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Make me dirty

spackle

After she'd dumped him (he was lucky she hadn't severed his fucking frenulum, so hard had his droning made her grit her teeth), she quickly found solace in the arms (and bed) of a moderately intelligent but kindly PhD student.

It was only with the perspective that several months of vigorous (and thankfully polysyllable-free) sex lent her that she began to realise that his unpleasantness, his intellectual snobbery and his constant patronising were the emotional spackle with which he filled the cracks of his sexual inadequacy...

espionage
 
espionage

As she flung her nubuck leather clad leg around his hips, collecting him in against her sinewy strong body, he felt a shiver run down his spine. It was followed by her finger, bumping gently over the bones of his back, making him quiver. He could feel himself hardening up and the lust circling in his loins.
"You're just teasing me now," he said huskily, hopelessly, wistfully.
"Oh no," she murmured with a soft snickering laugh. "You have ... information I desire. I shall have my way with you, but first, let us play. I do so enjoy a bit of ... espionage."

Grappling hook
 
nanophilia

She had the smallest breasts he had ever seen, and he was excited by it. His penis reacted by swelling to three times its usual size. He was reluctant, however, to undress with the lights on, and felt almost unmanned by her initial reaction to his own mini-organ.

"Why, that's the smallest cock I've ever seen!" she exclaimed.

But when she followed up with, "It's just so adorable! As cute as a cherub's. Oh, please may I kiss it?," he was delighted to discover that women also could have nanophilia.

spelunking
 
nanophilia

Every time he saw her, an uncontrollable trembling would begin in his knees, circling like a flame up his thighs and into his loins. His cock would harden and grow, no matter how hard he tried to focus on things which in other circumstances would immediately have switched him off. She was so perfect, and so tiny, with his unfortunate tendency to nanophilia he was doomed.

Cold baked beans - oh the thought of pressing her little porcelain limbs into the gooey orange sauce.

Cold showers - letting the droplets run over her brightly coloured skirts so delightfully decorated with dainty ribbons.

Finally he was obliged to take drastic action.

"Aunt Phoebe," he said huskily when she came back in the room carrying the tray with tea and cakes on it. "I'm so sorry but I seem to have broken your ornamental china shepherdess."

Barquette aux marrons
 
Barquette aux marrons

"Oh, no," he thought to himself as his date picked up her eclair, "she's going to do it again."

He remembered their first date, and the way she ate her barquette aux marrons. How she gently took the treat between thumb and forefinger, aiming the bow of the little boat towards her mouth. As the pastry's tip touched her pursed lips, she slowly drew it in, savouring the chocolate as it entered. And then, as she slowly drew it back out, her teeth scraped the icing off the boat's top deck, emphasizing the contrast of the rich, dark brown of the chocolate against the pale, almost fragile, pink of her lips.
His pants had grown uncomfortably tight then, even before she sailed the barquette back into her far-from-dry dock. He sat transfixed as her tongue curled beneath the golden keel and the beige marzipan, so sensually translucent, grazed the bow of her lip...

She raised the eclair now, its long, chocolated shaft caressed by her fingertips, and he was again undone.

anthropophagy
 
Last edited:
NekoParks said:
anthropophagy

While many people considered anthropophagy a disgusting form of cannabalism, this particular "maneater" preferred her dishes alive and kicking and hard and long and dripping and groaning....

French Toast
Click to expand...

The way she ate her French toast drove him to distraction. First slathering it with syrup, always remembering to catch the stray dribble of the sticky liquid running down the side of the bottle with her index finger, then sucking sensually on it.

He would shift in his seat as she tore pieces off, popping them daintily in her mouth, her full, red lips enveloping those fortunate hunks of battered bread. He watched those moist lips avidly, imagining them engaged in a much less utilitarian activity...

Every morning, sitting in that café, long after she'd departed to start her working day, he would have to wait some time before he dared stand up.

