Banning stories

[Guest]

I do not descrive smell, deliverately

Part - 4

I have had poked women in their backsides three times, precisely. I'd never had a great desire to do so, but my, then, girlfriend Jackie wanted to try it out. Jackie and I didn't work out in the end, but coupled for a year or so. She was a great person to be with and we shared good and bad times. We had fought and made-up like lovers do, but in the end, she wasn't the right girl.

I remember Jackie accusing of me cheating on her. I was suspicious of her cheating on me at the time. We had a huge augment. Objects were thrown at me. Jackie was reduced to tears. I felt like a right shithead.

After making up, we fucked. We were like two sex-crazed depraved animals trying to dominate one another. I couldn't tell who won as I ended up putting my cock in Jackie's ass following her order. A lot of lubrication was applied on my cock as well as inside of Jackie's anus. I could not tell how she felt like as my cock entered her rectum slowly. Not having experienced anal sex in my ass, I imagined cock withdrawing wouldn't be a bad sensation. I still don't have any idea what it's like to feel a hard cock entering an anus.

After Jackie and I broke up, I met anal-freaks one after another. I wouldn't name names as the two women were far 'out-there' than I had been. I did think of bisexuality, however. If women loved anal sex, not to mention gay men, then it must be good to have sexual intercourse in that way.

As yet, I remain a chicken shit.

to be continued

 

[Guest]

Porn

Part - the final

I pulled Nikki's pussy a little wider, seeing what inside of her pinkness looked like. I licked and tongued some more. I was close to orgasming, but not close enough to warn Nikki, yet.

Seeing inside of Niiki's sex reminded of me the time I was seeing inside of Angela. Angela and I were childhood friends. We went our separate ways as we each went through teenage angst years. Later, we met up again as adults and stayed together as friends.

Angela currently works as an escort for rich men and women. She's an expert at that, judging from how wealthy she's becoming. She taught me a great deal about women's bodies, from just honest-talking as friends for a long time. Then one day, it happened. Angela and I, in bed. She teaching me about her body. Me seeing her inside. Angela was fucking me for free, it must have been something special for both of us. And it was. The greatest fuck of my life time. But, she wasn't the right girl, and of course, I soon met Nikki. We are all adults here. Angela would be my 'best woman' at the wedding.

"Baby, I'm gonna blow," I warned Nikki. She redoubled her effort, bobbing her head up and down quicker. I pressed my lips against her pussy, and granted my orgasm against Nikki's inside.

I spewed four or five good jets of sperm inside Nikki's mouth and she lapped it all up. It happened the first time my darling virgin wife-to-be gave me her first blow job on my cock. I had warned her of my impending climax as I did then. She had continued sucking cum out of me and swallowed. I knew, then, mine wasn't the first cock Nikki had administered. I'd known she had her past as I did. I was fine with that.

I know my wife-to-be may or may not tell me her past as we grow old together. I'm fine with that too.

Fin

 

[NoJo]

Why?

I know my writing is dangerous to the authorities. That's the whole point. You feel threatened by the truth, but should you not open your eyes and accept it as it is?

Yet, my latest story remains banned. Well, I must be doing something right.

Be my guest to read my posted stories. Don't forget to vote.

Thanks,

Chimpy

I think it may be the font -- I had the same problem, until I posted all my stories in Symbol font. Now they always get accepted.

 

[Guest]

Re: Re: Banning stories

I think it may be the font -- I had the same problem, until I posted all my stories in Symbol font. Now they always get accepted.

Font? I use Courier New in Microsoft WordPad which is .doc file as adviced.

Anyway, my non-erotic story had gotten a 'H' mark. What the fuck is wrong with the world?!

 

[Pure]

There, chilled, feel better now? Or should I be addressing this to the prison where the authorities have sent you?

 

[Guest]

Yep.

I gave Laurel ten bucks for the 'H' mark.

She wanted $50 for the 'E' mark, but I couldn't afford it.

 

[SlickTony]

I'm sorry, it's all Greek to me.

 

[Guest]

CV recomends:

My pal, dr_mabuse's newest story - 4 pages long

http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=143193

Doc is so anal he edits a damaged ancient Egyptian text himself!

Superb writing

 

[Guest]

A low life begins

Fuck! thought Keith. The five grand was missing from under his bed. The five big Gs that belonged to the vicious, depraved twins were nowhere to be seen. And dreadful things were known to happen to people who let down the twins. A man could lose his head if he had let the twins down. Fuck!, thought Keith, shitting himself.

Interesting creature, this: Keith. When something delightedly good or terribly bad had happened to him, not to mention anything in-between the two polar opposites, "Fuck!" was as far as his thought process went. It wasn't that Keith was incapable of thinking process; he did - occasionally, and when he had given himself enough time and placidity - but his was what might be termed as: a jumpy brain. His brain was a decent size and functionality. Its capability was immense when it worked correctly, but it had in-built bottle-neck at the very beginning of its information circulation. Or, it either short-circuited at the mare idea of 'thinking'. In short, his brain suffered from over-excitement and attention-deficit disorder, in deviated form.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! thought Keith. He had worked specially hard for the five grand, always worrying about the deadly deadline. He'd made it just in time, only to lose it all, back to zero. He should have been keeping an eye on it, instead of spending the previous night in a snooker hall with his pals, scheming money making deals which often didn't materialise to anything at all. Things like this were constantly happening to Keith as if his birth-star had been aligned to Uranus at the precise moment Keith poked his head out of his mother's cunt.

