovely step-sis,” Dylan retorted.
“Well, I appreciate your honesty.” After several more seconds spent on fiddling with the waistband adjuster and the button, I was in my new pair of jeans. Although appearing to be rather tight, they were actually quite snug, though with only one caveat, as I soon learned.
Dylan rose from the fitting room’s bench and placed one hand on my shoulder, while his other hand slid down to my buttocks, gently massaging it, and at every moment of his touch, I quivered in both discomfort and arousal. God, this is so sick.
“N-Not in here, Dylan,” I whispered.
“Ah, so you’re not necessarily resisting me; you just don’t like me doing this here.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. Ah!” Before I could further protest, he slid his hand down behind the waistband of my jeans, where it ended up touching my womanhood through my underwear.
“I’ve seen you looking at me, Carrie,” whispered Dylan against my ear. “I know you’re still a virgin, and I know how long you’ve wanted this, so why don’t you just stand right here and let me take care of you.”
“Dylan, no means...argh!” Dylan kept up his advances, and started massaging his hand faster against my labia through my underwear. Naturally, I only got wetter...and wetter, in spite of my protests. Ugh, this feels...good.
Right when I thought I was about to cum, Dylan suddenly stopped and looked behind him; in one corner of the ceiling, there was a surveillance camera, it’s red light flickering and such.
“Ugh, damnit,” he swore under his breath. “Your clothes, they fit you, right?”
“Yeah, they fit.”
“Good. I can’t wait to see what else’ll fit next.” Dylan’s face returned to its usual smugness. And then, there was that familiar smoldering feeling within me, though this time, it wasn’t in the form of anger. God. As if I couldn’t be more turned on.
Luckily for us, everything went without a hitch as Dylan paid for my clothes as a token of gratitude for my “obedience.”
“Anything for my step-sis,” he smirked.
Once we were at the food court, we took our seats next to a burger place. As usual, it was crowded, with lines of people scattered all over.
“You just wait there, Carrie. I’ll get our food,” said Dylan before turning on his heel to get our lunch. And then, there I was, waiting at my seat.
Whilst waiting at my seat, I took out my phone and checked my reminders to make sure I wasn’t missing out on any assignments; after discovering that I was free for the day, I continued reading my e-book copy of The Hobbit, until a text notification popped up on my screen.
My eyes darted up from my phone screen, and instantly, I knew who it was standing right in front of me.
“Jason,” I murmured under my breath.
“Hey, Carrie!” he said in excitement. “Long time, no see.”
“Hello, Jason,” I droned. Jason Miller was Dylan’s best friend, almost to the point of being something of a brother to him, and together, they’ve tormented me since childhood. Both of them have also had crushes on me since then, though with Jason, he was always more affectionate, planting kisses on my cheeks every time before leaving us to go back to his parents’ house or something. Not to mention, there was also that sickeningly sweet tone he regularly used on me. A year older than I was, he was lanky and pimply-faced, with brown eyes and auburn hair; today, in typical fashion, he sported a moth-eaten green t-shirt and a pair of grass-and-mud-stained jeans, with shoes battered to the point of being in desperate need of replacing.
“So, how’ve you been, Carolyn?”
“Fine,” I said, shrugging my shoulders in complete apathy.
“Oh, come on, Carolyn. At least act like you’re happy to see me.”
Right when I found myself about to snarl back, Dylan returned with a tray that had our lunch.
“Hey, Jason!” said Dylan in that same excited manner. “Long time, no see. How the hell have you been?”
“I’ve been good; last week was a bit busy for me over at my dad’s auto shop, but then I got a raise two days ago. See?” Jason then took out a wad of bills from his back pocket, with the cockiness and boyish excitement emanating from his posture and movements. “I’ve got beaucoup bucks, so I figured I’d come to the mall today, and now here I am, with you two.”
Ugh. You’d better not tell Jason why we’re here, I thought when I darted my eyes back at Dylan.
“That’s awesome, bro,” Dylan replied back. “Me and step-sis here were just picking some stuff up for her next semester.”
Don’t you go down that fucking road, Dylan!
“I can see that,” Jason continued, with his eyes darting towards our bags. “Clothes and stuff, huh? You getting into cross-dressing, Dylan?”
“S-School stuff, really,” I stuttered begrudgingly. “Apparently, my college has a new, unspoken rule on fashion sense. And I needed to update my wardrobe anyway.”
“Heh. You’ll be looking good in no time.”
“Oh, brother,” I muttered. To keep myself occupied and away from the toxic masculinity of my brother and his friend, I grabbed my fries from the tray started munching away at them in quiet apathy. Meanwhile, Dylan turned to Jason and continued.
“So, what about the other guys? Have you heard anything from them today? I haven’t had much luck calling them up lately.”
“Ahh, that’s the thing,” Jason replied. “The thing is, we’re kinda keeping it on the down-low at the moment; we’ve got something planned for tonight.” Something planned? This can’t be good.
Jason quieted his tone and spoke a little more closely to Dylan.
“Here’s the thing,” he whispered. “We’re having a little a get-together tonight; drinks and all. You interested?”
“Hell yeah, I am!” Dylan exclaimed. He then turned to me with a crooked smile on his face. “What about you, step-sis? Are you interested?”
I then took a swig from my soda and replied coolly, “I most certainly am not, thank you very much.”
“Why not?” Jason jeered.
“I don’t think I need to justify myself, Jason.”
“Come on, step-sis,” Dylan taunted. “Your councilor did say that you needed more...experience, if I remember correctly.”
“You eavesdropped on my phone call?” I asked through gritted teeth, my grip on my drink slowly tightening.
“Hey now,” Jason chimed in to calm the tension. “If you don’t wanna go, Carrie, then don’t. It’s okay to be a chicken.”
“Chicken?!” I exploded.
“I’m just saying –”
“Oh, I’m going. I’m going, alright,” I continued as I felt my face become red hot with anger and embarrassment. “I am anything but a chicken.”
“Right on, step-sis!” Dylan cheered. “I can’t wait to see how you’ll do tonight. You will not regret this.”
Oh, what’ve I done?
It was about eight at night once me and Dylan were back on the road again after we dropped off our merchandise in our respective bedrooms. At first, Mom protested, almost desperately in an effort to preserve my innocence.
“No, Dylan!” she protested. “Carrie still has her whole life ahead of her.”
“Oh, and I don’t?!” Dylan replied, insulted.
“That’s not what I’m sayi –”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I interrupted. “It’s only for a night, and my councilor told me that I needed to be more social in my life. This might well be the only opportunity in my life where I can finally spend time with people in something other than my studies.” There was then a momentary pause as Mom allows my words to sink in and make sense to her.
“Oh, alright, Carolyn,” Mom relented. “But only for a night. I want the two of you back here tomorrow morning before eight. Got it?”
“Yes, Mom,” Me and Dylan said at the same time. Heh. For once, all of us are agreeing on something.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Dylan exclaimed. “Where’s my rain jacket?”
“Here, Dylan,” said Mom. “Err...why do you need a rain jacket.”
“Mother Nature’s always full of surprises, Mom,” Dylan explained. “Alright. Let’s go.”
Dylan’s excitement was as palpable as the night air brushing against my face during the drive to the to his little sleepover. The windows were wide open, and the radio was set to full volume, blasting all of his favorite songs by Lil Jon, much to my utter annoyance.
“You know? Back at the mall, I couldn’t believe you actually agreed to come with me,” he said. “And I still can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” I said distantly, whilst I distracted myself by staring out the window to admire the passing neon signs and flickering street lights of the city before me. “By the way, what’s the rain jacket for? It’s actually kind of warm this evening.”
“You’ll see.”
When we arrived at the so-called “get-together,” as Dylan called it, we arrived at a run-down, two-story house in a derelict neighborhood on the outskirts of town. It was pitch-black at night, and at about nine when we arrived, and for once in my life, I could see not only the moon, but the stars and planets surrounding it.
“Jupiter,” I muttered dreamily.
“Come on, step-sis,” said Dylan as put on his rain jacket and grabbed me by my shoulder on his way to the door. He then knocked on it a couple of times, and promptly, a panel slid open, revealing a pair of vibrant green eyes that were contrasted by low, masculine voice.
“Lovely weather this evening, isn’t it?” the voice asked.
“Yes, but I always wear my rain jacket,” Dylan replied, gesturing to his jacket.
“Come on in.” So, that’s what the rain jacket’s for, huh?
Upon the door opening, we walked into a living room in as much of the same state as the house itself outside – the floorboards beneath our feet were delaminating and clearly suffering from termite damage; the white, flowery wallpaper all around us was dog-eared, with holes in it scattered about, while the top and bottom white trimmings were chipping here and there. To the right of us was an equally dilapidated staircase, with railing that was broken in various parts. And scattered across the floor was a combination of pizza boxes, old newspapers, beer bottles, and used cigarettes. As for the air itself, it was stuffy, almost to the point of being unbearable had it not been for one of the open windows; cigarette smoke and the stench of stale beer wafted throughout the room. And then beside the open door was the green-eyed man who greeted us; donned in cargo pants caked in grime and a moth-eaten, grey long-sleeve stained by cigarette ashes, he looked to be older than Dylan, and more of a mess than Jason. Along with the soiled clothes, he also had bedraggled black hair, a stubbled face, a splotchy complexion slightly obscured by his tattoos, and a husky figure. God, so these are the types of people Dylan hangs out with?
“Hey, Samson!” said Dylan.
“Hey! You’re right on time. And I see you brought your step-sis along too, Dylan.”
“Yep, Sam. Carrie insisted, and Mom figured we needed to spend more time together
anyway.” Goddamn you, Mr. Johnson.
“Cool. Welcome to the club, Carrie,” said Samson in a rather overly friendly fashion. “Why don’t we all take a seat. Drinks and everything else are on that coffee table over there.”
So, all of us take our seats on tattered, brown leather couches, where we then find a six-pack of beer, along with a bong, a tray of cigarettes, and a halfway finished pizza still in its box.
“So, what about the other guys?” Dylan asked. “Was it just you waiting here for us.”
“Ben and Jason are upstairs, all passed out on those dirty mattresses.”
“What’s with them?” asked Dylan after taking a swig of beer.
“With Jason, it’s the long work hours. Ben’s passed out from having just worked out an hour ago before coming here,” Samson explained. He then took a long drag out of his cigarette and puffed out, leaving his words hanging in the same fashion as the smoke billowing from it. The silence was then broken by the opening of a creaky door,
“Ben, Jason,” said Samson. “Nice to see you finally join us.”
“Nice to finally here you say something coherent,” Ben retorted. After taking several cautious steps down the perilous staircase, the two of them settled into the battered leather couches, where Ben rubbed his baggy, sleep-deprived eyes, while Jason grabbed his own bottle of beer. Once he finished rubbing his eyes, Ben darted them to me, staring them straight into my own as we both scanned each other’s appearances. With Ben, he was tall, taller than either Dylan, Jason, or Samson. He was a bald Black man, with a frame slightly skinnier than Samson’s, with muscles here and there on his arms and torso. And much like Dylan, he was dressed in a black sleeveless shirt, with a pair of grey sweatpants. Jason, on the other hand, was sporting the same clothes I saw him wearing earlier, back at the mall.
“New member of the gang?” Ben asked with suspicion in his tone.
“This is my step-sister, Carolyn. Carolyn, meet Ben Jackson,” Dylan explained. “She insisted on coming with me.” Dylan, you asshole.
Sensing the negative tension hanging in the air, Jason rose from the couch and flipped the switch on the Bluetooth speaker; he then connected it to his phone, and suddenly, more Lil Jon started playing, among a variety of Dylan’s other favorite party songs involving rap or something.
“Let’s get this party started!” he burst out as he started dancing, the beer bottle still in his grasp.
“Yeah, let’s liven up this place,” Ben agreed, before handing out to me a beer from the box. “Here, have some,” he encouraged.
“Um...” I hesitated, in spite of the slight movement from my right arm.
“Come on, Carrie,” said Dylan. “Loosen up for once, and hold something else other than a pencil for a change.”
Four beers later, and I was feeling happier and dizzier than I ever was since pre-school, when I remembered how giddy I felt riding the merry-go-round at the fair across the street. It was four beers within the span of an hour, much to everyone’s surprise.
“Jeez, Carrie! I’m impressed,” Jason slurred as he smirked.
“Yeah. You sure know how to hold your liquor,” Dylan concurred, his eyes staring into mine with a certain warmth, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. It was at that point where he leaned in and touched his lips to mine, giving his all into the kiss, what with his tongue almost sliding past my lips before I recoiled.
“Dylan!” I gasped. “You really wanna do that here...in front of these people?”
“Hey, I don’t mind. I think I quite like this show,” said Jason, laughing. Meanwhile, I stared down at both Jason and Ben in anger. Seizing the opportunity once again, however, Dylan pulled me in for another kiss; only this time, it was hungrier, and much more carnal than the last one. And as he slid his tongue between my lips, he snaked his hand down from my shoulder to under my shirt and directly onto my breasts, massaging them as he deepened the kiss.
“Yep. I’m definitely enjoying the view here,” said Samson. And as hard as I tried to protest against his advances, Dylan just kept going with those large arms of his, his hands massaging me ever more aggressively. Fine, asshole. Two can play at that game.
With equal fervor, I launched my counterattack; I ignored the Jason, Ben and Samson’s famished eyes and pressed further into the kiss, tackling down Dylan’s tongue whilst I snaked my own hand down to his crotch, where I massaged his conspicuous bulge at a steady pace.
“Mm. I. Like. That,” said Dylan between kisses. And with that, I unzipped his pants with one hand and pulled out his manhood through the zipper hole, proceeding to slowly stroke it. Meanwhile, overcome with lust, and without another word, Jason joined in and nibbled on one side of my neck, with Ben following suit not long after, nibbling on the other side, while Samson remained behind to watch.
“H-Hey!” I protested. “I never said this would be a multiplayer match.”
“You never said it wouldn’t be,” Jason countered. “Relax. Loosen up for once.” And so, with that, I gave in to the pleasure, feeling all three lips assault me on all fronts, from my own lips to both sides around my neck. Meanwhile, as I continued stroking Dylan, Ben and Jason grabbed both of my breasts and start massaging those as well, their thumbs flickering away at my nipples through my bra.
“O-Okay. Stop for a moment,” I moan in protest.
“Aw, come on, Carrie. We were having fun,” said Dylan. Right when Ben was about to open his mouth to add to the protest, I pulled away from Dylan’s lips and got down on my knees on the ground, with my mouth wide open.
“Err, what do you want us to do?” said Jason, confused. Ugh, boys. They’re all the same, aren’t they?
“I thought it was obvious enough,” I replied impatiently. “I want the three of you to pull your dicks out and start stuffing my mouth with them.” Taken aback, Dylan jumped in surprise.
“Y-You’re serious?” he spluttered, the surprise and excitement in his eyes even more noticeable now.
“I’m sure-as-shit serious,” I said, my tone as firm as my determination. “I’ll show you chicken alright.” Before I knew it, Dylan, Ben, and Jason all pulled their dicks out – even Samson, as a matter of fact, when I heard behind me the distant sound of him unzipping his pants, as though he were opening a long-awaited Christmas present. Meanwhile, I then turned my attention back to the three boys before me, and got down to work, grabbing both of Jason and Ben’s manhoods with both my hands, while my lips wrapped around Dylan’s. What a surprise. It’s at full hardness already, I thought. And just as I did earlier, I started off at a steady pace, stroking Ben and Jason simultaneously, while also bobbing my head back and forth on my step-brother, taking him in inch by inch down my mouth.
“Ugh, f-fuck,” Dylan groaned. “If only you weren’t such a cock-tease.”
“I can be,” I quipped. Afterwards, I quickly made my surprise attack; I took Dylan even deeper, past his head, and then finally ended up pressing my nose against his torso, before pulling out to breathe. I then began sucking off Ben, and then Jason, taking turns with each of the three of them. When I returned to Dylan for a second helping of his surprisingly delicious dick, he then took me by surprise and grabbed my head with both his hands and rammed his cock all the way down my throat.
“Dylan?!” I managed to utter through the mouthful of his cock. He then thrusted back and forth with all the vigor he could muster, making me gag and drool, with my spit sliding down the underside of his shaft toward his balls.
“Holy fuck! I’m gonna cum, Carrie,” he grunted. Before I could pull myself off to protest, he shot load after load down my throat, filling my mouth beyond the brim, making it leak out, down my chin and toward my clothes, soaking and staining them in the process. He then finally pulled me off his cock to give me a breather, leaving me a panting, wet mess.
“You couldn’t have at least warned me first before face-fucking me?” I said, my voice hoarse.
“Come on, step-sis. Don’t act like you didn’t like that,” Dylan quipped. He then exchanged rather smug looks with Jason and Ben, and then with Samson, before staring his eyes into mine again.
“You know, step-sis,” he continued. “There’s this...game that me and the guys have been thinking of playing for some time now. The only thing is that we need a female player as well. Would you care to join us?”
What the hell? I thought, unsettled by what the three boys were thinking. I don’t think I like where this is going...then again, I guess it shouldn’t hurt to find out at least. I could always say “no.”
“Alright, Dylan,” I said. “What does this ‘game’ of yours involve?”
“We call it ‘Russian Roulette,’” Samson explained. “None of us have any condoms, but we’re all pretty clean. It’s all just a matter now of whose child you’re gonna end up bearing.”
“What?” I spat. “I’m a virgin, and you guys seriously think I’m gonna let you fucking impregnate me as a way to have my first time?”
“Hey, relax, step-sis,” Dylan mediated. “We asked. You declined; simple as that.”
“Thank you.”
“I understand that you really are just too chicken to do certain things.”
It was at that remark where I felt my blood boil in less than second. “Chicken?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, chicken,” Jason replied. “We guess you’re just too chick –”
“Oh, I’ll show you just how ‘chicken’ I really am.” Swiftly, I tackled Jason to the ground; I then threw off my flannel, along with my leggings and panties, leaving only my shirt and bra on. With my womanhood now fully exposed to the world, I then mustered all the courage I could and slammed myself down on Jason, riding him and embracing my inner cowgirl.
“How ‘chicken’ am I now?” I grunted, the pain and the pleasure coursing through me in an intense, almost overwhelming wave. Much to my surprise, however, I didn’t bleed.
“Not anymore,” Jason nervously chuckled, before resigning himself to the sensation of being inside me, moaning aloud in appreciation. Meanwhile, I began to ride him faster and faster, feeling more dominant with each second I rode atop him.
“Come on, Jason. I want you to cum. Right. Now,” I moaned. In response, much to my pleasure, I felt his manhood twitch in glee, and gazed at him and his pathetically skinny body wince from the intensity of my administrations.
“Oh shit!” he moaned. And within seconds, he exploded inside me, filling my womanhood with what must’ve been twice as much cum as I swallowed earlier from Dylan. And with that, I collapsed onto Jason’s chest, panting heavily against it.
“Who. Wants. To go. Next?” I said between breaths. Without a moment’s hesitation, Samson came forward and picked me up by my thighs, before slamming me down on his cock as he stood on his feet, whilst Jason’s cum was still leaking out of me. And as all this happened to me, I felt my insides become more and more spread open, making my mind blank from the sensations.
“Alright, big boy. Take me like the slut I am,” I shouted at the top of my lungs. Eagerly obliging my command, Samson practically lifted me up and down like a barbell with hardly any weight to it.
“I’ll show you how I treat sluts alright,” he murmured into my ear, before picking up the pace. He then grabbed one of my breasts with his other hand and started pinching the nipple, making me yelp in surprise.
“Oh, yeah! Fuck me, you magnificent beast!” I cried. In about the same amount of time as it took for Jason, Samson then shot his own load inside me, making me feel gradually more and more full. Once he fired off his final load, he dropped me onto the leather couch, leaving me just like Jason did earlier – a panting, wet mess. God, this is exhausting. I don’t know how much more I can take this.
Just as I was going to fully rest and enjoy my recovery time, Ben, already naked, took his turn and lifted me up, putting me on my hands and knees on the couch to pound me doggystyle.
“H-Hey!” I protested. “Can’t a girl just have a minute of...argh! Fuck!” Once again, another cock was jabbed into me as Ben aggressively grabbed my ass-cheeks and thrusted his hips forward.
“This is what you get for not finishing me off with your mouth earlier, fuck-pig,” he snarled. “It’s time that I found out whether I’ll be a blank in your chamber or not.” Ben started to pound me at a merciless speed, slapping my ass every now and then to make me turn pink and squeal like the fuck-pig I truly was.
“Yeah! Fuck her good, Ben!” Jason cheered, still lying on the ground. Meanwhile, I gazed at Dylan, who was both uncomfortable and aroused at the state I was in – me, once a witty bookworm, now reduced to a drooling pig taking load after load. It was a degrading feeling, but it also felt...liberating in its own right. God! So, this is how much I’ve been missing out on for the past two years I’ve been in college? I thought regrettably. Before that panging feeling could have the chance to settle in, however, Ben proceeded to interrupt my train of thought when he slammed my face into the couch cushion by stepping on me with his bare foot.
“Since you’re such a fuck-pig, I’m gonna make your face as pink as one by the time I’m finished with you,” he jeered, with a nasty smile plastered on his face. Admittedly, it was...hot to be this much of a pet to Dylan and his friends.
God, I hope we do this often, I thought, as I snaked my hand toward my clitoris, massaging it and feeling Ben’s cock bulge in and out of me. Right when I started to feel my clit twitch in delight, Ben erupted like a volcano, overflowing me with what could only be described as an ocean of his cum. Ugh, but I still haven’t cum yet.
And then, there was Dylan, who had been standing in the background for the past half-hour, still clothed, with his cock protruding from the zipper hole of his jeans, watching his friends use and abuse me without saying a word, but merely stroking himself with a mixture of jealousy and hunger plastered on his face. Once it was his turn though, he then stomped towards me, with the ghost of a smile on him.
“Hey,” I said, giggling with post-coital delight.
“Hey,” he repeated back. “I thought family came first.”
“I wanted to save the best for last.” Dylan chuckled at my counter, his face brightening and returning to its usual smugness.
“Betcha twenty bucks that it’ll be me who won’t be the blank,” he joked.
“Let’s see then.” I got back on all fours again, and then rose my ass up higher to spread my cheeks for Dylan, which he then grabbed. After one more moment spent on figuring out how he wanted to take me, he then plunged himself into me, fucking me doggystyle like how Ben did so earlier. And as he fucked me slowly, savoring each and every second he was in my womb, he bent down.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispered into my ear. “For that reason, it’s going to take more than just one load for me to be spent.” God, why do I find that so hot. With a subtle grunt, Dylan proceeded to pound me even more mercilessly than when Ben fucked me; not only that, but his slaps were even crueler, with his fingers tapping my clitoris every now and then, slowly bringing me closer and closer to climaxing.
“Oh, God!” I groaned. “With all those times I’d seen your dick bulge through your towel after you shower, I thought you were just showing off something.”
“Just another case of Chekhov's gun, step sis,” he bantered. “Speaking of which...”
Just as my clitoris started twitching me ever closer to climaxing, Dylan came in me before I could, much to my frustration. “H-Hey!” I objected.
“I didn’t say I was finished yet,” he said. He pulled out of me and picked me up bridal style (surprisingly enough), and he brought me to the upstairs master bedroom of house, with his dick still sticking out of the zipper hole of his jeans, and me, still wearing my white shirt and bra.
When Dylan pushed aside the ajar door to the master bedroom, we found it to be only slightly cozier than the living room – in the center of the bedroom was a king-sized bed draped in a red, moth-eaten blanket, paired with pillows of the same shade. Under the blankets was a dirty pink mattress with stains dark stains here and there. Along with that, the wooden floorboards and the nightstand were caked in a visible layer of dust that was illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window above the bed. Besides that, there was also a dresser with lamp and a mirror on top of it, along with a dead plant in its vase.
“Hey,” said Dylan. “On the bright side, this is better than the couch.”
“Definitely,” I said breathily, before grabbing Dylan to crash my lips against his. As we made out, he threw me onto the bed and there, we tore at each other’s clothes as though we’d been starving for each other for years, eventually finding ourselves fully naked, and with Dylan above me, his entire muscled body in my full view.
“You’re gonna fuck me missionary?” I said, chuckling. “That’s surprisingly...religious, coming from a guy like you.”
“Can’t have you on top all the time.” Dylan then plunged himself into me and began thrusting again, grunting every now and then as he felt the pleasure of the sensations overtake him. On my end, much to my surprise, I found myself getting much closer to orgasm than when I did when I was with Dylan’s friends. Not to mention, when I moved my eyes to the mattress beneath me, I noticed the new wet spots being formed from our movements. Just when I was getting distracted by the wet spots, however, Dylan grabbed me by my thighs and bended down to stare me into my eyes.
“Hold still,” he said, before kissing me deeply, with his tongue clashing against mine. As our duel raged on inside each other’s mouths, Dylan proceeded to press further, thrusting faster and deeper into my womanhood, with the head of his cock rubbing against my clitoris every now and then.
“Y-You’re gonna make me cum,” I moaned.
“No one knows you better than family, am I right?” Silently reaching an agreement, Dylan slowed down his thrusting such that we were in sync with each other’s movements. As this was done, he kissed my neck and pinched my nipples every now and then. God. He knows all my weak spots.
