Old 11-21-2009, 10:28 PM   #1
arielsgoddess
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Erotic Scenario "Toolbox" Challenge

This is the deal: Each person picks a handful of things at random, specifies a short list of words/concepts your piece must contain, and the next person has to write an erotic scenario or short story that incorporates everything on the list. I'm not going to limit the number or nature of what you put on the list for the next challenger, but it would be best of everyone would balance creative choices with a list that is not too long to use, so that we can keep the thread going. I will go first: chair, chakra, charcoal, stained glass, topless.
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("Collaboration", to my favorite artist)

In the early morning hours, you come in quietly and are restless, so you take out your pastels and set up the easel as noiselessly as possible. Many images come to mind, and you fruitlessly begin several shapes, only to scratch them and try to begin something new. Your frustration is reaching such a peak that you do not hear me stepping behind you. Startling are my warm, bare breasts against your tense shoulders, soft and hot are my lips on the cool, tight cords of your neck. Your hand reaches onto mine, as I gently wrap my right arm around your ribs, smearing me with pastel. You grumble about this, even, and fumble for something to clean it off, as I take the back of your neck inside in my teeth, and bite firmly, cutting into the tense fibers, stopping the flow of tension with the dam of my teeth, which floods your cerebral cortex with endorphins, and causes you to roll your head back wards. Lessening the bite, I begin sucking on the skin. My left hand wraps around from the other side, up under your shirt, until both palms lock onto your chest. Gently carving fingers down the front and sides of your ribs, I release your neck and begin painting it in broad strokes of my tongue. Your hands cover mine, no longer worried about the myriad traces of chalk-like smudges, as you begin to stroke up and down my arms. I pull you strongly, rocking you back in the chair, so that your head is braced in my breasts, but the chair is balanced on its back legs. Nervously you laugh, wondering what I am going to do with you so precarious. Kissing you deeply, upside-down, I use my hands to begin pulling your shirt up & off of you. As the shirt hits your shoulders, I tip the chair and you slowly back upright. Taking you by the hand, I pull you gently out of the chair.

Now we are both bare-chested, me wearing the thin black skirt of a slip trimmed with lace, and you still in your khakis. Leaning to wards you, I encourage you to take hold of my head and kiss me, as I undo your pants and scoop them smoothly off your hips and ass with my hands, where they fall onto the floor. The quilt that had been wrapped around me is piled just behind my feet. I bend to gather one side of its corners, as you stand alert to the swaying of my pendulous breasts as I do so, and flick the quilt open on the floor. Taking you by the hand again, as you resume kissing me, I step you the few paces onto the quilt. Pulling you down on top of it, and yet pushing my body over yours so that you understand to lay down. I kiss you hard, and then turn back for the box of pastels.

First with the purple, I trace a fine line around the edge of your face, from your hairline to your chin--the first chakra ring. Indigo comes next. circling around your throat, ending above your breastplate; green around your sternum and ribs, yellow from there to just above your navel, orange walling your abs to the top of your pubic hair, and then slowly, so slowly I trace around the edge of the pubic hair. Carving circularly around your balls, the edges of the tops of your thighs, back inside the other side of your groin, to close the circle. You have been holding as still as possible in anticipation and fascination as to just what I am up to.

I come to sit now on the side of your ribs, and kiss you very slowly and deeply, my cool breast resting against your bicep, the nipple scraping hard but gently against your ribs. Before you can reach for me, my breast, my hair loosely sweeping your shoulder--I pull back. Leaning very carefully over you on one arm, I raise up, so that my tongue begins at your chin, and traces ever so slowly the first circle I have drawn, all around the edges of your face. Then I shift slightly, my tongue carving in a little more deeply as it traces the ring around your throat. Now my tongue outlines your sternum, as my fingertips brush one of your nipples, and your hand touches, gently twining in my hair, on the back of my head. I continue to the lower rings, going more slowly and carving more seriously around your navel, as my fingertips brush and knead gently down your ribs. Excruciating number of moments later, my body shifts, and I descend, sliding my supportive arm down along your hip, to the top of your thigh. My head hovers above the last circle, starting slowly just above your pubis, tickling the edges of the forest, dancing lightly where the circle arcs deep into the groin-hip area. That is when my tongue sweeps painfully slow, turning onto its side for a broader, deeper stroke, as I roll it underneath your balls. My gaze slides up to yours, full of mischief, as my tongue curls back up on the other side of you, wiggling deeply in the scoop of your groin, just to make you squirm and bite back various noises. Starting again with the base of your shaft, I ride the ridge, my tongue rippling all the way. I draw a line that runs right off the plank of your head, up the center of your abs and navel, back up the center of your ribs, wrapping hard up the center of your throat, to your mouth which snaps shut around mine. Possessively you kiss me, losing control for a moment, and interrupting my path. Wrangling back from you, as the fingers of both your hands are tangled in my hair, I see that your tongue is quite muddy. You say mine is too, and we laugh at the bitter chalk and the mess we are making.

But you are not hungry now, trying to reach for and pull at me. Hastily laughing and avoiding your grasp, I skitter back a bit, sitting on the carpet. You pursue me, saying that it's only fair if you get to draw on me too, but I surprise you with my refusal. With a wild gleam in my eye, I make an awkward attempt to rise and dash away. Catching me around my waist and hips (you on your knees, me on my feet, facing each other) you bite me gently through the very thin black skirt. I make a mock attempt to escape, and you leer, looking for the box of pastels, but they are now far behind you. You realize I have swiveled you to the pile of loose papers knocked earlier to the floor, and the sticks of charcoal next to them. With one arm continuing to try to wrestle me back down, you reach your other hand to a stick of charcoal. Slashing me gently, black arcs across my chest, from the top of one breast to the nipple and bottom of the other.

Indignantly I cry out. But I let you pull me against you, my hands resting on your collarbones, pushing my upper body away from you, my back arching my breasts as far from you as possible. You cannot reach them with your face, but the charcoal-weaponed hand returns, drawing a fleur de lis just below the vee of my breasts, almost instantaneously. Impressed by the quickness with which you made the design, I struggle a little less, and atleast hold still a little more, curious as to what you are drawing next. Without much planning, you make scrolls and arcs across the front of me, bits of vine and tribal on my arms, tiger stripes on my ribcage, which makes me giggle for many reasons. With scowling seriousness, you begin to carve tiny lines of flower petals, blooming and falling away, first on one nipple, then reaching for the other, as I lean down and kiss you more seriously, as well. The kiss is deepened and intensified by both of us.

Enjoining with more frenzy, I am sliding down the front of you, flesh-to flesh, with only the skirt barely separating the lower you and lower me. We twist arms around each other, swirling hands and carving fingertips all over. Minutes later, you realize I am now a mess of smears and colors. We are still wrangling in frustrated disagreement over what way we will proceed, as we both lock sight on the pile of papers on the floor, then each others' eyes. Twisting around against you, slowly, until my back is painfully against your stomach and protesting cock, I begin to press my hips and ass against you, as I lean forward, away from you. You raise quickly to your knees again, fingers swirling and carving in the flesh of my stomach and thighs, and running the ridges of my spine, as I stretch before you on all fours, my head dipping to wards the floor, as you slide your palms roughly up both my outer thighs, peeling the skirt up and out of your way. With insistent fingers you carve into me from behind, where I am already tight and wet and crying-out for you in short pleadings. You wrap your fingers deeply into my hips, as your thumbs carve into the pillowed part of my ass.

Entering me, sliding hard from the angle, you ride hard and steady, digging into my hips and pulling me against you stronger with every thrust. Insane with need, I am bending even lower, brushing across the papers, as my agony keeps me from holding myself up as high anymore. You glance smears appearing on the paper, and begin to carve your cock into me deeper, making me slap my breasts onto the paper with every stroke. My nipples are carving crazy designs as you pull back and twist the angles around in me. Making me buck backward into you with ass and hips, my chest scrapes and slaps more dramatically on the paper canvas below me. Unable to take your delays anymore, I yell at you, and lean low. Frantic, you seize my hips and practically vibrate within me, speeding us both over the welcome cliff of wet release.

Shakily I back against you, up into your arms. We tip onto our sides, your arms wrapping tight around my front. You curl deeply into the back of me, and I pull the the quilt over us both. As we recover our breathing, both of us stare hazily at the pastel collage of broken stained glass windows that we have made on the canvases on the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next persons challenge list: floral (flowers, florist, outdoors, etc), hot & cold, leather, silver, tears, train.
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Old 11-22-2009, 12:50 AM   #2
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Next persons challenge list: floral (flowers, florist, outdoors, etc), hot & cold, leather, silver, tears, train.
--------


Several days had gone by since her last visit, and he wasn't sure which was less prepared for it, his body or his studio. She'd damn near wrecked them both. Although, he would have to admit that he liked the fact that she was such a whirlwind. Running full out, hot and cold, was just her nature.

And his, too, when it came down to it.

As he checked and rechecked all the supplies he'd lain in the pantry, it occurred to him that they still had rooms to christen. The usual places--bedroom, front room, studio--had been practically blitzed the moment they'd come in the door together.

The bathroom had been used while making certain that chalk and charcoal had been quite firmly cleansed off of every square inch of flesh. Hmmm...was it still considered playing in the bathroom if you never leave the shower stall or bathtub?

He had loved having her under the spray with him. The steamy water had fallen upon them like a summer storm in the Amazon. The floral scent of her hair as he'd shampooed it still lingered in his memory as he peeked along the shelves to be sure he had some still. It had been good for other things too, he remembered. Sliding it along her curves as he'd turned her beneath the falling water, kneeling down to suck and bite at those long, hard nipples while he reached a hand behind and below to slicken up her unused opening.

She'd actually gasped the first time he touched her there, and he had looked up into the mist and spray to meet her eyes. He had smiled and she smiled too; a raise of an eyebrow and a slight nod were followed by that girlish giggle she gave when he managed to get past that Goddess exterior she showed everyone.

Without a word being exchanged, she had turned around and jutted her ass just enough out of the shower's flow that the makeshift lube wouldn't rinse away too soon, and he finished fingering her open enough that his cock could pass inside without a hint of tears.

The silver chime from the antique clock in the front room brought him back to the present. He looked over the clothes he had laid out on his bed and then reconsidered them. He sat and carefully put on clean socks and slipped his loafers on, then pulled a crisp, new shirt over his chest and buttoned it neatly up--cuffs and all. On the rack by the front door, he stopped for his leather duster.

This is probably the most ultimate case of going commando she'll have heard of. Well, from a guy.

The quarter-hour chime rang and he checked his watch. Time to go. Have a train to catch.
-----
Next: sponge, blue, zoo, pizza, vampire
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Last edited by Remec : 11-22-2009 at 05:20 PM. Reason: bad tenses/voice
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Old 11-22-2009, 05:16 PM   #3
arielsgoddess
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Facades (with deep, nipping kisses for Remec)

She watched him leave to catch his train, and jumped back in the shower, as she had one of her own to catch to New York. Jamison's choice of floral scents was part of the female persona he chose. The deal had been she would play the game by his rules, and if he wanted part innocent, part ingenue...well, whatever. It had been fun to play the country girl for the afternoon, something she had been lifetimes ago. Jamison was very sweet to be so considerate, and imagine her like this. But it was alot nicer to rid herself of the pretentiously feminine perfume, and replace it with her own, Sand and Sable--a delicious musk that mixed perfectly with her skin and leathers.