Like he used to do as a child, Keith walked to the window and pressed his forehead against cool surface of the glass. The primitive part of Keith's brain had learned there was always a good chance of window surface being cool in England. Out of the window, currently, was pissing down in violent spring shower; the sky as grey as ever.

His head cooler, Keith checked under the bed for the third time. The infuriated gimp punched the bed, not believing his luck. Or lack of there of. Of course, if Keith had been paying attention, today's horoscope in the Sun was warning some difficulty ahead. But, Keith had been busy looking at the lovely Lisa on page three. The page three girls were forever showing their tits at Keith, every single day of his life. The great philosopher looked under the bed once again, just to be sure.

 

[Guest]

Fuck! thought Keith. Where could it have gone to? Highly intelligent animal, Keith was. Deduction: only people who had access to Keith's flat were a) Keith, b) Nancy.

Keith fished out his mobile out of his creased trouser and speed-dialed Nancy.

"Yap. Hello?"

"Nancy, baby? It's me. What did you do with the money?"

"I'm leaving you, Keith. And I'm taking the money with me. I think I deserve that much," said Nancy. She had been sitting on the sofa, reading a bad chick-lit novel which made her laugh for its absence of depth. She was off-duty and casually dressed in blue jeans and silk shirt.

"Baby, don't! I mean, I'm begging you not to do anything with the money! It's not mine! And if I don't deliver it to the people it belongs, I could end up dead!" Keith was sweating again, hotting up, "I'm not exaggerating, baby. Please, give it back to me! If you want some money from me for being such an arse to you, I'll make it up! Later. Believe you me. But not this five grand! Not this time. Where are you?" asked Keith.

"I bet you'd do that for me, Keith," said Nancy with sarcastic tone of voice, "I bet you'd really like to make up to me." Nancy was thinking of sitting on Keith's face, her pussy pressed tightly against her man's mouth, suffocating him.

"Where are you? Right now?" Keith paced in his bed room, not knowing what to do with his body.

"Somewhere in London. Could be in New York. A secret location, hiding from a nasty, horrible little man who couldn't save his life to treat his girl as well as he should. Bye-bye, Keith." Nancy cut off the connection. Let him sweat a little, thought gold-hearted, naughty nurse.

"Was that him?" asked Nancy's sister Linda, entering her own middle class living room. "The boy needs to grow up. What are you seeing in him?" she asked disapprovingly at her younger sibling.

"Oh, he has his moments," Nancy sipped her tea, still considering options on what she might do to Keith once making up.

 

[Guest]

Fuck! thought Keith on his way to his beaten-up Fiat. He was being drenched in rain as men who considered himself as a hard man often did.

If he didn't come up with five grand by noon, at the door of the twins' office in South London, appalling things unimaginable in his worst nightmare could happen to Keith. The slightest image of what the twins could do to him made Keith's feverish brain do hop-skip-jump on reasoning and in reaction, gave Keith no chance to calmly assess the situation. His mind didn't go from A to B and to C as it should. It went from A to G and back to D. It dotted secret line on disjointed points, making up a unique conclusion only logical to Keith. For Keith, in this state, it was oh-so-natural course of action, so he went to see the evil Turk in North London.

While driving there, Keith's scientific, sharp mind focused, solved the Middle East crisis, and worked out course of events from every angles, or so he contemplated. He could not lose, Keith had successfully managed to convince himself, utterly.

Growing up in London, Keith had perfected the art of motoring through the maze of London streets and getting stuck in the traffic. Thinking, "Fuck!", Keith opened this month's Asian Babes on his lap, and thumbed it through to kill the time. It was either that or fixing his broken car radio.

 

[Guest]

"So, that's the deal, then?" asked the evil Turk from behind his office desk. His henchmen were there, important ones sitting on the sofa, less-important ones standing on their feet, generally giving menacing looks at Keith.

"That's it. You rend me ten grand now, and I'll give you twenty grand in a month. As simple as that. No question asked." Keith had the habit of offering this kind of deals all over London. He was good at it, too. Usually, he broke even for himself.

The Turk considered, stroking his goatee.

Keith watched the man opposite him, trying on his best 'professional salesman' face. At that precise point in time, Keith was on the Turk's good book. That was to say, Keith had made the Turk richer in the past.

Being shrewd man that he was, the Turk was thinking of Keith's young civilian sisters as collateral damage material. It was known to him that Keith had three sisters of working age. The Turk was hoping the sisters didn't look like Keith. He gestured to one of his goons, and he whispered words into the ear of man with an ex-boxer face. The goon nodded once and left the room.

"Very well, Keith. It's a deal." the Turk said and posed, letting Keith enjoy the good news. He could have added, "But, of course, if you fail to honour your word, your sisters will be working for me." For this, Keith would have thought, "Triple fuck!" but the sage Turk kept his thought to himself.

"I'm a man of my word, sir." Keith managed to say. He was hoping the Turk would appreciate an old fashioned wording.

"Please. Keith, call me Gustav. You know you don't have to kiss my arse like you have to with those retarded twins." The Turk offered Keith an expensive cigar, attempting to inflate Keith's ego further.