“Come on, step-sis,” he whispered against my neck. “Cum with me.” Overcome (for lack of a better word) with the sensations coursing over me – over us – me and Dylan climaxed together, writhing in each other’s arms and shouting each other’s names into the night sky. Once we were finished, Dylan collapsed on top of me, laying his head on my left breast.
“That was amazing,” I whispered breathily. Exhausted, but satisfied, I had what could only be called the best sleep I had in years.
The next morning, I awoke with a start when I noticed how blurry my vision was, along with the heavy weight on my chest keeping me from getting up. When I moved my hand around to get a feel of where I was, I suddenly remembered all the debauchery from last night when it landed on Dylan’s head, with him continuing to breath softly against my right nipple.
“Jeez, Dylan!” I whispered.
“‘morning to you too, step-sis,” he drowsily slurred. After a bit more struggling, I finally managed to lift him off my chest. I rose from bed and put on my glasses after I found them on the floor from almost stepping on them. Once they were on, I retrieved my shirt and my bra from under the bed and put those on as well. I then gazed at myself in the mirror on top of the dresser – aside from the shirt and the bra, I was completely nude from the waist down. My womanhood and my thighs were stained with white, my skin glistened with sweat, and my hair was a complete mess.
“Last night was amazing, wasn’t it? Not bad for a first time,” said Dylan as he, too, started rising from bed.
“Y-Yeah, I guess.” When I his reflection in the mirror, standing behind after having fully risen from bed, I felt my heartbeat race when I once again saw his full, naked body, glistening with sweat and emanating with masculine energy with all those outlines of muscle here and there.
“So,” Dylan continued as he retrieved his own clothes from under the blankets. “Would you be down for breakfast before we get home?”
“Sure,” I said, as I started to fix the post-coital curls of my hair.
“Great! You gave m – us – quite a workout last night. And I sure could use some food right now.” We headed downstairs, where we found Jason, Samson, and Ben in their boxers, lying fast asleep on the living room couches.
“Hey, guys!” Dylan called out to them as we walked down the creaky staircase. “Wild night last night, huh?”
“Couldn’t agree more, man!” said Ben, his eyes half-open as he got up from the couch.
“Yeah. Who knew Carrie could be such a nympho.” I listened to Dylan and his friends talk about me (of all people) whilst I retrieved my clothes from the living room floor, I blushed; bubbling within me was a concoction of both embarrassment and pride, the latter of which felt otherworldly. New. And yet...pleasant. Upon putting back on all my clothes, I entered the boys’ rather flattering chat with an air of confidence I never thought I would feel until now.
“Well,” I said. “I don’t think this is what my councilor meant when he said that I needed more ‘experience’, but this was certainly eye-opening for me.”
“And your eyes weren’t the only things that opened up to us last night,” said Jason.
“T-That’s for sure,” I responded, chuckling sheepishly. After a few more goodbyes, and the aforementioned ritual of Jason kissing my cheek, me and Dylan left the run-down house feeling as lively as the morning sun shining brightly above in the clear, cloudless sky.
“Hey, you think we’ll still have enough time for breakfast?” I asked as the two of us fastened our seatbelts. In a haste with a sense of excitement in his movements, Dylan checked his phone for the time.
“Yeah. Definitely,” he said. “And even if we are late, you’re a pretty smooth liar right?”
“I guess.”
After about fifteen minutes spent on the road, we stopped at a diner some several miles or so from the run-down house. There, Dylan treated the both of us to a full breakfast – coffee, orange juice, pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and most interestingly – maple sausages.
“Good, isn’t it?” he said through a mouthful of pancake.
“So good,” I said in slight absentmindedness as I stared down at the piece of sausage on my fork before eating it, savoring the sweetness and the saltiness of the greasy, cured meat. Once we were done with breakfast, we hopped back onto the streets, and then stopped in an empty parking garage.
“Figured I’d stop for some dessert before heading home,” said Dylan as he tugged down on his zipper. “You game?”
Still feeling hungry, I went right to work and helped him with the zipper before pulling out his manhood; it stood at full attention before my face, almost pressing against my lips. Without another word, I kissed it again on the tip, and then made a series of more kisses along the shaft before making my way back up. With my head hovering over the tip, I then made my way back down as I took him into my mouth and down my throat, just as I did last night.
“Aw, yes!” Dylan hissed. “You’re really good at that. And your throat still feels tight around my cock.” Let’s see how much you can take it then. Feeling prideful and liberated in embracing my inner slut, I took Dylan even deeper down my throat until I once more felt his pelvis press against my nose whilst his cock felt like it was about to enter my stomach. With my eyes still open, but tearing from the intensity of the sensations, I raised my hand to give him a thumbs up.
“W-What?” Dylan spluttered. “Y-You want to...” Guiding him, I grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of my head. If this doesn’t tell you what I want, I don’t know what will.
“Oh!” he said, and fittingly enough, his mouth even formed a perfect O as he said this. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed my head and face-fucked me, his legs writhing with pleasure.
“I’m gonna mold your throat into the shape of my cock by the time we’re done, Carrie,” he said. God, I hope that happens. I then stuck my tongue whilst Dylan’s cock was still in my mouth, and proceeded to lap away at his balls, making him groan even louder. A short moment later, I also tasted the surprisingly pleasant saltiness of his pre-cum.
“In my throat, Dylan. Cum inside it,” I managed through say whilst gagging and drooling all over his cock, drenching it in my spit.
“Heh! That’s rather unladylike, isn’t it? Talking through a mouthful like that.” Feeling himself about to cum within just seconds, he then pulled himself out of my mouth and began stroking against my glasses.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he said. Despite the warning, I winced when in less than a second, more of his cum erupted from him in long ropes, covering my face and glasses completely, whilst black, makeup-stained tears streamed down my face. Once he was done, he then put himself back in his pants. I’m definitely fingering myself to this once we get home.
Once his pants were all buckled up, he spoke again. “Enjoyed your dessert?” he asked.
“Yep. Definitely.”
The rest of the drive home was spent in silence. Not a single word was spoken between us, and yet, it was a pleasant silence – it was the type of silence you’d typically see with couples who’d been together for years, and already, I was seeing myself with Dylan for a very long time, even if only as his player two in the bedroom, and his step-sister outside it. And when I saw my reflection on the windshield, I saw a glow emanating from my face as I felt more satisfied than how I’d feel after my usual summer vacations, usually spent reading and studying for next set of classes. This time, however, my summer vacation now had become one of self-discovery and liberation.
Once we finally arrived home, it then dawned on me all of a sudden – how I played that debauched game last night.
“Shit.”
“What?” asked Dylan.
“I should’ve turned down you and your friends last night. We didn’t use protection for fuck’s sake! And I did you and your three buddies – that’s four guys! I could get...something, or just like how that game goes, I could be...”
Dylan gently clasped my chin with his thumb, index, and middle finger, turning me to face him, to stare his eyes into my own.
“Look,” he murmured. “All of us were clean, so it’s unlikely any of us ever caught something. As for that game...whatever happens, I’ll take care of us.” He then kissed me again; this time, it was a longer, softer one, as assurance, before pulling back for air. “I promise.”
When we finally got inside, the two of us collapsed onto the living room sofas, tired, but more refreshed than ever. Meanwhile, Dylan grabbed the T.V. remote from under the couch cushions and tuned our flatscreen on to the college football channel, which I watched along with him with only the least amount of interest I could muster.
“There you guys are!” said Mom as she looked down on us from the railing upstairs. She was clutching onto the towel wrapped around her, having just had her morning shower, what with the moisture accentuating the smoothness of her complexion. For a moment, a pang of jealousy hit me before disappearing the moment it came. No need to be jealous. You sure showed them how you’re so much more than a bookworm.
“I thought someone came in, but didn’t think it was you two,” she continued. “You guys are pretty late.”
“We had a good time, Mom,” I explained.
“We sure did,” Dylan concurred with his usual smugness. “Carrie actually learned a lot from our little get-together last night. Am I right?” He then turned to me, his smile all cocky, but with a certain warmth I’d come to appreciate.
You sure are, step-bro. You sure are.
Your college years, what exactly do you remember about them – The heavy drinking? The hangovers on the mornings after? Or waking up naked next to your step brother? For me, it was the last one, and so much more.
Anyway, just to get the introductions over with, my name is Carolyn Brown. When I was eighteen in high school, I wasn’t like other girls, as cliché as this sounds; I was skinny, meek, and mild-mannered. I had pale skin peppered with pimples on both my face and shoulders, and curly brown hair tied in a bun that got in my way whenever I peered down at my homework or whatever book I read; I wore thick-rimmed glasses that made my green eyes look as though they were about to cover my face, and I had smaller-than-average breasts paired with an equally small bum, both of which were always concealed by baggy sweaters and jeans. The only thing about me, other than my eyes, that could be considered “big” was my own brain, what with how much success I found when it came to my studies, especially with English; it was to such an extent that I ended up graduating high school with full honors and a special award for my excellence in writing. Although, when I was asked to stand at the podium to give my speech, I found myself utterly paralyzed in my seat as my eyes darted at the audience, all their faces trained on me. And so, in my stead, my mother gave my speech while I sat in a state of silent shame.
On the other hand, my mother was the complete opposite of me – crowning her head were long, wavy strands of golden blonde hair, and complementing those were a pair of eyes that were bluer than the sapphire necklace she gifted me last Christmas. Body-wise, you could tell in an instant how experienced she was with both her health, and the bedroom – she was subtly plump, with curves in all the right places, and paired with that was a buxom that all the boys stared at, all while I’m left alone in her shadow with my books.
Everything, however, changed in 2014, as I began the fall semester of my second year of college. During the summer break before it started, I received a phone call from my councilor, who told me what I could only consider an utter horror at the time.
“Carolyn,” he said, the regret in his tone as audible as the living room television behind me. “Lemme start off by saying that you’re a smart girl; don’t ever doubt that about yourself.”
“Thank you?” I responded, confused.
“Now, with that said, I’m gonna be honest and tell you this – you’re all book smarts, but you don’t know how to apply those yet.”
“Come again?”
“It’s extremely rare that I tell students this, but I advise you to take a gap year. Just don’t register for classes until next year. And in the meantime, try to...explore your talents a little bit more.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson. But I’m still not quite sure I understand. I’m doing very well in my classes as usual, and I’m pretty much almost done, just like you said on our last meeting.”
“Carolyn, grades aren’t the only things that employers look for.” It was at this sentence when my heart stopped, and it all started to dawn on me – I’ve hardly had a social life outside family and acquaintances. For most of my life at least, I’ve worked with people and laughed with my family, but that was all. And I pretty much never spent time in any clubs; neither in high school, nor college, except for that one year in poetry club in the former.
“I see,” I replied curtly.
“I’m sorry, Carolyn. It’s just...employers want experience. And right now, you don’t really have any.” There was then a long pause as I tried to find the next thing to say, only to falter each time. It wasn’t until my councilor continued that the silence was broken, though this time, in a softer tone.
“Look, this is something that’s easily taken care of. Like I said, take a gap year and use this time to find out where you might be able to apply your skills outside the classroom. And then, you can return to finish your education. Sound good?”
“Sounds...good,” I repeated back with an air of uncertainty.
“Good.” Without another word, he hanged up, and once again, just like back at graduation, I was left paralyzed in place, still holding onto the phone. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
About two days later, after the phone call, I finally decided that it was time to start making those changes.
“Hey, um, Mom?” I asked during breakfast.
“Yes, Carrie?” she said, her back turned to me as she washed the dishes.
“I was wondering; could we...go to the mall sometime on Saturday?”
“What?”
“Umm...” Startled and more nervous than I ever was before, I paused in my words again as I left them hanging in the same way that the little bit of over-easy egg held onto my fork.
“So. Carolyn wants to go to the mall?” said one smug voice. I jumped in my seat and quickly turned around, and in an instant, I knew who it was – my step-brother.
“It’s none of your business, Dylan,” I snapped.
“Hey, now calm down there, Miss. I just overheard is all.” In spite of the faux innocence, the smugness was written all over Dylan, and it wasn’t just on his face; with messy blond hair from having just woken up, he was leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs that led to our bedrooms above us, his hips angled in that loose fashion; they were just as loose as those light-grey sweatpants he wore for pajamas, along with a white long-sleeve that accentuated his arm muscles; they looked strong enough to carry me bridal style before pou – oh what the hell am I thinking!
“So, you really wanna go to the mall,” Mom interjected, trying to change the subject. “This certainly sounds like a first from you.”
“And it won’t be the last.”
“Dylan, that’s enough,” Mom scolded. “Sure, I’ll take you, Carrie. What were you looking for in particular?”
“Clothes and makeup,” I said through gritted teeth, now more embarrassed than ever with Dylan still lingering behind me.
“That’s a surprise. But sure, I’ll take you to the mall on Satur –” Before Mom could finish her sentence, the phone rang, which she quickly answered.
“Hello? Oh, it’s you, Mr. Collins. How are you...you want me to work overtime on Saturday?”
Oh. Not this again.
“I see...well, I guess there’s nothing else that can be done,” Mom continued. “I’ll see you on Saturday then.” She then hanged up on the phone and turned to me, dejected in both her expression and posture. “I’m sorry, dear,” she sighed. “I won’t be able to take you to the mall on Saturday, what with work and all.”
“Oh,” was all I could muster as a response.
“Hey, maybe I can take her,” Dylan suggested.
“Hell no,” I protested.
“Heh. Another first from my step-sis.”
“Both of you, enough,” Mom said, her expression stern again. “And you, watch your language, young lady. Of all people, I expected better from you.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I mumbled sheepishly as I started to feel the shame in me sink in.
“Look,” Mom continued in a more optimistic manner. “I think this would be a good opportunity for the both of you to spend some quality time together. You two are always off in your own little worlds, and I think it’s time for those barriers to be broken.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Mom,” Dylan agreed.
Damn you, Dylan.
Saturday came around, and I woke up that morning with that usual sense of grudge, though it wasn’t from a lack of sleep this time. Once I was out of bed, I fixed up my sheets and took a quick glance at my bedroom – looking back, I didn’t exactly have the best tastes when I first arranged it all; it was a room with walls painted mossy green, with dark-wood trimmings on the top and bottom edges. To the right of my bed was my desk, where I did all my homework and such, and next to that was my bookshelf with all my books from my favorite authors – Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, Mary Shelley, etc. To the left of my bed was my dresser with my lamp on top of it, which was my only source of light, just as I liked it, and next to the lamp was my window, with the red curtains pulled over it. All in all, the only actual “girly” thing in my room was a poster of a local indie pop-rock band from my school that was taped to the wall in front of me; it was something of a guilty pleasure of mine, and not without its mortifying moments.
“I guess my councilor really was right after all,” I conceded. Promptly, I turned on my heel and proceeded to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, showered, and for the first time in my life, applied perfume to myself and styled my hair, keeping it loose; not tied in a bun like I always did. Before that fateful phone call with my councilor.
“Baby steps, Carolyn. Baby steps,” I mumbled to myself whilst struggling against the stubborn knots with my comb.
“Hey, uh, Carrie? You almost done there?” Dylan asked outside the bathroom door.
“Y-Yeah, I’m almost done,” I repeated back to him.
“Great. If you could just pick up the pace a little, that’d be great. You do know how packed the freeway gets in the morning, right?”
“Yes, I know, Dylan.” Finally, after spending a total of fifteen minutes putting myself through the Cinderella treatment, I was finished. I took one last glance at myself in the mirror before leaving – I was dressed in a pair of dark-grey leggings, with a white t-shirt to complement that; in addition, I wore my red flannel over this, but this time, I left the flannel unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up. The only familiar item of clothing I had on now was my old, slightly battered pair of denim Converse sneakers.
There. Step one of Project Princess, I thought. And with that, I went to my living room to grab my house keys, and left with Dylan.
The drive to the mall was taciturn and awkward for what felt like an eternity. Against my will, my eyes kept darting toward Dylan – the thing is, as much as I hated to admit it, he was...attractive, especially in this very moment. His arm muscles were even more noticeable, what with the black tank top he wore, and that one expression he always had whenever he drove – it was tense, focused, and it made me feel safe...safer than whenever I was with Mom, especially what with his fiery amber eyes fixated on the road ahead.
“So,” he said as he drove, his lips curving into a subtle grin. “You really wanna go to the mall and buy some clothes for once? Or are you meeting your secret Adderall dealer?”
“The former, Dylan,” I snarled.
“Oh, good. Along the way, I’d like to meet up with some of my friends at the food court, if you don’t mind.” Oh, how splendorous.
“Fine, Dylan. You’re the one at the wheel after all,” I droned.
“Yes, ma’am.”
When we arrived at the mall, we parked in the second floor of the parking lot beside it, and walked up to what could only be called a giant concrete box, with some large windows here and there. Once we were inside, we entered into a vast interior that almost left me stunned – there was a skylight in the center of the ceiling, where rays of sunshine from outside illuminated the numerous stores stacked on top of each other on each floor. In the center of the mall, just below the skylight, there was a water fountain, and surrounding that were the elevators to all four floors.
“Jeez, if only you could see yourself right, right now,” said Dylan, chuckling at me with that familiar asshole laugh I always hear from the jocks at school.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I sighed.
At the first store we visited, we picked up two new pairs of shoes – one for Dylan, and one for myself, with me picking a pair of wicker flat-heels for the summer. At the second store we went to, I picked out a new flannel for myself; a blue plaid one this time, along with a denim jacket and some boots for the fall. About a moment before we bought everything, we headed into the fitting room, and suffice to say, it was stuffy...and hot.
“Here, try these on,” said Dylan as he handed me a pair of jeans. As I stripped out of my leggings, I noticed Dylan out of the corner of my eye, his back turned to me whilst he stared at the mirror behind me with that typical look of hunger on his face that I see on all the other boys at the school assemblies whenever the cheerleading squad came to the stage. And once again, as much as I hated to admit it, it was...arousing, and for the first time in my life, I felt sexy. Then again, this is Dylan I’m talking about – my step-brother for crying out loud!
“Admiring the view?” I snapped.
“Appreciating my lovely step-sis,” Dylan retorted.
“Well, I appreciate your honesty.” After several more seconds spent on fiddling with the waistband adjuster and the button, I was in my new pair of jeans. Although appearing to be rather tight, they were actually quite snug, though with only one caveat, as I soon learned.
Dylan rose from the fitting room’s bench and placed one hand on my shoulder, while his other hand slid down to my buttocks, gently massaging it, and at every moment of his touch, I quivered in both discomfort and arousal. God, this is so sick.
“N-Not in here, Dylan,” I whispered.
“Ah, so you’re not necessarily resisting me; you just don’t like me doing this here.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. Ah!” Before I could further protest, he slid his hand down behind the waistband of my jeans, where it ended up touching my womanhood through my underwear.
“I’ve seen you looking at me, Carrie,” whispered Dylan against my ear. “I know you’re still a virgin, and I know how long you’ve wanted this, so why don’t you just stand right here and let me take care of you.”
“Dylan, no means...argh!” Dylan kept up his advances, and started massaging his hand faster against my labia through my underwear. Naturally, I only got wetter...and wetter, in spite of my protests. Ugh, this feels...good.
Right when I thought I was about to cum, Dylan suddenly stopped and looked behind him; in one corner of the ceiling, there was a surveillance camera, it’s red light flickering and such.
“Ugh, damnit,” he swore under his breath. “Your clothes, they fit you, right?”
“Yeah, they fit.”
“Good. I can’t wait to see what else’ll fit next.” Dylan’s face returned to its usual smugness. And then, there was that familiar smoldering feeling within me, though this time, it wasn’t in the form of anger. God. As if I couldn’t be more turned on.
Luckily for us, everything went without a hitch as Dylan paid for my clothes as a token of gratitude for my “obedience.”
“Anything for my step-sis,” he smirked.
Once we were at the food court, we took our seats next to a burger place. As usual, it was crowded, with lines of people scattered all over.
“You just wait there, Carrie. I’ll get our food,” said Dylan before turning on his heel to get our lunch. And then, there I was, waiting at my seat.
Whilst waiting at my seat, I took out my phone and checked my reminders to make sure I wasn’t missing out on any assignments; after discovering that I was free for the day, I continued reading my e-book copy of The Hobbit, until a text notification popped up on my screen.
* Look up. *
My eyes darted up from my phone screen, and instantly, I knew who it was standing right in front of me.
“Jason,” I murmured under my breath.
“Hey, Carrie!” he said in excitement. “Long time, no see.”
“Hello, Jason,” I droned. Jason Miller was Dylan’s best friend, almost to the point of being something of a brother to him, and together, they’ve tormented me since childhood. Both of them have also had crushes on me since then, though with Jason, he was always more affectionate, planting kisses on my cheeks every time before leaving us to go back to his parents’ house or something. Not to mention, there was also that sickeningly sweet tone he regularly used on me. A year older than I was, he was lanky and pimply-faced, with brown eyes and auburn hair; today, in typical fashion, he sported a moth-eaten green t-shirt and a pair of grass-and-mud-stained jeans, with shoes battered to the point of being in desperate need of replacing.
“So, how’ve you been, Carolyn?”
“Fine,” I said, shrugging my shoulders in complete apathy.
“Oh, come on, Carolyn. At least act like you’re happy to see me.”
Right when I found myself about to snarl back, Dylan returned with a tray that had our lunch.
“Hey, Jason!” said Dylan in that same excited manner. “Long time, no see. How the hell have you been?”
“I’ve been good; last week was a bit busy for me over at my dad’s auto shop, but then I got a raise two days ago. See?” Jason then took out a wad of bills from his back pocket, with the cockiness and boyish excitement emanating from his posture and movements. “I’ve got beaucoup bucks, so I figured I’d come to the mall today, and now here I am, with you two.”
Ugh. You’d better not tell Jason why we’re here, I thought when I darted my eyes back at Dylan.
“That’s awesome, bro,” Dylan replied back. “Me and step-sis here were just picking some stuff up for her next semester.”
Don’t you go down that fucking road, Dylan!
“I can see that,” Jason continued, with his eyes darting towards our bags. “Clothes and stuff, huh? You getting into cross-dressing, Dylan?”
“S-School stuff, really,” I stuttered begrudgingly. “Apparently, my college has a new, unspoken rule on fashion sense. And I needed to update my wardrobe anyway.”
“Heh. You’ll be looking good in no time.”
“Oh, brother,” I muttered. To keep myself occupied and away from the toxic masculinity of my brother and his friend, I grabbed my fries from the tray started munching away at them in quiet apathy. Meanwhile, Dylan turned to Jason and continued.
“So, what about the other guys? Have you heard anything from them today? I haven’t had much luck calling them up lately.”
“Ahh, that’s the thing,” Jason replied. “The thing is, we’re kinda keeping it on the down-low at the moment; we’ve got something planned for tonight.” Something planned? This can’t be good.
Jason quieted his tone and spoke a little more closely to Dylan.
“Here’s the thing,” he whispered. “We’re having a little a get-together tonight; drinks and all. You interested?”
“Hell yeah, I am!” Dylan exclaimed. He then turned to me with a crooked smile on his face. “What about you, step-sis? Are you interested?”
I then took a swig from my soda and replied coolly, “I most certainly am not, thank you very much.”
“Why not?” Jason jeered.
“I don’t think I need to justify myself, Jason.”
“Come on, step-sis,” Dylan taunted. “Your councilor did say that you needed more...experience, if I remember correctly.”
“You eavesdropped on my phone call?” I asked through gritted teeth, my grip on my drink slowly tightening.
“Hey now,” Jason chimed in to calm the tension. “If you don’t wanna go, Carrie, then don’t. It’s okay to be a chicken.”
“Chicken?!” I exploded.
“I’m just saying –”
“Oh, I’m going. I’m going, alright,” I continued as I felt my face become red hot with anger and embarrassment. “I am anything but a chicken.”
“Right on, step-sis!” Dylan cheered. “I can’t wait to see how you’ll do tonight. You will not regret this.”
Oh, what’ve I done?
It was about eight at night once me and Dylan were back on the road again after we dropped off our merchandise in our respective bedrooms. At first, Mom protested, almost desperately in an effort to preserve my innocence.
“No, Dylan!” she protested. “Carrie still has her whole life ahead of her.”
“Oh, and I don’t?!” Dylan replied, insulted.
“That’s not what I’m sayi –”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I interrupted. “It’s only for a night, and my councilor told me that I needed to be more social in my life. This might well be the only opportunity in my life where I can finally spend time with people in something other than my studies.” There was then a momentary pause as Mom allows my words to sink in and make sense to her.
“Oh, alright, Carolyn,” Mom relented. “But only for a night. I want the two of you back here tomorrow morning before eight. Got it?”
“Yes, Mom,” Me and Dylan said at the same time. Heh. For once, all of us are agreeing on something.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Dylan exclaimed. “Where’s my rain jacket?”
“Here, Dylan,” said Mom. “Err...why do you need a rain jacket.”
“Mother Nature’s always full of surprises, Mom,” Dylan explained. “Alright. Let’s go.”
Dylan’s excitement was as palpable as the night air brushing against my face during the drive to the to his little sleepover. The windows were wide open, and the radio was set to full volume, blasting all of his favorite songs by Lil Jon, much to my utter annoyance.
“You know? Back at the mall, I couldn’t believe you actually agreed to come with me,” he said. “And I still can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” I said distantly, whilst I distracted myself by staring out the window to admire the passing neon signs and flickering street lights of the city before me. “By the way, what’s the rain jacket for? It’s actually kind of warm this evening.”
