Snippettesville: 600 word stories

[champagne1982]

Shortened Breath (a Randy and Cheri episode)

When the curvy, little redhead came down the stairs toward him, Randy's mind went blank. Cheri Jessop seemed oblivious to the effect she had on him. Her breasts didn't really bounce as she skipped down, but they looked as if they were about to and it was all Randy could do to look up into her pretty, brown eyes. Mesmerized, he watched her, all of Cheri's rounded parts seemed to sway, rhythmically, with her walk. She turned toward the bar fridge and looked back at the entranced Randy. He was staring at her heart-shaped ass with predator-like eyes.

"Would you like something to drink?" her voice weakly penetrated the fog he was in and Randy darted his eyes back up to her face. The hunger she glimpsed, when his eyes met hers, was enough to start Cheri's pulse racing. She'd never seen that in a man before and wasn't sure how to react. "I. . . We have," she corrected hastily, covering up her nervousness, "juice? Coke? Bottled water?"

"Water will be fine, Cheri," his voice caressed her name. "Thank you."

Randy stayed seated on the barstool, forcing Cheri to bring him his drink. She looked around like a trapped deer seeking escape until at last she swallowed and moved to him. As she flowed across the floor, Randy couldn't believe the liquidity of her motion, like syrup, slow and relentless leaving part of herself, her scent, clinging there, in the space behind her.

Cheri tried to move behind the bar, putting something solid between them but Randy swivelled on the stool and then stood up in her path. She lifted the bottle to his hand, he took it and set it down on a coaster. "Wow, Miss Jessop, you are really something, y’know?" his voice was low and breathy, "I think I'd better go before I do something . . ."

Startled eyes looked up at him, "What do you mean?" Cheri tried to step back but somehow his hands had moved and he held her shoulders. She looked up, “Don’t . . . ”

His mouth covered hers. Randy had never wanted a woman’s kiss like he did Cheri’s. Marveling at the sweetness of her lips, Randy inhaled, wanting to have his senses filled with her. He felt her hands pressing against his chest as she attempted to get away. When she turned her face, grunting out panicked protests, he moved his big hands to cup her cheeks and still her head. His mouth covered hers again and he froze when he heard her long, drawn out sob.

“Oh my God!” he despaired. “Shit! God! Cheri– Cheri, please, forgive me.” Randy’s hands released her shoulders and hung by his sides. He clenched them into fists and raised his head to look at her, tension and worry evident in every feature.

“Just go! I can’t think of why you did that!” Cheri’s hand shook as she raised it to touch her lips. She glared at him, anger replacing the fear she’d felt just a moment ago.

“You’re beautiful. I can’t believe . . . ”

“You? You can’t believe it!” her outrage lifted her voice higher in tone. Then she slumped as she caught the anguish in his eyes, “Why did you just think you could kiss me like that?”

“I wasn’t thinking, Cheri– Oh God, I wanted to ask you to dinner, get to know you, but I blew that plan all to hell. I’m so sorry!”

Cheri studied him silently, letting both of them slow down. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if you’d waited until after dinner, Randy McCrae. What time will you be back to pick me up?”

 

[Alex De Kok]

Mini-Mart Mate

"Sally?" The stranger was hesitant

"No, I'm Al, Sally's sister."

His face cleared. "You're - "

" - Twins? Yep, sure are." She smiled at the stranger. Middle-aged, but well-kept; a little rugged, even. "You want to see Sally?"

The man nodded. "I'm Chuck Mellor. I told Sally I'd stop by."

Alison pointed. "She's having her break. You'll find her in the stockroom."

Chuck smiled. "Thanks." He moved toward the rear of the store.

Alison checked the CCTV monitor under the counter. The aisles were clear. She sometimes wondered why she and Sally bothered staying open after eight mid-week, then grinned, switching in the extra CCTV circuit. This was one reason. The image was black-and-white, but clear and sharp. Sally was in a hot clinch with Chuck.

As Alison watched she saw his hand come up and cup her sister's breast. Sally lifted his hand away, only to tuck it inside her hurriedly unzipped coverall. Alison grinned. Like Sally, she wore little under the coverall in the summer heat; in Alison's case it was only panties. She also, like Sally, enjoyed the touch of a man's hands on her tits.

A couple of teenaged girls came in, quickly purchasing gum and sodas and going out giggling, heads together. Sally looked at the monitor.

Wow, sis! Quick work. Jeez, can you really swall - ? Damn, you can! Deep-throat Devine! Way to go! She watched avidly for a moment, admiring Sally's technique. Can't beat a good blowjob. Hmm. Damp panties.

"Excuse me?"

The voice brought her back to the store; another stranger, this one in a zipped leather jacket, crash helmet in hand. Cropped greying hair, Zapata mustache and the brightest blue eyes Alison had ever seen.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Oops! Nearly got caught.

"I'm looking for Al Stone?"

"That's me. Al-for-Alison."

The man smiled. "You advertised a Tiger 100 for sale? I'm Charlie West - I run 'Charlie's Harleys'. I'm interested in old bikes."

"It's out at the farm. It was my Dad's."

"Can I see it?"

"Tomorrow? I could show you the bike in daylight."

"If I pick you up at ten? Here?"

"Here at ten? Great. Do we go by bike?"

"Sure, if you wish."

"I'd love it!" Alison grinned. "Have you a spare crash helmet?"

"No problem. See you at ten tomorrow. 'Bye for now." He smiled again and went out.

Alison returned her attention to the CCTV monitor. Sally was naked now, on her knees, Chuck behind her, jeans around his ankles, his prick pistoning into Sally's pussy.

I wish we had sound, Alison thought, then grinned. Perhaps not; might scare the customers.

As Alison watched, Chuck jerked in climax, then bent forward over Sally's back, panting. Eventually, he eased back and out. Shit! I bet you knew he was there, Sal!

A few minutes later, Sally and Chuck came through from the stockroom. Chuck kissed Sally and moved to the door. "See you Thursday."

"'Bye, Chuck. I'll look forward to it."

As he went through the door, Sally turned to her sister, eyes sparkling. "Did you watch?"

"Most of it. I had customers."

"He's hung!"

"I noticed," Alison said dryly.

"Are we swapping?"

"Maybe. Oh! Can you handle the store by yourself tomorrow morning?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I think I have a buyer for Dad's old Triumph."

"Great! What's he like?"

"Quite a lot like your Chuck. Fortyish, droopy mustache. Runs 'Charlie's Harleys'."

"You like him?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

"Can I look forward to a TV show?"

"Maybe. Let you know after tomorrow morning."

"Well, if not, on Thursday you can be Sally, and I'll watch."

605 words

Alex

 

[Guest]

Willott's Ferry Inn

Katie sat on the edge of the bed, nervous as hell. She slowly pops the knuckles in each of her ten fingers. Katie Woodson is nineteen years old and today is her wedding anniversary.
Today, she got married.