"Thank you," Keith took it and pocketed it to exchange it with something else, later.

"So, what's those terrible beasts south of the river up to?" the Turk exhaled a cloud of strong smelling grey-white cigar smoke. His eyes in slits, the Turk added, "Nothing that'd jeopardise my business, I hope."

"And I'd tell you if I knew anything," said Keith.

Although he knew the twins were plotting against the Turk, he wasn't sure how to manoeuvre yet. The balance of power was too precarious among the rival firms and the traditional, ethnic groupings like, the Chinese, Pakistani, and West Indians. What was more, the Russians and former Eastern Europeans were muscling in. Keith took these situation seriously enough, though these street-thug organisations were no way as powerful as the bigger fishes who had left the streets long ago. In Keith's mind however, he was an important player among global network of organised crimes. Only, the parts Keith was in were not very well-organised.

The man with busted-up face returned with a large brown envelope. "It's all there," he assured Keith.

Keith had no choice but trust the man. He could not possibly doubt the honour of the Turk by counting the money right in front of him. So he shook hands, said a few words of curtsy, and left with the envelope.

In his car, listening to the rain viciously trying to rot his Fiat, Keith immediately counted the money. He sighed with relief when he was sure it was all there in used 10s and 20s.

Keith motored home, deftly missing the second gear repeatedly.

After taking shower (Keith masturbated once, thinking about an Asian Babe he liked), he got dressed in his best suit (labeled: Valentini) and combed hair: his was light brown - to be Keith and with ginger hair would have been a tragedy of Greek proportion. He pocketed five grand in the inside breast pocket and stashed the other half of the money safely under his bed.

 

[Guest]

Keith motored to the beastly twins' South London office just in time. He entered the bar on the ground floor, walked through it while adroitly counting the numbers of bare breasts jiggling in the air and went into a backroom. In there, a man Keith knew was fucking a young black girl from behind. Keith thought she was pretty if her rich upper lip wasn't split and bleeding. Her blue eyes looked exquisite above her flat and wide Nigerian nose. She had the dancer's body and her modest sized breasts were wobbling as the man pumped her pussy vigorously, his hips hitting her meaty arse, making wet slapping noise.

"Huagh! Huagh! Huadh!" the man was granting as he thrust his cock in and out of the sista'.

"Um! Um! Um!" the girl was replying in pleading tone in response.

"Oh-oh. Bad scene," thought Keith. The girl looked like she was trying not to cry.

"All right, Stoney?" Keith said in the way of greeting. He knew the man had spent twenty out of forty-five years inside for a murder he did not commit. Keith thought it was a good enough reason for being pissed off all the time. But in his opinion, it was not good enough reason to fuck a girl who didn't want be fucked. Keith didn't want that kind of things happening to his sisters. Keith could have been a hero for the young black girl, a knight in shining armor, but he thought it was rubbish. He didn't want a confrontation with pissed off, wrongly convicted man. Not today, or ever.

"Ugh!" Stoney grunted as if to say. "Fuck off!"

"Um!" the girl continued, helplessly.

Leaving the two, Keith went up the stairs, to the waiting room cum reception area.

He was made to sit and wait out side the office for three tormenting hours. Tormenting because, firstly, people who were more important than Keith kept arriving on their time, jumping in ahead of Keith in the waiting line, making Keith feel like a small-timer. Secondly, the gorgeous-looking new secretary cum receptionist kept flirting with him. He could not chat to the new girl because she looked fuckaricious and that meant one of the twins, or both, were taking care of her. On Keith's reckoning, making a move on the girl could mean bye-bye scrotum.

Her golden hair was elegantly loose around her heart-shaped face. Her wide innocent-looking blue eyes were feline in quality and expertly made-up. Her smallish nose was up-turned and adorable, while her lips were bow-shaped and as red as a rose petal. Her neck, Keith thought, was elegantly delicate: easily breakable by a man's hands. She wore an expensive power suit with short skirt which showed off her long, shapely legs. Knowing Keith could not touch her, her legs parted tauntingly to show Keith what kind of underwear she was wearing under the skirt. She was angry at Keith for not remembering her. Granted, she and Keith had been several years younger and then a teenage Keith was merely a mate of her brother. She had the biggest crush ever on Keith then, and still fancied him. She was bored to death at her new job for which she slept with one of the twins with whom she had met through her brother.

Keith had no doubt she was staring at his hard-on in his Valentini trousers. For three long hours, she tortured Keith silently. Playing with him. Her game was a complete mystery to Keith, but he enjoyed the view anyway. If she had a pair of big tits, she could have been a page three girl, was what stuck in Keith's mind.

Finally, one of the twins let Keith into the office. Keith wasn't sure which was Roy and which was Ross. Both looked sharp in their dark blue pin-striped suits (labeled properly: Armani). In their mid-thirties, they were tall, well-built and had their shining black hair slicked back, showing off their high forehead. Just being in the same room with them, Keith felt shiver down his spine, not to mention their icy blue eyes seemingly penetrating every thought he had. The terrible twins. Psycho Twins. The twins who loved only each other and money. Bisexual murderers, allegedly. The word had it that they buggered their enemies before offing them.