“You’ll see.”
When we arrived at the so-called “get-together,” as Dylan called it, we arrived at a run-down, two-story house in a derelict neighborhood on the outskirts of town. It was pitch-black at night, and at about nine when we arrived, and for once in my life, I could see not only the moon, but the stars and planets surrounding it.
“Jupiter,” I muttered dreamily.
“Come on, step-sis,” said Dylan as put on his rain jacket and grabbed me by my shoulder on his way to the door. He then knocked on it a couple of times, and promptly, a panel slid open, revealing a pair of vibrant green eyes that were contrasted by low, masculine voice.
“Lovely weather this evening, isn’t it?” the voice asked.
“Yes, but I always wear my rain jacket,” Dylan replied, gesturing to his jacket.
“Come on in.” So, that’s what the rain jacket’s for, huh?
Upon the door opening, we walked into a living room in as much of the same state as the house itself outside – the floorboards beneath our feet were delaminating and clearly suffering from termite damage; the white, flowery wallpaper all around us was dog-eared, with holes in it scattered about, while the top and bottom white trimmings were chipping here and there. To the right of us was an equally dilapidated staircase, with railing that was broken in various parts. And scattered across the floor was a combination of pizza boxes, old newspapers, beer bottles, and used cigarettes. As for the air itself, it was stuffy, almost to the point of being unbearable had it not been for one of the open windows; cigarette smoke and the stench of stale beer wafted throughout the room. And then beside the open door was the green-eyed man who greeted us; donned in cargo pants caked in grime and a moth-eaten, grey long-sleeve stained by cigarette ashes, he looked to be older than Dylan, and more of a mess than Jason. Along with the soiled clothes, he also had bedraggled black hair, a stubbled face, a splotchy complexion slightly obscured by his tattoos, and a husky figure. God, so these are the types of people Dylan hangs out with?
“Hey, Samson!” said Dylan.
“Hey! You’re right on time. And I see you brought your step-sis along too, Dylan.”
“Yep, Sam. Carrie insisted, and Mom figured we needed to spend more time together
anyway.” Goddamn you, Mr. Johnson.
“Cool. Welcome to the club, Carrie,” said Samson in a rather overly friendly fashion. “Why don’t we all take a seat. Drinks and everything else are on that coffee table over there.”
So, all of us take our seats on tattered, brown leather couches, where we then find a six-pack of beer, along with a bong, a tray of cigarettes, and a halfway finished pizza still in its box.
“So, what about the other guys?” Dylan asked. “Was it just you waiting here for us.”
“Ben and Jason are upstairs, all passed out on those dirty mattresses.”
“What’s with them?” asked Dylan after taking a swig of beer.
“With Jason, it’s the long work hours. Ben’s passed out from having just worked out an hour ago before coming here,” Samson explained. He then took a long drag out of his cigarette and puffed out, leaving his words hanging in the same fashion as the smoke billowing from it. The silence was then broken by the opening of a creaky door,
“Ben, Jason,” said Samson. “Nice to see you finally join us.”
“Nice to finally here you say something coherent,” Ben retorted. After taking several cautious steps down the perilous staircase, the two of them settled into the battered leather couches, where Ben rubbed his baggy, sleep-deprived eyes, while Jason grabbed his own bottle of beer. Once he finished rubbing his eyes, Ben darted them to me, staring them straight into my own as we both scanned each other’s appearances. With Ben, he was tall, taller than either Dylan, Jason, or Samson. He was a bald Black man, with a frame slightly skinnier than Samson’s, with muscles here and there on his arms and torso. And much like Dylan, he was dressed in a black sleeveless shirt, with a pair of grey sweatpants. Jason, on the other hand, was sporting the same clothes I saw him wearing earlier, back at the mall.
“New member of the gang?” Ben asked with suspicion in his tone.
“This is my step-sister, Carolyn. Carolyn, meet Ben Jackson,” Dylan explained. “She insisted on coming with me.” Dylan, you asshole.
Sensing the negative tension hanging in the air, Jason rose from the couch and flipped the switch on the Bluetooth speaker; he then connected it to his phone, and suddenly, more Lil Jon started playing, among a variety of Dylan’s other favorite party songs involving rap or something.
“Let’s get this party started!” he burst out as he started dancing, the beer bottle still in his grasp.
“Yeah, let’s liven up this place,” Ben agreed, before handing out to me a beer from the box. “Here, have some,” he encouraged.
“Um...” I hesitated, in spite of the slight movement from my right arm.
“Come on, Carrie,” said Dylan. “Loosen up for once, and hold something else other than a pencil for a change.”
Four beers later, and I was feeling happier and dizzier than I ever was since pre-school, when I remembered how giddy I felt riding the merry-go-round at the fair across the street. It was four beers within the span of an hour, much to everyone’s surprise.
“Jeez, Carrie! I’m impressed,” Jason slurred as he smirked.
“Yeah. You sure know how to hold your liquor,” Dylan concurred, his eyes staring into mine with a certain warmth, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. It was at that point where he leaned in and touched his lips to mine, giving his all into the kiss, what with his tongue almost sliding past my lips before I recoiled.
“Dylan!” I gasped. “You really wanna do that here...in front of these people?”
“Hey, I don’t mind. I think I quite like this show,” said Jason, laughing. Meanwhile, I stared down at both Jason and Ben in anger. Seizing the opportunity once again, however, Dylan pulled me in for another kiss; only this time, it was hungrier, and much more carnal than the last one. And as he slid his tongue between my lips, he snaked his hand down from my shoulder to under my shirt and directly onto my breasts, massaging them as he deepened the kiss.
“Yep. I’m definitely enjoying the view here,” said Samson. And as hard as I tried to protest against his advances, Dylan just kept going with those large arms of his, his hands massaging me ever more aggressively. Fine, asshole. Two can play at that game.
With equal fervor, I launched my counterattack; I ignored the Jason, Ben and Samson’s famished eyes and pressed further into the kiss, tackling down Dylan’s tongue whilst I snaked my own hand down to his crotch, where I massaged his conspicuous bulge at a steady pace.
“Mm. I. Like. That,” said Dylan between kisses. And with that, I unzipped his pants with one hand and pulled out his manhood through the zipper hole, proceeding to slowly stroke it. Meanwhile, overcome with lust, and without another word, Jason joined in and nibbled on one side of my neck, with Ben following suit not long after, nibbling on the other side, while Samson remained behind to watch.
“H-Hey!” I protested. “I never said this would be a multiplayer match.”
“You never said it wouldn’t be,” Jason countered. “Relax. Loosen up for once.” And so, with that, I gave in to the pleasure, feeling all three lips assault me on all fronts, from my own lips to both sides around my neck. Meanwhile, as I continued stroking Dylan, Ben and Jason grabbed both of my breasts and start massaging those as well, their thumbs flickering away at my nipples through my bra.
“O-Okay. Stop for a moment,” I moan in protest.
“Aw, come on, Carrie. We were having fun,” said Dylan. Right when Ben was about to open his mouth to add to the protest, I pulled away from Dylan’s lips and got down on my knees on the ground, with my mouth wide open.
“Err, what do you want us to do?” said Jason, confused. Ugh, boys. They’re all the same, aren’t they?
“I thought it was obvious enough,” I replied impatiently. “I want the three of you to pull your dicks out and start stuffing my mouth with them.” Taken aback, Dylan jumped in surprise.
“Y-You’re serious?” he spluttered, the surprise and excitement in his eyes even more noticeable now.
“I’m sure-as-shit serious,” I said, my tone as firm as my determination. “I’ll show you chicken alright.” Before I knew it, Dylan, Ben, and Jason all pulled their dicks out – even Samson, as a matter of fact, when I heard behind me the distant sound of him unzipping his pants, as though he were opening a long-awaited Christmas present. Meanwhile, I then turned my attention back to the three boys before me, and got down to work, grabbing both of Jason and Ben’s manhoods with both my hands, while my lips wrapped around Dylan’s. What a surprise. It’s at full hardness already, I thought. And just as I did earlier, I started off at a steady pace, stroking Ben and Jason simultaneously, while also bobbing my head back and forth on my step-brother, taking him in inch by inch down my mouth.
“Ugh, f-fuck,” Dylan groaned. “If only you weren’t such a cock-tease.”
“I can be,” I quipped. Afterwards, I quickly made my surprise attack; I took Dylan even deeper, past his head, and then finally ended up pressing my nose against his torso, before pulling out to breathe. I then began sucking off Ben, and then Jason, taking turns with each of the three of them. When I returned to Dylan for a second helping of his surprisingly delicious dick, he then took me by surprise and grabbed my head with both his hands and rammed his cock all the way down my throat.
“Dylan?!” I managed to utter through the mouthful of his cock. He then thrusted back and forth with all the vigor he could muster, making me gag and drool, with my spit sliding down the underside of his shaft toward his balls.
“Holy fuck! I’m gonna cum, Carrie,” he grunted. Before I could pull myself off to protest, he shot load after load down my throat, filling my mouth beyond the brim, making it leak out, down my chin and toward my clothes, soaking and staining them in the process. He then finally pulled me off his cock to give me a breather, leaving me a panting, wet mess.
“You couldn’t have at least warned me first before face-fucking me?” I said, my voice hoarse.
“Come on, step-sis. Don’t act like you didn’t like that,” Dylan quipped. He then exchanged rather smug looks with Jason and Ben, and then with Samson, before staring his eyes into mine again.
“You know, step-sis,” he continued. “There’s this...game that me and the guys have been thinking of playing for some time now. The only thing is that we need a female player as well. Would you care to join us?”
What the hell? I thought, unsettled by what the three boys were thinking. I don’t think I like where this is going...then again, I guess it shouldn’t hurt to find out at least. I could always say “no.”
“Alright, Dylan,” I said. “What does this ‘game’ of yours involve?”
“We call it ‘Russian Roulette,’” Samson explained. “None of us have any condoms, but we’re all pretty clean. It’s all just a matter now of whose child you’re gonna end up bearing.”
“What?” I spat. “I’m a virgin, and you guys seriously think I’m gonna let you fucking impregnate me as a way to have my first time?”
“Hey, relax, step-sis,” Dylan mediated. “We asked. You declined; simple as that.”
“Thank you.”
“I understand that you really are just too chicken to do certain things.”
It was at that remark where I felt my blood boil in less than second. “Chicken?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, chicken,” Jason replied. “We guess you’re just too chick –”
“Oh, I’ll show you just how ‘chicken’ I really am.” Swiftly, I tackled Jason to the ground; I then threw off my flannel, along with my leggings and panties, leaving only my shirt and bra on. With my womanhood now fully exposed to the world, I then mustered all the courage I could and slammed myself down on Jason, riding him and embracing my inner cowgirl.
“How ‘chicken’ am I now?” I grunted, the pain and the pleasure coursing through me in an intense, almost overwhelming wave. Much to my surprise, however, I didn’t bleed.
“Not anymore,” Jason nervously chuckled, before resigning himself to the sensation of being inside me, moaning aloud in appreciation. Meanwhile, I began to ride him faster and faster, feeling more dominant with each second I rode atop him.
“Come on, Jason. I want you to cum. Right. Now,” I moaned. In response, much to my pleasure, I felt his manhood twitch in glee, and gazed at him and his pathetically skinny body wince from the intensity of my administrations.
“Oh shit!” he moaned. And within seconds, he exploded inside me, filling my womanhood with what must’ve been twice as much cum as I swallowed earlier from Dylan. And with that, I collapsed onto Jason’s chest, panting heavily against it.
“Who. Wants. To go. Next?” I said between breaths. Without a moment’s hesitation, Samson came forward and picked me up by my thighs, before slamming me down on his cock as he stood on his feet, whilst Jason’s cum was still leaking out of me. And as all this happened to me, I felt my insides become more and more spread open, making my mind blank from the sensations.
“Alright, big boy. Take me like the slut I am,” I shouted at the top of my lungs. Eagerly obliging my command, Samson practically lifted me up and down like a barbell with hardly any weight to it.
“I’ll show you how I treat sluts alright,” he murmured into my ear, before picking up the pace. He then grabbed one of my breasts with his other hand and started pinching the nipple, making me yelp in surprise.
“Oh, yeah! Fuck me, you magnificent beast!” I cried. In about the same amount of time as it took for Jason, Samson then shot his own load inside me, making me feel gradually more and more full. Once he fired off his final load, he dropped me onto the leather couch, leaving me just like Jason did earlier – a panting, wet mess. God, this is exhausting. I don’t know how much more I can take this.
Just as I was going to fully rest and enjoy my recovery time, Ben, already naked, took his turn and lifted me up, putting me on my hands and knees on the couch to pound me doggystyle.
“H-Hey!” I protested. “Can’t a girl just have a minute of...argh! Fuck!” Once again, another cock was jabbed into me as Ben aggressively grabbed my ass-cheeks and thrusted his hips forward.
“This is what you get for not finishing me off with your mouth earlier, fuck-pig,” he snarled. “It’s time that I found out whether I’ll be a blank in your chamber or not.” Ben started to pound me at a merciless speed, slapping my ass every now and then to make me turn pink and squeal like the fuck-pig I truly was.
“Yeah! Fuck her good, Ben!” Jason cheered, still lying on the ground. Meanwhile, I gazed at Dylan, who was both uncomfortable and aroused at the state I was in – me, once a witty bookworm, now reduced to a drooling pig taking load after load. It was a degrading feeling, but it also felt...liberating in its own right. God! So, this is how much I’ve been missing out on for the past two years I’ve been in college? I thought regrettably. Before that panging feeling could have the chance to settle in, however, Ben proceeded to interrupt my train of thought when he slammed my face into the couch cushion by stepping on me with his bare foot.
“Since you’re such a fuck-pig, I’m gonna make your face as pink as one by the time I’m finished with you,” he jeered, with a nasty smile plastered on his face. Admittedly, it was...hot to be this much of a pet to Dylan and his friends.
God, I hope we do this often, I thought, as I snaked my hand toward my clitoris, massaging it and feeling Ben’s cock bulge in and out of me. Right when I started to feel my clit twitch in delight, Ben erupted like a volcano, overflowing me with what could only be described as an ocean of his cum. Ugh, but I still haven’t cum yet.
And then, there was Dylan, who had been standing in the background for the past half-hour, still clothed, with his cock protruding from the zipper hole of his jeans, watching his friends use and abuse me without saying a word, but merely stroking himself with a mixture of jealousy and hunger plastered on his face. Once it was his turn though, he then stomped towards me, with the ghost of a smile on him.
“Hey,” I said, giggling with post-coital delight.
“Hey,” he repeated back. “I thought family came first.”
“I wanted to save the best for last.” Dylan chuckled at my counter, his face brightening and returning to its usual smugness.
“Betcha twenty bucks that it’ll be me who won’t be the blank,” he joked.
“Let’s see then.” I got back on all fours again, and then rose my ass up higher to spread my cheeks for Dylan, which he then grabbed. After one more moment spent on figuring out how he wanted to take me, he then plunged himself into me, fucking me doggystyle like how Ben did so earlier. And as he fucked me slowly, savoring each and every second he was in my womb, he bent down.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispered into my ear. “For that reason, it’s going to take more than just one load for me to be spent.” God, why do I find that so hot. With a subtle grunt, Dylan proceeded to pound me even more mercilessly than when Ben fucked me; not only that, but his slaps were even crueler, with his fingers tapping my clitoris every now and then, slowly bringing me closer and closer to climaxing.
“Oh, God!” I groaned. “With all those times I’d seen your dick bulge through your towel after you shower, I thought you were just showing off something.”
“Just another case of Chekhov's gun, step sis,” he bantered. “Speaking of which...”
Just as my clitoris started twitching me ever closer to climaxing, Dylan came in me before I could, much to my frustration. “H-Hey!” I objected.
“I didn’t say I was finished yet,” he said. He pulled out of me and picked me up bridal style (surprisingly enough), and he brought me to the upstairs master bedroom of house, with his dick still sticking out of the zipper hole of his jeans, and me, still wearing my white shirt and bra.
When Dylan pushed aside the ajar door to the master bedroom, we found it to be only slightly cozier than the living room – in the center of the bedroom was a king-sized bed draped in a red, moth-eaten blanket, paired with pillows of the same shade. Under the blankets was a dirty pink mattress with stains dark stains here and there. Along with that, the wooden floorboards and the nightstand were caked in a visible layer of dust that was illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window above the bed. Besides that, there was also a dresser with lamp and a mirror on top of it, along with a dead plant in its vase.
“Hey,” said Dylan. “On the bright side, this is better than the couch.”
“Definitely,” I said breathily, before grabbing Dylan to crash my lips against his. As we made out, he threw me onto the bed and there, we tore at each other’s clothes as though we’d been starving for each other for years, eventually finding ourselves fully naked, and with Dylan above me, his entire muscled body in my full view.
“You’re gonna fuck me missionary?” I said, chuckling. “That’s surprisingly...religious, coming from a guy like you.”
“Can’t have you on top all the time.” Dylan then plunged himself into me and began thrusting again, grunting every now and then as he felt the pleasure of the sensations overtake him. On my end, much to my surprise, I found myself getting much closer to orgasm than when I did when I was with Dylan’s friends. Not to mention, when I moved my eyes to the mattress beneath me, I noticed the new wet spots being formed from our movements. Just when I was getting distracted by the wet spots, however, Dylan grabbed me by my thighs and bended down to stare me into my eyes.
“Hold still,” he said, before kissing me deeply, with his tongue clashing against mine. As our duel raged on inside each other’s mouths, Dylan proceeded to press further, thrusting faster and deeper into my womanhood, with the head of his cock rubbing against my clitoris every now and then.
“Y-You’re gonna make me cum,” I moaned.
“No one knows you better than family, am I right?” Silently reaching an agreement, Dylan slowed down his thrusting such that we were in sync with each other’s movements. As this was done, he kissed my neck and pinched my nipples every now and then. God. He knows all my weak spots.
“Come on, step-sis,” he whispered against my neck. “Cum with me.” Overcome (for lack of a better word) with the sensations coursing over me – over us – me and Dylan climaxed together, writhing in each other’s arms and shouting each other’s names into the night sky. Once we were finished, Dylan collapsed on top of me, laying his head on my left breast.
“That was amazing,” I whispered breathily. Exhausted, but satisfied, I had what could only be called the best sleep I had in years.
The next morning, I awoke with a start when I noticed how blurry my vision was, along with the heavy weight on my chest keeping me from getting up. When I moved my hand around to get a feel of where I was, I suddenly remembered all the debauchery from last night when it landed on Dylan’s head, with him continuing to breath softly against my right nipple.
“Jeez, Dylan!” I whispered.
“‘morning to you too, step-sis,” he drowsily slurred. After a bit more struggling, I finally managed to lift him off my chest. I rose from bed and put on my glasses after I found them on the floor from almost stepping on them. Once they were on, I retrieved my shirt and my bra from under the bed and put those on as well. I then gazed at myself in the mirror on top of the dresser – aside from the shirt and the bra, I was completely nude from the waist down. My womanhood and my thighs were stained with white, my skin glistened with sweat, and my hair was a complete mess.
“Last night was amazing, wasn’t it? Not bad for a first time,” said Dylan as he, too, started rising from bed.
“Y-Yeah, I guess.” When I his reflection in the mirror, standing behind after having fully risen from bed, I felt my heartbeat race when I once again saw his full, naked body, glistening with sweat and emanating with masculine energy with all those outlines of muscle here and there.
“So,” Dylan continued as he retrieved his own clothes from under the blankets. “Would you be down for breakfast before we get home?”
“Sure,” I said, as I started to fix the post-coital curls of my hair.
“Great! You gave m – us – quite a workout last night. And I sure could use some food right now.” We headed downstairs, where we found Jason, Samson, and Ben in their boxers, lying fast asleep on the living room couches.
“Hey, guys!” Dylan called out to them as we walked down the creaky staircase. “Wild night last night, huh?”
“Couldn’t agree more, man!” said Ben, his eyes half-open as he got up from the couch.
“Yeah. Who knew Carrie could be such a nympho.” I listened to Dylan and his friends talk about me (of all people) whilst I retrieved my clothes from the living room floor, I blushed; bubbling within me was a concoction of both embarrassment and pride, the latter of which felt otherworldly. New. And yet...pleasant. Upon putting back on all my clothes, I entered the boys’ rather flattering chat with an air of confidence I never thought I would feel until now.
“Well,” I said. “I don’t think this is what my councilor meant when he said that I needed more ‘experience’, but this was certainly eye-opening for me.”
“And your eyes weren’t the only things that opened up to us last night,” said Jason.
“T-That’s for sure,” I responded, chuckling sheepishly. After a few more goodbyes, and the aforementioned ritual of Jason kissing my cheek, me and Dylan left the run-down house feeling as lively as the morning sun shining brightly above in the clear, cloudless sky.
“Hey, you think we’ll still have enough time for breakfast?” I asked as the two of us fastened our seatbelts. In a haste with a sense of excitement in his movements, Dylan checked his phone for the time.
“Yeah. Definitely,” he said. “And even if we are late, you’re a pretty smooth liar right?”
“I guess.”
After about fifteen minutes spent on the road, we stopped at a diner some several miles or so from the run-down house. There, Dylan treated the both of us to a full breakfast – coffee, orange juice, pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and most interestingly – maple sausages.
“Good, isn’t it?” he said through a mouthful of pancake.
“So good,” I said in slight absentmindedness as I stared down at the piece of sausage on my fork before eating it, savoring the sweetness and the saltiness of the greasy, cured meat. Once we were done with breakfast, we hopped back onto the streets, and then stopped in an empty parking garage.
“Figured I’d stop for some dessert before heading home,” said Dylan as he tugged down on his zipper. “You game?”
Still feeling hungry, I went right to work and helped him with the zipper before pulling out his manhood; it stood at full attention before my face, almost pressing against my lips. Without another word, I kissed it again on the tip, and then made a series of more kisses along the shaft before making my way back up. With my head hovering over the tip, I then made my way back down as I took him into my mouth and down my throat, just as I did last night.
“Aw, yes!” Dylan hissed. “You’re really good at that. And your throat still feels tight around my cock.” Let’s see how much you can take it then. Feeling prideful and liberated in embracing my inner slut, I took Dylan even deeper down my throat until I once more felt his pelvis press against my nose whilst his cock felt like it was about to enter my stomach. With my eyes still open, but tearing from the intensity of the sensations, I raised my hand to give him a thumbs up.
“W-What?” Dylan spluttered. “Y-You want to...” Guiding him, I grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of my head. If this doesn’t tell you what I want, I don’t know what will.
“Oh!” he said, and fittingly enough, his mouth even formed a perfect O as he said this. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed my head and face-fucked me, his legs writhing with pleasure.
“I’m gonna mold your throat into the shape of my cock by the time we’re done, Carrie,” he said. God, I hope that happens. I then stuck my tongue whilst Dylan’s cock was still in my mouth, and proceeded to lap away at his balls, making him groan even louder. A short moment later, I also tasted the surprisingly pleasant saltiness of his pre-cum.
“In my throat, Dylan. Cum inside it,” I managed through say whilst gagging and drooling all over his cock, drenching it in my spit.
“Heh! That’s rather unladylike, isn’t it? Talking through a mouthful like that.” Feeling himself about to cum within just seconds, he then pulled himself out of my mouth and began stroking against my glasses.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he said. Despite the warning, I winced when in less than a second, more of his cum erupted from him in long ropes, covering my face and glasses completely, whilst black, makeup-stained tears streamed down my face. Once he was done, he then put himself back in his pants. I’m definitely fingering myself to this once we get home.
Once his pants were all buckled up, he spoke again. “Enjoyed your dessert?” he asked.
“Yep. Definitely.”
The rest of the drive home was spent in silence. Not a single word was spoken between us, and yet, it was a pleasant silence – it was the type of silence you’d typically see with couples who’d been together for years, and already, I was seeing myself with Dylan for a very long time, even if only as his player two in the bedroom, and his step-sister outside it. And when I saw my reflection on the windshield, I saw a glow emanating from my face as I felt more satisfied than how I’d feel after my usual summer vacations, usually spent reading and studying for next set of classes. This time, however, my summer vacation now had become one of self-discovery and liberation.
Once we finally arrived home, it then dawned on me all of a sudden – how I played that debauched game last night.
“Shit.”
“What?” asked Dylan.
“I should’ve turned down you and your friends last night. We didn’t use protection for fuck’s sake! And I did you and your three buddies – that’s four guys! I could get...something, or just like how that game goes, I could be...”
Dylan gently clasped my chin with his thumb, index, and middle finger, turning me to face him, to stare his eyes into my own.
“Look,” he murmured. “All of us were clean, so it’s unlikely any of us ever caught something. As for that game...whatever happens, I’ll take care of us.” He then kissed me again; this time, it was a longer, softer one, as assurance, before pulling back for air. “I promise.”
When we finally got inside, the two of us collapsed onto the living room sofas, tired, but more refreshed than ever. Meanwhile, Dylan grabbed the T.V. remote from under the couch cushions and tuned our flatscreen on to the college football channel, which I watched along with him with only the least amount of interest I could muster.