On went the blades and leather, as she dressed for herself this time. Fifteen if she was fully fitted out, from her stiletto to her longsword. That was only for going to play bloodsports, the violent warrior games of her dark little club. Today she was only going to New York. Seven would suffice, plus the tazer she always held hidden in her lap on the bus and the subway. Leather was literally her second skin, and when she dressed for herself, always black. Any other color was for a masquerade around 'normal' people.

On the transit, she reflected on Jamison's romantic mumbling about the shower, filled with steam and flowery perfume, was pure Amazon-rainforest. Little did he explore that it was she who was the Amazon, of a different sort. Only out of love would she ever play the submissive; which was the gift she had given him for the day. Maybe next time......

Her week in New York concluded, it was time to travel back across the country. At 4500 miles every 45 days, it was a good thing she didn't need more than the shallow rest that she got while commuting and alone. Delays go hand-in-hand with the holidays. To make peace with customers, the transport company was offering free circuit ride passes to those willing to be bumped to later trains. About to refuse, she noticed one of them was for the city that Jamison was in. Amused, and on impulse, she accepted the offer.

One ride later, she stepped into his world. By instinct alone she knew where he would be. It was merely a matter of going there.

The stranger's car pulled up to the curb, the street dimly lit due to the falling snow and stark coloring of concrete and asphalt at night, underneath the layer of melting white. 'As white as the driven snow' always made her think of the dirtiness of the driven-over snow. Illusion is everything, as she well knew. Turning to thank the man she had picked instantly from the crowd outside the train station, she smiled at his unsettled confusion. Hearing his thoughts, she knew he was asking himself why he had agreed to give the lady in leather a ride; and why he ignored the flaring of his male instincts not to simply leave her on this sidewalk, and never see her again. With a mental nudge, she made sure he pulled away with nothing further. After he had disappeared into traffic, she walked into her destination.

Jamison turned-around in the bar, and nearly dropped the glass in his hand, when he found the highheeled boots that had clicked-up behind him belonged to her. With a wicked smile that showed her canines, she ordered a drink and leaned in to kiss him. He swore he could feel how hard her nipples were, even through the embroidered bustier that she generously leaned against him. Swirling her tongue across her fangs, she threw back the double Jack Daniels without even a blink. Not that anyone could have told that, as the two of them always wore dark sunglasses in public. His were shinier. Very Lost Boys. Hers were pieces of night in matte black frames. Both pairs suited their owners perfectly.

When the bartender offered them another round, she became intent on the man, and asked him if he would mind if they took them on the roof. Almost automatically, the barman pointed to the stairs behind him. With another of those smiles, she thanked him, raised her eyebrow at Jamison, and began knocking her way up the narrow wood steps. He decided to accept that extra drink, and followed her.

The night swirled just barely with a breeze that kept the low-walled roof mostly clear. Below and around them phased the city, between veils of wind and snow. She stalked to a spot in the wall which suited her, then turned her back to the view, and set her glass on the ledge next to her ass. Even without the sunglasses off, he knew she was staring him down, that dangerously seductive smile on her lips. This was the giggling country girl from his shower?

Slowly closing the distance, he set his empty glass next to her drink. He remembered her poetry to him....but this time Alexis was the one wrapped in black leather. As he stepped up to her, her face tipped briefly towards his crotch, and her tongue swirling for an instant on her fang gave him shivers. Dressed in his 'normal people clothes', he felt both drawn and uncomfortable, being so close to her like this. As she spread her arms, running her hands out from her, palms on the snowy wall top, her jacket fell open. The black lacy bustier called to him like a satin venus fly trap. She leaned her neck back, so that the snow sparkled on the throat of her cold-colored skin.

"Are you afraid I will bite?......Or that I won't?", she asked him, chuckling low.

That was what it took--he locked his mouth on hers, and reached inside her coat with one hand, the other tangling its fingers in the back of her hair, cold, wet and curly from the melting snow. Inside her coat, the satin was hot to the touch, magnetizing his hands across every inch of fabric. As he knelt down in front of her, she scraped her highheeled boots apart, to accommodate him sliding his body between her thighs. Spreading her hips wide, he could see under the leather skirt that she was wearing a garterbelt, but no matching lace panties. No panties at all, in fact. Just the sexy silk of the stockings ending in lace and bindings; and her naked hips, waiting for his hands. His breath came raggedly as he let-out a guttural "Alexis", before she clamped her mouth back on his, and he felt her fangs slices the the edges of his tongue. He pulled back, slightly bleeding and disgruntled.

"Sorry, lover", she said, "You can return the flavor, if you would like--I love the taste of blood, whether my own or someone else's".

At that, he ripped off the front of her bodice, in one strong and blurred motion. Her nipples looked like gumdrops in the half light of the city, her breasts heaving towards his lips. He closed his own fangs around the first nipple briefly, causing her a sharp moan, and an arch that bucked into his abdomen. Her fingernails dug and clawed softly at his shirt, which he flipped the buttons open on, to let her hands inside. As she pulled at the layers of his undershirt, he sampled every inch of her cleavage, and the other nipple, as not to be neglecting.

Meanwhile, her tongue carved grooves up and down his neck, and her hips stretched even wider. He looked around him, considering using a handful of snow for lubricant on her. Reading his thoughts, she laughed, and told him that he never needed it before, it was just part of his myth for her.

"However", she said with that sexy growl in her lowered voice, "You're welcome to try it if you want to". Intrigued, he scooped a large, icy handful. With his other hand, he pulled the sunglasses off her face. She did likewise with him. As his hand slowly moved towards her, she gripped her nails just as slowly, into the fabric above his collarbones. Cold drops trailed up her thigh, making her shiver her nipples up against him. His dry hand wrapped to the small of her back, as he watched her midnight blue eyes under the full moon, which had just appeared through the clouds. His knuckles brushed just inside her lips. What Alexis had said was true, she was already creamy-slick for him, and oh so warm....he flipped two fingers out, and plunged the little snowball deep inside her, no further warning. She let out a strained shriek, head thrown back, pelvis thrust flush against his abdomen, the mingling snow and juices gushing onto this tight crotch. Frantically they seized each other by the backs of necks and hair, teeth and tongues and lips at war. Hands tore his pants away from his cock--and neither one of them was sure which one had done it. The only important detail was his cock dark and erect in the moonlight, throbbing as her breath made a halo around its head.

With one last look into her eyes, which had gone completely into black fire, Jamison locked his arms around her, and she locked her fingers into his hair, behind his neck, bracing for the monstrous thrust he then rammed into her. What followed next was a blur of pulsing spasms, writhing limbs, and sounds without a language. Her hips began to rock her harder into him, and he knew that she was close. Great effort required not to shudder his way to the finish line right now, he withdrew from her completely. Clawing her dismay, Alexis looked at him with wildly shifting pupils. Deliberately slow, so as not to provoke her further, he kissed her gently and deep. Tenderly he nipped at her lower lip. Ruby droplets made it glitter in the moonlight, as his tongue painted the new liquid into the rivulet of melting snow down her throat. Ending in a tiny pool where her neck meets her collarbone, he bit his fangs deeply at last, entering her in one smooth glide back home.

Her hands went wide on the wall again. He gripped both her hips, fingers wrapping her ass, like a vice. This was serious interlocking now, each pump of pelvis to pelvis growing a steady tension in their spines. Their moans and growls matched the tight, swirling sensation for both of them inside her. Movements and vocalizations speeding up, she began to arch backward, high over the metro-human zoo below. Suddenly he imagined her falling onto the concrete below, and stopped on the verge, to pull them both back fro the ledge.

Alexis thought that he was going to withdraw again, and with a lustful snarl, she was determined to stop it. Hooking her boots around to the inside of her knees, she snapped so grippingly against him, that it broke them both. Her scream ripped her head back, tossing fresh clumps of snow from her dark red hair onto the cars far below. Jamison's face plunged into her flesh, soft blue in the moonlight, and the intoxicating smell of her perfume and primalness. His body folded compactly into hers, like a supernova, inward, then exploding. The gush melted the snow in front of his knees.

Several wobbling, auric minutes later, he was aware that she was curled maternally over his head. Her breasts pillowed under and beside his face, and her fingernails combed the ice from his hair, so that it did not soak him further. Shakily he climbed to his feet, needing the wall for assistance. With a satisfied glow, Alexis zipped her coat over her bare breasts, and began reassembling them both. She knew that Jamison was seeing halos around the streetlights, which she prided herself as being the side-effect of a job well done.

"The sunglasses will help with that", she said to him, laughing. She kissed him in a brush on tongue, lips, and teeth--one last time--then started down the stairs, him following. As they came to the bottom of the stairs, she motioned for him to stop. Reaching around the edge of the doorframe, she snatched a sponge from the backbar, lightning fast. Carefully she wiped the blood from his lips, and mopped tiny splatters elsewhere on his normal-people clothes. Then it was his turn, and as he stroked the sponge up and down her neck, she kissed him languidly. Job done, she popped the sponge back into place. Then with a deep breath, and a push of the sunglasses, the ivy league version of Jim Morrison, and the leatherbound Urban Goddess stepped back into the bar. Mesmerized, he followed her clacking black boots out the front door. Not wanting to end their surprise evening together, Jamison hesitated on the sidewalk.

"Hey, the snow let up--want to go get a pizza? I know a place...", he began.

"Isn't eating pizza just another facade for vampires like us?", she laughed, flashing that wicked half smile at him, and kissing him so briefly it was surely 'goodbye'. "Sorry, Luscious....I have another train to catch", and without looking back at Jamison--who watched the way she moved in her signature style, until she disappeared into the darkness which was her element--Alexis clicked away into the night.
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Last edited by arielsgoddess : 02-10-2010 at 11:53 PM. Reason: typo fairy blesses me greatly
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Old 11-22-2009, 06:27 PM   #4
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Wow, so good I forgot things, lol:

For the next challenger: (blade of your choosing), chocolate, music, spiderweb(s), window.
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Last edited by arielsgoddess : 02-10-2010 at 11:54 PM.
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Old 11-23-2009, 02:13 AM   #5
TE999
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Hi Airel. I find your work both intriguing and provocative. Not to mention well written. If I may, I would like to add some 'challenges' to your list. I might just jump in here and write something myself in a bit, but for now the 'challenges' are:

Deep kissing, fingers, toes, cunnilingus, orgasms and dildos.

Tom.
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Old 11-24-2009, 01:27 AM   #6
silvastormcloud
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ok here is my go

(blade of your choosing), chocolate, music, spiderweb(s), window.



As the strong arm wrapped itself around her Sarah knew how curiosity had killed the cat. She was preparing herself to scream when she felt the thin cold metal of a blade press itself into the soft flesh of her neck.

“Don’t scream bitch,” whispered a rough voice into her ear.

The man’s stink was almost over powering as she stared out of the cobwebbed window to the tall pine forest surrounding the wooden cabin. Sarah has been hiking alone when the faint hint of music carried on the breeze had brought her here. She had been immediately wary at the sight of the depilated cabin but something had drawn her to investigate the strange music. And now the sounds of Michael Buble did little to calm her nerves as she was held tight by the large stranger in an empty room.

Sarah felt the hand around her waist loosen but instead of relief she began to cry as it travelled up her body to roughly grasp her small breast.

“That’s it baby cry for me,” the man said.

While the knife was still held fast against her neck the man began to massage first one breast and then the other. The sensitive flesh upon her chest was overstimulated. His bruising grip robbing the sensation of any pleasure and she tried to squirm away from his callused hands but that only caused him to groan luridly as her hips pushed into him.