Mark Woodson is in the bathroom taking a shower, shaving and
generally getting ready for his first night as a married man. His first night with his high school sweetheart. He and Katie were an item for the last three years of high school and
had saved themselves for each other. Each wanted their first time to be with the other.

Each wanted the first time to be the night of their wedding. Neither had expected it to come so soon. When Katie’s Mom suddenly got sick and then died though, Katie was left with a heap of bills and no one to turn too. Mark saw this and had to help. So he asked her to marry him.

Mark, unlike most of the guys from his high school had a job. He was the assistant manager at Woodson’s market. The market his grandparents started and his grandfather
still ran. Mark would one day inherit the market. Mark knew marrying Katie now was the right thing to do, even if it did put him seventy five thousand dollars in debt. Katie needed
someone. Mark wanted to be that one.

Mark’s grandfather had offered to send them somewhere romantic for a week for their honeymoon but after a late night discussion, Mark decided he would rather have the money put towards the medical bills that were coming due from Katie’s Mom being sick
plus there was still the cost of the funeral to pay for. So Mark and Katie instead were spending their wedding night at the Willott's Ferry Inn at the crossroads of South Main Street and Willott's Ferry Road.

Mark steps out of the shower and pulls one of the white towels off the towel rack and briskly dries his hair and face. He stands in front of the mirror and stares at himself blankly as he dries the rest of his body. He didn’t see himself, his mind was on what was to come next. He pictures how pretty Katie looked when she came out of the bathroom twenty minutes before. She had been wrapped in the red terry cloth robe he had seen her in so
many mornings when he’d go over to walk her to school. He wonders what she wore beneath that robe. He wonders what she will feel like laying beside him.

Mark finishes drying himself and steps into a pair of boxers after brushing his hair and teeth. He drops the towel on the floor, takes a hold of the doorknob, takes a deep breath, then opens the door and walks out quickly before he loses his nerve. Katie stands up as
Mark comes around the corner. “Oh my God!” She says as she see’s Mark. His boxers tented from his erection. Mark stares dumbfounded at Katie. She’s naked and beautiful and she looks just like he thought she would. They both smile and laugh at their reactions.

Katie comes to him, takes his hand and leads him to the bed. She slowly pulls the boxers down his legs and he steps out of them. They spend a few moments looking each other up
and down and then crawl into the bed, turn off the lights and press their bodies into each other. “I love you.” One of them whispers.

“I love you too.” The other whispers. They kiss and no more words are needed.

---------------------------
First time at this. 598 words. Hope it meets with your approval.

 

[champagne1982]

Christmas Story

A Jessop Christmas

Mrs. Katrina Jessop watched proudly as her daughter, Cheri, sang her solo during the early Christmas Eve service at Reverend Niles' Presbyterian Church. Katrina had always loved the fellowship she felt with the other Snippetsville residents this time of year, they were especially charitable and generous. With all the good feelings that abounded during the season, it was shameful that she had to take the graveyard shift at the women's shelter tonight. She sighed, supposing that if anyone were in need of a visit from Saint Nicholas, then those children that were spending their Christmas day at the shelter, certainly qualified.

She looked over at her darling husband. His beard had grown in a snowy white this autumn. There was some remnant of red still in his hair but maybe she only noticed because she knew what color it used to be. He had a paunch happening and Katrina so loved to tease him that a cardiologist shouldn't allow himself to get too out of shape, no matter what the contents of his personal gene pool. Katrina smiled as she imagined her beloved Jordan transformed, for just one day, into Kris Kringle. He'd look very good in red.

The congregation was rising to its feet, getting ready to sing the perennial favorite, "Silent Night". Standing by the microphone with his acoustic guitar, Constable McDougall waited for the choir conductor's signal. Tears glistened on the tips of many an eyelash as the final "Sleep in heavenly peace" floated out onto the street into the evening.

Hushed murmurs of Christmas wishes swept through the pews as all the families turned to their neighbors, loathe to change the moment, yet eager to let the rest of the night unfold.

Katrina looked up at a child's ringing laughter and saw Cheri tickling one of the numerous Oates' grandkids. As if on cue, laughter and loud calls of, "Merry Christmas!" erupted in near-unison from everyone in the church.

Cheri waved to her parents and made her way to them, "Randy McCrae has invited me on the sleigh ride and wiener roast out at the Lazy Snips this evening. I know you have to work Momma but I'll be home early enough to say good night."

"Don't worry about it, Sweetie. Your mother and I will be fine, we have been since you've started college, you know?" Jordan Jessop smiled at his only child, "We love you, darling. Have fun with Randy."

Katrina grasped her husband's forearm in both hands and leaned against him when she watched her child greet the tall, handsome, young man. "Oh my! Jordan, she's in love with him." She felt tears heating her eyes and blinked them back.

Her husband raised his hand and brushed her cheek with the backs of his strong, surgeon's fingers, "Come home with me now, my love," he led her through the wide, open doors of the church to the carillon playing "Joy to the World" and the children's laughter.

As they walked west toward Main Street, Jordan asked, "I was thinking, Katrina. I know that men aren't welcome at the shelter, but do you think it would be remiss if Santa showed up for a little while in the visitors' lounge tomorrow?"

Katrina looked up into Jordan's warm brown eyes, "Rules are made to be broken. I don't think anyone will mind at all, but I will check when I get to work and call you." As they turned south towards Hope Creek and home, she stopped, "I love you, Jordan. You are going to be the best Santa this sleepy little town has ever seen."

 

[Guest]

Donovan Willott

Meet Donovan Willott. Thirty years old. Balding. Skinny. Loner. The great great
grandson of the famous cartographer Daniel Jedidiah Willott.

Donovan Willott’s life isn’t quite as exciting as his great great grandfathers. Donavon, or Don to his friends, runs the small motel called the Willott Ferry Inn. The Inn was built fifty
years ago by Don’s grand mother who sold off most of her late husbands farm to the city of Snippettsville, keeping only three small acres of land where she then built the Inn to house the sudden explosion of loggers into the valley. The city grew up around the small inn.

The Inn has three buildings. The small office is the building in the front. It has a small apartment in the back where Don spends a majority of his time. A small square building where the soda machines, ice machine and small coin operated laundry facilities are, is
located in the middle of the parking lot behind the office and the final and largest building is the rooms itself. There are twelve rooms spread out in an “L” shape behind and to the
north of the office building. The buildings are all run down and are in bad need of a good paint job and some renovation.

It’s almost two in the morning when Don stumbles into the small apartment. His hair is a mess, his clothes smell of booze and his eyes are bloodshot. He falls onto the couch and is quickly asleep.