“There you guys are!” said Mom as she looked down on us from the railing upstairs. She was clutching onto the towel wrapped around her, having just had her morning shower, what with the moisture accentuating the smoothness of her complexion. For a moment, a pang of jealousy hit me before disappearing the moment it came. No need to be jealous. You sure showed them how you’re so much more than a bookworm.
“I thought someone came in, but didn’t think it was you two,” she continued. “You guys are pretty late.”
“We had a good time, Mom,” I explained.
“We sure did,” Dylan concurred with his usual smugness. “Carrie actually learned a lot from our little get-together last night. Am I right?” He then turned to me, his smile all cocky, but with a certain warmth I’d come to appreciate.
You sure are, step-bro. You sure are.
Note: This story was written as per a prompt I found on Reddit.
Once Eric finished with the table, the oven beeped, much to his surprise when he jumped at its screech.
“For fuck's sake!” he exclaimed. He sprinted to it and retrieved the lasagna, before dropping it off on the counter behind him. He then bended down to hover his nose over it.
“Mm, Zoe’s gonna love this,” he said as he savored the scent of the cheese, the herbs, and the tomato sauce now wafting the air around his kitchen and dining room. After that, he returned to his oven and set the timer to allow the lasagna to cool for another half-hour.
“Alrighty. Now, I just need one more touch.” Eric then opened one of the kitchen cabinets, and there, he produced a bottle of red wine, along with two glasses, before setting those on the table. “There we go; some pinot noir from 2017. She’ll really love this.” With everything now in place, Eric resigned himself to the living couch, where he pulled out from under the cushions his copy of that infamous book – the Kama Sutra – and began to read, feeling determined to give Zoe the happiest moment in her life.
One-and-a-half hours passed, and Zoe still hadn’t arrived. Oh, come on! What’s taking her so long? he thought. Is she working overtime as a form of payback against me for last year? Or is she... Not wanting to think any deeper about the prospect of her infidelity, Eric looked down at his hands – they shook with anxiety as he fiddled with his fingers. He looked up at the T.V. screen in front of him, and then a second later, her reflection on it finally appeared before him as she walked up to the front door to open it. Along with her, however, was another outline – it was of a bald man with a large, bulky frame. No! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought furiously. Momentarily, his mind shifted towards the state of his own body; compared to the man standing with Zoe, Eric was above-average at best – subtly chiseled on his torso were pecs and a six-pack from his visits to the gym at least once a week with his friends, along with some muscle here and there on his arms and legs, but these were hardly noticeable.
Seconds suddenly turned to hours for Eric as he stayed on the couch and listened to Zoe unlocking the front door. Once the final lock was undone, she entered the living room alongside the large, muscular man.
“Honey!” she cried, smiling wide with her straight, white teeth in full view. “How’re you doing? Sorry I kept you waiting so long.” Meanwhile, Eric stared at the man accompanying her, noticing the black tank top and light-grey sweat pants only just barely covering the outlines of his large pecs and biceps; further adding insult to injury for Eric was the man’s tattooed complexion and sneering, grey-eyed face, along with his stench of cigarette smoke and sweat soiling fresh air of the living room.
Zoe, however, stood in sharp contrast to this; curly brown hair stretched all the way down below her shoulders, while freckles peppered her tanned skin from the blazing hot sun earlier that day. Accentuating her attractively skinny and petite frame, along with her vibrant green eyes, was her olive-green tank top, cropped beige pants, and wicker flat-heels. And emanating from her was a calming scent of lavender and rose, serving as the only reason why he didn’t immediately tackle down the giant lingering behind her.
“Who the fuck is that?” Eric snarled, his palms twitching with rage.
“Oh, him?” said Zoe nonchalantly as she placed her hand on the man’s shoulders. “This is Chad. He’s a coworker of mine who insisted on coming along with me for our anniversary dinner.”
“I came along for dessert too, you know?” Chad chimed in. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll have it now while you watch – like a mukbang, but with more ‘bang,’ you cuck.” Chad leaned in and puckered his lips as his hands moved to the bottom of his tank top to remove it. Much to both his and Eric’s surprise, however, Zoe recoiled and chuckled at Chad, the condescension evident in her expression.
“Actually, Chad,” she said. “The real cuck here isn’t Eric – it’s you.” Zoe dashed to Eric and crashed her lips against his. Not wanting to think any further, Eric reciprocated and protruded his tongue into Zoe’s mouth, exploring it and making her moan in delight.
“W-What the...?” Chad sputtered. “But you...I thought...” Before he knew it, Eric and Zoe, midway through their make-out session, proceeded to wrestle each other onto the dining table, knocking down a few plates and glasses.
“Those. Were. Expensive,” Eric said between kisses.
“I’ll buy you more; don’t worry,” Zoe replied breathily. With Eric laying his back on the table, Zoe slid herself down until the zipper of his jeans was directly before her eyes. Eagerly, she undid his belt and unzipped his pants before pulling them down, along with his underwear, until they were finally off of him and laying on the ground. And with that, Eric’s member sprang into action, fully erect and landing on of Zoe’s nose bridge.
“I can’t believe you’d think I’d actually cheat on you,” said Zoe, laughing. “There’s no way I’d ever ditch this perfect cock.” She licked her lips in hunger and went down to business – she took Eric into her mouth and began sucking him whilst moaning in hunger and pleasure. She bobbed her head on him at a steady pace, sticking her tongue out every now and then to stretch it down and lick his balls as she sucked him.
“Oh, G-God,” Eric groaned. “Heh! I really am a lucky son of a bitch.” He turned his eyes toward Chad and laughed at him as he savored Zoe’s affections to his manhood. “You hear me, dickwad? I’m one lucky son of a bitch alright!”
“Fuck. You,” spat Chad through gritted teeth. The comment, however, went in one ear and out the other for Eric, as a carnal hunger took over him and his body; without another word, he grasped the back of Zoe’s head with both his hands and plunged himself all the way down her throat, pressing his torso against the tip of her nose.
“Fuck, I love you, Zoe,” he moaned. “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you tonight for our anniversary.” Promptly, he pounded away at Zoe’s throat while she still at her tongue out, lapping away at both his balls and the underside of his shaft. Zoe, meanwhile, overcome with the intensity of being face-fucked, snaked her hand down to her womanhood, massaging her labia and prodding at her clitoris through her panties. I fucking love you, Eric, she thought.
Simultaneously, Chad still stood in the living room, with his back turned to the front door; as much as he wanted to leave, his body kept him paralyzed in place and his eyes wide open. To add insult to injury, he also felt his sweatpants ever tightening and slowly forming a tent from his erection, making him red in the face with rage and embarrassment. Ugh, what the fuck am I anymore? It should be me pounding that slut’s throat! he thought furiously.
“Oh jeez! I’m gonna cum, Zoe!” Eric cried. He made one final thrust down Zoe’s throat and fired off a massive load straight into her stomach, feeling his orgasm wash over him with the intensity of a tsunami. Once he felt the final drop of his cum drip from tip of his manhood, he pulled out and stared Zoe into her vibrant green eyes, watching them glimmer and stream makeup-stained tears under the dining room light with a post-orgasmic daze to them; when his eyes turned to the crotch area of her pants, he glanced at the visible wet spot creeping across her thighs.
“I love you, honey. So much,” she breathed, panting like a drooling dog.
Eric turned his eyes to Chad again. “So, you’re gonna leave yet? Or are you just gonna keep standing here to watch us? I’m fine with both,” he said. Chad remained silent with rage in his eyes.
“So be it,” Eric continued. With Zoe’s face still rubbing against the tip of his member, he dragged her up the table, placing her face inches against his, and his cock prodding her labia.
“I want you to be my cowgirl tonight,” he said. Without a moment’s hesitation, he thrusted himself through her moist folds, and then immediately felt himself inside her, moving through her slick walls.
“Holy fuck!” Zoe cried while Eric thrusted his hips in and out of her at a gentle, steady pace.
“You don’t have to be gentle with me, Eric,” she said. “I can take it rough. And we wouldn’t want to bore our guest, now would we?” Zoe beckoned Eric with her shoulder, turning his gaze to Chad, whose face was now as red as the table cloth on the dining table. At the sight of this, Eric laughed lovingly while he regarded Chad with conspicuous condescension. And with that, he picked up the pace, sweat beading on his back and on his temples.
“Happy anniversary, honey,” he said breathily, feeling his thighs slap against her ass. After several more thrusts, he started feeling the tight walls around him tighten, and his own cock twitch in glee as they got closer and closer to climax.
“I. Want you. To cum. With me,” said Zoe between thrusts. Eric nodded his head in agreement and synchronized his movements with hers, turning their love-making into something of an intimate dance.
“Can’t fucking believe this. Can’t fucking believe this. Can’t fucking believe this,” Chad mumbled repeatedly under his breath as he continued allowing himself to be cuckolded. Before he knew it, the couple reached the climax in their performance– Zoe and Eric cried each other’s name out loud in pure bliss, releasing unto each other at exactly the same time. Upon reaching the end of their climaxes, Zoe collapsed onto Eric’s chest, her eyes slowly closing as the exhaustion took her. Meanwhile, Eric turned his gaze to Chad again.
“So, when do we get our Oscars?” he asked.
“Fuck you.” With that, Chad stomped off and left the living room, taking care to shut the front door before he left. Once he was gone, Eric resigned himself to the sleep coming over him.
“Happy anniversary,” he whispered into Zoe’s ear. Happy anniversary indeed.
Trust is key in a relationship.
“Welp. Today’s the day,” Eric mumbled to himself as he set the dining table for dinner. “I’ve got dinner in the oven, dessert in the fridge...God, I hope this makes up for last year’s anniversary.” Indeed, today was the day – it was Eric’s annual anniversary with his girlfriend, Zoe. All day, he had been both nervous and excited. And all day, he had been keeping the house clean, making sure the bathrooms were pearly white, and that the bed was properly fixed with the sheets and pillows in all the right places. Not to mention, he also went to the barber that day and had his dark-brown hair styled and cleanly combed. After that, he showered himself with an expensive honey-almond bodywash he received as a gift last Christmas, sported a black dress shirt and slacks, and applied a black-pepper-scented cologne on himself, all to show how appreciative he was of Zoe and her time with him.
Once Eric finished with the table, the oven beeped, much to his surprise when he jumped at its screech.
“For fuck's sake!” he exclaimed. He sprinted to it and retrieved the lasagna, before dropping it off on the counter behind him. He then bended down to hover his nose over it.
“Mm, Zoe’s gonna love this,” he said as he savored the scent of the cheese, the herbs, and the tomato sauce now wafting the air around his kitchen and dining room. After that, he returned to his oven and set the timer to allow the lasagna to cool for another half-hour.
“Alrighty. Now, I just need one more touch.” Eric then opened one of the kitchen cabinets, and there, he produced a bottle of red wine, along with two glasses, before setting those on the table. “There we go; some pinot noir from 2017. She’ll really love this.” With everything now in place, Eric resigned himself to the living couch, where he pulled out from under the cushions his copy of that infamous book – the Kama Sutra – and began to read, feeling determined to give Zoe the happiest moment in her life.
One-and-a-half hours passed, and Zoe still hadn’t arrived. Oh, come on! What’s taking her so long? he thought. Is she working overtime as a form of payback against me for last year? Or is she... Not wanting to think any deeper about the prospect of her infidelity, Eric looked down at his hands – they shook with anxiety as he fiddled with his fingers. He looked up at the T.V. screen in front of him, and then a second later, her reflection on it finally appeared before him as she walked up to the front door to open it. Along with her, however, was another outline – it was of a bald man with a large, bulky frame. No! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought furiously. Momentarily, his mind shifted towards the state of his own body; compared to the man standing with Zoe, Eric was above-average at best – subtly chiseled on his torso were pecs and a six-pack from his visits to the gym at least once a week with his friends, along with some muscle here and there on his arms and legs, but these were hardly noticeable.
Seconds suddenly turned to hours for Eric as he stayed on the couch and listened to Zoe unlocking the front door. Once the final lock was undone, she entered the living room alongside the large, muscular man.
“Honey!” she cried, smiling wide with her straight, white teeth in full view. “How’re you doing? Sorry I kept you waiting so long.” Meanwhile, Eric stared at the man accompanying her, noticing the black tank top and light-grey sweat pants only just barely covering the outlines of his large pecs and biceps; further adding insult to injury for Eric was the man’s tattooed complexion and sneering, grey-eyed face, along with his stench of cigarette smoke and sweat soiling fresh air of the living room.
Zoe, however, stood in sharp contrast to this; curly brown hair stretched all the way down below her shoulders, while freckles peppered her tanned skin from the blazing hot sun earlier that day. Accentuating her attractively skinny and petite frame, along with her vibrant green eyes, was her olive-green tank top, cropped beige pants, and wicker flat-heels. And emanating from her was a calming scent of lavender and rose, serving as the only reason why he didn’t immediately tackle down the giant lingering behind her.
“Who the fuck is that?” Eric snarled, his palms twitching with rage.
“Oh, him?” said Zoe nonchalantly as she placed her hand on the man’s shoulders. “This is Chad. He’s a coworker of mine who insisted on coming along with me for our anniversary dinner.”
“I came along for dessert too, you know?” Chad chimed in. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll have it now while you watch – like a mukbang, but with more ‘bang,’ you cuck.” Chad leaned in and puckered his lips as his hands moved to the bottom of his tank top to remove it. Much to both his and Eric’s surprise, however, Zoe recoiled and chuckled at Chad, the condescension evident in her expression.
“Actually, Chad,” she said. “The real cuck here isn’t Eric – it’s you.” Zoe dashed to Eric and crashed her lips against his. Not wanting to think any further, Eric reciprocated and protruded his tongue into Zoe’s mouth, exploring it and making her moan in delight.
“W-What the...?” Chad sputtered. “But you...I thought...” Before he knew it, Eric and Zoe, midway through their make-out session, proceeded to wrestle each other onto the dining table, knocking down a few plates and glasses.
“Those. Were. Expensive,” Eric said between kisses.
“I’ll buy you more; don’t worry,” Zoe replied breathily. With Eric laying his back on the table, Zoe slid herself down until the zipper of his jeans was directly before her eyes. Eagerly, she undid his belt and unzipped his pants before pulling them down, along with his underwear, until they were finally off of him and laying on the ground. And with that, Eric’s member sprang into action, fully erect and landing on of Zoe’s nose bridge.
“I can’t believe you’d think I’d actually cheat on you,” said Zoe, laughing. “There’s no way I’d ever ditch this perfect cock.” She licked her lips in hunger and went down to business – she took Eric into her mouth and began sucking him whilst moaning in hunger and pleasure. She bobbed her head on him at a steady pace, sticking her tongue out every now and then to stretch it down and lick his balls as she sucked him.
“Oh, G-God,” Eric groaned. “Heh! I really am a lucky son of a bitch.” He turned his eyes toward Chad and laughed at him as he savored Zoe’s affections to his manhood. “You hear me, dickwad? I’m one lucky son of a bitch alright!”
“Fuck. You,” spat Chad through gritted teeth. The comment, however, went in one ear and out the other for Eric, as a carnal hunger took over him and his body; without another word, he grasped the back of Zoe’s head with both his hands and plunged himself all the way down her throat, pressing his torso against the tip of her nose.
“Fuck, I love you, Zoe,” he moaned. “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you tonight for our anniversary.” Promptly, he pounded away at Zoe’s throat while she still at her tongue out, lapping away at both his balls and the underside of his shaft. Zoe, meanwhile, overcome with the intensity of being face-fucked, snaked her hand down to her womanhood, massaging her labia and prodding at her clitoris through her panties. I fucking love you, Eric, she thought.
Simultaneously, Chad still stood in the living room, with his back turned to the front door; as much as he wanted to leave, his body kept him paralyzed in place and his eyes wide open. To add insult to injury, he also felt his sweatpants ever tightening and slowly forming a tent from his erection, making him red in the face with rage and embarrassment. Ugh, what the fuck am I anymore? It should be me pounding that slut’s throat! he thought furiously.
“Oh jeez! I’m gonna cum, Zoe!” Eric cried. He made one final thrust down Zoe’s throat and fired off a massive load straight into her stomach, feeling his orgasm wash over him with the intensity of a tsunami. Once he felt the final drop of his cum drip from tip of his manhood, he pulled out and stared Zoe into her vibrant green eyes, watching them glimmer and stream makeup-stained tears under the dining room light with a post-orgasmic daze to them; when his eyes turned to the crotch area of her pants, he glanced at the visible wet spot creeping across her thighs.
“I love you, honey. So much,” she breathed, panting like a drooling dog.
Eric turned his eyes to Chad again. “So, you’re gonna leave yet? Or are you just gonna keep standing here to watch us? I’m fine with both,” he said. Chad remained silent with rage in his eyes.
“So be it,” Eric continued. With Zoe’s face still rubbing against the tip of his member, he dragged her up the table, placing her face inches against his, and his cock prodding her labia.
“I want you to be my cowgirl tonight,” he said. Without a moment’s hesitation, he thrusted himself through her moist folds, and then immediately felt himself inside her, moving through her slick walls.
“Holy fuck!” Zoe cried while Eric thrusted his hips in and out of her at a gentle, steady pace.
“You don’t have to be gentle with me, Eric,” she said. “I can take it rough. And we wouldn’t want to bore our guest, now would we?” Zoe beckoned Eric with her shoulder, turning his gaze to Chad, whose face was now as red as the table cloth on the dining table. At the sight of this, Eric laughed lovingly while he regarded Chad with conspicuous condescension. And with that, he picked up the pace, sweat beading on his back and on his temples.
“Happy anniversary, honey,” he said breathily, feeling his thighs slap against her ass. After several more thrusts, he started feeling the tight walls around him tighten, and his own cock twitch in glee as they got closer and closer to climax.
“I. Want you. To cum. With me,” said Zoe between thrusts. Eric nodded his head in agreement and synchronized his movements with hers, turning their love-making into something of an intimate dance.
“Can’t fucking believe this. Can’t fucking believe this. Can’t fucking believe this,” Chad mumbled repeatedly under his breath as he continued allowing himself to be cuckolded. Before he knew it, the couple reached the climax in their performance– Zoe and Eric cried each other’s name out loud in pure bliss, releasing unto each other at exactly the same time. Upon reaching the end of their climaxes, Zoe collapsed onto Eric’s chest, her eyes slowly closing as the exhaustion took her. Meanwhile, Eric turned his gaze to Chad again.
“So, when do we get our Oscars?” he asked.
“Fuck you.” With that, Chad stomped off and left the living room, taking care to shut the front door before he left. Once he was gone, Eric resigned himself to the sleep coming over him.
“Happy anniversary,” he whispered into Zoe’s ear. Happy anniversary indeed.
Desperate times call for desperate measures...again.
Me and Dylan hurried down hall about as quietly as an excited pack of wolves about to pounce on a hare; it was just me, him, and our footsteps echoing all around us.“H-Hey!” Dylan protested as I dragged him behind me down the hall. “Would you care to explain why the hell you’re dragging me with you at the moment?”
“I’ll tell you when I can,” I snapped. Today was not the day for me to take my time and be friendly. Especially today, as a matter of fact. When I took out my phone to check the time, I felt my heart almost leap out of my mouth.
“Damnit, forty-five minutes left until the exam,” I whispered under my breath. I hastened our pace, making us practically run; much to our luck, there was still no one to stop us and ask questions.
A short moment later, I saw a door with a sign on it appear out of the corner of my eye.
Yes! A janitor’s closet. Relief instantly washed over me in an awesome wave, and quickly, I opened the door and shoved Dylan inside before entering. I then shut the door behind me, and felt the darkness swiftly envelope us.
“Really, Kota?” said Dylan with acid in his voice. “Don’t tell me you brought me here for a quick fu –”
“No, I didn’t,” I spat as I searched for a light switch. Once I did, I flipped it on; a light bulb above us flickered on, and continued doing so for the rest of the time we were in that closet.
Today, Dylan was sporting a red hoodie with a white long-sleeve underneath, along with a pair of jeans, blue Converse shoes, and a dark-grey baseball cap worn backwards over his messy blonde hair.
On the other hand, there was me; today, I was wearing my usual pair of grey leggings and a white Calvin Klein tank top, with an unbuttoned red flannel over it. When I looked down at the bucket of water at my feet, I looked into my reflection and took in my details to compose
myself – compared to my best friend (and Dylan’s step-sister), Carolyn, I was taller, and had a more athletic physique. Strawberry blonde hair crowned the top of my head, all tied into a neat bun, and behind my contact lenses were a pair of reddish-brown eyes. On my backpack on the floor, was my sewn-in nametag – Dakota Williams, it read.
“Any time now, Kota?” asked Dylan, his impatience threatening to boil over into outright anger.
“Okay, okay,” I said, raising my hands up as a gesture of surrender. “Look, I needed you here today for a quick favor, but it’s one that’s not exactly what –”
“Come on, Kota. Just spit it out already.” Irritated, I take a deep sigh to compose myself. As you wish, Dylan.
“I need to...I need to blow you, Dylan,” I blurted.
“Oh,” was all that Dylan mustered; unsurprisingly, an awkward silence between the two of us followed. There was nothing to break the silence at all (save for my hitched breathing from my ensuing embarrassment), what with everyone being in class, teacher and student alike.
“So,” said Dylan, finally breaking the deafening silence. “You’re too shy to let me fuck you, so instead, you’re gonna just blow me until you get the courage to go all the way.”
“NO!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I felt my blush spread across my face; had it not been for the low amount of light in the closet, Dylan would’ve probably noticed how I was as red as my physics textbook.
“Look,” I whispered. “I have an exam for stats in half an hour. I need to suck your dick, ‘cause apparently, it’s supposed to help me memorize things better.”
“What?” Dylan stood as still as a tree, his eyes fixated on me, as though he just saw me transform into a flying pig or something.
“Let me put it this way,” I said as patiently as I could, though I could’ve sworn I sounded more condescending than I meant to be. “I suck your cock, swallow your cum. Done deal. Alright?”
“Look,” Dylan responded, still confused. “Don’t get me wrong, Kota; I’m not against getting my dick sucked, especially by you. But how in the hell is it supposed to help you memorize things. Why don’t we just sit down here and study?”
“Because swallowing your cum’s supposed to have certain vitamins that help me memorize things like crazy,” I blurted again. “While sucking you by itself would act as some form of muscle memory and as a way to pace myself. Okay?” Slowly, Dylan began to reach for his belt while still all confused, judging by his face.
“I shouldn’t have to keep telling you this, but don’t believe everything you read on the internet, Kota,” he said, sighing. “You know what? Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. I could use a...mouth...to get a load off me anyway.”
“Whatever you say, Dylan. The site I learned this off of had some Latin text in it, so it’s probably true,” I snapped, mildly annoyed by his sudden horniness. Once his dick was out and his pants were all the way down to his ankles, I jumped at the sight of it, but not for the reasons you’d think.
“Oh, God,” I blurted. “Even in this dimness, I can see it.”
“You impressed or intimidated, Kota?” Dylan asked, still standing there as stiffly as his cock. “I mean, there are other ways to go about –”
“No, no,” I interrupted. “I don’t have time. I couldn’t even bother cheating if I tried; the teacher said he’d be watching over us like a hawk today.” I then got down on my knees; by that point my heart really started to race, and it felt as though it was about to burst out of my chest at any moment.
“So, you’re sure about this?”
“Seeing as I’m out of choices now, Dylan, my only answer to that is ‘yes.’” Without another word, I opened my mouth and got to work. Not knowing where to even start, I wrapped my lips around the tip and sucked on it for a good several moments. Meanwhile, Dylan winced at the sensation at first, but then slowly eased into it.
“Well,” he said awkwardly. “This, coming from you, feels weird and great all at once.”
Instead of responding, I continued with my little experiment and kept sucking the tip. About a second later though, I then felt Dylan graze his hand against the back of my head; when I looked into his eyes and noticed his desperation for more, I granted his request – I took his cock deeper into my mouth and sucked harder. To add to the sensation, I flicked my tongue against the tip this time, as well as took hold of his knees.
A “pop” sound echoed around us in the closet when I pulled back to breathe. “How’d you like that?” I remarked breathily.
“It was...good,” Dylan responded, with shock and awe on his face.
“Good,” I said; I returned to sucking him again, and this time, I took him even deeper, to the point where half of him was down my throat. When I pulled back again for a breather, I started to feel dizzy from the lack of air; on the other hand, a wave of information I remembered reading about from last week suddenly came to me.
“I remember now!” I exclaimed at random. “World War II started in September, when the German army utilized the strategy of ‘blitzkrieg’ against Poland.”
Dylan’s expression quickly transformed into downright confusion. “What?” he asked.
“World War II started in September, when the German army utilized the strategy of ‘blitzkrieg’ against Poland,” I repeated.
“Right. I...look forward to seeing how much smarter you’ll get just by blowing me.”
“Whatever, Dylan,” I replied quickly, before returning to my little experiment. I picked up the pace and began bobbing my head on him even faster, taking him in inch by inch into my mouth, all without even using my hands.
Meanwhile, with all the patience of a spoiled baby by this point, Dylan grabbed the back of my head and shoved himself all the way into my throat.
“Fine then,” he grunted. “Since you say you’re getting so smart from this, let’s see you turn into a blue-faced Albert Einstein then.” For the next five seconds or so (what I could only consider the next five years for all I cared), I held Dylan’s manhood all the way into the back of my throat, and much to my surprise, I didn’t even feel myself gag for much of that time; on the other hand, the dizziness started to settle in, despite my best attempts at breathing through my nose.