His hand left her chest to grip her shirt and she watched in horror as he tore it open violently, sending buttons flying across the room. He pushed her bra down and continued his assault on her breast. This time unhindered by material and his dirty fingers found her nipples distended by the cold air.

“Look at these hard nipples, do you like this bitch?” The man asked before planting a long sloppy kiss on her cheek.

Sarah tried to shake her head no but the sharp blade held to her throat restricted her movement. She was forced still as the man’s tongue left a wide, wet mark across her cheek.

The pain from the sharp twisting of her nipples was beginning to dull and small sparks fire throughout her body. Her dismay deepened as an ache grew between her legs and she fought to stifle a moan. Her own body had failed her and she felt the pleasure grow.

“No, No, Please NO.” Sarah cried as his hand descended down her body. But robbed the freedom of movement she didn’t stop him. His hand slid freely underneath her shorts and into her panties.

“Tell me how much you want it.” He asked as he deliberately slowed that pace of his hand through her thick, untrimmed pubic hair.

“No, No, Please I’ll do anything.” she repeated louder this time.

The man’s large finger found her slit already wet. He laughed loudly from behind her as he dragged it heavily up and then down between her moist lips.

“Look at this you horny bitch.” The man said as he brought his moistened finger up from her shorts and forced it into her mouth. “You’re getting off on this.”

Sarah could only cry as she felt the words hit home. It was true she was enjoying it, even the fear.

With a hard push Sarah was sent running into the far wall. She raised her arms and even picking up splinters into her forearms she couldn’t stop her head from striking the stained wood. She turned around groggily but couldn’t catch a glimpse of her captor before he turned her around to face the wall.

“Don’t try and see me again bitch.” He ordered.

‘I didn’t I swear.” Sarah managed to get out as sobs now racked her lungs.

“Here, this will shut you up,” said the man. He forced a chocolate bar into her mouth and almost down her throat.

“See if you can deep throat this.” He laughed.

While Sarah tried to cough around the intruding confectionary she felt both of his hands on her hips. His strong hands pushed her head into the wood, pulled her butt back towards him and then removed her shorts. For a moment she felt his weight leave her back but at the sound of a descending zip she knew what was coming and braced herself.

Without foreplay, without warning he entered her. It was one violent stroke and she felt his large cock push up against her cervix.

“Ohh bitch your cunt is so tight.” Moaned the man as he bottomed out.

All she could do in reply was moan somewhere between a cry and pleasure. She struggled to breathe around the chocolate. Needing both hands to brace herself against the wall she finally managed to spit it out. But by that time the man against her back had worked into his rhythm. Moans were being ripped out of her throat as he forced his member into her. She wanted to speak out, she wanted to scream but her knees were weak and her lungs breathless.

Part of her wanted to run, but part of her already felt the building of an orgasm and she tried to block out the man giving it to her as she gave in.

For the next challenger: fan, tree, guitar, yellow, ice.
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Old 11-25-2009, 11:13 PM   #7
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Research Assistant (for TE's list)

Tess was desperate for a good job. The recruiter at the temp agency knew this, and called her in, saying he finally had something for her. He said the only catch was that she would have to pass a physical. One week later, she brought the results to the agency office. Pleased, the recruiter handed her a printout that said "Research Assistant Assignment", with an address and wage contract. If she did well, he said, this company was likely to offer her a permanent position. The only thing that bothered her as she drove out to the turnoff for the facility, was the way that the agent's face had twitched as he said the word 'position'.

It was hard to find the building. No signs on the highway; only a mile marker for reference. No signs in the parking lot or on the building. It appeared to be single-entrance, in the commercial architecture style appearing locally: white stucco panels and tinted reflective glass, running in ribbons around the building. As she walked through the glass door, Tess found it opened into a minute space in front of a white wall-like receptionist's desk. Two narrow doorways were on either side of the desk. As she introduced herself and handed the receptionist her paperwork, she was made uncomfortable for the second time, as the sharp brunette looked Tess up and down, dissectively. "Come this way", said the brunette.

Beyond the doorway was a security door, which opened into a conference room. Inside several men sat around a table, passing files with photos paperclipped on the front, discussing them. Just as the receptionist waved an a tall Asian doctor over to them, whom the woman said was Dr. Lito, Tess happened to notice the plasma TV on the back wall of the room. There was porn playing on the screen. As Dr. Lito took the file, and began asking Tessa questions, she had to keep tearing her eyes from the graphic scenery. Realizing she was stammering, Tess snapped her eyes back to the doctor and cleared her throat, blushing badly. Lito smiled, and told the receptionist that she would do just fine.

He led them across the room, out through another steel door. They entered a long, white. linoleumed hallway. The walls were white as well, and every twenty feet there was a plate glass window, on alternating sides of the hall. Determined not to get herself in any trouble, Tess kept her eyes glued to the back of Lito's coat, the brunette walking behind her. As they reached a window near the end of the hall, she noticed there was an intercom next to each one. Stopping to face the glass, the three of them looked inside.

There were two tigers in the room. Humping. Obviously, the male was the one on the top, and hanging on for all he was worth. As she snaked from side to side, trying to throw the male off, the female's muscles rippled down her back. He dug his teeth into her neck more tightly, as they were the tether keeping him up there. As she thrashed, his claws slid around her sides, for she was trying to knock him off his backlegs. Suddenly the female lunged towards the glass. The male tiger locked eyes with Tessa the instant the female bucked. She was amazed to find them dilated with half-lust, half-terror--making them appear almost human. Saying something like this aloud, Dr. Lito smiled at Tessa's remark. "Like us, these animals orgasm. The male tiger's penis is barbed, and the barbs lock in the walls of the female's vagina. When she orgasms, it releases a chemical, that in combination with the male's orgasm, cause the barbs to retract, and then he can withdraw". Seconds later, the female roared, and the male released her neck, sounding a loud chuff. He raced to the corner. Explosively freed, she whirled and dropped to lunge at the male. But as she did so, her hunkered shoulders and hips collapsed, and she rolled onto the floor. Lolling around on her back like a housecat, she blissfully massaged her twitching muscles. The male relaxed, and as she turned onto her side, he curled safely behind her spine. It was apparent the two were about to take a nap. A door in the back of the room buzzed and opened, and a handled in a labcoat slipped food and water inside. Dr. Lito reached to the intercom and spoke. "Altos, when you are finished, we have a new assistant for the Tactile Project, and I expect you to show her around".

Clearing her throat again, Tess asked, "Exactly what will I be doing here?" Lito and the receptionist exchanged a glance. "What were you told by the employment agency?", asked the brunette. Tessa explained that she had been trying to get a job for some time, but only had skills in 'handiwork', as she grew-up on a farm. When the agency offered her this 'position' (the word still haunted her), she rushed to take it, but now wondered if she was qualified to be a research assistant, although she did have experience taking care of animals. Dr. Lito had developed a strange little smile while Tess was talking, that made her mouth go dry. She was licking her lips when she realized that Lito's eyes were following her tongue, and slowed its arc. The doctor smiled wider. "This is the animal-only wing, section A. You will be working in another wing, in the human-only division. But you will do just fine, my dear".

Altos appeared in the hallway, and Lito and the receptionist made their exit. Friendly and with a heavy Indian accent, he told Tessa, "I came to this country to accompany my tigers. But Dr. Lito showed me that the eroticism of my culture would also be an asset to this facility." They had walked through another security door, farther in, and were standing in a small hotel-like lounge, with plush gold furniture. On one wall was another plasma TV, on blue screen, and a door labeled as the restroom. On the other two walls were four doors, marked B, C, D and E. Altos said that this was the rest area for employees in this wing. Pointing to the respective doors, he said, "Visual, Tactile, Implements and Intercourse". Keeping her voice carefully neutral, Tess asked what exactly they researched here. Altos smiled gently. "Orgasmic capability". He grabbed the remote on the low coffee table, and flipped the TV on. There were couples having sex on a split-screen. "Intercourse." Now there was a flash of a man about to ejaculate, that Altos skipped passed, as "Visual", then a scene where two people were standing over a man who had three different dildoes hanging out of him, "Implements", and finally a scene where a woman was obviously performing cunnilingus on another woman. After a few seconds, the man staring at the camera apparently received a signal to switch. He turned, tapped the performer on t he shoulder, and then took his turn between the strapped-down thighs. "Tactile", Altos concluded.

Blushing so furiously that her hairspray was certain to combust, Tess asked if she would be the giver or the receiver. Altos smiled again, sheepishly, and explained, "Here call them subjects, and the person who 'administers the method' to the subject is called the research assistant. You will be in a different experiment than the one you see here". For the last time, Tess wondered if she should be horrified or relieved at what she was being told, and followed Altos through Door C.

They were in a narrow, gray corridor. Both walls had steel doors running down them, with coathangers and chairs crowding next to each door. Halfway down the corridor a woman in a starched labcoat with a red beehive was lecturing two small Asian women, dressed in white kimono-style uniforms. As they approached, the woman sent them into a room where a man was strapped onto a table, only his head and feet sticking out of the ends of a white sheet which covered him. The labcoat greeted Altos, and he introduced Tess to Beverly, who would be her trainer. Beverly nodded toward the two Asian women, as she closed the door. "Our Reiki and Shiatsu artists; they are in Feet and Toes. You will be in Forearms, Hands, and Fingers, Tessa." At a door down the hallway, Altos took his leave. Beverly turned to give Tess her instructions. First, Tess had to get rid of her personal things, and put on the labcoat. Beverly handed her a rubberband, to pull back her hair. Now they stood in front of the doorway, Beverly's hand on the door. "The man inside has already been prepared for you. His skin is sanitized and his medical screening is current, as is yours. There is no risk as long as you do not break your's or the subject's skin, which is not allowed, anyway. You will see that the man is covered, and only his head and his forearms and hands will be uncovered. He cannot move from the chair, even his arms, as he is well restrained. The rules are strict: you may only touch his forearms and hands with your hands and mouth. Even you hair cannot touch him, anywhere, and your breasts, especially, are not allowed to come into play. Although the subject may make incidental noises, neither of you is allowed to speak to the other or interact in this way. If either of you makes other physical contact or you deviate from the criteria of this tactical experiment, both you and the subject will have your contracts terminated." With that, Tess was ushered inside, and the door closed behind her.

All she could see from the back was his neck and hair, which was also in a ponytail. As she walked around to the front, she saw the straps on his bare arms, just above the elbow, and a few inches away from his wrists. He caught her eye as she faced him, smiling as nervously as Tess did. Feeling a brief twinge of pity for his helplessness, she knelled in front of him. His eyes held hers with kindness and anticipation passing between them. She began to stroke her fingertips, from both sides of his fingers, all the way down his arms, to the elbow. He smiled, shivering on the light to touches on his forearms. Taking her cue from that, she began kissing his fingers and hands. As she progressed back and forth, it was difficult to not let her ample bosom brush against him. He noticed, showing the first signs of serious interest. Next, she backed up, and began licking. He twitched everytime Tess grooved her tongue in between his fingers. This was an incentive to stroke her fingertips more creatively on the opposite forearm. Next, she took each of his fingers in her mouth, on top of her tongue, and sucked hard from the base all the way off the tip. His face had flushed and he looked more serious. Tess nipped his thumbs while looking mischievously up at him, and he gave a little jump. The sheet on the front of the subject jumped as well.