"It's all there, sir," Keith said and put the envelope on the large antique oak desk. Roy-Ross who was sitting at the desk picked the envelope up and handed it to Ross-Roy who was standing by the desk. Keith could hear unmistakable sound of someone enthusiastically sucking Roy-Ross' cock from under the desk. He wondered if it was a babe or a stud. There was no way of knowing with the Twins.

Roy-Ross at the desk pressed the button on the intercom and said, "Rebecca, send Stoney in would you, love?"

Keith took a mental note of the name Rebecca, just in case he had his chance with the teasing, leggy blonde, though he knew she could be the death of him. Such was the workings of his mind.

Stoney promptly showed up, no doubt, a little sated from fucking the young black girl. Ross-Roy tossed the envelope to Stoney 'the hands of stone'. His nose looked like someone had used a stone on it more than once. "Make sure it's five Gees," told Ross-Roy, being too big to count the money himself.

"Chup! Chup! Chup!" the cocksucker was making a rapid, wet noise under the desk.

"Don't show your face around, Keith. We'll get you if we ever needed you," said the handsome cocksuckee behind the desk, when Stoney nodded his head that all the money was there. "On your bike," added Ross-Roy with the look of finality. "Unless, you want to suck my cock, that is," his look seemed to say to Keith.

Keith made his exit, missing Rebecca fortunately, and motored home, wheeling in the rain, humming to himself, thinking about Nancy and leggy Rebecca shagging in all sorts of positions. He made sure to involve some domestic pets and kitchen utensils.

 

[Guest]

In Keith's kitchen, the fridge was almost empty. Thankfully, there was a shot-worth of vodka left. He drunk it all straight from the bottle and sighed. What a relief! he thought. The relieved man was beginning to feel a familiar itch in the pit of his stomach. Taking out a 10 pence coin from trouser pocket, he flipped it in the air and caught it between his palms: Head. He flipped it again: Head. He was beginning to feel his belly heat up. Keith flipped the coin one final time: Head. He slammed the coin against the surface of the kitchen table and stormed into his bedroom as if an omen was reviled to him.

His bedroom looked ordered and tidy, thanks to Nancy. Walking to the bed, Keith took out the money out from under it. He counted and rolled up one thousand pounds. He pocketed the dosh.

Keith was getting the buzz as he motored to the nearest casino, double parked the Fiat, fished out a knotted tie and put it on, got out of the car, thundered into the establishment, and made a thousand pounds bet on black. The roulette turned, Keith prayed, buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. His heart beat gangsta'-rap fast. The gambler felt like suffocating. Or, he was suffocating, forgetting to breath in and out. Nausea overwhelmed him. He couldn't hear anything except the thud! thud! thud! in his ear and his skin felt numb and tingling at the same time: an out-of-body experience. But he could see the ball landing on black and settling there.

Fucking fuck! delighted Keith. He picked all of his chips and went to cash them. He was in and out of the casino in five minutes - tops.

Keith motored round wondering what to do with his newly acquired wealth (at this point, the murderous Turk was locked away in the depth of Keith's frontal cortex).

Nancy could wait, he thought.

Booze? Not yet.

Girls? Maybe, but who?

The best blow job in town was to be had from Saskia with her superbly talented tongue and throat. She has been practicing her art since she was twelve. Ten years of sucking cocks made her a much sought after talent.

For straight sex, Keith fancied Jemma, Sarah, Lindsey, or Gail (all cheap, but not ugly). Jemma was a red head with pale freckled skin. She had a pair of large, round breasts on her slim, Celtic body. Her pussy lips were flabby and pinkish as Keith liked. He knew her the longest among his girls. Sarah was the brunette with the best arse. Her pussy got wet easily and angry, dark red. She always smelled good. Lindsey was a black girl with no bubble butt. Her nipples, Keith loved the best of all. They were chocolate dark and so hard a man could lose an eye poking with them. Her pouting lips were fat, deliciously juicy and ever so kissable. Gail was the girl with the dirtiest fuck-mouth. Her gutter-mouth was capable of making the dirtiest old man flush scarlet.

For a backdoor fuck, Keith preferred Karen or Wendy because they cleaned the inside of their shitholes on request. Karen the university student was not cheap but worth the price while Wendy was an American who fucked Keith for free.

Should he see a new girl? he debated, seriously. There were always new ones, old ones, young ones, too young ones, ones with special skills and interests, ones with one arm, ones with one leg, ones with big tits, ones with no tits, ones with big arse, ones with skinny arse, ones with waists, ones with no waists... What to do? What to do? There were always too many women selling themselves cheaply for Keith to buy.

 

[Guest]

Anal Sex

Keith went to see the Mistress, after all the weighing ins and outs, after he had exhausted his better than capable mental power on this issue alone.

At the Mistress' Keith was ordered to disrobe and made to wear World War I style gas mask. It restricted his field of vision, made breathing difficult, and made his face hot and sweaty. And his voice, or more frequently, his grunting, echoed around funnily within.

Naked, Keith's cuffed wrists has been chained to the ceiling, arms up and spread wide. His ankles were set wide by a spread-bar connected to him by leather cuffs. Defaced and dehumanised, Keith was going to be whipped on his back and arse. There was no knowing in why Keith often put himself in this position.

The Mistress circled Keith in silence, inspecting Keith. Her heels made clicking noise on the smooth, hard marble floor.