“Come on, Kota,” Dylan grunted again. “I’m not letting go until you turn blue.” After several slaps at his thighs, Dylan finally released me from his grasp; immediately, I coughed, gagged, and gasped for air, spit flying from my mouth and drenching Dylan’s cock.
Oh...God, I thought. That was kinda...hot.
“Well, that was...exhilarating,” I gasped. Meanwhile, I felt more information flooding my mind like crazy – not only was I remembering various important dates and people from World War II, but what the quadratic formula was, how to handle series and sequences and use sigma notation, among a bunch of other stuff. Hell, when Dylan re-entered my mouth and stuffed himself all the way down my throat to hold himself in there for another couple of seconds, I swore that for a moment, I was hallucinating a diagram of the Pythagorean theorem, along with what sine, cosine and tangent were, ignoring the torrent of my saliva slowly coating his cock.
“God! I’m amazed I haven’t even cum yet,” he grunted, his hands holding on to the back of my head for dear life. When I tapped his thigh again with one hand, he pulled out; thick strings of my spit connected me to the tip of his cock, and along with that, I could see the subtle glistening of his pre- cum slowly streaming out.
When I pulled out my phone to check for the time, my heart started to race when I realized I had only ten minutes left until the exam.
“Curses!” I exclaimed. “I’ve only ten minutes left. Quick, proceed to repeatedly thrust in and out of my mouth until climax with as much vigor as you can muster. Take care to ejacu –”
Without a moment’s hesitation, and a look on his face akin to a child who’d just been given a 100% discount at a candy store, Dylan rammed himself into my mouth again and pounded it hard, both his hands grasping my head for stability. Meanwhile, I continued to cough and gag, spit flying out and drenching Dylan’s member; on the other hand, there was that resultant dizziness I got from being gagged that I slowly came to find intoxicating. I just kept wanting more.
“Keep...going,” I said through mouthfuls of Dylan’s impressive phallus. Shortly after that, I started tasting something slightly salty.
“Ungh...fuck!” Dylan swore as he continued thrusting. “Your throat’s so tight...I’m gonna cum any second now.” Ooh. I can’t wait to see what happens.
“I'm cumming in your mouth!” Dylan continued. Before I knew it, I felt him erupt, gushing torrent upon torrent of his seed onto my tongue and down my throat; eagerly, I swallowed as much as I could to really maximize the effects of his seed on my intelligence. Once I pulled out and swallowed it all, I licked the remnants off my lips and swallowed that too.
“Mm. That was surprisingly good,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Dylan, dumbfounded, his eyes wide open, as though he’d just witnessed a unicorn flying along the arches of a double rainbow.
Meanwhile, I pulled out my phone once again to check the time. “Shit! Five minutes left before the exam.” Quickly, I got back onto my feet and shouldered my bag. “Thanks for the study-drink,” I said breathily. I then kissed Dylan on the cheek, and left without a word.
Yep, I’m definitely feeling smarter now; I gotta try that again soon.
April 2020
The pandemic is in full swing, the city streets are about as quiet as a church, and here I am with my cheeks rested on my desk as I laid fast asleep.
Strewn around my room was the usual clutter – beer bottles, cigarette butts, empty Adderall bottles that I bought from my best friend, Dylan, and papers galore – letters from my landlord about rent long overdue, and homework assignments that might well take me years before I finally finish them. And on my desk was my laptop with a blank page opened, and a mug of stale, cold instant coffee.
About a few minutes into my seemingly endless, procrastinating slumber, my phone vibrated, making for a rather rude interruption that bitterly brought me back out of the dream world and into the real one.
“Can’t I just get five more minutes?” I mumbled under my breath, my voice raspy. I glanced at my phone to find a text.
Kota: finished your paper yet?
“As if I’ll ever,” I remarked. With some reluctance, I finally rose from my desk to, at last, type out the first words of my paper – my name – Josh Ramirez.
“Two down, a couple more thousand to go,” I said. Just when I was about to type the rest of the paper, there was a rude knock at the door.
“Josh!” a voice called out through my door. “You there? You didn’t answer my text.”
I replied with a sigh. “Didn’t think I needed to. So what?”
“We’re study partners, aren’t we? Isn’t communication key?”
Not thinking of anything more to say in that moment, I got up from my chair to open my door; standing in the hallway was none other than Dakota Williams (or Kota, as me and Dylan called her). The strawberry-blonde hair atop her head was neatly tied into its usual bun, and she stood before me at a height a few inches taller than me, with a visibly athletic build from her frequent visits to the gym, which often led to quite a bit of ogling from my classmates (though how she never noticed this was beyond me). Clothing-wise, I could tell that she chose it all in a haste – a turquoise surgical face mask, jeans tattered at the knees, worn-out sneakers with no socks, and a stretched-out white Calvin Klein tank top.
. . .
Josh stood at the doorway and continued gawking at me to no end; either that, or zombie viruses somehow finally became a real thing.“Josh?” I prompted him. Aren’t you gonna let me in?”
“Oh! Right. Yeah, come in.” He stood aside to let me enter, before continuing with, “Let me just go on record – it’s weird seeing you wear that face mask. I feel like an alien being captured by a government scientist.”
“Hey, this COVID thing’s no joke,” I said, still standing in the hallway.
“I never said it was,” he responded. “But I don’t think it’s that big of a deal either.”
Just when I was about to open my mouth for another counterattack, I closed it and decided not to discuss the topic any further. Forget it. I do not have the energy for this right now. I entered the apartment and took a moment to glance at him and the room while I took off my mask once Josh closed the door.
“Ugh! You’re lucky that cleanliness isn’t mentioned on the rules of conduct here,” I commented.
“Hey, Ernest Hemingway regularly lived like this,” he countered. “And so did Albert Einstein.”
Josh was no different from his apartment in his appearance either; there was a stubble on his face, and his black hair was as bedraggled as ever. He wore a cheap tan t-shirt, and at his waist was nothing more than a pair of plaid boxers. Surprisingly though, his teeth maintained their pristine, straight white look, and his body started to show some muscle after he finally caved in and joined me in going to the gym two months ago. Granted, a skincare routine would be a welcome addition, since his complexion’s been a little pimply lately from all that pizza. How he never noticed this was beyond me.
“Where are your roommates anyway?” I asked, slightly taken aback by the emptiness of the apartment.
“They’re out shopping,” Josh explained. “I don’t know when they’ll return.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be for a while.” I then took my seat at my classmate’s desk and unpacked my things.
“Alright,” he said, changing the subject and slowly taking his own seat at his desk. “The paper, let’s go over it again.”
. . .
Kota then went on about the outline of the paper as I took my seat next to her, even writing it out for me in her notebook. Though I tried my best to pay attention, I suddenly remembered why I asked her to study with me in the first place; I just couldn’t help but feel mesmerized by the movements of her lips and mouth as she talked. Damn! She’s really that good, Dylan?“– so my basic point is that sex preferences aren’t really universal, but dependent on culture and other factors.”
“Yeah...totally,” I responded, more distantly than I intended whilst I kept watching her mouth in a trance. “You know what? I think I know the real reason why you wear a mask these days.” Why the hell did I say that?
Immediately, my study partner’s expression went from confident and scholarly, to completely confused, as though I really had revealed myself to be an alien.
“Okay?” she said. What does that –”
“Dylan told me,” I spat out. “Dylan told me.” By this point, the temperature in the room must’ve skyrocketed to at least two-hundred degrees; there was a layer of sweat on my palms and temples now, and my heart raced faster than Usain Bolt ever could.
“Told you what, Josh?” For Fred Fuchs’ sake!
“That you give good head,” I finally said. Well, at least it’s finally out of my system.
While normally, this would be something that eased my tension, the exact opposite happened when Kota practically turned the same shade of red as me once I said what was really on my mind.
. . .
How the fuck did he find out! I thought to myself in complete embarrassment and outrage. Dylan, so help me, I will fucking kill you.It was in that instant that I felt pretty much the same as Josh, as far as I could tell, and I deeply wished that I just burst into flames and disintegrated right then and there. And yet, here I was, slacking off and talking to my dumbfounded classmate. All the while, I was screaming in my head, “God, Josh must be thinking how much of a slut I am. BUT IT WAS JUST AN EXPERIMENT!!!”
“Alright. Listen,” I said, giving my all into sounding as calm and composed as I could despite the redness of my face. “Some things are best left in the bedroom.” Or janitor’s closet for that matter. “You got that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I get you. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Thank you.”
He seemed relieved once I put the matter to rest (so I thought), and the two of us spent the next half-hour or so planning out the paper and comparing first drafts. The room and the world outside was as quiet as ever, and things overall went well without a hitch – that is, until he started wanting some music.
“You have any music preferences?” he asked while he scrolled through his phone.
“Pop’s a guilty pleasure of mine once in a while,” I replied nonchalantly. Josh cackled.
“Pop?” he said, his sly smirk continuing on to no end. “Pop?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “I swear, you’re a broken record today.”
“Sorry, it’s just...” he paused for a moment after his smirk faded away and his expression went blank; I could’ve sworn that in that moment, his breathing hastened, and his eyes darted from my breasts to my face. “I figured you were more of a jizz...jazz listener. Sorry.”
Ugh, I should’ve known Dylan would open his mouth. Why the hell didn’t I tell him to keep things secret?
I sighed and thought long and hard (no pun intended) in silence for a bit, and then looked up to admire my work. Josh made some real progress over these past two months – his shoulders are much broader, his pecs, biceps, and other muscles have really developed to the point where I honestly could gaze at them through his shirt for long periods of time, and even his posture’s become much straighter, whether he’s sitting or standing. I had to admit that he deserved a reward. Not to mention, the fact that we’re both single...
“Alright, Josh.”
“What?” my head-in-the-gutter partner asked.
“I’ll suck your cock.” You’re blowable enough.
“What –”
“I’ll. Suck. Your. Cock,” I purred, enunciating every word. “I’ve got writer’s block, you’re distracted by what could only be called an open secret by this point, no amount of study chatter’s gonna keep you focused on more pressing matters...how about I prove those rumors true.”
In an effort to appear coolheaded, Josh jeered. “You think my cum will be a real help, huh? I don’t mind.”
Holding back a smirk, I countered with, “Sounding cute definitely isn’t in your skillset. Lucky that acting the part is.” Just as I started to slide off my chair, Josh stopped me.
“Wait,” he said. “What if my roommates –”
Deciding to show instead of tell, I continued sliding off my chair, and then planted myself under my classmate’s desk, his crotch directly in my face.
“Problem solved,” I quipped.
. . .
I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t nervous. I mean, a tall, fit blonde who’s talented at giving head – what more can a man ask for?Kota licked her lips to moisten them. Noticing her still all red in the face, I assured her with, “You know, I didn’t say that I wanted you to suck my dick; I said that I didn’t mind, and I just wanted you to confirm what Dylan told me.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” the rumored “Mouth Mistress” countered as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of my boxers. “Confirming what Dylan told you. Unless you don’t want this, and –”
“No, I do,” I blurted out. “It’s just...if you don’t want this...”
She stopped for a moment and looked down in thought. She whispered something that I couldn’t make out, before continuing with, “Back when I tried this with Dylan, it was just a little experiment of what I read online about how ingesting cum might correlate with intelligence...I think it worked...”
She stopped midsentence, probably noticing that my expression returned to its original dumbfounded state that I couldn’t help. I mean, how the hell do cum and intelligence have anything to do with each other at all?
My study partner left her sentence unfinished and, in one swift motion, pulled my boxers down to my ankles. Adding more fuel to the blaze that was my utter embarrassment, nervousness, and excitement was the fact that my cock popped out, revealing itself at full mast.
“A bit of pubic hair, huh?” She commented. “Lucky that I don’t mind.”
She went straight to work; she grasped my rod with one hand and reached for my balls with her other. She darted her tongue out her mouth slowly licked away at my cockhead.
“Oh gosh!” I exclaimed, wincing at the sudden sensation.
“You alright?” she asked, her worry barely contained.
“Just surprised, is all,” I spat out. “Keep going.” I licked my lips to moisten them; it wasn’t until now that I realized how dry they were from my nervousness and anticipation of the whole affair. Not to mention, my heart kept racing faster than it ever had while I was on Adderall, while the temperature of the room got hotter and muggier by the second. Damn! It’s amazing that I managed to get hard at all.
Kota licked my cockhead and massaged my shaft and balls for the next several moments; no words were shared between us, and the only sound present other than the usual ambience was her tongue delicately licking me and her hands pumping my shaft caressing my balls. She suddenly upped the ante when she opened her mouth wide and took my whole length down her throat. Before I knew it, I was feeling a wet tightness around me that I never wanted to leave, so I savored the seconds slowly ticking by while she held me down her throat like the phenomenal cocksucker she was, before pulling back to reveal a torrent of her drool coating me and connecting her lips to my cockhead. She breathed heavily, but there was nevertheless a sense of pride in her tone that made her that much hotter.
“You liked that? You’re still surprised?”
“Y-Yes,” I spluttered out, my voice hoarse. “I’m liking the surprises.”
. . .
Suddenly taking Josh down my throat for the hell of it was definitely something I never would have thought of once in my life until now. What’s more is the fact that I found it more-so exhilarating than anything else. Granted, I remember experiencing this same feeling with Dylan, but knowing that I had awakened within me a genuine passion for fellatio really added to the electricity of the whole situation.“Grgh! Grgh!”
“F-Fuck, Kota!” Josh groaned, his knees trembling while he grasped the armrests of his chair for dear life as I vigorously sucked his fully hard phallus. Drool continued pouring from my lips and all it, in addition to his swollen balls that I massaged with my other hand.
Almost predictably, a torrent of information flooded my head, and I found myself suddenly out of the slump that was my writer’s block.
“I know what to write now!” I exclaimed through a mouthful of his member, though this fell on deaf ears as he leaned back and closed his eyes to relish the sensation of my tight, wet throat and soft tongue caressing the underside of his shaft. And all the while, those same images as before flashed before me – graphs that I could use for my essay, a diagram of the Pythagorean theorem, photos of various historical events. All this, plus the subtle dizzy sensation from the brief lack of air every now and then as I bobbed my head made for an experience more intoxicating than any drug I’ve ever tried before; alcohol, Adderall, weed – they all paled in comparison to the feeling of fellating a big, smooth gonad.
“Exhilarating!” I exclaimed again through a mouthful as Josh’s balls collided with my chin every and then and twitched closer and closer to orgasm.
. . .
Holy fuck, Dylan! You weren’t kidding, I thought to myself as I felt my soul and very sanity chip away from Kota’s talented mouth. To call her the “Golden Mouth” of the modern-day would be the understatement of the century. Needless to say, the salivating succubus on her knees before me became a testament to the numerous perks of friendship. And I would definitely be asking for this again, so long as she was willing and eager.Her head pretty much became a blur in motion as she sped up her bobbing on my manhood. Her tongue protruded from her lips and slathered the underside of my shaft and occasionally brushed against my balls.
“Fuck! Your tongue’s so soft,” I moaned in pure ecstasy.
“Mm-hm,” she agreed, her cheeks filled with my member. She puckered her lips such that they formed an airtight suction all around me that I just couldn’t (and never wanted to) escape from.
Just as started to feel a pressure build within me from the intense sensations, there was another knock on my door. Fuck!
With the fear overtaking me, I put Kota to a complete stop and pulled her mouth off me.
“Yes!” I called out to the people outside the door. When I glimpsed down at my multi-talented friend, she mouthed something to the effect of “Your roommates are here?”
I nodded to her in agreement, and heard one of my roommates call back with, “Hey, Josh! Me and the guys are thinking of hitting up a burger joint tonight.”
“N-No can do,” I said. “I’ve got a paper to finish, remember?”
“Right. Yeah,” my roommate realized. “Shame...wait, weren’t you supposed to meet with Kota for help on that?”
“She took a raincheck,” I explained. When I glimpsed down again, I noticed her slowly and quietly continuing to suck me whilst mumbling something to herself that I couldn’t make out. Somehow managing to keep my composure, I continued with, “Guys, I’m sorry, but could you just leave me alone for now. I really need to finish this paper.”
“We understand, Josh,” said another voice. Dylan?
Not saying another word, my roommates left. And with each footstep fading off into the distance, I felt a pound of weight disappear off my chest. Finally!
Once they left, I glanced at the time on my computer, and it suddenly dawned on me.
“Shit!” I shouted. “K-Kota, we need to...ah, fuck!”
She returned to her original intensity as she conflated my urgency to finish the essay with a warning that I was about to cum. And again, and again, she spoke through mouthfuls of my cock, praising me for allowing her to suck it and acquire even more information she needed for the essay.
“Graphs...sixty-seven percent...1907...George Williams,” she spouted at random, her words hardly understandable as she spoke pretty much only in tongues.
Resisting the building pressure and the urge to cum, I finally mustered enough strength to pull the fellatrix off me again; an audible “pop” sound ensued, and another torrent of her drool was unleashed that was enough to coat both my cock and balls, and lightly moisten the cushion of my office chair.
“What?” she asked, her breathing heavy, but her tone oozing with an intoxicated enthusiasm to return to sucking me.
Barely able to utter anything intelligible, I spoke.
“Essay...almost due.”
“How long?” she asked expectantly. Jeez! I just said that it was almost due!
“Fifteen minutes left,” I said.
. . .
Curses! Fifteen minutes left?! I thought to myself. And yet, here I was, on my knees with my classmate’s spit-covered dick in my face. Running the numbers through my head, I came to the conclusion that I would see this task through.“Josh,” I said. “I want you to get on my laptop and work on both on my essay and yours.”
“What?” he spluttered, gazing at me as though I had suddenly asked him to sprout wings and fly away. “Kota, you want me to write two essays in fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll dictate my words to you,” I explained. “Trust me.”
Josh said nothing more and went to work on both of our essays, his hands flying across the keyboards at a frantic speed. Meanwhile, the urge to have a penis in my mouth and down my throat got stronger, as though I would die of hunger if I ignored it. On pure instinct, I returned to the task at hand with more vigor than ever and continued draining Josh’s Johnson with my mouth. Wanting to enhance the sensation further, I lightly caressed the underside of his shaft with my teeth, and I achieved the desired effect when I noticed his hips buckle whilst his toes curled.
“Holy-fucking-shit! Oh-my-God!” he exclaimed as though a taser shocked him. The twitching grew stronger in my mouth with each passing second; the anticipation of it all made me sucker harder and faster, making for a positive feedback loop that I both never wanted to – and couldn’t wait to see – end.
. . .
“I’m gonna cum, Kota,” I warned my study partner; nevertheless, she kept at it and sucked me off as though her life depended on it – or grade for that matter.Meanwhile, I kept my eyes glued to the two computer screens and typed at a speed that I wished the people at Guinness World Records were watching right now. I could’ve sworn that I somehow became the fastest typist in the world in that moment. Not to mention, a torrent of information flooded my mind and manifested in the words appearing on the two laptops – stuff like the various theories on sexuality by Sigmund Freud and the like, or the stuff on evolution from Darwin. In that very moment, it was just me, Kota, and the two laptops – nothing else mattered in the universe except me getting the best head in history, and finishing the two essays before time ran out.
. . .
Within seconds, Josh climaxed. His cum filled my mouth to the brim, and I grasped his thighs for dear life as I tried my best to swallow it all. A warm sensation filled my throat while the dizziness from the little oxygen I’ve been taking in started to take effect; it was by this point where I could confidently say that knowledge was not only power, but pleasure too. So much so that I felt the urge to masturbate, but refrained from doing so; I can only imagine how awkward that would have been.. . .
“Aw...God!” I shouted as I felt myself become completely drained by Kota’s phenomenal mouth. When I finally mustered the energy to look down at her face, I flinched even more and unleashed another spurt of cum into her mouth, making it overflow and leak down her chin before falling onto her lap. I returned my eyes to the screen and typed out the last few words of our essays before submitting them online. By some miracle, I managed to submit both of our essays at the last minute.Kota pulled her mouth off me and swallowed my load before finally saying something barely understandable.
“You turned in the essays?”
“Yeah,” I said breathily. “I don’t know what happened. While you sucked my cock, all of a sudden, I knew exactly what you wanted me to write for both our essays. Like it was telepathy or something.”
It goes without saying that telling her this newfound information visibly perplexed her. Knowing that information could not only be gained – but also transferred – through sucking dick...none of it made sense to me either.
“This is strange,” said Kota, mildly unsettled but nevertheless interested in what else could happen. “You...I...”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Talk about a telepathic blowjob.” I shrugged my shoulders. Mentally, I accepted what just happened and didn’t give it any further thought. I mean, the universe has never been something that one could call “logical”, right?
. . .
As smart as I was from having just fellated my classmate earlier, I felt like an idiot, still being on my knees with the bit of drool and semen still hanging from my chin and dripping down to my thighs. And yet, something within me compelled me to want to experiment a little bit more. What exactly it was compelling me to do, I wouldn’t find the answer for a while.“Tell me exactly what happened as I fellated your penis, Josh,” I said, in a tone a little bit more robotic than I intended.
“Well,” said Josh slowly, as though he were carefully considering each word he wanted to say. “Um...I was getting closer and closer, and I don’t know. I...”
“I beseech you, Josh,” I said. “What, pray tell, happened exactly as I fellated your penis?”
He sighed in contemplation; I suppose it was weird enough that I got smart off semen, but the fact that he could receive information at all from me through giving him fellatio was outright maddening indeed.
“So, I was typing our essays, right?” he said. “Well...I don’t know how else to put it. I just instinctively knew what you wanted me to write. And it’s not like we’ve known each other for years; we’ve only known each other for five minutes.”
Still confused, though having a slightly better understanding of things now, I got up and dusted off my knees.
“You know, I think I know what I have to do next,” I said.
“You do?” Of course, you already know.
Amused and annoyed all at once (and somehow managing to contain the feelings from leeching into my tone), I grabbed a tissue from the desk and wiped my mouth before throwing it in the trash. I replied to Josh’s question with, “You’ll get your turn eventually.”
I packed my things and turned on my heel. Slowly, I approached the door; as I did so, I noticed something on the reflection of the mirror hanging on the back of the door – Josh’s mouth opened into a perfect “O” in complete excitement and anticipation.
You shall get your turn soon, fellow scholar.
Just as I touched the doorhandle to open it, Josh called out.
“Cleopatra!”
Smirking, I asked, “What?”
“See you later, Cleopatra,” he remarked, a similar smirk growing on his face.
“You too...Johnson,” I said. And with that, I walked out the door and closed it.
. . .
Kota left me feeling like a complete idiot in my own room. Normally, I’d be outraged, and yet, I wasn’t. In a way, I sort of deserved it, considering that it slipped my mind to offer her a seat after I finished, leaving her still on her knees as a drooling mess, so there was a pang of guilt tinging my emotions. Aside from that though, I felt like I just hit the jackpot.Yeah, sure. What was probably going to happen next was Dylan getting his turn with Kota; that goes without saying, since she blew him first. But I guess knowing that I would eventually get my turn too made things that much better. And then it occurred to me.
With an excited shakiness, I pulled my boxers back on and picked up my phone to dial up Dylan.
Time to really put her to the test.
“Hello?”
Attraction is a two-way street.
Simon was at it again tonight. And for the umpteenth time for the past six months now. Echoing in his garage was the typical cacophony one could expect to hear from a middle-aged man’s home – shrieking drills, thundering hammers, and the deafening clangs of tools falling to the concrete floor.
At forty-two years old with a mostly-bald head, brown eyes, and an average stature in jeans and a white t-shirt, Simon Wells was an inventor by trade, through and through. Though his line of work could rarely ever be considered profitable, there was nevertheless a sense of pride in it that he could derive from nowhere else, from having invented numerous new methods of engine production, to new chemicals he would synthesize from simple household items. This time around, he was hard at work at what would be his magnum opus.
Standing at around eight feet tall before him was a rectangularly shaped contraption comprised of glass, steel, copper, wires, and a plethora of other materials with multisyllabic names – a cloning machine he dedicated so much work into to the detriment of his relationship with his wife, Cecilia.
“Coming to bed yet, honey?” she asked one evening five months ago with a hint of hope in her tone so obvious that even a person in one of the most crowded places on Earth could hear. But not Simon, whose eyes peered down at a notebook laid before him on his office desk, with various scribbles of math equations scattered about.
A disappointed sigh escaped Cecilia’s lips while she waited for a response from her husband; as the pause took its long, torturous toll on her, she took in the sight of the office – like the garage, it looked more like a workshop rather than its intended purpose as an office; attached to the wall adjacent to her was a flatscreen TV, and beneath that was a dresser mostly filled with clothes, in addition to more hardware tools and such. And sitting in front of her was Simon, still scribbling away on his notebook. The desk, meanwhile, was scattered with even more hardware tools, along with the usual pens, pencils, and blank sheets of paper. The only other piece furnishing indicating that the room was, indeed, an office, was the collection of framed newspaper clippings of her husband’s achievements, along with various degrees and certificates on his academic and professional accomplishments, as well as photographs of himself posed with his inventions.
“Honey, are you coming to bed yet?” Cecilia repeated, more loudly this time. Curvaceous and two years older than Simon, she had dark skin glistening with a fresh, light layer of moisturizer, and she was clad in purple lingerie and a black bathrobe that was untied around her waist; in addition to this was her bob-cut black hair and warm, amber eyes outlined with makeup that remained fixated on her husband with an air of impatience that gradually rose.