She took note of this, and began nibbling along the edges of his arms. He sucked air between his teeth. She began to lick again, harder this time, her tongue deeper into his flesh. On the opposite arm, she began scrolling with her fingernails. He began to curl and uncurl his back, the tentpole under the sheet coming dangerously close to her cheek and breasts more than once. Tessa switched off to the other arm, and he seemed ecstatic. His breathing was definitely harder now, as was her own. She used it to her advantage, licking hot lines down his inner arm, which she blew on and raised the goosebumps all over him. Truly excited now, she began licking more eagerly, and moving around more quickly. This required her to rock onto her haunches. Unable to keep from spreading her hips towards him, and holding onto the chair's arms for balance, it was almost like she was mounting him over the minute distance. Tess let him see the desire in her eyes, staring into him. Torturing them both were all of the almost-touching, she worked her tongue onto him harder, first scooping inside his fingertips, repeatedly rimming his palms, wiggling her tongue in deep strokes up and down the tendons inside his wrists. His eyes were contracting and dilating, his breaths sharp more often, little sounds escaping him. When she used her teeth, he growled.

Tess pulled back, locked his eyes inside hers, mouth open and wet. In that instant, his eyes looked exactly the way the tiger's had. Deliberately slow, she leaned over his right hand, her fingernails raking slowly down his left, towards his had, which clawed at her arm. As Tess eye-fucked him hard, she drove her dripping-wet tongue into his palm. He bucked unexpectedly, knocking a few strands of her hair loose. They almost expected to hear the intercom, but Tess would not take her eyes off his face. Glittering wickedly, her stare was returned by his, as she began stroking his tendon, wiggling harder, and diving back up to scoop and thrust her tongue in his palm, as if she were deep kissing it. His hand still clasped at her other arm. Abruptly she stopped, and he gave a desperate warble. But she was only switching sides, and soon had built a pool in his other palm, the trickle of saliva streaking across the other wrist. Tess began sucking more and more. Turning her head to the side, she sucked rhythmically on his finger. His hips rocked in the chair now, as hers continued to rock in front of him. From the friction of her own movement, Tess was puddling in her panties, as her saliva puddled into his palm. He looked down to her hips and moaned, and then she went in for the kill. Letting him see the full force of her horniness, she sped the driving and wiggling of her tongue, and shook the chair as she pulled on it to keep balance. He was frantic to free himself of the restraints, and her rapid breathing spiking on his skin drove them both faster. Knowing he was ont he verge, she let him lock his fingers with her on the other hand, as she drove her tongue in one last hard deep kiss, splashing into his palm. He tried to grab her tongue with his fingers, as his hips lunged forward, slamming into her breast, and he yelled "Oh my god!".

Stumbling backward, panting and dizzy, Tess was sure that she had just got them both fired. Altos appeared in the room, hurrying to unstrap the subject, and helping the man to stand on shaky legs. The subject looked at Tess with a combination of awe and embarrassment, as Altos held a clean robe up in front of him. Nodding towards the doorway, Altos said, "Dr. Lito is waiting for you in the conference room". Tucking-up her disheveled hair, Tessa headed into t he hallway to gather her things. She hung-up the labcoat, and retraced her steps, uninterested in the human and animal grunts and screams echoing along the way. As she reached the inner conference room door, she knocked. Dr. Lito's voice said, "Enter".

Tess had not expected to have to face all of the doctors. There were several men washing with hand sanitizer, and drying their hands on white cloths, which they dropped into biohazard receptacles. Dr. Lito walked towards her, and before he could speak, she began apologizing, "Thanking you for having given me the opportunity even though....". Dr. Lito stopped abruptly, wide-eyed, asking, "Does this mean that you are not taking the contract with us?". Shocked, Tessa stammered again. "We had hoped to have you start on Monday", Dr. Lito said. "All of us were very pleased with your performance today." Tess looked again at the other doctors, taking in the smugness and wanderings towards the outer door, as if they were going out for a smoke break. Suddenly she turned to Dr. Lito. "Very well, sir, I will see you Monday!".

As she was passing outside, she thought to stop and ask the receptionist, Christine, a question. "Is it allowed here for the researchers to volunteer as subjects, in their offtime?". "Absolutely not," Christine said, "Workers Comp issue--you have to accept payment for it. Overtime, at that." Tessa managed to find her car, and get inside of it. Dazed and euphoric, she drove home, thinking that this was going to put a whole new meaning to 'job satisfaction'.
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We come here to share the Harvest of our Creativity, and Thank You for being part of my Abundance ~Ariel

Last edited by arielsgoddess : 02-11-2010 at 12:08 AM. Reason: typo fairy blesses me gre4atly
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Old 11-26-2009, 01:33 AM   #8
arielsgoddess
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Blue Christmas (for poetedge5455 *see his pic*)

Challenge words: Fan, guitar, ice, tree, yellow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was avoiding the holidays this time. There are alot of reasons why I wasn't alone in that, demographically, this year. But as an individual, I was definitely alone. Being single at certain times of year are harder than others. Everyone loves being single in the summer, and playing those various adult games that go so well with the outdoors. As people head towards winter, they try to pair off. Lock one in for the long haul towards the next summer. What better way to spend those longer, colder nights, other than rubbing two people together to see if you can start a fire. Solo, you're more likely to get splinters than your kindling going, if you know what I mean.

Against the advice of my libido, I had decided independence was the mature way to go when autumn began. Now it was winter, and my libido desperately wanted to get me drunk. My resolve was to atleast make it to New Year's Eve, when that midnight kiss might be viewable as a free trial. All alibi, no obligation. Come morning, your New Year's resolution just might be to escape before they wake-up, but atleast you can say that you tried to get into the spirit of it all. Rather than be lonely, and depressed about it at home, I decided to go remind myself why I didn't want to be in public. Then there was atleast the prospect of others to commisserate with, if you can't find anything to make you smile.

Did you guess that less than two hours later, I was eager to escape? It was mid-afternoon, and I thought I couldn't take hearing another Christmas carol or ho-ho-ho without throwing myself on the ground, ears covered and insanely screaming. Rather than spend an even more dismal time having to explain my behavior to anyone later on, I started walking away from the shopping district. I cut quickly through a few alleys, and started jogging towards an empty park. Atleast I thought it was empty, until the snow started to fall, and heading for the pine trees, I heard someone singing. Not just singing, but playing music.

As I approached, I saw a guy with reddish hair, strumming a yellow guitar. His voice drew me towards him. There were a few children, various ages, that had clustered near, singing along in reedy and squeaky accompanyment. You would think that this would cause me to veer off the path so quickly, I would snap my highheeled boot. But this guy made me forget that I was cold, and hated Christmas carols. The second he made eye contact, in fact, I was grinning ridiculously and singing along, too. Every false note of the children made him that much more appealing.

The sky darkened, but had a blue glow to it. The snow was really coming down now, and as it fell in orgied flakes, he apologized to the kids that he had to stop. Only briefly disappointed, one of them burst into chatter like a squirrel, and they all went thundering off across the tundra. No case was apparent, as the musician worried over his instrument, trying to wipe it off with his shirt. I suggested that he join me under the interlocking pine trees on the far edge of the park. It was actually where I was headed, I told him. His concert had caused distracted me, I said--it was his fault that I was getting wet. He laughed at the joke, and I could see he was trying chivalrously hard not to take it the wrong way. What he didn't know was that he wouldn't be wrong--that was how I meant it. That maybe it wasn't a joke....

Both of us hurried under the trees, whose branches were trimmed above head-level. It was nice and dry with plenty of room, but still we hunkered together. Pretending to be interested in the pretty snowflakes, I leaned close, to look at one on his arm. He was still too polite to comment on the abundance melting into my cleavage. Trying to remedy that, I offered to brush them off of his thin coat, before they could melt in. Graciously, he accepted. I got the worst off, and then swept my hands more slowly over the entire jacket, as he turned in a circle. When he had revolved back to face me, his eyes stared a little more deeply, and he gingerly stood the guitar up against the back of the tree. Then with a gleam to his dark eyes, he asked me if I would like him to do the same. Sure, I said, and twirled slowly in my blacklace skirt, to turn my back to him.

His hands thoughtfully scooped slush off of my waterproof jacket. As the musician's fingers wrapped towards the front, I turned, my midnight eyes glittering at his. His doubts were melting faster than the snow on our bodies. As nimble fingers plucked tiny chunks of ice from the curls in my hair, it was definitely on. A bird landed in the tree above us, and as he looked up, it startled away, knocking snow onto his face. He wiped the crystals from his eyes, and I took his cold hand as he did so. Cradling his fingers under the edge of my breast, I leaned up and licked the ice from his lips. His other hand tangling in my wet hair, he pressed his tongue deep within my mouth. He tasted of butterscitch candy; I tasted of mocha. It was not a bad mix, not too strong, not too sweet. Delicious.

He wanted his other hand back, and both were tangled in my hair for a few minutes of speeding up the action. I wanted him, and if he had any doubt, my tongue racing a groove up his neck to his ear, and moaning "Take me" when my mouth got there, was enough to shatter his reserve. His whole body slammed into me, from ankles to head, pushing my shoulderblades apart with the tree behind me. Growling into each other's necks, he lifted me by my ass, scooting me higher, still leveraged against the tree. The trunk curved away from him slightly, curling my hips backward, as he lined-up his pelvis with mine. Fast hands were welcome, running up ans down the outside of my thighs, catching on my garters, locking wrists in. His fingers reached up and tugged aside matching lace panties, while the other hand pulled-apart the front of my bodice. My hands had already torn away the layers of clothing between his warm front and mine. There is nothing like sex in the cold for the worshipping of nipples, and we both had our share of ritual. His tongue slid so often over my chest, that I huddled tighter towards his hips to heat back up. This resulted in him nearly getting caught under my ribcage. Freeing himself, I gasped at his size, my breath shivering along the seam of his cock.

Nothing like a musician to know his way around the block, right? He tried to get me wetter, but the temperature dropping in the dark was not helping. Hissing don't stop, I fumbled in my pocket for my carmex. Too hungrily we tore at each other, sending the little jar bouncing into the brush. Desperately, I was begging him to 'think of something!', when he looked at me wildly, and lunged to the branches outside. Devilishly triumphant, I thought for a moment that he had snatched the thick carrot off of a snowman, and wondered how that would help. But as he unwrapped his fingers, I saw that it was an icicle that he held instead. Watching alternately between his work and my face, he took the icicle by the larger end in his fingers. Very slowly, he parted my lips with it, and as he began to twist his tongue in my mouth and pull it back out, to look at me, so he also did with the ice. The initial shock made me squeal, and tighten most painfully. But as he kept at it, and his fingers slid in with the dwindling ice phallus, my pleasure was growing.

Finally, my eyes half closed, I felt him lose his grip on the remnant, and I pushed it outside with a moan. I needed him, as if he didn't already know from the dripping, and fingers slipping inside to be pulled on, my teeth on his neck made sure. He bit me back, and I cried out. The pleasure of him entering me, warm, gushing out the icy wet, made me crawl up the tree bark with my back. The roughness carving into me only added to the screams of pleasure he was driving from the front. Unable to take him holding back any onger, I scratched my fingernails into his shoulders, arching him into me so much harder that the friction finally broke us both. Howling and sobbing, and grinding-in powdery wood to both of us, we slid down against the tree. My coat kept us from getting soaled, as I cradled his body on top mine, until the shaking had stopped for both of us. Still kissing me as deeply, he unwound himself from my clothes, and we helped each other to cover-up against the cold. Full circle to how we'd started, we spent several minutes picking environmental debris from each other. Then we stood up to leave.