When Don rises the next morning it is to the sound of someone banging on the door to the office. Don lays there wondering why he even bothers to keep this shit hole running. When he remembers that the Inn is his only source of income, he pushes
himself up off the couch and goes through the door and into the office. He circles the desk as he looks out the windows. The sun is already up and the morning fog has already burned off.

Don moves to the door and twists the small bolt lock and pushes it open. A handsome young couple comes inside. The young woman makes a face as she passes him, Don doesn’t notice. He does notice as the young woman continues to stare at him disapprovingly as he slips behind the desk again. “Good morning. How can I help you?” Don asks.

“We need to check out of room ten.” Mark Woodson says. Don grabs up the clip board and looks through the names. It’s not really necessary, the young couple are the only guests at the Inn.

“Key.” Don says as he looks back at the young man. Mark Woodson hands the bedraggled, smelly man the key and then quickly escorts his wife outside. “Bitch!” Don yells after the young woman as the door closes.

“You’ll get yours.” Don says and heads
back to his apartment. He circles the couch and sits down at the small second hand desk and turns on his computer. “Let’s see what the kids were up to last night.” Don says with a
smile as he clicks an icon on the screen.

A program opens and Don makes his selection. “Room ten.” He says to himself. A few moments later an image appears on the screen of young Katie Woodson sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. Don smiles. “Jackpot.”

Don leans back in the tattered leather office chair and clicks play. He watches as Mark Woodson emerges from the bathroom dressed in only his briefs. As the young couple embrace, Don Willott unzips his jeans and pulls his cock from his pants.

 

[Guest]

Sian and Hannah—Prelude to the Ball

Sian couldn’t be bothered with a real costume. If anyone asked—she was an eighties Castro Street fag. Real Levis tautly traveled the length of her thighs dipping below her calves into tan-effect rigger boots with thick red woolen socks rolled over the tops, and a mauve-plaid lumberjack shirt opened for deep cleavage, the long sleeves rolled to the elbows. Her choppy boy’s cut framed her face nearly prettily. For the occasion she wore a blue-red lipstick, a gift from her last fuck before she left the city, and an old Mexican silver earring, a half-moon dangling from her left lobe. A band of black silk with horizontal diamonds cut out for the eyes was tied at the back of her head.

Robert had inspired Hannah’s British Matron uniform but for the form-fitting, two-sizes-too-small aspect. The buttons on the bodice of the dark blue dress, with white apron, appeared about to snap open, holding tight her loose pendulous breasts. She wore no undergarments, but garters held rolled-up black stockings just below her knees. Black nun-type shoes had been rummaged from storage. Hannah recalled her grandmother wearing them to church on Sundays. It surprised her that they fit her feet perfectly, causing wonder at how she could possibly have been descended from that old fundamentalist bitch. Directly covering her left nipple was a rectangular badge, spelling out on two lines—

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Hanging around her neck, easily mistaken for a stethoscope from a distance, was a ‘silver bullet’ vibrator. She refused to wear the sister’s veil, telling Robert it looked frumpy and hid her newly red hair. The boy was disappointed but kept the veil for a personal scene later—he hoped.

Hannah and Sian rode together to the Lodge, having had a shower and cum-feste with Robert before dressing for the party. He planned to arrive later if he could figure out a costume. Sian avoided him after the shower but felt his constraining gaze as she dressed. She could not think of an excuse to stay. She left without a look or word to him.

“So, sugarpuss, meet anyone ‘sides Yorkshire-boy yet? Weren’t he a find? So willing to follow. What’s that word you called ‘im? Not marriageable— ”

“Malleable.”

“Yeah, mall, that was Bobbo alright. But so secreting, too mysterious for twenny-two. I never did learn any Yorkshire, ‘cept for those names he called me. I loved mucky bessom. Did he call you that? He never did explain it but I understood it, sure did sound like I felt. I told ‘im I was gonna have it printed cross the front of a tee. He liked that, made 'im smile. Didn’t you just love that smile, Shorn? Made me wanna eat ‘im right up—what a fine young cock.”

God I wish she’d shut up.

“An the way he said whore, like it had two sibyls. Turned me on it did. HOO-arrr! I sure liked it, felt like a good ole one, made me real wet. He called me a ripe Cleo-PATTER-uh. Made me feel pretty, real sexy like.

"My opinion is a very Antny. Didja know that’s Shakespeare, babe?

“HOO-arrr! I could hear that all night.”

As Hannah went crudely on Sian felt something—out of the past—more than she dared.

He called her ripe. Great. I gave him that word, told him about my Cleopatra, my Antony. Fuck, I’ve got to get him out of my head. He lives in fucking England. He’s twenty-two. I can’t fuck with him. I can’t fuck with the past.

“Shorn, what is it? OK, doll. Let’s not get too fussed up.”


604 words

 

[Guest]

Katie And Lucy

Donovan Willott strokes his erection faster and faster as he continues to watch the video of the young couple who had just checked out of room ten. The image has a slight greenish tinge to it from the lens that was special made for darkness.

Don watched as the newlyweds crawled into the bed and started kissing and touching each other. He watched as Mark Woodson kissed his way down his young wife’s body and
between her legs.

Don loved this part. The man almost always threw the blankets off giving Don a great view of the naked woman. Don smiles as Mark buries his face and tongue in the young woman’s virgin cunt. He watchs as Katie Woodson claws at the pillows and could tell when she screamed from her first orgasm. By the time Mark Woodson is ready to slide his erect cock into the young woman, Don is ready to cum himself. Don feels himself building towards ejaculation as he watchs Mark Woodson seat himself fully inside his young bride. Don rubs himself faster, keeping time with the young man in the video. “Oh yeah, get that pussy boy!” Don yells as his balls tighten up. “Fuck that virgin whore.” Don’s eyes move from the video on the computer screen to his cock to watch the explosion.

The explosion is not what Don had hoped. His cum doesn’t fly out of his hard cock as it does in his porno movies, instead it more or less oozes out and dribbles down his cock and
over his fingers. “Oh yeah baby!” Don says as he closes his eyes and pictures himself in Mark Woodson’s place. Don’s hand continues to slide up and down his cock as more cum dribbles out and down his hand. His orgasm finished Don looks over at the video still
playing. Mark Woodson is laying down next to his young bride. He kisses her and wraps his arms around her and holds her close to him. “Pussy whipped little faggot.” Don says and finally releases his own cock. He looks at his hand, now covered in his own cum.
“Shit!” He says.

Don rises from his chair and goes to the kitchen sink and rinses off his hand. He uses a paper towel to wipe the remains of his orgasm from his cock and then tucks it into his pants before washing his hands with liquid soap. Once clean, Don returns to the computer. He rewinds the video until he finds a good image of the naked young woman. He freezes the image and saves it to his hard drive. He then deletes the video footage to save space. Don closes the program and goes out to the motel office closing the door to the small apartment behind him.