“Uh, not right now, dear,” Simon finally replied, albeit with an offhandedness that only served to further fuel her growing impatience.
“Fine,” she snapped before heading off to sleep.
The couple’s bedroom had walls painted in a shade of tannish white and a light-colored wooden floor. Positioned in the center of the bedroom was, of course, the bed, with white and purple sheets, blankets and pillows; to the right of the bed was another dresser filled with more of Simon’s clothes and with a few pictures of him and his wife together on their wedding day and various other occasions on top. To the left was the white table where Cecilia applied her makeup and stylized her hair. And in front of the bed was the door to the ensuite bathroom, its walls of the same tannish white color, a toilet with a shag covering of the same color of purple as the bed, and a walk-in shower.
Once in bed, she brought out a pink vibrator from under the mattress and eyed it with that same disappointment written all over her face.
“Doesn’t my husband even know I exist anymore,” she said, dejected, before moving aside her thong and placing the vibrator on her labia and turning it on. As it vibrated and sent waves of pleasure that she could just barely perceive, she closed her eyes and snaked her other hand to her breasts to massage them, though this, too, did little (if at all) to help.
“I need a man,” she moaned. “I need a man.”
Similarly, as Simon scribbled away on his notebook, his phone (for lack of better words) vibrated in his pocket. Upon retrieving it, he saw a text from a phone number unlisted on his contacts list.
202-555-0173: Giving off that dilf energy, are you?
“What the...?” he mumbled, mildly unsettled. And when there was even a subtle tap on his office window, he jumped in his seat and rose from it to find his neighbor, Kelly Maxwell, smugly gazing at him with her exuberant green eyes.
At twenty-two years old, the freckle-faced college girl had a small grey backpack slung over her shoulders; atop her head was dirty-blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and she was seductively dressed in a loose-fitting, light-blue cropped tank top that only just barely covered her cleavage but accentuated her sun-kissed complexion and thin body, and tight denim shorts with Converse shoes and no socks.
Phone still in hand another pebble in her other, she sent Simon another text.
202-555-0173: Enjoying the view daddy?
The inventor’s heart beat faster than ever before, both at how attractive she was (loathe as he was to admit), and her youthfulness and spontaneity. Not to mention, at his underlying fear of the repercussions of having such an affair as one with someone as young as her.
On pure instinct, he sent his own response.
Simon: Who are you?
Simon: How’d you get this number? And why are you messaging me?
Sweat beaded on his head as his heart continued beating rapidly. And during this whole ordeal with the young temptress, he hardly breathed at all, the oxygen in the air seemingly nonexistent.
202-555-0173: Now your really giving off that big daddy energy.
202-555-0173: I’m Kelly. Hello neighbor!
Simon: We need to talk. Now!
Simon slammed his phone down on his desk and rushed out the door to speak to this strange girl. Once outside after making sure that the door and curtains were closed behind him, he spoke.
“I’m gonna ask again – why are you messaging me?”
“Hey, take a chill pill there,” she said, smirking, her voice adorably high-pitched and with a slight southern drawl. “Like I said, I’m Kelly, Brian Maxwell’s daughter. I moved here from Texas two years ago to attend Portland State. You’ve met Brian before, right?”
“Yeah. I did,” Simon said tersely. “Brian Maxwell. We met at a Fourth of July barbeque last year, and that was that. But I’ve never seen you before.”
“But I’ve seen you before,” Kelly countered. “Are you always wearing that same outfit? White shirt and jeans?”
“Well, when you have so many good ideas, clothing choice is the last thing on your mind,” Simon explained with a feigned hint of modesty in his tone, almost bragging.
An awkward pause between the two of them ensued; for Simon, it may as well have lasted a week, his heart still rapidly beating as he awkwardly stood outside his house with nothing more to say. Kelly, meanwhile, stared deeply into the middle-aged man’s eyes, her teeth visibly sinking into her bottom lip, causing an involuntary (albeit somewhat pleasurable) twitch in his cock.
“I know how you’re really feeling right now,” she said slowly, finally breaking the silence. “I know how hard-working you are. Your wife obviously isn’t appreciating that.”
“That’s none of your business,” he snapped. “And how would you know anyway?”
“I have my ways.” Kelly’s tempting smile grew with each second. And then, without so much as even a subtle warning, she stepped forward until her face was just inches away from Simon’s and placed her soft hand on his crotch.
“W-What...are you doing?” he croaked out.
“What are you doing?” said Kelly, smirking. “Why haven’t you stepped back yet?” At first, she moved gently up and down on his crotch, her fingers sliding over his cockhead and reaching down to his balls through his pants, while her other hand snaked down to his thighs.
“I know what you want, mister,” she whispered, her warm breath kissing his nose and lips. “I know what you want. What you need. Let me take care of you.”
Her hand picked up the pace, the pressure from her palm applied more strongly now as she wrapped as much of it as she could all around the older man’s sensitive bits.
“I-I’m busy with something right now,” Simon grunted back, barely able to speak fluidly anymore. “A-And you’re too young.”
“I’m twenty-two!” Kelly exclaimed in amusement. “I’m on a gap semester right now. I’m bored. I live all alone away from home. Maybe you can be my daddy.”
“Holy shit,” Simon groaned. “Fuck!” Slowly, a familiar pressure started building within his crotch, and his cock continued twitching in glee at Kelly’s soft, skillful handiwork.
“I can take care of you daddy,” she continued. “I know what guys like you need.”
“I’m guessing you must be a favorite of your professors’.”
“For entirely different reasons.” Kelly laughed, her hot, arousing breath continuing its assault on Simon’s face and bringing him closer and closer to climax as her hand massaged his cock and balls.
“I’m an A student,” she continued. “I’ve just watched enough porn by now to know what a man wants.”
“Oh, so you’re actually a virgin?” Simon scoffed, trying his best to keep up his demeanor as a more responsible adult, but to no avail with the pressure in him becoming stronger and stronger.
“Oh, I’m not a virgin,” Kelly whispered. “I’ve had sex before, but only twice. That second time, I realized...” she then moved her lips to Simon’s ear, planting soft kisses along the way to sweeten the deal.
“I need an older man,” she whispered.
Unable to contain himself any longer, the inventor came. And a visible wet spot on his jeans started to appear, which he then tried his best to conceal with his shirt.
Promptly, Kelly’s hand came to a stop; eagerly, she pulled it back and gave it a sniff.
“Smell’s good,” she said. “If you wanna meet up sometime today, head over to my home. It’s just across the street from yours. I’m alone all day and I’ve got nothing else going on.” And with that, Kelly returned home, taking care to walk in a certain fashion such that her hips hypnotically swayed left and right, causing Simon’s mouth to hang open in amazement before he quickly closed it shut.
“I need to get back to work.”
“By the way...” Kelly momentarily stopped in her tracks and turned around to face Simon one last time for the day. “You never told me your name.”
“I assumed you already knew,” Simon explained, his wit slowly returning. “Especially considering that you know about my turbulent marriage already. Why bother?”
The devilish, dirty-blonde kept her gaze on him, her expression expectant and demanding in a way that made him shiver at his knees.
“It’s Simon,” he said finally. “Nice meeting you, Kelly.” Pleased with herself, she entered back inside her home, her tight, hypnotic ass disappearing once she shut the door.
With all the stress completely wiped from Simon’s mind by his adept neighbor who was now eagerly awaiting his visit, he was back at his desk finishing up the final design plans of his cloning machine. Just when he was about to write the last number necessary for the calculations and such, Cecilia stood behind him once more, this time with a stern look on her face,
“I heard you walk outside for a moment,” she said. “What was that about?”
“Nothing, dear,” Simon replied quickly. “I just needed to get some air, is all.”
“Okay,” his wife said, audibly skeptical, but deciding not to ask any further before returning to bed.
Later that night on that same day, whilst the struggling couple laid in bed in complete silence, Cecilia slid next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist while her other hand snaked over to his crotch to fish his cock out of his boxers.
“W-What are you doing?” Simon drowsily mumbled.
“Aren’t you gonna be a good husband and take care of me?” she begged, continuing her advances. “I miss those times when we’d make love, and I want us to go back to that.”
As she said all this, images of his earlier tryst with Kelly flashed through his mind – the loose-fitting tank top, her hot breath on his face, her soft hand deftly massaging his crotch and bringing him to cum. With his eyelids ajar, he rose from bed and pinned his wife to the mattress, his face hovering over hers.
“You want me to take care of you, huh?” he whispered, imagining his wife as Kelly instead. “I’ll do it. I’ll take good care of you.”
“Oh! Yes, honey!” she said gleefully. “Take me.”
Simon started off by sliding the purple bra down his wife’s shoulders, exposing her supple breasts and nipples that were erect with delight. He then lowered his lips down to them, only to be stopped by his wife’s palm.
“I don’t want you to do that,” she complained. “I want you to just take me.” With her free hand, she gestured for Simon to simply take the plunge into her and plow her, though he had something else in mind. Disappointed and at conflicting interests with his wife, however, he then climbed off of her and laid back in bed.
“Wait, what?” she said. “Did I do something wrong or –”
“I don’t think I’m too interested tonight,” Simon blurted out. “I just...I wanted to take the time to admire your body first, and –”
“So, you don’t really feel like fucking me?” Cecilia snapped. “Is that it? Is this your way of keeping me –”
“That’s not what I said!” Simon countered. “I said ‘first’. I wanted to take the time to admire your body first.”
“Well, I’m not really interested in oral, Simon,” she said, this time using her husband’s name to damaging effect as he perceptively jumped in bed. “I always have to instruct you on what to do, even though we’ve been married for the past four years already! And you always seem to do it with the expectation that I’ll reciprocate.”
“I-I’m sorry. I never meant to...and sometimes...I forget,” he stammered, completely taken aback.
“And not to mention, it’s always me who has to be the one to initiate,” Cecilia continued. “I wanted a man, Simon. And I ended up marrying a geek.” Disgusted at her husband and herself, she grumbled and turned her back on him.
“Let’s just go to sleep. I don’t think I want to talk to you for a while.”
Simon resigned himself to Cecilia’s words and closed his eyes. As best as he tried to fall asleep, the stinging sensation of the silent night and his wife’s tirade remained.
The next morning, at around six o’clock, he quietly rose from bed and retrieved a pair of jeans from one of the drawers in the dresser. Upon slipping out of his pajama pants and into the jeans, he took one last glance at his wife.
“I tried my best, honey,” he whispered while she remained fast asleep. And with that, he headed out the door and walked over to the house across the street, where Kelly lived.
Just after Simon left home, Cecilia awoke, her suspicions about her husband stronger than ever.
“I tried my best, honey,” he whispered while she remained fast asleep.
“That...asshole,” she hissed, her arms punching down on her pillows.
Returning to Simon and his own soon-to-begin extramarital affair after knocking on the door, almost immediately, Kelly appeared, dressed in a simple white t-shirt (no bra) and grey sweatpants, with her dirty-blonde hair bedraggled, and her eyes just barely opened from having just woken up, but nevertheless remaining youthful and alluring, like a new rollercoaster Simon was about to take a ride on.
“So, you invited me over yesterday,” he mumbled awkwardly.
“Yes,” said Kelly slowly. “You want to come in?”
Not saying anything more, Simon entered her home and stood firmly next to one of the living room’s couches while she shut the door.
“You want a drink?” she asked after closing it.
Once again on pure impulse, he pinned the young, Texan temptress to the wall and crashed his lips against hers.
“Holy fuck!” she said breathily between kisses. All the while, the most that the middle-aged inventor could muster were simple, feral growls that served to further turn on Kelly. He then slithered his tongue into her mouth and met hers, resulting in a heated duel that ended in his victory as he claimed his prize with both his mouth and body.
“Yeah, that’s right, daddy,” she continued. “Savor your prize.”
He then slid his mouth down her neck and planted more kisses, his hands also exploring the rest of her body and lifting her t-shirt, exposing her small, firm breasts.
“You like ‘em?” she asked.
Still not saying anything, his lips then moved down to her nipples, which he eagerly and desperately suckled and lightly bit.
“Fuck! That feels good,” she moaned, her own hands moving to the back of Simon’s neck to keep his mouth where she wanted it.
“My wife...never lets me do this,” he finally managed to say. “I like...showing a pretty girl how much I admire them.”
“Well, I’d be happy to be your pillow princess for the day,” she remarked.
Happily, Simon then flicked his tongue against Kelly’s left nipple while he gently pinched her other with his thumb and forefinger.
“Thank you, princess,” he said gratefully; meanwhile, he then snaked his other hand into Kelly’s sweatpants and down to her own sensitive parts, taking in every inch of her body with his touch. Once his hand was at its destination, he grinded his palm against her labia through her panties.
“Wet already?” he asked as smugly as she was just yesterday.
“Older guys are hot as fuck,” said Kelly, her breathing harsher now against Simon’s neck, a sensation which he gratefully welcomed back. Wanting to continue and enhance it, he picked up the pace of his hand grinding against Kelly’s warm, wet womanhood, his thumb occasionally flicking against her clitoris.
“My turn now, naughty girl,” he said while he kept his mouth occupied with her nipple. All these sensations happening at once drove Kelly to the edge of climax.
“I’m gonna cum so much,” she said. “I’m gonna...”
Emboldened, Simon then got down on his knees and pulled her sweatpants and panties down, fully exposing her vagina, now soaked in its arousal; tingles crawled up her spine when he pouted his lips and lightly blew air on its surface.
“Oh, God! Argh!” Before she knew it, his mouth was all over her pussy, his tongue lapping away her sweet, slightly salty juices, and occasionally flicking at her clitoris.
“Fuck! You’re so good at that!” she moaned.
“Mm-hm,” he hummed in agreement, his vibrating lips bringing even more tingles up her spine and getting her closer and closer to an intense climax. “My wife...never lets me do this.”
Not wanting to cum just yet, she then pushed Simon to the opposite wall with a forcefulness that sent a tsunami wave of shock and fear washing over him.
“Oh shit!” he exclaimed. “Listen, I’m really sorry. It’s just I –”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Kelly assured, an amused, genuine smile on her face that brought him a warmth he hadn’t felt in years and greatly missed.
“It’s just...I wanna take care of you too.” She then took hold of Simon’s wrist and directed him to take a seat in one of the living room couches. Once he took his seat, she got down on her knees.
“Here, let me return the favor by sucking your cock,” she said.
As she went to work on Simon’s pants, he took a long gaze at the living room and its furnishings – it was white, with a dark-wood floor and a flatscreen TV in front of him. Between him and the TV was a glass-topped coffee table with various books stocked inside, and cheap, black-leather couches.
Once his pants were at his ankles, she fished his cock out through his boxers, allowing it to stick out through the slot in them.
“Holy shit!” she gasped. “I mean, I know most older guys are pretty big, but I always thought that it was all just bullshit in porn.”
“My wife always thought...ah, fuck!” Before Simon could explain any further, Kelly immediately kissed and lightly suckled his cockhead, moaning in approval of its taste.
“Your wife is definitely missing out,” she said between kisses.
“Definitely,” Simon agreed. “But wait, your dad could be here at any moment, and –”
“My dad might’ve bought the place for me, but I still own it,” Kelly countered. “You’re a guest at my home. Let me show you a little southern hospitality.”
Deciding to give it her all, Kelly took Simon into her mouth again, this time, going deeper and deeper until she was halfway. The wet tightness of her throat, paired with her tongue slathering the underside of his manhood, quickly drove him to the edge of climaxing once more.
“F-Fuck, baby!” he grunted. Meanwhile, the talented Texan bobbed her head at a steady, rhythmic pace, spit crawling from her protruding tongue and down his thighs and balls.
“Hrgh!” she gagged whilst sloppily and expertly slurping the whole length of his cock.
Just before Kelly could finish her breathtaking performance, there was a knock at her door. Immediately, she pulled her mouth off of Simon.
“Damnit!” she cursed whilst wiping her mouth with her shirt. “I gotta get the door. You stay here.”
Simon nodded in agreement and returned his cock to his boxers and pulled his pants back on.
“Hey, Dad!” Kelly said in the background to the person outside the door. “Surprised to see you here...no, not at all. Come in!”
She moved herself and the door aside, and promptly, a man entered; he was around the same age as Simon, with neatly combed brown hair, glasses, an averagely thin build clothed in a navy-blue suit and a red tie, and dark-brown leather shoes.
“Simon!” he said, as though meeting a friend he hadn’t seen in years in the same southern drawl as his daughter. “Good to see you again. How are ya?”
“Doing...doing good, Mr. Maxwell,” said Simon, his nervousness fortunately falling on deaf ears.
“Simon, I thought we agreed that you would just call me Brian.” Brian laughed, his perfect white teeth showing.
“Right. Brian,” said Simon. “I’m doing good, Brian. I’ve just been so busy.”
“That, you have, my friend,” said Brian, his laughter finally dissipating, but his smile remaining. “The cloning machine, right?”
“Right. The cloning machine,” said Simon, immediately tense with suspicion instead of nervousness. “How do you know about that?”
“You told me. Remember?” Brian laughed again, those same straight white teeth showing. “Back at the Fourth of July party. You said you should be done in a year at most. Is it almost finished?”
“Yes. Almost,” said Simon, this time tersely.
“That’s wonderful, buddy. I’ve already told my company about it.”
“Your company?”
There was a mild annoyance that started to tinge Brian’s voice, as best as he tried at covering it up with laughter. Nevertheless, he continued with,
“We talked for hours about this last year, Simon. I work for Black Lightning, a defense contractor. I told my employers last week, and they said they’re interested. That’s why I’m here, plus some other business.”
Simon gritted his teeth in anger as a certain warmth washed over him. And all the while, he clenched his down on the couch’s armrest, giving it his all not to punch the businessman and father of the college girl who blew him only a few minutes ago.
Finally, he settled with, “I’m...glad you told them, Brian. I can assure you that I’m almost finished. Speaking of which...” he then rose from the couch and offered his hand to Brian.
“I should really get back to work on finishing the thing. It was nice meeting you though.”
“One more thing, Simon,” said Brian. “I must ask – what were you doing here anyway?”
“Simon was just helping me with some math homework,” Kelly chimed in to Simon’s rescue. “I figured that since he’s an inventor, he’d be pretty good at math. And I was right.”
“And right you were,” said Brian, patting his daughter on the back. He then turned his gaze to Simon.
“I’m telling you, buddy, this girl’s a real smarty. She knows how to use her resources and suck up that knowledge.”
A smirk escaped Simon, which he quickly disguised as a cough before replying with, “I’m...happy to hear that. And I’m sure she’s got a bright future ahead of her.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing the finished prototype,” said Brian, changing the subject before shaking Simon’s hand. “It was great seeing you, buddy.”
Whilst Simon made his way out of Kelly’s house in renewed spirits despite the interruption, Cecilia peered through the living room window back inside his own home, her jaw visibly tensed up and her eyes squinting down at him in disgust.
“That...fucking sicko.”
Now returning to the present, Simon continued work on his cloning machine, sweat beading on his head while a sense of fear and excitement panged him to no end.
“It’s been four months already, buddy. How the hell aren’t you finished yet?”
“I just need one more month, Brian. That’s it.”
In the midst of his work, his phone vibrated in his pocket, causing a startled jump in him.
“Another text?” he mumbled. Upon retrieving his phone from his pocket, he noticed (much to both his relief and mild annoyance) another text from Kelly.
Kelly: Home alone tonight, daddy.
Kelly: Plz cum over, daddy.
Kelly: :,(
“This girl again?” Simon sighed in frustration, his libido comparably lower than hers at the moment. With a rushed tapping of his fingers across the screen, he typed his response.
Simon: Can’t tonight, baby. Daddy’s hard at work.
Kelly: But not hard for me?? Your good girl NEEDS you.
Kelly: Plz!
“Ah, fuck it!” Simon whispered under his breath. He snuck back into the house and into the bathroom before hastily slamming the door behind him and locking it. He undid his pants and pulled out his cock – girthy, uncut, and at least nine inches long. He quickly took a picture with his phone and applied a caption.
Simon: Here’s a little appetizer for you, babe. For now.
Simon: >:-)
Suddenly, and in a moment of complete tomfoolery, he sent the pic and caption to Cecilia instead.
“FUCK ME!” he boomed. Not even a moment later, Cecilia’s response appeared.
Cecilia: What the fuck?!
Simon quickly dialed up his wife.
“Honey,” he said. “I’m sorry, but that was a complete accident. I didn’t mean –”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” she screeched over the phone. “What? You’ve been fucking someone else?”
“N-No, not at all,” Simon stammered. “I...” His voice trailed off as he slowly found himself thinking of his invention. Fuck, I hope this works, he thought.
“It wasn’t me,” he declared. “One of my clones did it. For the past month I’ve spent testing my cloning machine, I’ve been having...problems with them.”
“Yeah, right,” Cecilia scoffed before promptly hanging up.
Simon washed his hands and returned to the garage to finish his cloning machine. After about ten more minutes of tinkering, it was finally complete.
“Well. Here goes nothing.” Simon tapped a button on the side of the steel, box-shaped contraption and promptly, it ran a red laser over him to scan his appearance; about ten seconds later or so, there was something of a rumble. And then out of a metal door on the other side of the contraption came The Clone. Most surprisingly, it came out not just appearing identical to Simon, but also dressed in the same exact attire he wore – jeans and a white t-shirt.
“Err...hello?” said The Clone, surprisingly identical to him even in voice.
“Oh, thank God!” Simon whispered under his breath in relief. “Okay,” he continued to The Clone. “Brass tacks – I need you to take responsibility for a dick pic I took on accident.”
“What –”
Before The Clone could finish its sentence, Simon called out to his wife.
“Honey!”
“WHAT?!” Cecilia boomed. Upon entering the garage, she stood with folded arms and glared at Simon and The Clone, her nostrils flaring.
Cecilia tonight – ironically enough – had on a light-blue bathrobe, a pink t-shirt, and white pajama pants, and all the while she was visibly angry at her husband. Under normal circumstances, Simon would be smirking, but with his marriage at stake, desperation was the only emotion he felt.
“It was my clone. You see?” Simon continued. Furtively and hastily, he additionally made the effort to force his phone into The Clone’s hands for good measure. “It’s not my dick pic you saw; it was his.”
“That’s total bullshit!” Cecilia snapped. “I’ve been watching you all these months – always going to what’s-her-name’s house.”
“Honey, I haven’t,” Simon denied, begging by this point. “Like I said earlier, it’s my cloning machine. Test after test, they –”
“They what, Simon?!” Cecilia was red in the face by this point, and out for blood as far as Simon could tell, but he stood his ground nevertheless, confident in his alibi.
He took a deep breath to compose himself, inhaling from his nose and exhaling from his mouth, his heartrate coming to a subtle slow.
“The clones always come out...horny,” he conceded, not at all honest about it, of course. “That pic I sent you a moment ago, the caption...those visits...none of that was me.”
Cecilia stood for another moment in complete silence, her expression hard and still glaring.
“Show me,” she said tersely.
Fuck! Simon thought, his anxious gaze moving toward The Clone. This guy clearly doesn’t even know what’s happening. How the hell am I gonna make this work?
Meanwhile, just outside the garage and peering into the window at the trio was Kelly, dressed skimpily in just a cropped white t-shirt, sandals, and that same pair of daisy duke denim shorts that hugged and outlined her tight, round ass.
“He...doesn’t want me anymore?” she mumbled, confused. Her eyes then landed on The Clone, and her expression changed from confusion to outright fascination.
“Wait...he actually...did it?”
Back inside the garage, there was still a palpable tension in the air, so strong that Simon could have sworn that he could even hear his own heartbeat. Cecilia then continued on, this time with more authority.
“You heard what I said, honey. Show me.”
“Cecilia, dear –”
“We haven’t had sex in months. You’ll both need to fuck me.” Cecilia then turned to The Clone as well, her heartrate racing with sexual need and coldly pure, vengeful rage.
“What?” asked The Clone, completely clueless about everything happening before him.
“You both need to fuck me,” Cecilia repeated. “That way I can tell which one of you is actually my husband, and which one of you is the pervy asshole. Now, you guys can choose to fuck me at the same time, or you can take turns. Your call.”
“T-This is ridiculous,” Simon spluttered out. “Firstly – and I say this again – I’m not cheating on you. And that pic was from The Clone, sent to you as part of some sick prank in his head.”
“I’ve no idea what’s happening here, guys,” said The Clone, his words falling on deaf ears from the failing couple.
“So, what? You have a problem with fucking me, Simon?” she asked. “Or is the problem that not all your clones are actually horny by default?”
“I have a problem with you fucking The Clone,” Simon parried. “You might as well say you wanna cheat on me with my own invention.”
“Your invention’s invention,” Cecilia retorted back. “Get your head out of your ass for once. Unless you wanna just come out with it already and tell the truth that you have been cheating on me.”
“I’ll get my head out of my ass when you kiss it!” Simon cursed, even kicking a nearby wrench in frustration. Angrily, he started undoing his pants.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He then threw his pants and shoes to one corner of the garage and started stroking his cock; as he did this, images of his trysts with Kelly for the last several months flashed through his mind – her lips wrapped around the head of his dick, her small, perky, lightly freckled tits, her thin, highly flexible frame, her vibrant green eyes and her adorably high-pitched voice with its subtle southern drawl.