"I am allowing you to feel good, slave-boy." Standing by him, the Mistress fondled Keith's cock with her silken, glove-covered hands, exciting his jumpy member.

She was a vision to be hold. Standing over six feet tall, she was a well-built, athletic looking woman. Her long straight hair was the colour of raven, styled in severe pony-tail. Her face was pale and made-up in Gothic gracefulness. Her high cheek bones accentuated her frosty emerald eyes that pierced through Keith's eyes into his deep depravity. Her jaw line was somewhat muscular and her shoulders were wide like a strong swimmer's. Her breasts, which Keith considered to be good, proper, British tits, were handful and hidden beneath black latex bikini top. The top was tactfully a size too small for her meaty flesh, making to look as if her mammary were trying to break out free of their own account. Her pale skin on hour glass body was exposed fully. Her womanly buttocks were encased in matching black latex bikini bottom. The pair of long toned legs wore shiny thigh high leather boots with four inch heels. She towered over Keith and would have been a striking sight anywhere on Earth dressed as she was.

Although Keith was familiar with great many pussies, arseholes and nipples in all sizes, shapes and colours, he did not know what the Mistress' pussy, arsehole and nipples looked like. Like Rebecca at the twin's reception room, the Mistress was a absolute mystery to Keith.

"Aaggghh," let out Keith, unable to contain how good the Mistress' silken hands jerking him off felt. The Mistress could not help liking the shorter man who kept coming back for more.

"Speak only when you were spoken to, you imbecile!" her practiced anger showing, the Mistress smacked Keith's arse really hard.

Whack!

Yesss! thought Keith.

Her crisp upper class English accent always got to Keith: it added to her mysterious aura.

"You love my beautiful hands, don't you, slave-boy?" the Mistress tormented Keith, stroking her hand faster on his cock, spreading the pre-cum along its hard length.

"Yes, ma'am," Keith mumbled under the mask.

Keith has been having hard-on on and off since he won at the casino and while assessing which of his girls to see in detailed analysis. Now, seeing the Mistress in flesh and hearing her administration, his erection was in the state of complete agitation, dripping pre-cum.

The Mistress' hands stroked Keith's cock expertly, with a great deal of care. Her right hand massaged its length while the other hand gently teased sensitive head with the palm and fingers. Pre-cum drooling out of Keith's raging hard pecker was ruining the Mistress' gloves. And that was their little drama.

"The likes of you are not even fit to lick my boots," scorned the Mistress, her fearsome gaze penetrating Keith's eyes behind the mask.

Fuck! thought Keith.

The psychological battle continued as the Mistress squatted down and continued her tormenting of Keith's knob with her hand. Her mouth was so close to its head, Keith could feel her hot, moist breaths on it. And she knew it.

"Uggghh!" Keith groaned as the Mistress' sensuous red lips and her boiling hot breath become too much for him to keep quiet. He wanted to let her know how much he wanted her lips to kiss the head of his cock, how excruciatingly he wanted her mouth to take it, suck on it, swallow it whole.

"Disobedient slave is punishable by buggery!" stated the Mistress firmly, but in controlled excitement. She stood up, violently and abruptly on her four inch heels. Her left hand took a tight grip on Keith's erect cock, as her right hand connected with meatiest part of Keith's arse five times in a rapid succession unannounced - very hard.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Keith thought. His arse were red and stinging sensation lingered on. His cock in the Mistress' hold was harder than ever, extremely excited. The poker was bobbing up and down with his heart beat. She felt it.

Keith was left alone for several minutes: long enough for his heart beat to calm down some and his cock to cool off. This was one of the reasons why Keith chose the Mistress: she made it last longer - it was not all about money with her. His erection was beginning to desert slowly. He did not see well because of the mask, but he saw the Mistress return without her gloves he had ruined. The black dildo she was wearing on her groin looked huge. Bloody hell! thought Keith.

Let's the fun begin, thought the Mistress, knowing full-well her clitoris was going to be delightfully excited against the bottom end of the dildo as she fucked the man's arse.

"Aaggghh..." said Keith as the Mistress' well oiled fingers probed his arsehole slowly, but surely. It earned him another sets of rapid fire - three times. Ohooo! Eeee! Heee! thought Keith.

-One digit x two fingers, thought Keith, scientifically.
-In - Spread - Out, interpreted Keith artistically.
-Two digits x two fingers, repeated Keith the mathmagician.

-In - Spread - Out

-Three digits x two fingers.

 

[Guest]

-In - Spread - Spread - Spread - Out

-Three digits x four fingers.

The Mistress' fingers were slim but long. Her Nails had been painted in the colour of blood, and looked like they could cut the skin.

As the Mistress' hands administered his shithole expertly, Keith tried to relax his backside muscle for less painful penetration.

"Now, you are ready to be punished, slave," pronounced the Mistress. "Prepare yourself!"

Keith didn't know how to prepare himself other than by emptying his bowel, so he wasn't prepared when the Mistress gave the initial push.

Motherfuck! thought Keith as the head of lubricated black snake began its entrance ever so slowly. It resisted at first, but Keith's arsehole let the head pop in.

The Mistress was using Keith's hair and a shoulder as a counter-balance as she pushed the dildo on her crotch. Keith's back arched as the thick, long rod made its way in. About half way in, the Mistress stopped and her well oiled hands playfully teased Keith's prick. Her right hand gripped the base of Keith's pulsating prick and she drove the rest of the black snake in.