Don’s next customer doesn’t show up until five that evening. He recognizes the young woman. “Lucy!” He shouts as she walks into the small office.

“Hey Donnie. What’s up?” She asks with a smile and a small wave.

“Need a room?” He asks.

“Yep. This here’s John.” She tells Don, giving the young man with her a smile.

“John.” Don says knowingly and just gives the young man a nod. “Same room as always Lucy?” Lucy nods and signs the small form Don gives her. The young man then gives Don the thirty five dollars for the room. Lucy waves to Don as she leads the man out of the
office and to a blue Chevy. “Whore!” Don says as he goes back to his apartment and sets the computer to record room number three.

 

[soupwarsproject]

- deleted -

This story will be used in "Offstage With Cherry Villalobos", a spin off novella originating from "Lost Souls" which will be submitted in the Novel & Novella's section of Literotica.

 

[Quasimodem]

CHRISTMAS STORY [NEW YEAR'S EVE]

Holiday Shift
by Quasimodem


Archie McDougall hurried into the Showboat Hotel in answer to Jennifer Tillies's radio dispatch that a fight was in progress. He found two men, amid a circle of broken dishes and overturned tables, squaring off like deranged bantam roosters.

The smaller man was wailing away with a series of vicious jabs at his larger opponent's mid-section.

"Just a loving minute, there," Archie began, then made noises like a leaky accordion, as the larger man planted a roundhouse in his breadbasket.

First, the constable sat heavily upon a nearby table, and then the floor, as the table collapsed beneath his weight. Shielding his head from the smaller belligerent's kick, Archie regained his feet with a bellow.

With one hand, McDougall grasped the small combatant's shirtfront, while slipping the other hand behind the larger man's thick neck.

One second later, two heads collided with a meaty thunk, and the Showboat returned to silence.


*


"Where's the sheriff?"

"We don't have a sheriff," Jennifer replied, "we've a Chief of Police."

"Who gives a damn," the woman countered. "I want you to arrest my husband. He assaulted me."

Jennifer's gaze traveled from the woman's snarling, undamaged features and bloodstained dress, to her cowed spouse's blackened eye and streaming nose.

"Write a deposition to that effect," the Snippettsville police department's general factotum suggested, "and an officer will investigate immediately."

"Investigate? I want the bastard jailed."

"We must follow procedure. Write out your statement, then we can gather evidence — check whose blood is on your dress, see if any neighbour witnessed the attack."

"No bloody cops snooping around — I won't have it!"

"It's standard procedure," Jennifer insisted. "We must investigate your complaint thoroughly. Prove that your statement is accurate? Otherwise, we'd have to prosecute you for filing a false statement."

"I won't have it!"

"It's the law, Mrs. Gorngath," Jennifer insisted, grimacing as she inadvertently betrayed her recognition of the complainant.

"The hell you say!" Mrs. Gorngath objected, switching gears. "Come on, Cecil, we're going home. I'll give you one more chance."

"Yes dear."


*


Siren wailing, Chief Holt's patrol car followed an obviously intoxicated driver in a speeding Chevy, south on Green Lake Road.

Suddenly, the fugitive switched off his lights.

Tom slowed his vehicle, peeling his eyes to discover the drunk's intentions. A shadowy motion at the periphery of Tom's vision alerted the lawman.

The fugitive had turned down an old fire trail that serviced remote cottages on Green Lake.

Crabbing the wheel, Tom skidded, turning in pursuit along the snow-clogged trail.

"At least," Tom thought, "there's less chance of a collision. I can hang back until he's stuck in a drift."

The darkened vehicle topped a hill. Almost immediately, a rending crash and anguished screams echoed through the stillness.

Drawing closer, Tom's headlights illuminated the carnage. The Chevy had demolished two snowmobiles. One passenger appeared in critical condition, the other was beyond help.

Tom radioed Jennifer to have Cedar Grove dispatch emergency vehicles to his location, then ran to offer assistance.

Midway, Tom was accosted by a wild-eyed motorist, his breath redolent of whiskey.

"It's all your fault!" the man accused Tom. "If you hadn't chased me, none of this would have happened."

Slamming the drunk against his car, Tom handcuffed the man's wrists behind his back, then hurried to assist the injured.


*


Archie tipped shots of rum into the eggnog Jennifer had poured. Tom picked up his glass distastefully, sighed, then proposed the toast.

"To a safe, peaceful New Year."

"A safe, peaceful New Year," Jennifer chorused, as Archie added, "with just enough brangling so we're still gainfully employed next New Year's Eve."

* 600 Words + Title

__________________________________________________

 

[Alex De Kok]

Buyer's Bonus

"There it is, Charlie. One Tiger 100."

"Very nice, Al. Does it start?"

"It did a month ago. Haven't tried since."

"Magneto ignition, so no worries about the battery." Charlie straddled the old Triumph, pulled in the clutch lever and kicked a couple of times to free the plates, then made sure the gearbox was in neutral. He took a firm grip, half-jumped and brought his weight down firmly on the kickstart. The engine burst into life with the unmistakable roar of the parallel twin-cylinder engine. Charlie revved it up a couple of times, listening carefully to the engine, then eased it to a tickover.

"Can I try it out, Al?"

"Sure," said Alison. She stepped neatly up behind him and settled herself. "Go that way," she pointed. "There's an old barn about a mile along."

"That'll be okay. Hang on!" Charlie selected first, took a fistful of throttle and they were off. On the farm track the going was a little bumpy and Alison, conscious that she was helmetless, took a firm grip of Charlie's waist. The ride was exhilarating and she was sorry that it finished as Charlie pulled up at the old barn. He cut the engine and she stepped off, conscious suddenly that her panties were damp. Charlie pulled the bike onto its stand and turned to her.

"I'll buy it, Al. I'll give you your asking price, too."

"No haggling?" she laughed.

"No haggling." Charlie looked at her and she stared back at him. He moved an inch towards her and she echoed his movement. Again, and again and suddenly she was in his arms and their lips were crushed together in a heated kiss. Breathing heavily Alison tore her lips from his.

"The barn's not locked," she whispered.

He took her hand and led her inside. The warm gloom was broken by a shaft of sunlight slanting through a gap in the timbers. Charlie grabbed a horseblanket and flicked it open on a pile of straw. Alison gasped as he picked her up and laid her on the blanket. For a moment she just lay there then she raised her arms to him.

"Sure?" he asked.

Alison laughed, slightly shaky. "Absolutely certain, Charlie. I'm old enough to know what I want, and I want you."

"I want you, too." He threw off his jacket, reached down and pulled off her sneakers, then reached to her waist and loosened the front of her jeans. "Lift your ass."