“’the fuck’s the holdup, honey?” Cecilia spat out as she untied her bathrobe and threw it to another corner of the garage before pulling down her pajama pants, along with her panties.
“Nothing, dear,” said Simon, finding himself dragged back to reality, in his current predicament. Damn, I wish Kelly was here right now, he thought wistfully.
Cecilia bent over the dryer and spat on her hand for lubrication before rubbing her entrance.
“I’ve waited too long for this,” she remarked.
Without any further hesitation, Simon took the plunge; slowly, he buried his cock into his wife’s vagina before thrusting in and out at a steady pace.
“Ooh. Fuck!” Cecilia gasped. “Yeah, it’s definitely been way too long.”
Meanwhile, Kelly continued watching her neighbors through the window, her breath becoming heavier by the second as she watched Simon gently pound his wife.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. She then moved one hand to her breasts and her other to her womanhood, which was now lightly moistened by the arousing affair happening before her. Not thinking for even a second, she began to massage the both of them, losing herself in masturbation.
Simon proceeded to pick up the pace on his wife, grunting as he tried his hardest to fuck her with as much vigor as he could muster, despite his wife being comparably less tight and satisfying than Kelly.
“Oh, if only you’d been this rough sooner,” she moaned. “If only you’d spent more time on fucking me rather than on all that stupid tinkering you do.”
Releasing a portion of the mixture of his anger and lust, Simon rose his hand to his wife’s ass.
SLAP!
“Argh! Honey!” she cried aloud. “You slapped me?”
Simon slapped her ass again.
SLAP!
“If you’re gonna act like such a slut tonight, dear, I might as well treat you like one,” he spat. Purring with delight, Cecilia played along while The Clone stood still, watching in utter confusion.
“Um...” he chimed in. “May I...what are my orders here?”
“Your orders are to wait,” Cecilia grunted. “Now wait.” Cecilia then grasped the dryer with a tighter grip.
“Ungh! God!” she grunted, feeling hungrier and more feral by the second. “Oh, why couldn’t you have been this...animalistic sooner?”
“I...was busy,” Simon explained between thrusts.
“Busy fucking the college girl across the street instead of me,” Cecilia spat. Incensed beyond belief, Simon raised his hand.
SLAP!
“ARGH! FUCK!” Suddenly, Cecilia’s ass-cheeks blushed; the intensity of the slap drove her even closer to climax.
“How many damn times do I need to tell you?” Simon screamed. “I’m not cheating!” Whilst still fucking her, he then put her down on the garage floor on her hands and knees, and turned his gaze from his wife’s ass to The Clone, still standing before him in complete confusion.
“You – shut my wife up,” he ordered.
“What do you –”
“With your ass, idiot!”
The Clone continued standing in confusion, this time in a state of complete silence.
“Ugh! Make her lick and kiss your ass,” Simon explained, his annoyance driving him to pound his wife even faster and more roughly.
The Clone obeyed and proceeded to pull down its pants, exposing its bare, pale, mildly hairy ass to Cecilia and completely blocking her view of everything else. Not hesitating any further, it then pushed itself directly into Cecilia’s face, making her lick and kiss its ass, exactly as Simon instructed.
“Fuck yeah, honey,” said Simon triumphantly. “Now, you can literally kiss my ass. Eat it.”
“Your...clone’s...ass,” Cecilia corrected, despite being completely muffled by The Clone.
The Clone meanwhile, found the sensation of having its ass eaten out surprisingly enjoyable; Cecilia’s tongue swirled around and made light prods against The Clone’s anus, moistening and loosening it with each passing second.
“Ohh,” The Clone moaned. “That...feels pleasant.”
“Fucking...perv,” Cecilia cursed between licks and kisses of its mildly hairy and salty asshole.
Kelly, meanwhile, was in complete ecstasy at the whole affair happening before her. Her hands then moved faster in massaging her breasts and vagina, her breath hastening to the point where the garage window she peered into fogged up.
“Y-Yes! Keep going, daddy,” she moaned to herself.
For a brief second when The Clone pulled away from Cecilia’s face for a break from her mouth, she gazed at the window and noticed the spot of fog rhythmically expanding and contracting from Kelly’s utterly horny breathing.
That pervy bitch, Cecilia thought. Her mind immediately returned to the task at hand when The Clone pushed its ass against Cecilia’s face once more.
“Ugh! Fuck!” Simon grunted. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard.”
“My ass is that nice, huh, honey?” Cecilia responded smugly.
“No, mine,” Simon remarked. “I never knew it’d be so fucking hot watching you eat my ass. Fuck!”
Cecilia, meanwhile, as loathe as she was to admit, was feeling utterly blissful from the rough, rhythmic pounding of Simon’s thighs against her own ass whilst his cock filled her sopping cunt.
T-This is what I missed, honey, she thought to herself while moaning aloud in approval nevertheless. You, taking me however you want without all the foreplay.
After about several more thrusts in and out of his wife, Simon made a final balls-deep plunge and climaxed, unleashing rope after rope of his cum to the point of overflowing before pulling out and collapsing onto a nearby laundry hamper for a seat.
“Son of a bitch, that was intense,” he gasped.
Cecilia was completely spent by this point despite not even having reached her own climax yet. And she continued to be on all fours while her mouth was still completely occupied by The Clone’s ass. Knowing that there was only one way to end this, she pushed The Clone’s ass away for a moment to speak.
“You,” she said to it. “Bring your cock to my mouth and fuck it.”
“I’m not sure I –”
“Just cram your penis into the woman’s mouth,” Simon snapped.
The Clone then turned around and stuffed its cock straight into Cecilia’s mouth. Losing all sense of control, it proceeded to practically jackhammer her throat, spit flying all over the place before soaking the garage floor in even more fluids. The sensation of Cecilia’s tight, wet throat, soft lips, and slithery tongue sliding all along the length of its shaft was indescribable for The Clone; incomparable to the earlier sensation of having its ass eaten out.
With newfound energy at the sight of it all, Simon proceeded to stroke himself.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said through gritted teeth.
Great! Either my husband’s been a cuck all along or he’s just that arrogant, Cecilia acidly thought.
Sensing this, Simon called her out.
“Hey, FYI – I’m not a cuck.”
“I...never said...you were,” Cecilia snapped back through a mouthful of cock.
Cecilia’s response fell on deaf ears when Simon continued with, “It’s just that I now realize that this cloning machine finally allows me to watch myself in third person.”
Nothing more was exchanged by that point, after several more moments, both The Clone and Cecilia found themselves reaching their respective climaxes. Still not feeling completely satisfied just yet, Cecilia snaked her hand to her labia and massaged it, prodding it with her fingers and brushing her thumb against her clitoris. Ugh, why does my husband have to be so pathetic? she thought bitterly, even in spite of the slight pleasure she received from having her throat fucked.
“Argh! F-Fuck!” The Clone exclaimed as it now found itself just seconds from orgasm, just as Cecilia was. And then promptly, it and Cecilia came simultaneously; Cecilia squirted all over the dryer, with some of it even landing on Simon’s thigh while The Clone shot his entire load down her throat, which she eagerly swallowed.
Kelly continued masturbating alongside Simon at the scene before him. Sweat beaded on her face from both the utter sexiness of it all and the warm summer air; wanting to enhance the sensations further and cool off for a bit, she pulled her shirt down to expose her small, perky tits, and along with this, her shorts and panties. Immediately, an even more pleasurable cooling sensation took over her upon the nighttime air kissing her entrance, which was now soaked in her juices.
“Holy shit,” she moaned, taking care to rub her hand with as much of her own juices as she could before bringing her hand to her mouth.
“Mm,” she said in pure pleasure as she sucked her fingers, savoring the sweetly salty flavor of herself before returning her hand to her labia once more, taking care to insert her index and middle fingers.
“Ngh! Fuck” she moaned again.
As for Simon, he continued stroking his cock, this time even fondling his balls with his other hand.
Noticing this, The Clone pulled out of Cecilia’s throat and got down on its knees and leaned its lips in to Simon’s cock.
“H-Hey!” Simon protested. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”
“I’m...curious, sir,” said The Clone, its expression and tone blank and its demeanor in something of a trancelike state. “I wish to know...what it is like to give.”
“You can...God damnit!”
Ignoring Simon’s protests, The Clone advanced further and took Simon into its mouth, slowly swallowing his cockhead. And with this moist, airlock tightness, not to mention, the warm feeling of its steady breathing, Simon relented.
“Fuck it. Feels amazing!”
The Clone took Simon deeper into its mouth to the point of reaching halfway.
“Holy shit!” said Cecilia, now standing by and watching her husband. “I didn’t think you’d...”
The Clone upped ante, this time taking its creator even deeper, rhythmically bobbing its head whilst slathering its tongue up, down, and all around the shaft of Simon’s cock.
“Fuck! I guess guys really do give it better,” Simon remarked.
Smugly, Cecilia stepped forward and placed her hand on the back of The Clone’s head.
“W-What the hell are you doing?” Simon asked.
“Just lending a hand. There’s nothing quite like interactive entertainment,” Cecilia retorted. She then pushed down on The Clone’s head, making it swallow the whole of Simon’s length and girth, drool seeping from its lips and making Simon’s balls glisten under the flickering lighting of the garage before falling to the ground.
“Aw... Fuck!”
“Ghmph!” The Clone gagged, its tongue protruding from its lips and lapping away at Simon’s balls at the same time.
Gently, Cecilia began to control The Clone’s pacing, bobbing the head slowly and steadily.
“I can’t have you let all the fun, now, can I?” she remarked with an audible smirk.
Meanwhile, Kelly was at her wit’s end, her fingers going in and out of her even faster as they soaked in even more of her juices to the point of dripping, strings of the stuff hanging and dangling as she moved them in and out.
“Ngh!” she groaned. “Oh fuck, you guys are gonna make me cum.” Unable to hold back any longer, Kelly let go and came, her orgasm washing over her with the intensity of a tsunami as she collapsed onto the ground and moaned out loud to the nighttime sky.
“OH FUUUCK!” she shouted, juices falling to the ground from her entrance, now spread widely by her fingers, taking on the appearance of a fully bloomed rose.
Slowly but surely, Simon began to reach another climax.
“H-Honey, slow down,” he grunted as Cecilia sped up the pace of The Clone’s bobbing on Simon’s cock. Before he could protest any further, he came undone.
“Argh! Holy fuck!”
Expertly, The Clone swallowed the entire load; it finished its job within a few gulps before pulling its lips from Simon’s cock and continuing to blankly stare back at him, as though a mere mortal finally met its creator.
“Makes sense that I would give head this good,” Simon remarked under his breath. “You hear that, honey? I suck dick better than you.”
Cecilia scoffed. “My hands were doing most of the work the whole time.”
“Yeah, thanks to you too,” Simon responded offhandedly.
For the next several moments, the four of them sat in silence – Kelly sat outside the garage with her eyes still glued to the window, while Cecilia, The Clone, and Simon took the time to catch their breaths.
Finally, Cecilia broke the silence; she grabbed The Clone by its wrist and said, “You, I’m not done with you yet,” before returning her gaze to her husband.
“So, now you believe me?” asked Simon in an irritable tone tinged with a subtle hint of hope in it.
“Doesn’t hurt to make sure. You go enjoy your little invention,” she said in hypocritical disgust before turning on her heel and walking away to her bedroom with The Clone in tow.
Simon bowed his head in disappointment, his eyes to the ground before noticing Kelly out of his peripheral vision.
Kelly, her eyes directly meeting with Simon, mouthed, “Can I come in?”
Simon nodded, his hand slowing reaching for the button on the cloning machine once more. To say the least, the rest of that summer night would be hot for two entirely different reasons.
Simon was at it again tonight. And for the umpteenth time for the past six months now. Echoing in his garage was the typical cacophony one could expect to hear from a middle-aged man’s home – shrieking drills, thundering hammers, and the deafening clangs of tools falling to the concrete floor.
At forty-two years old with a mostly-bald head, brown eyes, and an average stature in jeans and a white t-shirt, Simon Wells was an inventor by trade, through and through. Though his line of work could rarely ever be considered profitable, there was nevertheless a sense of pride in it that he could derive from nowhere else, from having invented numerous new methods of engine production, to new chemicals he would synthesize from simple household items. This time around, he was hard at work at what would be his magnum opus.
Standing at around eight feet tall before him was a rectangularly shaped contraption comprised of glass, steel, copper, wires, and a plethora of other materials with multisyllabic names – a cloning machine he dedicated so much work into to the detriment of his relationship with his wife, Cecilia.
“Coming to bed yet, honey?” she asked one evening five months ago with a hint of hope in her tone so obvious that even a person in one of the most crowded places on Earth could hear. But not Simon, whose eyes peered down at a notebook laid before him on his office desk, with various scribbles of math equations scattered about.
A disappointed sigh escaped Cecilia’s lips while she waited for a response from her husband; as the pause took its long, torturous toll on her, she took in the sight of the office – like the garage, it looked more like a workshop rather than its intended purpose as an office; attached to the wall adjacent to her was a flatscreen TV, and beneath that was a dresser mostly filled with clothes, in addition to more hardware tools and such. And sitting in front of her was Simon, still scribbling away on his notebook. The desk, meanwhile, was scattered with even more hardware tools, along with the usual pens, pencils, and blank sheets of paper. The only other piece furnishing indicating that the room was, indeed, an office, was the collection of framed newspaper clippings of her husband’s achievements, along with various degrees and certificates on his academic and professional accomplishments, as well as photographs of himself posed with his inventions.
“Honey, are you coming to bed yet?” Cecilia repeated, more loudly this time. Curvaceous and two years older than Simon, she had dark skin glistening with a fresh, light layer of moisturizer, and she was clad in purple lingerie and a black bathrobe that was untied around her waist; in addition to this was her bob-cut black hair and warm, amber eyes outlined with makeup that remained fixated on her husband with an air of impatience that gradually rose.
“Uh, not right now, dear,” Simon finally replied, albeit with an offhandedness that only served to further fuel her growing impatience.
“Fine,” she snapped before heading off to sleep.
The couple’s bedroom had walls painted in a shade of tannish white and a light-colored wooden floor. Positioned in the center of the bedroom was, of course, the bed, with white and purple sheets, blankets and pillows; to the right of the bed was another dresser filled with more of Simon’s clothes and with a few pictures of him and his wife together on their wedding day and various other occasions on top. To the left was the white table where Cecilia applied her makeup and stylized her hair. And in front of the bed was the door to the ensuite bathroom, its walls of the same tannish white color, a toilet with a shag covering of the same color of purple as the bed, and a walk-in shower.
Once in bed, she brought out a pink vibrator from under the mattress and eyed it with that same disappointment written all over her face.
“Doesn’t my husband even know I exist anymore,” she said, dejected, before moving aside her thong and placing the vibrator on her labia and turning it on. As it vibrated and sent waves of pleasure that she could just barely perceive, she closed her eyes and snaked her other hand to her breasts to massage them, though this, too, did little (if at all) to help.
“I need a man,” she moaned. “I need a man.”
Similarly, as Simon scribbled away on his notebook, his phone (for lack of better words) vibrated in his pocket. Upon retrieving it, he saw a text from a phone number unlisted on his contacts list.
202-555-0173: Giving off that dilf energy, are you?
“What the...?” he mumbled, mildly unsettled. And when there was even a subtle tap on his office window, he jumped in his seat and rose from it to find his neighbor, Kelly Maxwell, smugly gazing at him with her exuberant green eyes.
At twenty-two years old, the freckle-faced college girl had a small grey backpack slung over her shoulders; atop her head was dirty-blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and she was seductively dressed in a loose-fitting, light-blue cropped tank top that only just barely covered her cleavage but accentuated her sun-kissed complexion and thin body, and tight denim shorts with Converse shoes and no socks.
Phone still in hand another pebble in her other, she sent Simon another text.
202-555-0173: Enjoying the view daddy?
The inventor’s heart beat faster than ever before, both at how attractive she was (loathe as he was to admit), and her youthfulness and spontaneity. Not to mention, at his underlying fear of the repercussions of having such an affair as one with someone as young as her.
On pure instinct, he sent his own response.
Simon: Who are you?
Simon: How’d you get this number? And why are you messaging me?
Sweat beaded on his head as his heart continued beating rapidly. And during this whole ordeal with the young temptress, he hardly breathed at all, the oxygen in the air seemingly nonexistent.
202-555-0173: Now your really giving off that big daddy energy.
202-555-0173: I’m Kelly. Hello neighbor!
Simon: We need to talk. Now!
Simon slammed his phone down on his desk and rushed out the door to speak to this strange girl. Once outside after making sure that the door and curtains were closed behind him, he spoke.
“I’m gonna ask again – why are you messaging me?”
“Hey, take a chill pill there,” she said, smirking, her voice adorably high-pitched and with a slight southern drawl. “Like I said, I’m Kelly, Brian Maxwell’s daughter. I moved here from Texas two years ago to attend Portland State. You’ve met Brian before, right?”
“Yeah. I did,” Simon said tersely. “Brian Maxwell. We met at a Fourth of July barbeque last year, and that was that. But I’ve never seen you before.”
“But I’ve seen you before,” Kelly countered. “Are you always wearing that same outfit? White shirt and jeans?”
“Well, when you have so many good ideas, clothing choice is the last thing on your mind,” Simon explained with a feigned hint of modesty in his tone, almost bragging.
An awkward pause between the two of them ensued; for Simon, it may as well have lasted a week, his heart still rapidly beating as he awkwardly stood outside his house with nothing more to say. Kelly, meanwhile, stared deeply into the middle-aged man’s eyes, her teeth visibly sinking into her bottom lip, causing an involuntary (albeit somewhat pleasurable) twitch in his cock.
“I know how you’re really feeling right now,” she said slowly, finally breaking the silence. “I know how hard-working you are. Your wife obviously isn’t appreciating that.”
“That’s none of your business,” he snapped. “And how would you know anyway?”
“I have my ways.” Kelly’s tempting smile grew with each second. And then, without so much as even a subtle warning, she stepped forward until her face was just inches away from Simon’s and placed her soft hand on his crotch.
“W-What...are you doing?” he croaked out.
“What are you doing?” said Kelly, smirking. “Why haven’t you stepped back yet?” At first, she moved gently up and down on his crotch, her fingers sliding over his cockhead and reaching down to his balls through his pants, while her other hand snaked down to his thighs.
“I know what you want, mister,” she whispered, her warm breath kissing his nose and lips. “I know what you want. What you need. Let me take care of you.”
Her hand picked up the pace, the pressure from her palm applied more strongly now as she wrapped as much of it as she could all around the older man’s sensitive bits.
“I-I’m busy with something right now,” Simon grunted back, barely able to speak fluidly anymore. “A-And you’re too young.”
“I’m twenty-two!” Kelly exclaimed in amusement. “I’m on a gap semester right now. I’m bored. I live all alone away from home. Maybe you can be my daddy.”
“Holy shit,” Simon groaned. “Fuck!” Slowly, a familiar pressure started building within his crotch, and his cock continued twitching in glee at Kelly’s soft, skillful handiwork.
“I can take care of you daddy,” she continued. “I know what guys like you need.”
“I’m guessing you must be a favorite of your professors’.”
“For entirely different reasons.” Kelly laughed, her hot, arousing breath continuing its assault on Simon’s face and bringing him closer and closer to climax as her hand massaged his cock and balls.
“I’m an A student,” she continued. “I’ve just watched enough porn by now to know what a man wants.”
“Oh, so you’re actually a virgin?” Simon scoffed, trying his best to keep up his demeanor as a more responsible adult, but to no avail with the pressure in him becoming stronger and stronger.
“Oh, I’m not a virgin,” Kelly whispered. “I’ve had sex before, but only twice. That second time, I realized...” she then moved her lips to Simon’s ear, planting soft kisses along the way to sweeten the deal.
“I need an older man,” she whispered.
Unable to contain himself any longer, the inventor came. And a visible wet spot on his jeans started to appear, which he then tried his best to conceal with his shirt.
Promptly, Kelly’s hand came to a stop; eagerly, she pulled it back and gave it a sniff.
“Smell’s good,” she said. “If you wanna meet up sometime today, head over to my home. It’s just across the street from yours. I’m alone all day and I’ve got nothing else going on.” And with that, Kelly returned home, taking care to walk in a certain fashion such that her hips hypnotically swayed left and right, causing Simon’s mouth to hang open in amazement before he quickly closed it shut.
“I need to get back to work.”
“By the way...” Kelly momentarily stopped in her tracks and turned around to face Simon one last time for the day. “You never told me your name.”
“I assumed you already knew,” Simon explained, his wit slowly returning. “Especially considering that you know about my turbulent marriage already. Why bother?”
The devilish, dirty-blonde kept her gaze on him, her expression expectant and demanding in a way that made him shiver at his knees.
“It’s Simon,” he said finally. “Nice meeting you, Kelly.” Pleased with herself, she entered back inside her home, her tight, hypnotic ass disappearing once she shut the door.
With all the stress completely wiped from Simon’s mind by his adept neighbor who was now eagerly awaiting his visit, he was back at his desk finishing up the final design plans of his cloning machine. Just when he was about to write the last number necessary for the calculations and such, Cecilia stood behind him once more, this time with a stern look on her face,
“I heard you walk outside for a moment,” she said. “What was that about?”
“Nothing, dear,” Simon replied quickly. “I just needed to get some air, is all.”
“Okay,” his wife said, audibly skeptical, but deciding not to ask any further before returning to bed.
Later that night on that same day, whilst the struggling couple laid in bed in complete silence, Cecilia slid next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist while her other hand snaked over to his crotch to fish his cock out of his boxers.
“W-What are you doing?” Simon drowsily mumbled.
“Aren’t you gonna be a good husband and take care of me?” she begged, continuing her advances. “I miss those times when we’d make love, and I want us to go back to that.”
As she said all this, images of his earlier tryst with Kelly flashed through his mind – the loose-fitting tank top, her hot breath on his face, her soft hand deftly massaging his crotch and bringing him to cum. With his eyelids ajar, he rose from bed and pinned his wife to the mattress, his face hovering over hers.
“You want me to take care of you, huh?” he whispered, imagining his wife as Kelly instead. “I’ll do it. I’ll take good care of you.”
“Oh! Yes, honey!” she said gleefully. “Take me.”
Simon started off by sliding the purple bra down his wife’s shoulders, exposing her supple breasts and nipples that were erect with delight. He then lowered his lips down to them, only to be stopped by his wife’s palm.
“I don’t want you to do that,” she complained. “I want you to just take me.” With her free hand, she gestured for Simon to simply take the plunge into her and plow her, though he had something else in mind. Disappointed and at conflicting interests with his wife, however, he then climbed off of her and laid back in bed.
“Wait, what?” she said. “Did I do something wrong or –”
“I don’t think I’m too interested tonight,” Simon blurted out. “I just...I wanted to take the time to admire your body first, and –”
“So, you don’t really feel like fucking me?” Cecilia snapped. “Is that it? Is this your way of keeping me –”
“That’s not what I said!” Simon countered. “I said ‘first’. I wanted to take the time to admire your body first.”
“Well, I’m not really interested in oral, Simon,” she said, this time using her husband’s name to damaging effect as he perceptively jumped in bed. “I always have to instruct you on what to do, even though we’ve been married for the past four years already! And you always seem to do it with the expectation that I’ll reciprocate.”
“I-I’m sorry. I never meant to...and sometimes...I forget,” he stammered, completely taken aback.
“And not to mention, it’s always me who has to be the one to initiate,” Cecilia continued. “I wanted a man, Simon. And I ended up marrying a geek.” Disgusted at her husband and herself, she grumbled and turned her back on him.
“Let’s just go to sleep. I don’t think I want to talk to you for a while.”
Simon resigned himself to Cecilia’s words and closed his eyes. As best as he tried to fall asleep, the stinging sensation of the silent night and his wife’s tirade remained.
The next morning, at around six o’clock, he quietly rose from bed and retrieved a pair of jeans from one of the drawers in the dresser. Upon slipping out of his pajama pants and into the jeans, he took one last glance at his wife.
“I tried my best, honey,” he whispered while she remained fast asleep. And with that, he headed out the door and walked over to the house across the street, where Kelly lived.
Just after Simon left home, Cecilia awoke, her suspicions about her husband stronger than ever.
“I tried my best, honey,” he whispered while she remained fast asleep.
“That...asshole,” she hissed, her arms punching down on her pillows.
Returning to Simon and his own soon-to-begin extramarital affair after knocking on the door, almost immediately, Kelly appeared, dressed in a simple white t-shirt (no bra) and grey sweatpants, with her dirty-blonde hair bedraggled, and her eyes just barely opened from having just woken up, but nevertheless remaining youthful and alluring, like a new rollercoaster Simon was about to take a ride on.
“So, you invited me over yesterday,” he mumbled awkwardly.
“Yes,” said Kelly slowly. “You want to come in?”
Not saying anything more, Simon entered her home and stood firmly next to one of the living room’s couches while she shut the door.
“You want a drink?” she asked after closing it.
Once again on pure impulse, he pinned the young, Texan temptress to the wall and crashed his lips against hers.
“Holy fuck!” she said breathily between kisses. All the while, the most that the middle-aged inventor could muster were simple, feral growls that served to further turn on Kelly. He then slithered his tongue into her mouth and met hers, resulting in a heated duel that ended in his victory as he claimed his prize with both his mouth and body.