His guitar was still dry, and hiding safely behind the tree. A Christmas miracle, after the way we had thrashed around. Only a few pine needles and twigs had to be shook out. Into the snowglobe darkness we wandered, to the edge of the park. Lights were hanging in the deciduous trees above us, just s good as any candlelight. Things looked suddenly brighter, and I felt like singing for real, instead of the other two kinds that we had already done that night. Laughing and holding hands, sharing the last of our warmth before parting, he leaned down and kissed me once again. The whispering of names now seemed necessary, and somehow sacred in the light. Then it really was time to go.

The musician leaned his forehead to mine, and asked me if I would come and see him in about a week. New Year's Eve concert, and he wanted me to be there at midnight. Something about him felt right, like someone I should have seen, but could only by the Christmas lights. Smiling, I promised to be there, as I was now 'his biggest fan'--and his singing wasn't bad either. He laughed with me, more richly than before, our voices deeply sexed with one another. He said that if I came, he would be my biggest fan as well. This moment felt like a present, a promise made now couldn't be broken. So I said yes again, and kissed him, tottering almost drunkenly blissful into the night, towards home.

Even if it didn't turn out that way, neither one of us would ever be able to look at an icicle again with out shivering, and possibly other things....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next challenger: Buick, hottub, licorice, present, shaker, voyeur
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Old 12-05-2009, 03:11 PM   #9
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Old 12-13-2009, 05:14 PM   #10
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The coppery taste of blood was the first thing she noticed. Her head reeling from the waves of nauseated consciousness, as she tried to look at where she was.
Barren concrete walls surrounded her, with only a single door to break the monotony. As she tried to wipe away the dripping blood from her mouth, the realization her hands were cuffed to the wall became apparent.
Struggling with futile effort, she relented her situation to one of basement confinement. She wrestled with her foggy memory to understand why she was here. It started to come crashing back to her, how the previous night had transpired. Keith had enticed her to try a drink he made and that was all she could recall. The rest just seemed to be a blankness of stolen moments.
The chill of the room made her shiver, her body becoming aware of the nakedness she was in. Her need for release and find comfort weighed on her, as she took stock of her position. She was a captive, bound to a wall, her clothes stolen along with any trace of her public identity, a victim of someone's twisted plan.
The sound of a key sliding into the lock and the ominous click as it opened, terrified her as her secure mentality was invaded.

"Awake at last my pretty thing. I have so much to do with you and I can finally get started."

The face wasn't anyone she knew, or the voice, one she recognized. The look of the man in front of her sent shivers of dread as he approached.

"What do you want? Why are you doing this to me?"

"I have waited for you to be my plaything. I have watched you and desired you and now you are here, ready to please me with your pain."

Her terror showed clearly to the small man before her. His physical size wasn't what threatened her so much, as the look in his myopic eyes, as they bulged in magnified deviance.
She watched in awe-struck horror as he pulled a small case of needles from his pocket and opened them for her to see. The glinting metal drove shards of dread into her, as she imagined what they were for.
Taking out a short, thin one, he took hold of her taut-skinned breast and flicked the nipple roughly with his finger. With all her effort to deny him, it rose and gave itself to him when he beckoned it.
She closed her eyes in apprehension, as she watched it draw nearer to her. Squeezing them as tightly as she could, she couldn't negate the feeling of the point as it made contact with the sensitive tip.


Water, fresh, rabbit, night, tender, moon

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Old 01-09-2010, 03:39 PM   #11
Rubyswallows
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Water, fresh, tender, moon, night, rabbit

Lance, I hope you don't mind that I continued from your story. While reading your's, it just popped into my mind and I just had to write it!

***

I watched in fascination as Norman pierced the girl's nipple with his needle and quickly threaded a metal ring through the hole. He did the same to her other breast and then clipped a chain between the hardware. She trembled, but didn't speak. New girls normally screamed and fought, forcing Norman or even Keith to subdue them, which was never pleasant to watch. This one didn't move or make a sound, even when he used a larger bore to puncture the tender skin at her belly button.

Norman leaned down and licked away the welling blood, his bald pate gleaming faintly in the artificial light streaming through the open door . Her chains jangled as she shifted away, but he caught her lithe hips with a cruel hand and tugged on the chain between her breasts. She shrieked and I wanted to warn her never to cringe from the small man, but no one had told me I could speak today, so I just watched as he reached for his packet of needles again.

He'd been relatively kind to her so far, but her action would reap consequences. It wouldn't matter that she was new and didn't understand the rules. Norman was a god here in his own private underworld and we merely puppets to his will.

I turned away when he forced her legs open to reveal a freshly waxed pussy. I knew the clit ring would be the most painful for her and I didn't want to watch. A moment later I retreated to my silent place when the screams echoed in the room.

I'm not sure how much time passed before I heard Norman step away from the girl. I stared at her, watching tears and snot run down her young face. Her eyes were glazed with pain and terror - I wondered at the thoughts racing through her spinning mind.

"Clara, come here!" He impatiently snapped his fingers and I quickly crawled to sit at his heel.

He patted my head and I stared up at him hopefully. Was he finally going to make good on his promise to walk me in the moonlight?

The rasp of a lowering zipper answered my silent question. The sound alerted her and she slowly straightened from her slump. I doubt she noticed the constant whimpering streaming from her mouth, but I did and the sound was agitating me.

"Clara, you can play with this new rabbit plush toy I brought for you."

I lowered my head momentarily, but did as he commanded. I crawled over to her body and started nipping at her leg. I could tell from its muscled contours she was a dancer of some sort, so I was prepared when she tried to lash out with her foot.

I hate when girls are disciplined, so I shifted my body to hide her action and my weight pinned her lower body. I wanted to tell her it was futile to fight against what Norman wanted - it was much easier to just give in to what would happen anyway. I chanced a glance into her eyes, but she was watching him.

I bit deeply into her thigh, careful not to break the skin. Her attention snapped to me and she gasped with pain. I laved the wound and slowly licked my way to her bare vaginal lips. The pungent smell of urine and blood was a scent I was well-accustomed to as Norman often used me to help him break in the new ones.

"No, no, no, please God no." Her voice buzzed in my head as my tongue delicately touched the small ring clamped around her clit. I wanted to reassure her, but I had no words. Instead, I tried to be as gentle as possible, using my saliva to wash away the exertions of the past.

I slid my hands underneath her chilled flesh and tilted her pelvis so her pussy was at a better angle for me. I avoided the clit this time and licked along the inside of the slowly plumping lips. I knew what Norman wanted: for her to come despite the pain, terror, and humiliation she felt.

I liked the feel of her skin against my tongue; beneath the terror, she tasted like strawberries. I closed my eyes as I used my nose to nuzzle the tender flesh and advanced lower until the slight tang of female arousal teased my taste buds. I curled my tongue until it was a muscled spear, plumbing the depths of this stranger. She was unbelievably creamy soft, warm, melting pleasure and suddenly I didn't care about our situation.

"Yes, that's it, be a good little bitch and play with her." Norman's rude male words intruded on this moment. I wanted to growl at him, but managed to keep it behind my teeth. I knew my craft and her pussy was being seduced by me, despite her situation, but he broke the mood I was trying to weave.

I didn't have to look back to see Norman standing there, pants at his ankles, one hand on his dick while the other played with his balls. He liked watching more than doing and I wondered if he knew how absolutely ridiculous he looked, but of course I couldn't point that out to him.

I redoubled my efforts, curling my tongue into a small wedge so I could mimic the motion of a cock fucking in and out. I wanted her to come, not for him, but me. I licked even lower, grateful at the female anatomy quirk which placed her asshole within reach of my tongue. I didn't want to neglect her pussy, so I slipped one hand from beneath her and eased two fingers deep inside her warmth while gently strumming her clit with my thumb, careful to avoid the ring.

"Oh God, oh god-" her soft chanting changed from one of alarm to one of supplication. I lapped against her small tight asshole, darting the tip inside, wishing I had a dildo instead.

How beautiful she must've looked, the metal piercing her dusky rose nipples, her head thrown back while her arms strained against the shackles on the wall. It was in moments like this that I understood why Norman did what he did - where else would a guy like him find two women willing to perform for him?

"Baby!" Her cry echoed in the room, preceding the grunt and warm splash on my back that signaled Norman's own release. I quickly switched from her ass and greedily drank the cum pouring out of her, the moisture more dear to me than water.

"Fuck, Clara, you two are twisted!" I ignored Norman and gently petted my lover until the quivering and aftershocks of her orgasm quieted.

I raised myself from the cold floor and glanced towards the door. Keith stood there, his professional mask firmly in place, holding the key in one hand and our clothes in the other. I nodded to him, indicating our fantasy session was over. He immediately came over to Jen and unlocked the shackles. He assessed her physical well-being, ensuring the manacles hadn't hurt her tiny wrists, then deposited the clothing at our feet. He bowed once then left the room as quietly as he came.

I helped Jen to her feet and turned towards Norman. Thankfully he'd tucked himself back in and straightened his clothing. I'd only allowed his participation because he agreed to doing her piercings for free if he could watch.

"Baby, I had an awesome time! I thought you couldn't beat last night, but damn, girl this was the best!." I grinned and kissed her lips.

"Happy birthday, honey."

***

Pearl, green, imitation, silver, phone, and nail

Last edited by Rubyswallows : 01-13-2010 at 02:27 AM. Reason: spacing
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Old 01-09-2010, 07:40 PM   #12
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Ruby, That was very well done. I'm glad I could be an inspiration to you. You truly did justice to it, thank you.
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Old 02-02-2010, 06:16 AM   #13
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My bandmates and I were already hard at work on stage. I play in a bluegrass band and Friday nights are actually our busiest night playing for the dinner and drinks crowd at the local resturant. Not long after we had started our first set, she walked in. She was not particularly good looking, was not wearing sharp clothes and seemed a bit depressed. She walked in talking on her phone, which upset the owners, whom asked her to turn her phone off if she was gonna stay, which apparently she did-because she sat down. As I eyed this new comer, I felt something. I can't say what, but I was definately drawn to her. Now as we all know the guitarist always gets the gal. But this one was different, she did not even look in his direction. She was looking at me, when I would return the look she would look away. We played this game for a while. I got to do some pretty fancy tunes that evening, involving capoing the banjo which means moving the 5th string under the small nails in the fret board to raise the pitch on that string as well tuning up or down the other strings. And my picking was pretty hot that night.

We finished the set, and I walked over to the bar and got 2 long necks then wandered over in her general direction, setting one bottle down on her table and introducing myself. She asked me to join her. She told me she enjoyed my playing, mistakes and all, which brought a smile to my face because most people can't tell when you miss a note while playing bluegrass style. She asked me lots of questions about my very ornate banjo, and asked to see it. She marveled at the Mother of Pearl, green and silver abalone inlays. I asked her if there was anything she wanted to hear when we went back on. Play me something upbeat and fun was her reply. So when I went back on stage I talked to my band mates and we played a song or two that seemed to work to uplift her mood. When we took our second break, she came up to me and asked me to join her for another round. She was coming out of her initial shyness by now and even mustered a smile. She told me that she had never done anything like this before, but wondered if I had plans for later. Now the guitarist usually gets the girl, so this was a shock to me. I was now the one stuttering for words. She laughed, then told me I better have them fingers good and warmed up for later that night! Okay, I'm game. She hung out till we finished and Jimmy said to me, Jan you got lucky tonight I see, in a somewhat condesending tone. I ignored him, and packed my instrument up and walked over to her table and said "lets go".