She did and he pulled her jeans off, then sat for a moment to pull off his boots and socks, before standing to remove his jeans. She stared at the bulge in his boxers and unconsciously licked her lips as he pushed down and kicked off the undershorts before pulling his shirt off over his head. Naked he went to his knees beside her, his cock hot and hard in the warm gloom.

Charlie reached out and took Alison's hand, pulling her to a seated position and stripping her sweater off over her head. Thumb and forefinger made short work of her bra and his strong hands simply ripped the panties from her hips.

He smiled at her start of surprise. "I'll buy you new ones."

She grinned. "Pay me with a fuck."

"My pleasure, ma'am."

"It'd better be our pleasure, Charlie West."

"Yes, ma'am." He bent and kissed her, lingeringly. "Now hush."

"Or?"

"I'll think of something."

"Promises, prom - ooh!" she said as his cock slid an inch into her wetness. "Oh, fuck, that feels good!"

"Enjoy it, Al."

"Yes," she hissed. "Fuck me, Charlie!"

* * * * *

600 words, excluding title.

Alex

 

[Alex De Kok]

Blue Tango

"I think they noticed us," Sally murmured to her sister as they entered the Lodge ballroom for the Masquerade Ball.

"Hard not to. I don't think I've ever showed so much tit without actually being topless."

Sally giggled. "I feel eyes."

There was a snort from her sister. "Dagger eyes, or lust eyes?" Alison looked around, noting the almost total absence of friendly looks on the female regards coming their way. "I don't know what they're worried about. We don't touch married men."

"Not while there's an adequate supply of the other kind," Sally laughed. "Shall we wiggle our asses to the bar?"

"Good idea."

"What'll it be ladies?" The red-headed young bartender's eyes flickered between them and he seemed almost mesmerised. Sally snapped her fingers and he jumped, flushing.

"I'm sorry, ladies," he stammered, "it's just that to see such beauty in duplicate is quite overwhelming."

"Son, look your fill," said Alison, with a wink. "We didn't dress like this to be ignored." If she hadn't seen it herself she would have sworn his blush couldn't deepen. It did, but he managed a smile, and he looked.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "Body and clothes, both."

"Well done," said Alison. "Most guys would sneak looks and pretend they weren't."

"I'm an art student. I appreciate beauty. I'd love to paint you both."

"Oh, yeah," said Sally.

"Nude, of course."

There was a silence. The twins looked at him, then each other.

"Do you have a name?" Alison asked.

"Charlie Thomson."

"Okay, Charlie, call by the store," said Alison. "We'll discuss it. For the moment, two glasses of red wine."

"Coming right up!"

Glasses in hand, the twins moved away from the bar. "Do we?" asked Alison.

"I want to see his work first, but maybe," Sally murmured.

Alison laughed. "Okay. Maybe."

"I think I see Chuck," said Sally. "He seems to be coming this way. Me or you?"

"To be Sally? Go with your birthright, sis. I'm hunting. See you around." Alison moved away, smiling at Chuck Mellor as he paused, uncertain."Sal's the other one, Chuck."

Mellor laughed. "Thanks, Al. Hey, did you sell the Tiger?"

"Yeah. Charlie bought it. Is he here? He said he was coming."

"Not sure. There was a lumberjack that might be him."

Alison scanned the crowd. The Ball seemed to be a sell-out. Despite the masks she recognised many of the people; friends and customers. There were a couple of lumberjacks around, but neither had Charlie's build, that build she was so familiar with now after the trip to the farm. Her pussy gave a brief spasm.

"Looking for me, I hope," said a familiar voice. Alison turned. The outfit he wore was pure Disney lumberjack, but it suited him.

Alison smiled. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Wishful thinking?"

"Wishful thinking my ass! You know I was looking for you. Can we go for a ride again tomorrow?"

"Of course." Charlie smiled. "Same destination?"

"No. Better. We have a cottage at Green Lake. Pick me up when we close the store at eight?"

"Eight it is. Wanna tango?"

Alison laughed. "Wait for something slower. If I tango my tits will make a bid for freedom!"

"Now, that I'd like to see."

"Tomorrow, Charlie. You can be the escape comittee."

Charlie smiled, a longing in his look. "Yes, please. When do we come back from Green Lake?"

Alison flushed. "Morning. Early enough for me to be at the shop."

"You're inviting me to spend the night with you at Green Lake?"

Suddenly anxious, Alison looked away.

"I want to, Alison," Charlie said softly, "very much."

* * * * *

602 words, excluding title.

Alex

 

[Guest]

Joel Davies Comes Home

 

[Guest]

Sian and Robert—After the Ball

He came late, as himself. “The decorative boy”, Maggie called him. She caught the way Lobo eyed him, and shocked the locals further with an impromptu standing lap-dance. The sick gleam in her eyes hurt me.

Robert ambled sullenly to me, but with a perceptible confidence. We didn’t dance, but stood amongst the other couples holding each other, close enough so I could feel his erection and he could smell me.

“Fuck, I smell you in my sleep.”

He looked at me with a painful lust, his Tristan-chord sounding a fathomless yearning. I looked back with a flash, more a Kundry hungry for redemption, needing to devour her blameless Parsifal.

“Sian, I want you all the time. I’m starving, woman. Give me a crumb, love—a mote—anything.”

“No, sweet, you want what you imagine I have. I’m not real, I can’t be. My cunt is as real as it gets. My tits, my mouth. My scent. But not me. It ends tonight.”

“Yewww . . . cunt! . . .

“Aw fuckit,” he laughed loud and low, “yuh mucky bessom.”

“Grazie, Roberto. I love the tag, but it’s an empty word writ red on Hannah’s tit. Take it back, York. Fuck me—then say goodbye.”

<center>* * * * *</center>
We went behind the lodge, bathed in a blue glow from a neon strip above. I took him slow, making a stop-motion film in my head. I replay it frame by frame now.

He leant back, keeping his Michael Furey eyes locked to mine, opened his shirt, pulled everything down. His cock leapt out gracefully, like a ballet dancer’s petit battement.

I untied my Zorro mask then took everything off to be naked—a gift for the lad—I didn’t give a fuck if we were found. He laughed like a boy, then took my tits first, kneaded my nipples between two fingers each so I began to keen softly, felt the swell of lust rut down my belly. He sucked and bit as starved as he’d exclaimed. I nearly swooned for the white heat of it shooting through every bit of me.

“Do that. Do it til I nearly come. Yes— ”

“Keep your eyes open, who’re. Look at me, Sian.”

My lower lip quivered. He smiled with a lewdness that made me laugh in embarrassment—near shame—as the distress of my lust kept quaking back and forth, round about and through my pussy. He kept his gaze and I had to laugh more and blush, feel like—become—a girl to his man.