"Fuck!" Keith said out loud, but the Mistress let it slip this time.

"I'm going to hurt you, slave-boy," toyed the Mistress. Behind Keith, she was smiling delightfully.

Keith's cock was rock hard once again in his tormentor's hand. He could feel her good, proper, British tits pressing firmly against his bare back.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! thought Keith as the Mistress began to fuck his arse in earnest, her hand expertly milking his dick in rhythm. Her hips pushed in and up, then wiggled to apply pressure on her sensitive little button. She extracted her sword smoothly and thrust in and up repeatedly. Her pumping action was gradually speeding up. Faster she fucked him, greater were the sensations on her little nubbin. Keith's cock looked ready to burst. The Mistress, knowing this, fucked his arse tunnel faster and harder. Her clit was sending up a shuddering sensations. Her crotch was spanking his arse flesh audibly. The black head was pressuring Keith's prostate gland encouraging his to cum.

The image of the murderous twins entered Keith's head, and their bisexual ways. Death followed their buggerings.

Fuckkk!

Herself excited and shuddering with clitoris-rubbing orgasm, the Mistress gave Keith's cock a furious wanking.

Pushing the twins aside, Keith imagined Nancy buggering him. In her nurse's uniform.

Oh, Yes!

"Fuck!" exclaimed Keith as jet after jet of jizm ejaculated out of his cockeye. His sperm flew through the air, did a quadruple somersaults, landed perfectly and took a bow.

"Thank you, Mistress." Keith said as the Mistress released him from his bounding.

"Get dressed and go, slave-boy," she said, but internally, she was thinking, "No. Thank you, and come back again, soon."


Keith sat in his car, his pocket two hundred quid shorter. He felt invigorated. He considered his session with the Mistress as seeing a shrink. He looked back. He was on the square with the twins. He had five Gs from the Turk and eight-hundred left over from the casino winning. He had thirty day to make forty-two hundred and break even. That shouldn't be too difficult, thought Keith and entertained the thought of spending a couple of hundred more on booze and some cheaper pussies.

Out in his car, he called Nancy instead.

"Yap. Hello?"

"It's me, babe. Where are you? We got to talk."

"Keith, if you had been really serious about seeing me and talking to me, you damn well could have guessed where I might possibly be. This call sounds like you aren't even trying hard. Bye-bye, Keith." She cut off.

At her sister's, thought Keith and motored there. It was still pissing down hard. On me, I thought.

FIN

 

[Guest]

-In - Spread - Spread - Spread - Out

-Three digits x four fingers.

The Mistress' fingers were slim but long. Her Nails had been painted in the colour of blood, and looked like they could cut the skin.

As the Mistress' hands administered his shithole expertly, Keith tried to relax his backside muscle for less painful penetration.

"Now, you are ready to be punished, slave," pronounced the Mistress. "Prepare yourself!"

Keith didn't know how to prepare himself other than by emptying his bowel, so he wasn't prepared when the Mistress gave the initial push.

Motherfuck! thought Keith as the head of lubricated black snake began its entrance ever so slowly. It resisted at first, but Keith's arsehole let the head pop in.

The Mistress was using Keith's hair and a shoulder as a counter-balance as she pushed the dildo on her crotch. Keith's back arched as the thick, long rod made its way in. About half way in, the Mistress stopped and her well oiled hands playfully teased Keith's prick. Her right hand gripped the base of Keith's pulsating prick and she drove the rest of the black snake in.

"Fuck!" Keith said out loud, but the Mistress let it slip this time.

"I'm going to hurt you, slave-boy," toyed the Mistress. Behind Keith, she was smiling delightfully.

Keith's cock was rock hard once again in his tormentor's hand. He could feel her good, proper, British tits pressing firmly against his bare back.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! thought Keith as the Mistress began to fuck his arse in earnest, her hand expertly milking his dick in rhythm. Her hips pushed in and up, then wiggled to apply pressure on her sensitive little button. She extracted her sword smoothly and thrust in and up repeatedly. Her pumping action was gradually speeding up. Faster she fucked him, greater were the sensations on her little nubbin. Keith's cock looked ready to burst. The Mistress, knowing this, fucked his arse tunnel faster and harder. Her clit was sending up a shuddering sensations. Her crotch was spanking his arse flesh audibly. The black head was pressuring Keith's prostate gland encouraging his to cum.

The image of the murderous twins entered Keith's head, and their bisexual ways. Death followed their buggerings.

Fuckkk!

Herself excited and shuddering with clitoris-rubbing orgasm, the Mistress gave Keith's cock a furious wanking.

Pushing the twins aside, Keith imagined Nancy buggering him. In her nurse's uniform.

Oh, Yes!

"Fuck!" exclaimed Keith as jet after jet of jizm ejaculated out of his cockeye. His sperm flew through the air, did a quadruple somersaults, landed perfectly and took a bow.

"Thank you, Mistress." Keith said as the Mistress released him from his bounding.

"Get dressed and go, slave-boy," she said, but internally, she was thinking, "No. Thank you, and come back again, soon."