I followed her back to her place. It was small but adaquate. As soon as I got in the door and set the banjo down, she was all over me. Again taking me by surprise. Her tongue was probing my mouth, her hands on my tits, groping, squeezing. I pulled back. Whoa, slow down gal. What's the rush I asked? She looked shocked by my actions. Lets go a little slower, I suggested. She apparently dis agreed, and was all over me again, okay, so this time, I managed to get my hand down between her legs and started to massage her clit while she devoured my tongue and groped my breasts like a school boy. But as soon as I started heavy petting her, she finally slowed down, and allowed things to settle down. I guess for some it has been a long time between lovers. I breathed a sigh of relief as I really hate to rush the finer things in life.

I took my hand and grabbed hers and led her over to the sofa and we sat down and kissed slowly deeply. Then I kissed her neck, and nibbled her ear, lightly biting her lobe and flicking it with my tongue. When I undid the the buttons on her blouse, she started to act a little shy. I whispered not to worry, I would take care of her. As I kissed my way down her chest, her skin was creamy and smooth, and very fair. When I reached her breasts she seemed surprised that I did not spend much time around her nipples, but rather on the outter edge licking the erogonous zones there, right where the muscles come together. That gave her a mini orgasm. I chuckled and went back to work. working my way down her body, stopping at the belly button, and tracing it with my tongue, before continuing, which seemed to bring another soft orgasm. When I finally got to her unshaved pussy, I found it just the way I love, wet, plump, and ripe. I parted her legs wider and traced my way around her pubic hair then down one leg, teasing her and enjoying every taste sensation I was getting. When I came back up her thigh, and traced my tongue once again thru her pubic hair this time barely touching her pussy lips with my tongue she thrust her hips up to my mouth, but I wasnot done teasing her yet. I kissed and licked my way down her inner thigh and back up, then around the top of her leg. She was whimpering and thrusting and begging please, please. I stopped long enough to ask-please what? Please fuck me was the reply. In good time. I traced her pussy lips with my finger tips and watched her reaction. I ran one finger right up the middle, seperating the sticky lips, she moaned. I started to insert a finger but pulled back. She groaned displeasure. I whispered, let me have my fun, it will be worth the wait. I teased her pussy with my fingertips for a while and then finger tips and tongue. Finally I set about working my fingers in and out of that sweet spot. 1,2 and then 3 fingers slid in easily. Hummm. So I tried 4 and it was a bit of a stretch, but she was not complaining and the more I worked it the more accomadating her slit became, so I before long, I had my whole fist inside her. I kept sucking on her pussy and working my arm in and out of her. Finally sensing that she really needed to come I started pumping my arm in and out of her pussy and just watching her facial expressions. It did not take long before she came and came hard. It took a minute or more for her body to settle enough that I could withdrawl my arm. I cradled her in my now tired arms and brushed her hair. She slept. When she awoke she asked me if what she seemed to remember happening really did-that I had my arm inside her? I said yeah, I did sweetie. Wow was the reply, that has never happened before-I never felt relaxed enough with anyone to do that. Glad you could with me, I said. She looked up at me and said with a grin, yeah something told me that you could show a gal a pretty good time, I just knew you were the real deal and not no cheap imitation. I laughed, then rolled her onto her stomach and said "baby, you ain't seen nothing yet". and proceeded to start rubbing and kissing her spine. Her body started to respond, and she muttered-glad this is still Friday night, that means we have all weekend. Yes ma'am I said . . .


sharp, dangerous, dark, light, music, note
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Old 02-11-2010, 03:51 PM   #14
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Muse (sharp, dangerous, dark, light, music, note)

I picked him up in a dive. More like I picked him out of the dive, picking his guitar in a band that was unworthy of him, and playing a song that was not worthy of his soul. He sat in a haze of smoke and human debris, the yellowed spotlight on him near dying. There was something about his fingers playing over those strings that whispered secret power to me. In my mind it seemed if he were playing what he wanted to, the very air around him would vibrate, and the walls would tremble, and us poor mortals, well, the weak would shatter and the strong would melt.

So I paid ridiculous prices for enough shots of Jack to kill the hours of the night. I sank stiletto heels onto the insteps of those behind me stupid enough to touch me while I stared at him, until eventually my eyes caught his. It could have been the biker howling rage behind me or the musician's wistfulness at the tiny solo he played in the song's lull, but whatever finally brought his dark look to mine, we locked souls in that moment.

Suddenly the music the rest of them were playing didn't matter. He bowed his back forward and lit into the strings, and the haze backed away from him, knowing that this man was untouchable. He rocked hard through a few riffs, and then the guitar bled silver tears as his fingers slid up its neck. His instrument began to sing, and it drowned out the wannabes around him. It s unearthly sound washed across the bar, silencing even the sound of the waitress breaking a beer glass on somebody's face. Growing into a roar, it swelled outside the windows, setting the alarm off on what must have been a stolen BMW in the parking lot.

The whining of the car broke the spell he had just begun casting, but it was enough. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, jumped off the stage, and followed me into the night.

Here we were on the anniversary of that, neither one of us ever looking back and living our lives in between the daylight. I never got tired of being in the front row, and every night there would come that moment that his eyes would key into mine, and he made another world. Women dropped at his feet like flowers, shedding their clothing like petals. He stepped over and across them like they were paving their way to me, and we made it worth each other's devotion before dawn, everytime.

He knew that I had a history of loving men that sung to me when they were naked, but never had a man played his guitar for me while I was the nude one. But it was our anniversary, and as good lovers know, that means some showmanship is required by both. Mine was a new kind of jewelry, that I bought just for him. Not for him to wear. How many things are for men that are for them to wear, after all. This was a special piece I had made for him. The delicate chains were attached to me, and not all were purely decorative, being joined a short distance from my body onto one single ring. This ring he currently held in the same hand as his guitar pick.

At first he played a light serenade, that sounded Spanish in the way it trickled from the strings. Sentimentality was something he kept well hidden in the darkness, which is part of what made him a good musician. But what made him a god was the music that came from him when his eyes sought mine, and his spine arched into his instrument, as power wrapped around him and exploded into me, which was always his intention. That is what made me wet, the unique tension I could feel building between us. These soft sounds, gentle caresses and plucks of that guitar were only foreplay. I sat eating the strawberries he got for me, saving the chocolate for later, as the red juice leaked down my forearms. Sometimes when I watched him play, I just forget basic things like how to eat instead of grinding the berries against my teeth. In the bars at night, I would often forget what I was doing, splashing Jack Daniels into my cleavage, and savoring the trickle until it burned its way into the front of my lace panties. Then I would be on fire for him, in more ways then one, and he could not blow them away and rip those panties off me fast enough. Tonight I made it easier for him, wearing no panties at all.

Alone in our room, satin sheets and leather pillows surrounding us, he sat at the foot of the bed. As I began to swirl and wiggle my tongue up and around my wrist, to lick off the red liquid, I was staring him down. He leaned forward to switch guitars, the mistress swinging into his arms his all-metal beauty, but I knew he was all mine. I saw his nostrils flare as he had leaned, catching a headful of the new perfume I was wearing, the only thing I was wearing besides the chains and silver stilettos, also new and all for him. Chuckling evilly, I reveled in the effect I knew it would have on him, without breaking eye contact. As he adjusted the bar to the neck, and tightened his hold over the strings with the other hand, which pulled slightly on the ring. My chest heaved towards him, so that I was brought onto my hands, just in front of him. He smiled a devil's smile, realizing just how short my reins were for the first time. That was the moment.

His eyes glittered and opened into something purely dangerous, and wetness flooded between my legs, still stretched beside me on the bed. My hips ached at the opening vibrations , my breath no longer obeyed me. He strummed and slid gently at first, but so good was he that his instrument might as well have been inside me as he did so. Every movement of his fingers brought tiny spasms from inside me. The song was building, the guitar warm to the touch now, as he poured more power into it, so it never had a chance to stop vibrating before the next set of notes crashed into and out of it. You could feel the air become alive with it. Now he really busted the gate open, pounding into the front of it, pressed tightly to its back, his fingers hurting the strings with power. He drove into my eyes with his, knowing that my sternum hummed his music, and the bridge of my pelvis ached as he thundered in the room. Already I panted, my pupils dilated, slick on the sheets with my own sweat, and then I my breath stopped altogether as he did a change-up on the chord, switching the ring to the hand upon the bar. He redoubled the his efforts on the strings, and then as his fingers began hard, wicked slides up and down the guitar's neck, I felt as strangled and in ecstacy as she did. My body was forced to move with his, as the pull on the nipple clamps became constant, then sharp with every lunge across the frets. When he knew that I could not take anymore, he brought the song to its climax, the crescendo breaking me into crying with the guitar, as he shot one final warble across strings and frets, carefully tossing her onto the quilt piled next to the bed.
As he dove hard inside me, it was our turn to play each other, screaming louder than the guitars could ever dream of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next set: shiver, traffic, knife, hair, fluffy, peach, leather
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Old 04-29-2010, 12:16 AM   #15
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Talking Knowing Who Your Friends Are

Growing up, one of my friends had a sister named Cherise who was always wandering into trouble. We all took turns rescuing "our" little sister from her own naivete. That is, until I moved away after college, when ‘my Cherie’ was still a 15 year old goth kid, with dyed-black hair and eyebrows drawn on with a Sharpie. Years later I’m at a party at my buddy’s house, making a powershot, when this strawberry blonde falls across the pool table. Immediately she yelps with pain, the six ball having smashed into her breast just as she stumbled. None of us is keen on dealing with crying females. So for several reasons, it will be my job to handle this. Her mascara is already beginning to run, and black drops are falling into the pert cleavage of her spaghetti strap dress. Before the stains can set in, I grab some napkins and gesture for her to use them, as I would never touch another woman like that. As she wipes her makeup off, I realize who it is, and vice versa.

She told me she was hitchhiking down the road when she noticed this party, and had hoped to meet someone here. ‘Who?’ I asked, before I realized that she meant 'Anyone'. No way was I going to let my kid sister be a party favor. There was only one thing to do: have her come stay with me until she got on her feet. Excitedly, she said that would be fabulous, and while we were here, maybe I could hook her up with one of my friends. My mind immediately flashed to which womanizer I was going to have to kill first. Too quickly, I said that would be a bad idea. In fact, we should probably go to my place right now so that she can start getting settled in. With all the walking she had been doing, I was sure that she wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a good night's sleep…..

And that’s when she slammed her little purse on the counter, ranting and glaring at me in the mirror. She was 23 now, for crissakes! When was everyone going to quit treating her like she was stupid! The whole 'little girl' thing is why she left home as fast as she could and never looked back. So if I was still like the rest of them....

No, no, no....I assured her. Just a gut reflex, please forgive an old friend’s bad habits. She smiled and laughed, pointing out that she probably deserved it, as she was the one that had landed on a stranger’s pool table. Let's make it up to each other, I said: we’ll stay at the party, catch up, and have a good time together. Happily, she agreed, and we went back out to mingle. Several drinks later, the others were paired off or leaving, as daylight was only a few hours away.

I had definitely drunk too much to drive, but there was a familiar forest path out back. It wound around the nearby lake, and I had walked it easily many times in the dark. At present, there was even a full moon. Cherise did not hesitate, as she did not want the night to be over yet.