“Yeah, that’s right, daddy,” she continued. “Savor your prize.”
He then slid his mouth down her neck and planted more kisses, his hands also exploring the rest of her body and lifting her t-shirt, exposing her small, firm breasts.
“You like ‘em?” she asked.
Still not saying anything, his lips then moved down to her nipples, which he eagerly and desperately suckled and lightly bit.
“Fuck! That feels good,” she moaned, her own hands moving to the back of Simon’s neck to keep his mouth where she wanted it.
“My wife...never lets me do this,” he finally managed to say. “I like...showing a pretty girl how much I admire them.”
“Well, I’d be happy to be your pillow princess for the day,” she remarked.
Happily, Simon then flicked his tongue against Kelly’s left nipple while he gently pinched her other with his thumb and forefinger.
“Thank you, princess,” he said gratefully; meanwhile, he then snaked his other hand into Kelly’s sweatpants and down to her own sensitive parts, taking in every inch of her body with his touch. Once his hand was at its destination, he grinded his palm against her labia through her panties.
“Wet already?” he asked as smugly as she was just yesterday.
“Older guys are hot as fuck,” said Kelly, her breathing harsher now against Simon’s neck, a sensation which he gratefully welcomed back. Wanting to continue and enhance it, he picked up the pace of his hand grinding against Kelly’s warm, wet womanhood, his thumb occasionally flicking against her clitoris.
“My turn now, naughty girl,” he said while he kept his mouth occupied with her nipple. All these sensations happening at once drove Kelly to the edge of climax.
“I’m gonna cum so much,” she said. “I’m gonna...”
Emboldened, Simon then got down on his knees and pulled her sweatpants and panties down, fully exposing her vagina, now soaked in its arousal; tingles crawled up her spine when he pouted his lips and lightly blew air on its surface.
“Oh, God! Argh!” Before she knew it, his mouth was all over her pussy, his tongue lapping away her sweet, slightly salty juices, and occasionally flicking at her clitoris.
“Fuck! You’re so good at that!” she moaned.
“Mm-hm,” he hummed in agreement, his vibrating lips bringing even more tingles up her spine and getting her closer and closer to an intense climax. “My wife...never lets me do this.”
Not wanting to cum just yet, she then pushed Simon to the opposite wall with a forcefulness that sent a tsunami wave of shock and fear washing over him.
“Oh shit!” he exclaimed. “Listen, I’m really sorry. It’s just I –”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Kelly assured, an amused, genuine smile on her face that brought him a warmth he hadn’t felt in years and greatly missed.
“It’s just...I wanna take care of you too.” She then took hold of Simon’s wrist and directed him to take a seat in one of the living room couches. Once he took his seat, she got down on her knees.
“Here, let me return the favor by sucking your cock,” she said.
As she went to work on Simon’s pants, he took a long gaze at the living room and its furnishings – it was white, with a dark-wood floor and a flatscreen TV in front of him. Between him and the TV was a glass-topped coffee table with various books stocked inside, and cheap, black-leather couches.
Once his pants were at his ankles, she fished his cock out through his boxers, allowing it to stick out through the slot in them.
“Holy shit!” she gasped. “I mean, I know most older guys are pretty big, but I always thought that it was all just bullshit in porn.”
“My wife always thought...ah, fuck!” Before Simon could explain any further, Kelly immediately kissed and lightly suckled his cockhead, moaning in approval of its taste.
“Your wife is definitely missing out,” she said between kisses.
“Definitely,” Simon agreed. “But wait, your dad could be here at any moment, and –”
“My dad might’ve bought the place for me, but I still own it,” Kelly countered. “You’re a guest at my home. Let me show you a little southern hospitality.”
Deciding to give it her all, Kelly took Simon into her mouth again, this time, going deeper and deeper until she was halfway. The wet tightness of her throat, paired with her tongue slathering the underside of his manhood, quickly drove him to the edge of climaxing once more.
“F-Fuck, baby!” he grunted. Meanwhile, the talented Texan bobbed her head at a steady, rhythmic pace, spit crawling from her protruding tongue and down his thighs and balls.
“Hrgh!” she gagged whilst sloppily and expertly slurping the whole length of his cock.
Just before Kelly could finish her breathtaking performance, there was a knock at her door. Immediately, she pulled her mouth off of Simon.
“Damnit!” she cursed whilst wiping her mouth with her shirt. “I gotta get the door. You stay here.”
Simon nodded in agreement and returned his cock to his boxers and pulled his pants back on.
“Hey, Dad!” Kelly said in the background to the person outside the door. “Surprised to see you here...no, not at all. Come in!”
She moved herself and the door aside, and promptly, a man entered; he was around the same age as Simon, with neatly combed brown hair, glasses, an averagely thin build clothed in a navy-blue suit and a red tie, and dark-brown leather shoes.
“Simon!” he said, as though meeting a friend he hadn’t seen in years in the same southern drawl as his daughter. “Good to see you again. How are ya?”
“Doing...doing good, Mr. Maxwell,” said Simon, his nervousness fortunately falling on deaf ears.
“Simon, I thought we agreed that you would just call me Brian.” Brian laughed, his perfect white teeth showing.
“Right. Brian,” said Simon. “I’m doing good, Brian. I’ve just been so busy.”
“That, you have, my friend,” said Brian, his laughter finally dissipating, but his smile remaining. “The cloning machine, right?”
“Right. The cloning machine,” said Simon, immediately tense with suspicion instead of nervousness. “How do you know about that?”
“You told me. Remember?” Brian laughed again, those same straight white teeth showing. “Back at the Fourth of July party. You said you should be done in a year at most. Is it almost finished?”
“Yes. Almost,” said Simon, this time tersely.
“That’s wonderful, buddy. I’ve already told my company about it.”
“Your company?”
There was a mild annoyance that started to tinge Brian’s voice, as best as he tried at covering it up with laughter. Nevertheless, he continued with,
“We talked for hours about this last year, Simon. I work for Black Lightning, a defense contractor. I told my employers last week, and they said they’re interested. That’s why I’m here, plus some other business.”
Simon gritted his teeth in anger as a certain warmth washed over him. And all the while, he clenched his down on the couch’s armrest, giving it his all not to punch the businessman and father of the college girl who blew him only a few minutes ago.
Finally, he settled with, “I’m...glad you told them, Brian. I can assure you that I’m almost finished. Speaking of which...” he then rose from the couch and offered his hand to Brian.
“I should really get back to work on finishing the thing. It was nice meeting you though.”
“One more thing, Simon,” said Brian. “I must ask – what were you doing here anyway?”
“Simon was just helping me with some math homework,” Kelly chimed in to Simon’s rescue. “I figured that since he’s an inventor, he’d be pretty good at math. And I was right.”
“And right you were,” said Brian, patting his daughter on the back. He then turned his gaze to Simon.
“I’m telling you, buddy, this girl’s a real smarty. She knows how to use her resources and suck up that knowledge.”
A smirk escaped Simon, which he quickly disguised as a cough before replying with, “I’m...happy to hear that. And I’m sure she’s got a bright future ahead of her.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing the finished prototype,” said Brian, changing the subject before shaking Simon’s hand. “It was great seeing you, buddy.”
Whilst Simon made his way out of Kelly’s house in renewed spirits despite the interruption, Cecilia peered through the living room window back inside his own home, her jaw visibly tensed up and her eyes squinting down at him in disgust.
“That...fucking sicko.”
Now returning to the present, Simon continued work on his cloning machine, sweat beading on his head while a sense of fear and excitement panged him to no end.
“It’s been four months already, buddy. How the hell aren’t you finished yet?”
“I just need one more month, Brian. That’s it.”
In the midst of his work, his phone vibrated in his pocket, causing a startled jump in him.
“Another text?” he mumbled. Upon retrieving his phone from his pocket, he noticed (much to both his relief and mild annoyance) another text from Kelly.
Kelly: Home alone tonight, daddy.
Kelly: Plz cum over, daddy.
Kelly: :,(
“This girl again?” Simon sighed in frustration, his libido comparably lower than hers at the moment. With a rushed tapping of his fingers across the screen, he typed his response.
Simon: Can’t tonight, baby. Daddy’s hard at work.
Kelly: But not hard for me?? Your good girl NEEDS you.
Kelly: Plz!
“Ah, fuck it!” Simon whispered under his breath. He snuck back into the house and into the bathroom before hastily slamming the door behind him and locking it. He undid his pants and pulled out his cock – girthy, uncut, and at least nine inches long. He quickly took a picture with his phone and applied a caption.
Simon: Here’s a little appetizer for you, babe. For now.
Simon: >:-)
Suddenly, and in a moment of complete tomfoolery, he sent the pic and caption to Cecilia instead.
“FUCK ME!” he boomed. Not even a moment later, Cecilia’s response appeared.
Cecilia: What the fuck?!
Simon quickly dialed up his wife.
“Honey,” he said. “I’m sorry, but that was a complete accident. I didn’t mean –”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” she screeched over the phone. “What? You’ve been fucking someone else?”
“N-No, not at all,” Simon stammered. “I...” His voice trailed off as he slowly found himself thinking of his invention. Fuck, I hope this works, he thought.
“It wasn’t me,” he declared. “One of my clones did it. For the past month I’ve spent testing my cloning machine, I’ve been having...problems with them.”
“Yeah, right,” Cecilia scoffed before promptly hanging up.
Simon washed his hands and returned to the garage to finish his cloning machine. After about ten more minutes of tinkering, it was finally complete.
“Well. Here goes nothing.” Simon tapped a button on the side of the steel, box-shaped contraption and promptly, it ran a red laser over him to scan his appearance; about ten seconds later or so, there was something of a rumble. And then out of a metal door on the other side of the contraption came The Clone. Most surprisingly, it came out not just appearing identical to Simon, but also dressed in the same exact attire he wore – jeans and a white t-shirt.
“Err...hello?” said The Clone, surprisingly identical to him even in voice.
“Oh, thank God!” Simon whispered under his breath in relief. “Okay,” he continued to The Clone. “Brass tacks – I need you to take responsibility for a dick pic I took on accident.”
“What –”
Before The Clone could finish its sentence, Simon called out to his wife.
“Honey!”
“WHAT?!” Cecilia boomed. Upon entering the garage, she stood with folded arms and glared at Simon and The Clone, her nostrils flaring.
Cecilia tonight – ironically enough – had on a light-blue bathrobe, a pink t-shirt, and white pajama pants, and all the while she was visibly angry at her husband. Under normal circumstances, Simon would be smirking, but with his marriage at stake, desperation was the only emotion he felt.
“It was my clone. You see?” Simon continued. Furtively and hastily, he additionally made the effort to force his phone into The Clone’s hands for good measure. “It’s not my dick pic you saw; it was his.”
“That’s total bullshit!” Cecilia snapped. “I’ve been watching you all these months – always going to what’s-her-name’s house.”
“Honey, I haven’t,” Simon denied, begging by this point. “Like I said earlier, it’s my cloning machine. Test after test, they –”
“They what, Simon?!” Cecilia was red in the face by this point, and out for blood as far as Simon could tell, but he stood his ground nevertheless, confident in his alibi.
He took a deep breath to compose himself, inhaling from his nose and exhaling from his mouth, his heartrate coming to a subtle slow.
“The clones always come out...horny,” he conceded, not at all honest about it, of course. “That pic I sent you a moment ago, the caption...those visits...none of that was me.”
Cecilia stood for another moment in complete silence, her expression hard and still glaring.
“Show me,” she said tersely.
Fuck! Simon thought, his anxious gaze moving toward The Clone. This guy clearly doesn’t even know what’s happening. How the hell am I gonna make this work?
Meanwhile, just outside the garage and peering into the window at the trio was Kelly, dressed skimpily in just a cropped white t-shirt, sandals, and that same pair of daisy duke denim shorts that hugged and outlined her tight, round ass.
“He...doesn’t want me anymore?” she mumbled, confused. Her eyes then landed on The Clone, and her expression changed from confusion to outright fascination.
“Wait...he actually...did it?”
Back inside the garage, there was still a palpable tension in the air, so strong that Simon could have sworn that he could even hear his own heartbeat. Cecilia then continued on, this time with more authority.
“You heard what I said, honey. Show me.”
“Cecilia, dear –”
“We haven’t had sex in months. You’ll both need to fuck me.” Cecilia then turned to The Clone as well, her heartrate racing with sexual need and coldly pure, vengeful rage.
“What?” asked The Clone, completely clueless about everything happening before him.
“You both need to fuck me,” Cecilia repeated. “That way I can tell which one of you is actually my husband, and which one of you is the pervy asshole. Now, you guys can choose to fuck me at the same time, or you can take turns. Your call.”
“T-This is ridiculous,” Simon spluttered out. “Firstly – and I say this again – I’m not cheating on you. And that pic was from The Clone, sent to you as part of some sick prank in his head.”
“I’ve no idea what’s happening here, guys,” said The Clone, his words falling on deaf ears from the failing couple.
“So, what? You have a problem with fucking me, Simon?” she asked. “Or is the problem that not all your clones are actually horny by default?”
“I have a problem with you fucking The Clone,” Simon parried. “You might as well say you wanna cheat on me with my own invention.”
“Your invention’s invention,” Cecilia retorted back. “Get your head out of your ass for once. Unless you wanna just come out with it already and tell the truth that you have been cheating on me.”
“I’ll get my head out of my ass when you kiss it!” Simon cursed, even kicking a nearby wrench in frustration. Angrily, he started undoing his pants.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He then threw his pants and shoes to one corner of the garage and started stroking his cock; as he did this, images of his trysts with Kelly for the last several months flashed through his mind – her lips wrapped around the head of his dick, her small, perky, lightly freckled tits, her thin, highly flexible frame, her vibrant green eyes and her adorably high-pitched voice with its subtle southern drawl.
“’the fuck’s the holdup, honey?” Cecilia spat out as she untied her bathrobe and threw it to another corner of the garage before pulling down her pajama pants, along with her panties.
“Nothing, dear,” said Simon, finding himself dragged back to reality, in his current predicament. Damn, I wish Kelly was here right now, he thought wistfully.
Cecilia bent over the dryer and spat on her hand for lubrication before rubbing her entrance.
“I’ve waited too long for this,” she remarked.
Without any further hesitation, Simon took the plunge; slowly, he buried his cock into his wife’s vagina before thrusting in and out at a steady pace.
“Ooh. Fuck!” Cecilia gasped. “Yeah, it’s definitely been way too long.”
Meanwhile, Kelly continued watching her neighbors through the window, her breath becoming heavier by the second as she watched Simon gently pound his wife.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. She then moved one hand to her breasts and her other to her womanhood, which was now lightly moistened by the arousing affair happening before her. Not thinking for even a second, she began to massage the both of them, losing herself in masturbation.
Simon proceeded to pick up the pace on his wife, grunting as he tried his hardest to fuck her with as much vigor as he could muster, despite his wife being comparably less tight and satisfying than Kelly.
“Oh, if only you’d been this rough sooner,” she moaned. “If only you’d spent more time on fucking me rather than on all that stupid tinkering you do.”
Releasing a portion of the mixture of his anger and lust, Simon rose his hand to his wife’s ass.
SLAP!
“Argh! Honey!” she cried aloud. “You slapped me?”
Simon slapped her ass again.
SLAP!
“If you’re gonna act like such a slut tonight, dear, I might as well treat you like one,” he spat. Purring with delight, Cecilia played along while The Clone stood still, watching in utter confusion.
“Um...” he chimed in. “May I...what are my orders here?”
“Your orders are to wait,” Cecilia grunted. “Now wait.” Cecilia then grasped the dryer with a tighter grip.
“Ungh! God!” she grunted, feeling hungrier and more feral by the second. “Oh, why couldn’t you have been this...animalistic sooner?”
“I...was busy,” Simon explained between thrusts.
“Busy fucking the college girl across the street instead of me,” Cecilia spat. Incensed beyond belief, Simon raised his hand.
SLAP!
“ARGH! FUCK!” Suddenly, Cecilia’s ass-cheeks blushed; the intensity of the slap drove her even closer to climax.
“How many damn times do I need to tell you?” Simon screamed. “I’m not cheating!” Whilst still fucking her, he then put her down on the garage floor on her hands and knees, and turned his gaze from his wife’s ass to The Clone, still standing before him in complete confusion.
“You – shut my wife up,” he ordered.
“What do you –”
“With your ass, idiot!”
The Clone continued standing in confusion, this time in a state of complete silence.
“Ugh! Make her lick and kiss your ass,” Simon explained, his annoyance driving him to pound his wife even faster and more roughly.
The Clone obeyed and proceeded to pull down its pants, exposing its bare, pale, mildly hairy ass to Cecilia and completely blocking her view of everything else. Not hesitating any further, it then pushed itself directly into Cecilia’s face, making her lick and kiss its ass, exactly as Simon instructed.
“Fuck yeah, honey,” said Simon triumphantly. “Now, you can literally kiss my ass. Eat it.”
“Your...clone’s...ass,” Cecilia corrected, despite being completely muffled by The Clone.
The Clone meanwhile, found the sensation of having its ass eaten out surprisingly enjoyable; Cecilia’s tongue swirled around and made light prods against The Clone’s anus, moistening and loosening it with each passing second.
“Ohh,” The Clone moaned. “That...feels pleasant.”
“Fucking...perv,” Cecilia cursed between licks and kisses of its mildly hairy and salty asshole.
Kelly, meanwhile, was in complete ecstasy at the whole affair happening before her. Her hands then moved faster in massaging her breasts and vagina, her breath hastening to the point where the garage window she peered into fogged up.
“Y-Yes! Keep going, daddy,” she moaned to herself.
For a brief second when The Clone pulled away from Cecilia’s face for a break from her mouth, she gazed at the window and noticed the spot of fog rhythmically expanding and contracting from Kelly’s utterly horny breathing.
That pervy bitch, Cecilia thought. Her mind immediately returned to the task at hand when The Clone pushed its ass against Cecilia’s face once more.
“Ugh! Fuck!” Simon grunted. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard.”
“My ass is that nice, huh, honey?” Cecilia responded smugly.
“No, mine,” Simon remarked. “I never knew it’d be so fucking hot watching you eat my ass. Fuck!”
Cecilia, meanwhile, as loathe as she was to admit, was feeling utterly blissful from the rough, rhythmic pounding of Simon’s thighs against her own ass whilst his cock filled her sopping cunt.
T-This is what I missed, honey, she thought to herself while moaning aloud in approval nevertheless. You, taking me however you want without all the foreplay.
After about several more thrusts in and out of his wife, Simon made a final balls-deep plunge and climaxed, unleashing rope after rope of his cum to the point of overflowing before pulling out and collapsing onto a nearby laundry hamper for a seat.
“Son of a bitch, that was intense,” he gasped.
Cecilia was completely spent by this point despite not even having reached her own climax yet. And she continued to be on all fours while her mouth was still completely occupied by The Clone’s ass. Knowing that there was only one way to end this, she pushed The Clone’s ass away for a moment to speak.
“You,” she said to it. “Bring your cock to my mouth and fuck it.”
“I’m not sure I –”
“Just cram your penis into the woman’s mouth,” Simon snapped.
The Clone then turned around and stuffed its cock straight into Cecilia’s mouth. Losing all sense of control, it proceeded to practically jackhammer her throat, spit flying all over the place before soaking the garage floor in even more fluids. The sensation of Cecilia’s tight, wet throat, soft lips, and slithery tongue sliding all along the length of its shaft was indescribable for The Clone; incomparable to the earlier sensation of having its ass eaten out.
With newfound energy at the sight of it all, Simon proceeded to stroke himself.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said through gritted teeth.
Great! Either my husband’s been a cuck all along or he’s just that arrogant, Cecilia acidly thought.
Sensing this, Simon called her out.
“Hey, FYI – I’m not a cuck.”
“I...never said...you were,” Cecilia snapped back through a mouthful of cock.
Cecilia’s response fell on deaf ears when Simon continued with, “It’s just that I now realize that this cloning machine finally allows me to watch myself in third person.”
Nothing more was exchanged by that point, after several more moments, both The Clone and Cecilia found themselves reaching their respective climaxes. Still not feeling completely satisfied just yet, Cecilia snaked her hand to her labia and massaged it, prodding it with her fingers and brushing her thumb against her clitoris. Ugh, why does my husband have to be so pathetic? she thought bitterly, even in spite of the slight pleasure she received from having her throat fucked.
“Argh! F-Fuck!” The Clone exclaimed as it now found itself just seconds from orgasm, just as Cecilia was. And then promptly, it and Cecilia came simultaneously; Cecilia squirted all over the dryer, with some of it even landing on Simon’s thigh while The Clone shot his entire load down her throat, which she eagerly swallowed.
Kelly continued masturbating alongside Simon at the scene before him. Sweat beaded on her face from both the utter sexiness of it all and the warm summer air; wanting to enhance the sensations further and cool off for a bit, she pulled her shirt down to expose her small, perky tits, and along with this, her shorts and panties. Immediately, an even more pleasurable cooling sensation took over her upon the nighttime air kissing her entrance, which was now soaked in her juices.
“Holy shit,” she moaned, taking care to rub her hand with as much of her own juices as she could before bringing her hand to her mouth.
“Mm,” she said in pure pleasure as she sucked her fingers, savoring the sweetly salty flavor of herself before returning her hand to her labia once more, taking care to insert her index and middle fingers.
“Ngh! Fuck” she moaned again.
As for Simon, he continued stroking his cock, this time even fondling his balls with his other hand.
Noticing this, The Clone pulled out of Cecilia’s throat and got down on its knees and leaned its lips in to Simon’s cock.
“H-Hey!” Simon protested. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”
“I’m...curious, sir,” said The Clone, its expression and tone blank and its demeanor in something of a trancelike state. “I wish to know...what it is like to give.”
“You can...God damnit!”
Ignoring Simon’s protests, The Clone advanced further and took Simon into its mouth, slowly swallowing his cockhead. And with this moist, airlock tightness, not to mention, the warm feeling of its steady breathing, Simon relented.
“Fuck it. Feels amazing!”
The Clone took Simon deeper into its mouth to the point of reaching halfway.
“Holy shit!” said Cecilia, now standing by and watching her husband. “I didn’t think you’d...”
The Clone upped ante, this time taking its creator even deeper, rhythmically bobbing its head whilst slathering its tongue up, down, and all around the shaft of Simon’s cock.
“Fuck! I guess guys really do give it better,” Simon remarked.
Smugly, Cecilia stepped forward and placed her hand on the back of The Clone’s head.
“W-What the hell are you doing?” Simon asked.
“Just lending a hand. There’s nothing quite like interactive entertainment,” Cecilia retorted. She then pushed down on The Clone’s head, making it swallow the whole of Simon’s length and girth, drool seeping from its lips and making Simon’s balls glisten under the flickering lighting of the garage before falling to the ground.
“Aw... Fuck!”
“Ghmph!” The Clone gagged, its tongue protruding from its lips and lapping away at Simon’s balls at the same time.
Gently, Cecilia began to control The Clone’s pacing, bobbing the head slowly and steadily.
“I can’t have you let all the fun, now, can I?” she remarked with an audible smirk.
Meanwhile, Kelly was at her wit’s end, her fingers going in and out of her even faster as they soaked in even more of her juices to the point of dripping, strings of the stuff hanging and dangling as she moved them in and out.
“Ngh!” she groaned. “Oh fuck, you guys are gonna make me cum.” Unable to hold back any longer, Kelly let go and came, her orgasm washing over her with the intensity of a tsunami as she collapsed onto the ground and moaned out loud to the nighttime sky.
“OH FUUUCK!” she shouted, juices falling to the ground from her entrance, now spread widely by her fingers, taking on the appearance of a fully bloomed rose.
Slowly but surely, Simon began to reach another climax.
“H-Honey, slow down,” he grunted as Cecilia sped up the pace of The Clone’s bobbing on Simon’s cock. Before he could protest any further, he came undone.
“Argh! Holy fuck!”
Expertly, The Clone swallowed the entire load; it finished its job within a few gulps before pulling its lips from Simon’s cock and continuing to blankly stare back at him, as though a mere mortal finally met its creator.
“Makes sense that I would give head this good,” Simon remarked under his breath. “You hear that, honey? I suck dick better than you.”
Cecilia scoffed. “My hands were doing most of the work the whole time.”
“Yeah, thanks to you too,” Simon responded offhandedly.
For the next several moments, the four of them sat in silence – Kelly sat outside the garage with her eyes still glued to the window, while Cecilia, The Clone, and Simon took the time to catch their breaths.
Finally, Cecilia broke the silence; she grabbed The Clone by its wrist and said, “You, I’m not done with you yet,” before returning her gaze to her husband.
“So, now you believe me?” asked Simon in an irritable tone tinged with a subtle hint of hope in it.
“Doesn’t hurt to make sure. You go enjoy your little invention,” she said in hypocritical disgust before turning on her heel and walking away to her bedroom with The Clone in tow.
Simon bowed his head in disappointment, his eyes to the ground before noticing Kelly out of his peripheral vision.
Kelly, her eyes directly meeting with Simon, mouthed, “Can I come in?”
Simon nodded, his hand slowing reaching for the button on the cloning machine once more. To say the least, the rest of that summer night would be hot for two entirely different reasons.
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