I knelt and adored his cock, used the tip of my tongue to draw out the first of his sticky glue making a string of it to my quivering lip, then quickly bobbing down on the balletic stem. I sucked hard so I knew it hurt, then let go, keeping the very tip at my lips and purring my bliss. I let it partner my face, tap and caress my cheeks, my chin, my eyelids trembling, my cold nose.

“Come up, Sian. Let me get my fingers wet.”

His fingers. My piano man. My Gould. My Chopin.

He stuck me deep. Fast. Found the spot that makes me weak-kneed, makes my clit a cock.

“Robert! Fuck. Stop. Stop a min— ”

I came like every orgasm I’d ever had. All at once, all in a row. As well as well. I held to him tight, holding together, holding us. Together.

I took him to my bed. We made love. I was kissed into Hell.

“My oblivion is you—Yorkshire.”

In the morning he kissed my forehead last.

“Sleep nice, sweet.”

It was a grand send off.

605 words w/o title and asterisks

 

[BooMerengue]

Yesterday I passed through Snippettsville. That should have been the end to this tale cuz there sure ain’t a whole lot there! Well, theres one less of a whole lot now!

I had to pump my own gas which was okay it bein a nice day. I had thrown an old tarp in the truck bed and tho it was a perfectly calm day I saw that old tarp move! Not usually a suspicious person I lifted the cover and there laid the prettiest girl I had ever seen in these parts- or any other parts, to be totally honest!

Well I was pretty cool. I finished pumping my gas, walked inside and paid for it, went back out and got in the truck and pulled off. Never uttered a word. About 2 blocks farther on I pulled in to Hannah’s Diner, stepped out the truck and just walked inside. Hannah, the owner, brought me a menu but never opened it cuz she knew I only wanted coffee and cuz she was watching an apparition crawl over my tailgate.

Now, I’m not one to go long winded over anyone’s looks, but godalmightydam this girl was something! She stood about 5’8” in her boots, long legs wrapped in snug denim and a man’s shirt tied over a chest that shoulda been on a WW2 bomber. I didn’t know I’d been holding my breath til I looked at her face and let it all out in a big whoosh like I’d been punched. Tousled flaxen hair in a loose pony tail framed a face straight from a valentine’s card. Heart shaped lips, a cute button nose and eyes like a wounded deer. I told Hannah I thought I might need the menu.

Sure enough, the goddess came in and sat down like she belonged there. After perusing the menu and ordering a breakfast too big for most loggers, she settled back with her Cherry Pepsi and studied me. I squirmed a little, but only for a minute cuz once she started talking I was plumb mesmerized!

“My name is Doreen, but you can call me Desiree cuz that’s the name I’m gonna use when I get to New York and get hired as a dancer in a Broadway show. Oh I know… everyone laughs when I say that, but I know it’s true cuz my Uncle Jake who isn’t really my uncle said I was better than any dancer he’d ever seen and he’s seen ‘em all since he spent a lot of time in New York when he was in the Navy.

Ya see, Uncle Jake is one of the new writers staying in Snippetsville looking for enlightenment. He taught me all the important moves of dance. I mean I knew the steps and all but he said I needed the emotions… the kind you can only get from bein in love and havin sex and stuff like that. So of course he showed me all about those emotions and I wasn’t too keen on it but he insisted and well you know how it is with some guys- they just don’t hear the word No no matter how loud you say it.

Well I just figured I better learn all I could about emotions so I hitched up here last night and found Jake and I studied him real hard as I watched him fall over from being knifed in the back. Man! That’s gonna be a hard thing to pretend you know?”

14 hours later and she’s still under the tarp and we’re goin east. To New York.


(600 words exactly. Whew! That was hard to do! But fun! I was just wandering and found this thread- hope I didn’t step on any toes or break any rules. If I did let me know, please! I can be reached thru my feedback. Thanks. Boo)

 

[Seattle Zack]

Christmas Spirit

Christmas Spirit

by Seattle Zack

Tyler sat at the window, his surly gaze fixated on the house across the street. Fucking Preston. He took a swig of Jack, the liquid smoke sending flames through his body. "A Christmas Story" flickered on the muted television.

The icicles on the eaves -- he'd countered that with lights wrapped around his picket fence, sixteen different flashing patterns. The illuminated star on the garage -- Tyler had one-upped that with five strands of lights, all green, in the tall pine in his front yard. Three hours of climbing, hands sticky with sap by the time he was done, but it had been worth it. But this was too much. On Christmas Eve, no less -- the bastard.

He took another gulp of fire, anger increasing by the minute. All the houses on Oakmont Drive were decorated, of course, but his had always been the brightest, grandest display in the neighborhood. Until that asshole Preston moved in two years ago. Where did he get off, anyway?

Tyler was surprised to see the bottle empty. He rose, swaying a bit, resisting an urge to smash something. Reindeer. Nine fucking reindeer with an animated Santa waving gaily from the roof. Tyler's plastic snowmen with their flashing noses and his six-foot tall candy canes seemed pathetic by comparison.

"Give that fucker a piece of my mind," he muttered, staggering to the door.

Dressed only in shirtsleeves, the chill blasted him as he crossed the street. He stopped, swaying, at the front door. Bastard even had a better wreath. He stumbled, leaning against the door, and was surprised to feel it swing open.

Tyler blinked stupidly. The house was dark, but the stairway was illuminated with candles on every other step, filling the air with a waxy scent. He stepped inside uncertainly.

"Yoo hoo! Come and get me!" A woman's voice, slurred, coming from upstairs.

Unsure what he was doing, Tyler navigated the stairs, careful not to kick over any of the candles. The door at the end of the hall was open, illumination from more candles flickering inside.

It felt like a dream. He floated down the hall, stopping at the doorway.

"I'm your Christmas present," she giggled.

Preston’s wife was naked, sprawled across the bed, bows stuck to her nipples. She was wearing a blindfold, one of those sleeping masks. His gaze flickered down her pudgy body ... completely bare down there.

Three empty bottles of champagne lay on the floor. She's as plastered as I am, he realized. Spreading her legs, she stretched lazily. "Come and take me, Preston," she whispered huskily.

He smiled slowly. Dropping his pants, he stepped out of his slippers. Even as drunk as he was, he still managed a respectable hard-on after a few minutes of rough encouragement. She squirmed on the bed. "Fuck me."

He climbed on top of her, fumbling a little, entering her finally. "Oooh, yes!" she purred. Pinning her wrists down, he began thrusting, grinning like an idiot. This was better than a punch in the nose. Fucking reindeer.

She let out a long moan as he pounded into her harder, the plastic bows brushing against his chest. His fingers tightened around her wrists as he came, a smooth satisfying release that seemed to go on for ten minutes.

He stumbled to his feet, the alcohol still swirling in his brain. She lay on the bed, sprawled out obscenely. Hearing her snort, he realized she was snoring.