Keith sat in his car, his pocket two hundred quid shorter. He felt invigorated. He considered his session with the Mistress as seeing a shrink. He looked back. He was on the square with the twins. He had five Gs from the Turk and eight-hundred left over from the casino winning. He had thirty day to make forty-two hundred and break even. That shouldn't be too difficult, thought Keith and entertained the thought of spending a couple of hundred more on booze and some cheaper pussies.

Out in his car, he called Nancy instead.

"Yap. Hello?"

"It's me, babe. Where are you? We got to talk."

"Keith, if you had been really serious about seeing me and talking to me, you damn well could have guessed where I might possibly be. This call sounds like you aren't even trying hard. Bye-bye, Keith." She cut off.

At her sister's, thought Keith and motored there. It was still pissing down hard. On me, I thought.

FIN

 

[Guest]

A joke story!

Mary Stone was twenty-four year old Ph.D. student in Oxford, England. Her thesis was on an obscure working of a Medieval historian: Gregory the elder. No one, except three or four people on Earth, was going to be interested in reading her work. Her finished book would never hit the top spot on the bestseller list: that was for sure. She had been working hard on her research for a few years, and was quite busy throughout the week days: not enough time for dating game. On her off days, she liked to relax, reading non-work related books, etc.

She had been sharing her apartment with Dave since she and Dave was a pair of undergraduates. They considered themselves as bestfriends and as both were single, they sometimes shared bed in times of lustful need. The arrangement was open and convenient for both of them.

Dave was quite busy also during the week days, buying things on the cheap and selling them dare. He enjoyed watching rented movies with Mary, having dinner with her, making each other laugh, or simply not talking to one another while both or one of them read a book or two.

On one Sunday, Mary and Dave had enjoyed a good fucking session. Afterwards, they talked, cracking each other jokes. One thing led to another, and Mary was stuffing a large egg plant in her pussy for a laugh.

"Fuck! It got all the way in!" Dave mused.

"Baby, with a enough lubrication, I can stuff a small pumpkin in here!" Mary wasn't joking, but Dave took it as such and laughed at what she was saying.

Mary was wearing 'fuck me' cut-off red T-shirt over her naked breasts: nothing else. Dave was as bare as a new born piglet. His cock was spent and soft as he could not see Mary's tits and nipples which he liked looking at; a great deal.

"OK. Your turn," Mary suggested.

"Huh?!" said Dave, alarmed.

Mary was pulling the vegetable out of her cunt as she said, "On your fours, buddy!"

In Dave's opinion, Mary was the funniest girl he had ever met, and so he assumed she was joking about stuffing his backside with the purple, oval thing. He went on his hands and knees.

Mary, with the plant in her hand, began rimming Dave's anus with her tongue, quite intent on making her words true.

Dave began to worry. Mary was fingering and tonguing his asshole trying to relax his sphincter muscle. He was panicking with the thought of the egg plant stuffed in his ass; of it never coming out. Later, he blamed his nervousness, but in a way, the way he reacted to Mary's ministration was, his way of saying, 'no way, Jose'.

He farted as Mary was rimming his ass and a solid brown mass exited and deposited in Mary's open mouth.

"Ugg!" Mary gagged, and said, "Dave, you fuckwit!" It didn't sound at all like what she was meaning to say as she was trying to avoid her tongue from touching the shit.

"Woops. My mistake," Dave owned up, manly.

Mary went the bathroom to spit the shit out, and to thoroughly wash and clean her mouth and teeth. An evil thought of using Dave's tooth blush for cleaning shit-covered teeth entered Mary's mind, but she didn't act on the idea because she thought it would be childish.

Dave was wiping his asshole with tissue papers when he heard Mary scream;

"Ahaaaaaaa!"

Dave ran to her rescue from whatever she needed rescued from. He was that kind of a guy.

"What?!" Dave asked Mary as he joined her in the bathroom. She was looking mortified, as if she had seen a ghost.

"It talked!" Mary said, finger-pointing at the turd. "It talked!"

University educated or not, Dave wasn't the quickest-witted man. "What did it say?" he asked, straight-faced.

"It said, 'Lady! Why did you spit me out?!'"

"Really?!" Such a gullible man, Dave was.

"Really."

Dave stood with one fist on his hip, the other, scratching his head, observing the turd, scientifically.

"What else this the little shit say?" He was still scratching his head, though the other hand was scratching his butt.

"I don't know. It hasn't said anything else."

"Did you talk back to it? It asked you a question. Maybe you should talk back to it." Dave suggested, helpfully.

"Do you think?"

The door bell rang.

"I'll get it. You talk to it," said Dave and went to the door.

Dave opened the front door.

The visitor was an attractive looking black woman in her twenties. She was wearing a smart conservative suit. She was from Jehovah's witnesses.

Dave had forgotten he was butt naked.

"Oh, hello," he said. "Well, usually we don't talk to people like you, but we seem to have a hell of a strange day, today, so why not. Come in for a chat if you like."

"P... Perhaps, I came to you on a wrong time. I should come back some other time..." the woman retreated, step by step.

"Are you sure? We don't mind." said Dave, planting his feet wide, with his hands on his hips. His flaccid cock dangled between his strong thighs. "Well, if you are really sure..." he said, and closed the front door.

"...because it's unhygienic." Mary was explaining to the turd as Dave rejoined her in the bathroom.

"I'm unloved, aren't I." the turd complained.

"Oh, my dear God!" Dave exclaimed.

"You shouldn't blaspheme," the turd admonished Dave.