There were others that had already thought of this, so we had to keep altering our route or risk interrupting the nature lovers. Once Cherise caught sight of the lake, she just had to go check-out the temperature of the water. As it turned out, it was just chilly enough to make us shiver into thinking we were sober. I love water, but I can’t swim, and yet she was able to talk me into diving off the docks with her. Fully clothed, I might add. That night I remembered how much of a blast she could be, just the two of us, away from everyone. I almost laughed until I couldn't breathe, while ‘Cherry the Midnight Mermaid’ traded stories with me and did aquatic tricks under the fading moonlight. We were escalating things a bit because morning was coming, and both of us were giddy as hell. ‘Cherry’ thought she was going to do a swim-by and depants me under the dock. She had forgotten that I couldn't swim. In the meantime, I had forgotten that I was wearing leather pants and a leather lace-up halter top, which weren’t made for swimming anymore than I was. The pants did not budge as she yanked. Instead, it jerked my whole body down, and I hit my head on the pier.

The next thing I know, there is a blond guy leaning over me. I am laid-out on the dock, soaking up as many splinters as possible. Cherise is crying hysterically, wearing the guy's jacket. Obviously he has just had to save my ass from drowning. I am embarrassed and try to make a hasty getaway, but gravity hurts me more than reality as I try to stand, and I wonder if he didn't get all of the water out of my head. Grabbing my arm firmly, he 'suggests' that we get up to his car at the top of the shore, and he will take us home. We accept. Cherise suddenly perks back up in his car, and I realize he is probably closer to her age than mine.

His name is Ty, and I can tell he is athletic under his loose T-shirt, with the fluffy haircut of a surfer, even though we are too many miles inland to have a real beach. As I stare hazily
at him in the oncoming headlights, he seems oddly familiar to me. But maybe I hit my head too hard. He turns to me and tells me that he has been coming to the same parties at the same mutual friend's house for three years now, and seen me there every time, but I would never talk to him before. That is how he clues me in to the fact that I have been babbling out loud—and that I really did hit my head too hard. Alcohol, of course, has nothing to do with it! Apologizing profusely, I give him bad directions to my place, which he happens to be driving straight to, anyway. Before I can wonder why this nice guy knows everything about me, when I can't even remember his name right now, we arrive.

He helps Cherise out of the car, as she clings to him, doe-eyed and fluttering, escorting her into the house. As he comes back for me, I have managed to get myself out and begun walking, though I feel like I am on uneven stilts. With a little dash, he gets a hand under my elbow before I can fall in the rosebushes. I find that he is as strong as I imagined. We stumble in and he closes the door behind us. I hear the shower running, and poke my head in to tell Cherise to take her time, and that I want her to just sleep in my bed for tonight. Tomorrow, the tiny apartment will have to be rearranged for her to have her own space. Definitely tomorrow, when neither the furniture nor I are hostages to gravity anymore.

A hot shower sounds great to me right now, but my 'sister' is the guest, I tell Ty, so I will wait for the second one. Secretly, I want to make sure that some stranger isn't going to join her, so I pretend to kick my beangbag chair against the bathroom door by accident, and collapse onto it. From what I remember of my Cherie, she is likely to be in there for atleast an hour. That’s fine, because no one is getting past me, and the single bed is directly in front of me. In truth, there won't be enough hot water for a second shower, but she should be drowsy by the time she comes out, and this guy will have decided that we are done for the night.

As if he is reading my mind, Ty asks me if I am going to want to just go to breakfast when she comes out, or if I had too much to drink. ‘Who, me? I'm fine. Whatever she can do, I will make sure to be there and keep her out of trouble!’ He smiles lopsidedly at this, and reminds me that it was not her that needed saving tonight. Before I can react, he quickly changes the subject and asks me about where Cherise and I grew up. Then he starts telling me all the people and events he and I have in common, and how he has followed my work.

I’m thinking ‘Ty knows more about the real me than my so-called friends do’, just as he says something about me and Cherie having to get to know each other all over again. I don't remember what I replied to that, but the next thing I know, I am waking up and it’s late morning.

I know it’s late morning because the light is too loud inside my apartment, and midday traffic has replaced the birds outside. My shoulder is killing me, as I am laying almost upside-down on my head. Startled, I creak-up rapidly in my leathers and realize I fell off the beanbag chair, which has moved from the bathroom door to beside the bed. A bed which hasn't been slept in. I start to freak-out as I think that either Ty snuck past me to the bathroom after I fell asleep or Cherise snuck out of the house. Either way, there was some sort of conspiracy and I am pissed!

Just as I make it to my knees, I find Cherise right next to me, curled like a cat on top of the beanbag, loosely wrapped in my big bathtowel. She is beautiful in her sleep, if not gorgeous. Her nipples are the same peach color as her hair, causing me to stifle a giggle that she should change her name to Peaches, not Cherry. My laughter dies when I notice the ugly bruise covering one half of the perfect globe of her pale, golden breast. I trace the stormcloud-like edges gently with my fingertip, and her eyes fly open. I freeze, in half-comic terror, wondering if this poor girl thinks I am a lesbian, instead of just an inebriated idiot. Cherise smiles slowly, however, and asks in her most Kool-Aid-sweet voice if I am going to kiss it and make it feel better. I grin and lean down to give her the affectionate type of peck I often did when she was a fragile little kid. But when my lips reach the edge of her breast, I feel her petite hand grab the back of my head, as she turns so that her nipple pops right into my startled mouth! For a split-second I don't know what to do. My ability to think has been blown-out by her moaning hiss and the fingernails of her other hand pinching my nipple through my leather top.

Before I can regain sanity, she has spilled herself out of the towel and all down my front. Her skin has soaked-up the heat of the sunlight while she was lying in it, and I will be damned if she didn’t smell like a hot peach as well. It seems that there were some schnapps involved a few hours ago, however, which would explain it even if I was hallucinating.

Her lips tasted like some kind of lipgloss. Giggling around first, her tongue, and then her nipple again, I thought of how she was like one of those chics in the movies, who always wake in the morning with already perfect makeup. She had done her hair into curly little waves, and the mascara didn’t even run as she broke into a frenzied sweat. My nipples were definitely jealous of the freedom hers had, and she tried tearing at the laces of my top, but it was no use. The leather had shrunk into place, and my little hellkitten was unable to scratch through the laces with her glittery claws. It was just as well, I babbled, as I had no idea what we were doing……and that’s about when she pulled a switchblade out of thin air, expertly slicing both my halter and pants right off me, only barely nicking me where the elastic on my panties had knotted in a fold of leather. As I gasped, Cherise threw the knife into the far wall and she dove in, through both sets of my lips…..

Back when we were growing up, her brother had always said only an idiot would mess with me (as he had, only once). He warned others I was a tomboy, and while I wouldn’t hit a girl, I would always find a way to give everybody as good as I got. I would hope that if asked, my Cherie would say that it was still true today.

All I know for sure was that we were both shrieking and panting 30 minutes later, with fingers painfully knotted in each other’s hair. Somehow leather remnants were tied around one of my thighs, cutting off the circulation. But my legs were too shaky to feel any pain at the moment. One of us had also managed to pop the beanbag, so that tiny Styrofoam debris clung all over my wild-eyed angel, as if I had rolled her in powdered sugar instead of on my dirty apartment floor. We began to unlock our tits from each other, and help each others limbs move back to where they belonged. Cherise giggled that our thighs slid too quickly on each other, like skating on wet linoleum. I sat-up on one elbow to lean over her and try to untangle my wristwatch from her hair. She tugged my necklace with her teeth, preventing me from rising high enough. Then I tickled her ribs so she had to let go. She was too busy diving her mouth toward my nipple for revenge to notice my face bleach in horror, as I discovered a pair of skater shoes underneath her head.

It was not just that they were size 12 and a man’s, it was that the man was still in them. Ty was standing just above us, his eyes bugging and his arms thrown out to the side, as if he were frozen in the act of starting to fall off a cliff. As I blinked up at him, he began to blink back, and we both turned crimson. Cherie giggled into my tits that she could feel me heating up and getting horny again, which was great because she was, too. Ty cleared his throat, and she rolled over and popped-up like a strawberry-blonde chipmunk, cocking her head and blinking up at him as well. Since she was now back on top of both the towel and the ruined beanbag, I glanced desperately for anything else nearby that I could cover up with. Hurriedly, Ty took off his shirt, choking on something polite to say as he handed it to me.

Cherise, not missing a beat, angrily squealed at him for giving the shirt to me so fast, when she had no top on either. Ty was bewildered and panicking. Running through his mind were the fact that it was me he was interested in, but there was no way to say that to Cherry without asking to have his head in a hornet’s nest, and it also seemed like an epic fail to profess his love for the woman that he had just watched have sex with another woman. So as he began to stammer his reply, Cherise was too busy predatorily staring at his mammoth cock to listen to what he was saying, but I had never taken my eyes off of his face. His pleading look was slipping back to her, as I reached over and interrupted her game by pinching her sharply on the ass. As I sat up and made space between me and Cherise in front of his feet, Ty started to pass between us, looking like he was going to faint with relief for my ‘saving’ him. But that was when I slyly glanced once at the erection now next to my face, and looking hard into his eyes, I said, ‘You know, she cut off my pants as well……’


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Next Set: OPEN CHOICE. C'mon, people, let's get this goin' again....
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Old 05-10-2010, 09:58 PM   #16
arielsgoddess
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Treed

We had gone for a drive, as it was such a beautiful day. The sun looked golden and the sky deep, with enough quickly shifting, cotton candy clouds to keep it cool. Miles in a direction that I picked on a map, we were out in the country, where the driveways became longer and more sparse, winding away from the road. Soon we hit a patchwork of woods and semi-farmland. It was the first part of the East that seemed truly familiar to me. Right down to the pastural smells, in fact, lol. One wide side-road appealed to me, and you turned onto it. Before too far, the smooth pavement ended and we hit ripply gravelled dirt. There was a marching procession of willow trees off to the left, up ahead, and I asked you to find a place to pull in near it. The wire fence was pretty much fallen down and grown over with years of foxgrass, in the little turnaround 50 yards from the trees. Before you could even speak caution to me, I had scrambled over the weathered barrier, skirt and all. You followed, huffing a bit to keep up with me, as I sped easily over the bumpy soil. When I reached the trees I stopped and whirled, beaming at you. As you caught up to me, you saw there was a tiny creek running in between what were actually two rows of trees. The shallows stretched themselves impossibly thinner, right up to the impressively trundling roots, in a sheet of clear water over the loam. In these wet tableaus sprang up the little willow shoots that we had come to find. There were a few birches farther into the fields, but on both sides of this creek, besides the brambles, it was all the giant willows' world. There were two or three species, both golden and silver weepers like fountains made of fiber, and then the fuzzy type that looks likeit is flowering, but grows straight up into the sky. Still undecided as to which one that you were going to want to take a cutting from, and neither of yes yet having a clue as to where it was meant to be planted, the drive had been our only concrete plan so far. So here we were.

We began talking about the various qualities of the different types, and others that were existant in that region, according to my research. But we were drawn back to quiet, again and again, by the silent giants and happy lull of the water. There was a cluster of golden ones that called me farther down the creek, as they were reminiscent of the ones that I had grown up with. You were quick to say that is the one we should take the cutting of, then. I argued against it, saying that it was as much to do with you and something deeper in your family--and therefore you--as well, so it should be less impulsive and more overwhelmingly 'right' in feeling.