Chuckling gleefully, he staggered drunkenly back across the street, hardly feeling the bracing wind. He’d have to congratulate Preston tomorrow on his tasteful decorations.

600 on the nose w/o title

 

[soupwarsproject]

- deleted -

This story will be used in "Offstage With Cherry Villalobos", a spin off novella originating from "Lost Souls" which will be submitted in the Novel & Novella's section of Literotica.

 

[soupwarsproject]

- deleted -

This story will be used in "Offstage With Cherry Villalobos", a spin off novella originating from "Lost Souls" which will be submitted in the Novel & Novella's section of Literotica in the December.

 

[Guest]

And the Award goes to ... Molly

 

[soupwarsproject]

Bedroom Cooking

Dana was a local independent kitchen advisor for The Indulgent Cook. She sold her wares by doing in-home demonstrations for small groups of housewives in Snippettsville, Mayson, Cedar Grove and sometimes Cuento Largo. Dana was passionate about kitchen tools.

“How many of you have The Indulgent Cook products at home?” The response was unanimous.

“Excellent! So, what are your favorite gadgets?” Dana discovered that by asking this question at the demos, the guests would provide testimonials that often influenced their friends to buy similar items.

Connie Ann raised her hand.

“Yes, Connie.”

“The Crank-It Grater is fantastic. It makes shredding cheese fun and it’s easy to clean!”

Her daughter, Connie Magdalene, added, “Yeah, you should see her making ham and broccoli hotdish. She’s a wild woman with the cheddar.”

“Yeah, and Little Maggie knows all being a wild woman. I bet that her favorite tool is the Big Bar Pan.”

Connie Magdalene shot a dirty glance at the older unrelated Maggie. She dumped the freak a while ago. However, based upon the giggles in the room, it was obvious that she wasn’t going to live down that affair or the notorious ‘lemon bar’ incident any time soon.

I’m sure that you two are not as wild as I am with the Crank-It Grater or the Big Bar Pan, Dana thought to herself. She remembered the time her husband, Harry, arranged six types of wrapped chocolate kisses on a Large Bar Pan full of rose petals. He loaded several unwrapped kisses into the hopper of the Crank-it Grater. The chocolate flakes fell upon her belly like dark snow. As the sweet candy melted against her skin, he cleaned it off with long strokes of his tongue. “I love those two products. Yes, Penny?”

“I appreciate the Cob Butterer,” Penny Hecker said enthusiastically, “The corn glides through it without making a mess. It’s wonderful for my family”

That testimonial reminded Dana of the time she ran her Cob Butterer on Harry’s cock before sprinkling it with cinnamon and sugar. It made for flavorful fellatio. “The Corn Butterer really simplifies life.” The kitchen advisor pointed to the back of the room. “What do you like to use, ladies?”

The twins, Al and Sal, looked at each other and announced in unison that, “The E-Z Decorator Gun is the best.”

Harry liked using the E-Z Decorator Gun to create edible and erotic drawings on his wife’s body. Dana loved the time he made vanilla frosting star peaks on her nipples with cherries on top. The combined sensation of his mouth, the rolling fruits and the creaminess of the frosting was simply tantalizing. “Great choice…” Dana noticed another raised hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Elaine. What’s your favorite tool?”

“I find the color coded Stay-Fresh Clippers do a great job for organizing letters, keeping my bagged foods fresh and replacing those awful twist ties. These simple tools are absolutely indispensable.”

Roberta Henderson added, “Those clips also are great for keeping track of yarn counts when you knit.”

“Those are great uses.” Dana found that the Stay-Fresh Clippers made an excellent substitute for titty clamps. Dana’s nipples hardened at the thought. “Now, it’s time for the hostess with the mostest to tell us about the one tool that excites her most!”

“I can only pick one?” The women giggled as Violet Sampson briefly stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes up as she pondered the answer. “I like using the One-Handed Pastry Roller for making pie crusts.”

Dana grinned. She hadn’t tried the One-Handed Pastry Roller in her bedroom, yet.

[599 words counted on MS Words and proof that I can write about normal people. . Borrowed characters from Wantonica, wso and Alex.]

 

[soupwarsproject]

Damn Husky!

Gladys saw the flyer at Hannah’s bulletin board. “Free huskies to nice homes. Good with cats. Call 555-4759.”

The farm laborer’s wife was thrilled. She had been on the lookout for a husky ever since that damn hunter shot Moondog thinking it was a coyote. She called the number and drove to the white house across the bridge. Runty’s owner had been a musher in his youth. Unfortunately, heart problems forced him to quit. He needed new homes for the pooches. The prettier huskies had already found homes. All he had left was a cowardly husky with eyes mottled in yellow, blue and green. Despite the weird eyes, Runty had a wild appearance and a gentle disposition. It was the perfect pet to accompany Gladys in getting the mail and hauling small logs to the house.

As expected, Runty frightened the rabbits and Ghost Kitty. The noisy guinea hens didn’t seem particularly concerned. Sean the Orange Bastard loved the dog. The puny cat greeted the newcomer with a swat to the nose. The tall dog huddled at the corner of his kennel in terror.

Geoff returned from hauling corn at 8:00 PM. He was displeased. “What the hell is that thing in my yard?”

“It’s a husky.”

“That thing is not a husky. It’s two steaks and sausage away from being a wolf.”

“Runty is a good dog.”

“Runty? That thing is more like Cujo!”

“He’s a softy and Sean likes him.”

“That cat likes eating rabbit turds. Ghosty is terrified of that monster.”

“Ghosty and the bunnies will get used to Runty. They got used to Moondog. I thought you wouldn’t mind having another dog.”

“Take that thing back. It’s too big and it’s nothing like Moondog.”

“But, Geoff,” Gladys tears rolled from her eyes, “I love Runty.”

“I want dinner.”

Gladys sobbed and sniffled. “You don’t care about my feelings.”

“You’re right. I don’t care. That dog needs to go.” Geoff washed his filthy hands and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll fix dinner myself.”

“Fine!” Gladys wiped her tears. It was time for drastic action.

She walked to the bedroom and grabbed the shoebox that she hid on the top of the closet. She stomped to the living room, sat on the couch and denuded herself. Tonight was football night. Since Geoff was making dinner for himself, she was certain that he would make a sandwich to eat in front of the TV. He would be at her mercy.

“Woman, put your clothes back on! You’re too old to run around like Lady Godiva when the lights are on. If you want to do that let’s go to the bedroom.”

“I’ll do anything you want, if you agree to let me keep Runty.” Gladys lubricated some anal beads and attached clamps to her nipples.

“Where do you get those disgusting things at?”

Gladys walked in front of the television. “Same place where you got ‘Just Turned Legal Number 19’, you old fart.” The wife kneeled on all fours. Her ass was facing him. She took a deep breath and slowly pushed the five beads into her body. She exhaled as each ball wriggled inside her.”