Barrage
 
Barrage

She enjoyed being the centre of attention at the King's Artillery Ball, but still she was surprised to be covered by such a barrage of friendly fire.

Rolfing
 
Tio_Narratore said:
Barrage

She enjoyed being the centre of attention at the King's Artillery Ball, but still she was surprised to be covered by such a barrage of friendly fire.

Rolfing
Click to expand...

She should have known, when his face lit up at her suggestion that a good Rolfing would help her relax after a particularly hard day at work, that it was too good to be true. The therapeutic deep-tissue manipulation techniques involved had yielded significant benefits in the past, and she hoped to introduce her new paramour to the wonders of the Rolf Method of Structural Integration.

Her heart sank, however, when he emerged from the bathroom wearing a long brown Macintosh, clutching his erection in one hand and pointing it at the floor, singing in Australian accent that he was "Jake the Peg..."

earphones
 
(Good one, Steve.:D)

earphones

She rather enjoyed his little "Dead Ringers" game, playing Genevieve Bujold to his Jeremy Irons' twin gynecologists. It was particularly exciting when he strapped her to the footboard with surgical tubing and clamps, but she wasn't overjoyed at pretending to have a bicornate uterus, like some marsupial. She always wondered, though, what he was listening to while they played. Then, one rather exhuberant night, he accidently pulled the jack from the sound system. No longer confined to the earphones, the strains of "Tie me kangaroo down, boys" reverberated through the bedroom.
:rolleyes:

limnological
 
nosering

She wore red feathers and a hulahula skirt - polka dot pattern. When she turned round while walking with him on the promenade along the seafront, it suddenly flew up to reveal a flash of knicker - just a quickie.

Bewitched, he of course offered her a diamond nosering when he went on his knees to beg her to be his own. That (and Chanel No 5) was all she ever wore to bed.

Schwarma

(What is schwarma? Were they eating it in that little section after the credits on the Avengers film?)
 
shwarma

She lay supine as he straddled her shoulders, his erect organ aimed straight downwards and her lips parted as if a pita awaiting a filling of his shwarma.

demijohn
 
tam-o-shanter

"Why are ye wearin' a tam-o-shanter in the bedroom, Lassie?"

"I dinna want ye tae see me all naked, Laddie."

(You want cliches? I have cliches).

polyvalent
 
polyvalent

It had snuck up on him, really. He'd never realised just how polyvalent their relationship had become. They'd started their life together as relative sexual ingénus, gradually discovering the tricks, the buttons that awakened their new-found lust.

As time went on, and familiarity bred, if not contempt, then a certain ennui, they'd experimented, pushing one another's boundaries like two armies locked in a battle over a no-man's-land littered with sex toys, costumes and bondage paraphernalia.

But it was only now, as he sat in his armchair watching another man's mouth on her breast, a stranger's fingers plunging avidly into her greedy, excited vulva, that he wondered if their relationship had any value left at all.

bifurcation
 
bifurcation

As he gazed at her bottom, so exposed, so tempting, bent over with her legs spread wide, he was unable to decide between front and back doors. "If only my organ were bifid, like a marsupial's," he thought to himself, " or if it could undergo some other form of bifurcation, I wouldn't have to make this choice."

juvenesence
 
marzipan

The novelties in the bakery window caught his eye as he walked by, and so in he stepped. The marzipan breasts were particularly appealing, he thought, so natural looking. And somehow strangely familiar.
He looked up as the counter girl came over to help him, and he was taken aback. "Oh," said his finacee, "I forgot to tell you I found a new job."

decemvir
 
erratum

Erratum? she said. The whole thing is littered with errata, sweetie pop. Let's just put it to one side for now and start a clean sheet.

The virgin whiteness of the paper was like a bedsheet: cool and kindly to his troubled soul. He laid his hand to the page while she tidied up the corrigenda in a mundane quiet housewifely way.

Muesli.
 
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