"Help me, Dave. I think I'm losing my mind!"

"No, you are not. I clearly heard what the turd said. You're definitely not alone for hearing it talk."

"Why are you guys talking as if I'm not here right in front of you? It's because I'm not good enough for your clique, isn't it?" The turd was having low self-esteem day, or, in this case, low self-steam day.

"Well, fuck you, then!" the turd swore, "Fuck you and your clique! I'm starting my own new clique! You won't see or hear from you, ever again! You've been talking to a golden-egg and didn't realise that! See you later alligator!

With that, the turd jumped, slam-dunked the flush and dived into swirling water, and was gone. Forever.

"Dave...?" Mary looked at him, confused.

"Oh, my God! The talking turd is gone!" said Dave, realising what he had lost. He began to cry over the loss of a golden egg he had laid.

 

[Pure]

Hi Chill,
While it was I who suggested that it was within lit rules to post certain "banned" (rejected) stories in this forum or other unmoderated ones, I wonder: Are you saying all of the above stories were rejected (for known or unknown reasons?).

I hadn't intended that routinely, discussion forums would be for posting the bulk of one's stories.

Anyway, it's interesting, raunchy stuff.

J

 

[Guest]

Hi Chill,
While it was I who suggested that it was within lit rules to post certain "banned" (rejected) stories in this forum or other unmoderated ones, I wonder: Are you saying all of the above stories were rejected (for known or unknown reasons?).

No, they are not banned, but they don't satisfy my high standard. Although I enjoyed writing them, they don't deserve to be listed on my member's page.

By the way, here is another superb writer:

http://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=309598&page=submissions

I hope farfromcd will write another chapter on the series.

 

[Guest]

CV recommends:

http://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=252342&page=submissions

Read my fellow struggling author's story. They are flipping sexy!

 

[mcfbridge]

I'm trying to remain calm as I right this.


First, freedom of speech does not pertain. Laurel owns this site and she can publish or not publish something as she sees fit.
I have over 20 stories published here, and several were rejected initially. I had my choice of whether to edit them to fit the rules here, or not. I chose to modify the stories, since I didn't feel what I was being asked was unreasonable.

What freedom of speech means is that if you don't like these rules, you have every right to either publish your work somewhere else, or start your own site.

This is the same at any publishing company. I assure you, reporters at the NY times or Wash. Post, only print what their editors and publishers approve. This is not censorship, it is simply private ownership.

Where I really lose you, is comparing blocking your story with naziism. First to refer to anyone as a nazi, unless they really are one, is an unimaginable insult. Second, some posts are and should be banned or removed from forums. For example, someone a few months ago posted a msg in a thread which had a blatant racial slur (you can guess). While that man is certainly within his rights to state his views, he does not necessarily have the right to state them here. Laurel as the editor, and we as participants have the right to decide what we wish to see accepted here and what we do not. I personally reported that particular message after several authors agreed with me that it was repulsive. I believe it was removed and I certainly hope it was.

Freedom of speech does not necessarily translate into a right to be heard. You may write or say whatever you wish, and people have a right to decide whether it is worth listening to or reading.

 

[Guest]

a blatant racial slur (you can guess)

Redneck?

 

[Pure]

Hi Chill,

Originally you said,

"I know my writing is dangerous to the authorities. That's the whole point.'

And you spoke of being 'banned'. I suggested that lit rules allow pretty free speech in certain forums, which would include stories.

Now you say, about the stories posted here

No, they are not banned, but they don't satisfy my high standard. Although I enjoyed writing them, they don't deserve to be listed on my member's page.

I must say I'm disappointed. My picture has changed from
efforts of an artist to get past barriers, to attempts at special exhbitions (in threads) of less-than-superior work. Work that could easily be proofread and posted in the normal way. Or sent to friends, or just trashed.

I note further that cantdog withdrew his allegations that he couldn't talk of Israeli solders. Maybe you should consider withdrawing any of yours having to do with 'banning' 'censorship' 'nazism' and so on.

Your writing has merit, but you are not being a very good press agent for it, imo.

J.

 

[Guest]

Good press

Your writing has merit, but you are not being a very good press agent for it, imo.

J.

Rick and Mary has just watched 'Van Helsing' in the local movie complex and are just coming out into the early evening ray of the setting sun.

Their eyes take a moment to adjust to the brightness of late spring light. It teasingly suggests the arrival of summer, and Rick, his girl in his arm, is hoping it's going to be a good one.

Mary is feeling up-beat too. It's been a while for her to lean her head on strong shoulder of a man. She is having positive expectations about her catch - Rick.

"The special effect was far out, wasn't it?!" Rick asks enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it was. Kate whatshername looked really sexy in those costumes. And the Wolverine guy from the 'X-men'. Oh, he gets me hot!"

"You've watched 'X-men'?"

"What's wrong with that? It was on cable."

"Nothing, babe," Rick leans down a little and kisses Mary's hair. He loves her idiosyncrasy like that.

Mary smiles secretively and puts her right hand into Rick's back pocket on his pants, feeling his tight butt. Finally, she is doing what the lovers all over the world are doing once again and feels good about it.

"Let's go back to my place. I'll cook something for us," says Rick wanting to impress Mary very much.

"Let's," Mary kisses her man on the cheek, on her tip toe.