Yet, as we were entranced again by the gentle breeze playing through the draping branches, you took my hand and we walked around the trees, staring into the water. For a while we didn't do much of anything, which meant that we were both thinking of doing something else. Not surprisingly, we were imagining on the same subject, lol. Nature was not lending itself to us, however, as there were too many sinking spots or rocks in the soil, and the only logs we saw were also visibly swarming with insects. I had glanced at the trees, but willows are notoriously knotty (not the kind of naughty we were looking for), and all of the mammoth trunks were too sharply gnarled to be good for pressing up against. You suggested we head back to the car, hinting at the possibility of finding a quiet place somewhere else.

Just then I saw the biggest weeping willow yet, set almost like an island in a sea of waterlogged moss. The wetness surrounding it was less than an inch deep, but enough of a deterrent to keep its body ant-free. Better yet, one part of the tree was a low-hanging branch, which we could just barely use to step on and reach the summit of its massive, dividing trunk. Sure that I had again lost my mind, you hesitantly let go of my hand as I squealed and rushed into the spongy mush. Before you could make it across to me, I had scrabbled up onto the branch and balance-beamed my way to the heart of the willow. Making more smug and excited noises, I frantically tossed-away an old nest of twigs and other debris, clearing the place that I obviously wanted us to climb up to, now at about chest-height to me. Carefully you climbed up behind me, and I said that you should go up to the higher level first. Unsure of my plan, you clambered around me and made it into the summit.

Once up there, you saw the upper side of the tree split into four branches, but at the place where they divided, it formed an irregular landing. I took my coat off and passed it up to you, so that you could spread the back of it out over the damp, crumbly bark and sit on it. You found that you could lean partway back on the one southern branch, twice as wide as your body. The other southern branch cast itself lower, so that you could lean back one arm and backup your weight by bracing your hand down, for insurance. In front of you was a small rise to the platform, and the remaining two branches, rising away in a narrow V. This was the point to which I shuffled, grinning as I made it, my shoulders leaning low on the V. Carefully gripping the bark behind me, I leaned towards you and we began to wrestle each others' tongues. Your legs settled to the sides, and you shifted around until you were comfortable and secure enough to use both hands to unbutton my blouse. In the meantime, I had found the perfect place at which to rest my ass at the bottom of the V. With a little tesing, I made sure that I could brace my arms in the rising V, against the northern branches for leverage, while still supporting my weight on the back of my hips. Slowly I bent my knees as you made the usual, happy journey to my garters with your hands, skidding my heels down alongside you, into the bark, as you pulled my skirt up to my waist. It disn't take any encouragement as I leaned over you, already pulled from my bra, for you to tear-off my panties. Considerately, you had already also pulled out your swollen cock. Accommodating on my part, you already had me ridiculously wet from frustrated anticipation while we were looking for this tree. So as I slid my back not-too painfully down the bark, you wedged hard and perfectly into me. The new angle worked its own wonders, and neither one of us was going to last long. Especially not with you watching my nipples bouncing in your face, and the breeze hypnotically moving the branches around us identically to the way it moved my hair, in rhythm. Just as you came, we realized your yelps were answered by a dog's bark in the field, and I had to hurriedly slam on you to keep the frustrations at bay enough for us to escape. But as I started to move away, you couldn't resist it, and kneeled up fast, forcing me to switch places with you. As my back was forced across the tilting branch, you pressed on top of me, pinning me down and kissing me. Rebracing on the lower branch astride this one, you reached the other hand down and thrust your fingers into me. Although I badly needed to come, the fear of falling this way made me panic, and began to override my ability to orgasm. Quickly you switched tactics, grabbing both my wrists before I could react, and pinning them along the trunk below me. Still knelt down, you back up just slightly and suddenly thrust up into me, your head re-engorged and throbbing, making me shriek. Your thrusts are fast and forceful, as my wrists grind and my hair tangles into the rough bark, and my legs are rapidly beginning to spasm on either side of you. My heels spike into the pillars behind you, bucking our pelvises wetly together. Now there is more than one dog barking, and travelling undoubtedly towards us. Shaky but frantically we stagger out of the branches of the tree, and begin running clumsily towards the car, like a couple of farmkids trying to escape from the hayloft. As we are running, we look over our shoulders to see three dogs barking excitedly around the willow where we were, two men approaching them a ways behind. With much haste, we get into the car and make it back to the highway.

I realize with alarm and disappointment that after all of that, I had forgotten to take one of the baby saplings, just in case. "That's alright, babe," you say, with a gleam in your eyes. "i'm sure we can find some more trees". Mm-hmm....
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Last edited by arielsgoddess : 05-10-2010 at 10:01 PM.
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Old 07-24-2010, 08:23 AM   #17
arielsgoddess
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Tide (bathrobe, bindings, mermaid, nymph, tea, teeth)

You stumble in from work, tired and muscles aching so badly that I deflect your amorous suggestions into a hot shower, while I make you some equally hot tea. You emerge in your sweats, take the drink from me, and pass out on the bed halfway thru it, as I am getting into the shower myself.

Time slides in shadows and strange dreams for you of mermaids and seaweed, as you slowly wake to me kissing you deeply. Happily drowsy, you try to roll towards me and wrap your fingers into my wet hair----but you can't. Your wrists both yank tight, and with the briefest confusion you snap out of grogginess to realize that both of your wrists is lashed securely to the bed with your old friends, the two black silk scarves. I give you a dirty chuckle at the challenge that has registered in your suddenly alert eyes. With menacing delight I pin you to the bed, straddling your waist, your rebel cock protestingly muffled beneath my thick bathrobe. I lean down to kiss you slowly, ignoring your grunts at the cleavage you can see at the top of the robe. My hair is wet and drips little fangs of shiver onto your warm neck and shoulders, and the top of your chest itches with the wet swirls of the strands. You have just realized you are again naked, even though you fell asleep with your sweats on. Your skin is so toasty and dry, it startles you whereever the rain from my hair falls on it, and your cock screams against the soft thickness of the robe as if it were burlap instead. Laughing lightly at your caged expression, I begin to trace the tip of my tongue gently from your lips, to your jaw, running the edge of the arc from your chin to dance lightly in the front of your ear. Next, rapidly skating along the edge of the cartilage's perfect scallop, I dive briefly down along your jugular to make you groan, as my tongue carves in ever so briefly. Then my tongue lashes up the back edge of your neck, like a wide, wet paintbrush. Tongue and teeth wrestle and tease your earlobe, teeth dancing crackles of electricity from you ear to various points thru your body. I begin to carve lightly at the back and base of your neck with my teeth. Then my tongue cuts decidedly along your collarbone, making you strain against your bindings on that side. My eyes shift mischieviously to yours at every sudden change in tactic and destination. Now I kiss you even deeper, and begin to slide down your length, to bring my legs alongside yours, as your hardon pushes up under the robe against my stomach, desperately wanting to nest deeper in and farther down, as it bunches and splits the robe as I slide. My hands pinning down on both sides of your hips, the flesh of my wrists sliding on the flesh of those bones, I rock onto my knees and begin to lean forward over you again. My kisses make you shiver worse now, as I have withdrawn the radiant heat of my body from your upper half. The hair not dripping as much, still makes icy trails up and down the ripples of your abdomen, catching on every fine hair from your waist up to your nipples, which splash hard against the tiny tendrils, as they wrap wetly around you. The main erectile flesh is still deeply impaling my stomach, as I laugh and rock against it, my tongue tracing my lips, as my eyes dance into yours playfully. I rock back suddenly, giving you the glimmering stare of full mischief, using your fleshly sword to soundlessly pop the thick, loosely tied terrycloth sash. As your dick cuts through the robe's bindings, it feels the fast draw of the terrycloth hard against it, raging for a few moments again as if it were burlap chafing it, but it plunges too victoriously into the open space the robe had covered. Screaming differently its delight at the rush of so much soft flesh now topping and stroking it, your cock is rocked gently, back and forth. From the softness of my stomach, to the firm press of the canyon between the swells of my breasts, I stroke the whole of my upper flesh along your middle flesh. All the while, my dark eyes dancing and pulling you in, and stroking you far harder than my soft flesh. The look in my eyes so full of threat of sadisticness and promise of ecstacy that looking into my eyes is pure torture to you, combines with what my flesh is doing on top of yours. Added to that again, is the continuing gentle lash of the strands of still-wet hair, flashing up and down your flesh and ribcage.

You have begun to make a snailtrail of your own, sticky on my stomach. I look down at your sword, and you think for a moment, I am ready to take pity on your suffering warrior. I pull back onto my haunches, between your knees, and let the robe slip into a warm cloud across your ankles. The look in my eyes alone makes you fairly buck your hips and scream, but tiger-tense and slow I start to lean back over you, my look pinning you down. Eyes locked on yours, my tongue traces a gentle swirl in the hollow of your right groin. My cool, damp hair tangles on your hard dick, as it intentionally throbs and leaps towards me, to tangle itself worse. The longest and heaviest part of my hair wraps to your balls, as I rock just slightly back and forth, tracing more excruciatingly gentle swirls with my tongue all over the less interesting parts of your groin and abdomen. You grind your tongue in your teeth as your slammingly try to remember how to count, in order to keep from screaming.

My hair lashes suddenly along your left hip as I pounce towards your neck again, bringing the soft fur of my mound brushing and pushing against your dick, as my tongue and teeth more skillfully devour your neck, and you make animal sounds that I answer with deep and almost orgasmic-to-you growls into your ear. All over our upper body, anywhere that my breath hits where my hair has been, your skin flashes like clouds in a storm. My tongue keeps that game going, but my breath swirling harder into your ear races your excitement, as you know secretly deep in the heart of your cock that it means that I am beginning to need you now. My teeth wrap firmly the side of your throat, as my hand wraps more firmly around your shaft, and my hips slide and raise higher than before. With a brief grind on dry skin, then you are being pushed, cockhead first, into the tight, brief, rollercoaster ride of my unique flesh, splashing your dick into the warm-cool of a new wetness. I squeeze you so much tighter--with no hands now--as my fists drive into the pillows on either side of your head, and my eyes are now close to yours, as my face remains so, and my tongue dives straight down as we take the curves a little deeper and faster on this ride. You buck your hips gently up against mine, winding the tension in my spine tighter and tighter, bringing me closer as I squeeze and stroke you harder within me, forcing you to begin to throb as well, and pant and whimper. My tongue traces the bindings on your wrists as you begin to thrash a little, so I replace that with the sharper patterns of my teeth on your wrists and tongue. This casts the spell that breaks us both, our bodies slamming into the invisible rocks. But no seafoam will we turn into, despite the soft white gush you pump into me and down both our nether regions. I do not move to acquiesce, to curl femininely by your side. No, I am more than nymph or mermaid and wilder, my tempest rides. As I lock you tight within me and pull faster and harder than you can defend against, you shatter once more. I am pulling you, the ebbing rope, into weaving rings of ecstacy, until you whisper wet kisses in my ear to lay next to you. Then I push you out, on the outcast tide, knocking your breath from you, as I undo your wrists. We agree to wash ourselves together into unconsciousness, in the sea of blanket. Your body is curled against my back, and the hairy arm wrapped around my body is the refuge of texture sought by my nipples. Our legs echoing and curling together, like the waves of the tide, as we roll deeply into sleep.
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Old 07-31-2010, 07:28 PM   #18
Handley_Page
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Ooh - A a h.
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Incident at Cemetery Junction.
" Pest Control."
"Mavis's Car Trip."
"Norman-the-dragon. "
"Stacy & the Angel. "
" Earth Tremor on Stage ? "
" Charlie's Story. "
" How to do Audio. "
http://www.literotica.com/stories/me...php?uid=883259
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