“I want to see the game!” Geoff wanted to get the remote, but he didn’t want to go anywhere near his wife. “Please move.”

“Ahhhh!” Gladys pulled one bead, “Uh-Ohhhh,” two more, “UGH,” and another, “Hmmm…” and the last one she pulled with a sigh.

“That’s sick! Stop!”

“I’ll do it again…”

“Fine, you can keep the mutt. Just don’t do that again, please.”

Gladys smirked. She won the battle.

[599 on MS Word]

 

[Guest]

Church Mouse

 

[Alex De Kok]

Christmas story

Gift-Wrapped

Sue had said, 'Sorry, sweetheart, I have to work Christmas Day, until four. Come round about six. We'll have the evening together. I'll cook Christmas dinner for you.'

She works on the switchboard at the hospital. Her working meant one of the married operators could be with their family. Typical of Sue's generosity of spirit. We'd been going out together for about two months and already I couldn't imagine life without her as part of it.

At six o'clock sharp I rang her doorbell. Jan opened it, smiled, ushered me in and gave me a friendly Christmas kiss under the mistletoe. Jan's Sue's roommate, and she was dressed for going out.

"I'm off to see Harry; I'll be back about midnight. Sue's in her room, Tom, she said go straight in." Jan waved goodbye and was off, an enigmatic smile on her face making me wonder what was up.

"Sue?" I called.

"In my bedroom. Come on in."

I'd never been in Sue's bedroom before. Our relationship was heading towards what I hoped would be a full one, but so far our intimacy had ended at me caressing her breasts. Very nice breasts they are, too, lovely handfuls. I pushed open the door and stopped dead in my tracks.

Sue was lying on the bed, enveloped in Christmas wrapping paper from neck to toe. There was a big bow tied around her waist, with a gift tag.

"Merry Christmas, Tom," she said. "Come and unwrap your present. I hope you like it."

My prick grew an instant inch.

I moved to the bedside and bent to read the gift tag. 'To Tom. Merry Christmas. Love, Sue XXX. All tags are numbered. Please attend to them in sequence.' The tag was #1.

"What is this?" I said. I think my prick knew what was going to happen before my brain caught on.

Sue smiled, but said nothing. I looked into her eyes, warm, inviting, and reached out to pull at the bow around her waist. It came undone easily. There was a little tag which had been hidden. It said, '#2. Pull me.' So I did. The wrapping paper fell away from Sue's body. Under it, she was wearing silk, in my favourite red.

There was another tag on her tummy. This one said, '#3. Please remove all wrapping paper.' Again I complied. My prick was getting stiffer when I had, because now I could see that she was wearing stockings, too, held up by lace garters around her thighs. Two more tags had been revealed. One was fastened to her bra, the other to her panties. They were numbered, too, #4 and #5.

#4 said, 'Please remove your own clothes, then open here and remove this garment,' and it was attached to the front fastening on her bra. I grinned at Sue and complied. I had a bit of a problem getting my boxers off over my erection, but I managed, after a struggle which Sue watched closely. She smiled broadly when she saw what I was offering.

When I removed her bra it was the first time I had seen her breasts in good light and I taught myself how lovely they are by kissing her erect nipples. She moaned a little and I turned my attention to tag #5. This one said, 'Remove panties by pulling towards feet.'

When I did, I saw that Sue's mound was shaved bare, with a message in lipstick, and an arrow. 'Penis to be inserted here and love to be shared at length.'

We finally ate Christmas dinner on the 26th.

599 words

Alex

 

[Guest]

She Had to Get Some

 

[Guest]

Christmas Story

 

[BadBombshellBabe]

Christmas Story

Christmas Story


There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays
There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays


The pink light of dusk illuminated the snow on the country side as Jeff headed home for Christmas. He always traveled this route during his trek home for the holidays.

He vividly recalled last night…the incredible sendoff that his girlfriend gave him. They'd been dating 2 months…nothing equaled the passion and intensity of sex in a new relationship, he thought. He shifted in the seat as his jeans felt tighter.

He arrived at the Inn on the interstate, just on the outskirts of town. The sharp bite in the air surprised him

He entered the motel's small office, the bell on the door tinkled as it closed, as it had previously. "Be right there!" a feminine voice called out from the back.

Within a minute a tall brunette appeared. "Sorry about that," she smiled "what can I do for you?..I'm Maria."

In the past, Jeff was greeted by a few rough looking women that had stenched the office with stale nicotine. He was floored when Maria appeared. "Yeah…just need a room for the night…a single," he stammered.

"One night?" Maria inquired. She smiled at Jeff as she started filling out the form.

"Yeah," stated Jeff and handed her his credit card. "Hey Maria, if it's available, can I have the room all the way down on that end?", he asked as he pointed. "The rooms on that end get kind of loud."

"No problem " she replied as she looked over her list.

He eyed her as she tuned around to process his credit card. She was an attractive, slim, leggy creature. Placing a slip of paper in front of him, she said, "Sign right there," pointing to the line with an ostentatiously long, red fingernail.

"All set. Room 210…last room on the end," she smiled. "If you're hungry, Bob's Tavern, makes a great steak…" she hesitated a moment and then added "I'll be off in about an hour, if you don't want to eat alone." She leaned over the counter onto her elbows, providing a glimpse of cleavage. Jeff thought this brazen and was intrigued.

"Sure…I'd … I think I'd like that," he stammered, quickly appraising all the possibilities. "I'll see you in about an hour," said Maria.

Jeff dug his bag out of the trunk, entered his room, shed his clothes and jumped into the shower. Again his mind wandered to last night…Corrine…wrapping her legs around him…begging for more…moaning…

He turned off the shower, lost in his daydream, the quick tap on the door snapped him back to the present. "yeah??," he called…..

"Just me…," Maria replied.

"That was quick," said Jeff as he unlocked the door and wrapped the towel around a little tighter.

"My relief arrived early, hope that's OK," Maria said, staring at his crotch. His hard on stood like a tent pole beneath the towel.

"Of course" stuttered Jeff. He turned around to get his clothes.

"Wait…" said Maria. "How about an appetizer before dinner?"

Before Jeff could respond, Maria was on her knees at his feet, tugging free the corner of the tucked towel. After several minutes of stroking, sucking and licking, Jeff shot his hot semen down Maria's throat.



Ten minutes later, Jeff and Maria strolled into Bob's Tavern. Jeff noticed several of the patrons staring peculiarly.

"Find us a cozy table," said Maria "I'll be right back." Jeff had barely seated himself in a wooden benched booth when a husky, balding man approached.

"Howdy. I'm Bob" said the large man as he handed Jeff a menu.

At that moment, Maria returned.

"I see you've met Martin," said Bob.