guyloveshotstories
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2012
- Posts
- 7,030
When I turned eighteen, my father gave me this large, leather-bound diary. Most teenagers would get a car from their parents. Nope. Not me. It was a diary before going to college. He said, "This is no ordinary diary, Robert. This diary was made by the greatest hands in all of Turkey. It was then blessed by a great magician. Now, it comes to you to fill its pages. It also comes with this, a tungsten-cobalt framed fountain pen. Handmade by the Japanese. This pen will never, NEVER, run out of ink. With these combined you will make things come alive!"
I never understood why a magician, of all people, would bother with a diary. Or, how a pen can never run out of ink. Then again, my father was one for longwinded stories. That's what they were-stories.
Going off to college my first semester was long, tiresome...boring. On my own for the first time with nothing to do, and no friends, the internet in the dorms was crap. After one long essay for psychology, I slumped into my dorm chair and glared at the blue computer screen. Bah! I didn't want to see that glow anymore and turned it off. Looking away that's when my eyes connected with that battered leather diary sitting alone on a small wall bookshelf. Pursed my lips I got up and retrieved it. Dropped it onto the desk and opened. Found the pen in the drawer. Uncapped up and looked at the spade-shaped tip for a moment. My father's words came back into my mind. "..you will make things come alive!"
One thing I've never done was keep a diary logging my daily routine. That's because there was nothing going on! Just wake up, go to close, do homework, that's it. That was my routine. The school had hundreds of students my age, from all walks of life. Yet, I could never connect with them. They had formed their groups; jocks, the nerds, the bitches, so forth. I was an outsider everywhere I went. There were some girls that I liked. Some were even smoking hot. Like Melissa, this senior could fill her jeans with that booty. You can spot her from 100 yards away. They could be models, some of these women. Way out of my game.
The pages...entirely blank. Not typical notebook lines and straight edged paper. Thick pulp and pressed and cut leaving rather rough edges made the paper heavier but durable.
Ideas swirled in my head. I wanted to just write a story. Something just for me. I could use real people. Then again, if my diary was ever stolen, then those featured would find out how I viewed them. Closed my eyes and thought, why not erotic? It's just for me, right?
For some reason the first name to flash in my mind was, April O'Neil, but I also combined traits of Melissa. Then married that with another girl, Amy, a girl who, I swear, is banging her professor. The way she comes into class with a stereotypical school girl attire and low cut top, sits in front of the class, and laughs at everything the professor says. Total suck up.
That's it! An idea. Now let's get to work:
A glance over the shoulder at the bay window told me it was well past sunset. A heavy overcast night and probably going to rain. Dreary night.
Turning back to the paper the tip of the pen touched it and the ink flowed. "t was a cloudy and cold night as April O'Neil, Channel 6 reporter, walked the sidewalks of downtown. Her bright yellow one-piece jump suit standing out against the dark colors. That light brown hair, cut about the jaw line was well conditioned and puffy that it flopped with each step in her white leather boots that ran halfway up her shins. A white leather belt wrapped loosely around her thin hips. What else was flopping with her was her chest. The top of her jumpsuit was opened by two buttons exposing the very tops of her ample cleavage. She knew it was exposed. That was the point. You see, April wasn't on the prowl for a story. She was on the prowl for a stud.
Confidently she walked past other people on the sidewalk. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed people eyeing her. Men leering and women shaking their heads. It was when she reached the Red Velvet, an upper class club with a long line that she licked her half pursed lips. Something yummy stepped outside to get some air.
The man was dressed in a gray suit. Black hair slicked back. Went to get a smoke because the club doesn't allow them inside. He placed the cigarette to his lips and flicked open his lighter when this yellow beauty walked right up. She slapped the cigarette from his mouth, saying, "Those are bad for you. I'm better." Before planting a wet kiss on his lips. She threw herself at him. Pressing her soft body against him and the wall she wanted him.
"What the-" he began to say.
"Shhhh. Don't talk" whispered April. Without taking his eyes off his face she reached down, opened fly, and pulled out his rod. Wetting her palms with a lick of her tongue, slowly as he watched, she went to work stroking him hand over. Quickly he got hard. Eyes wide and mouth open he didn't resist as the women gingerly stroked. Her hot breath against his face. Large chest against him. Finally he grabbed her plump backside drawing a giggle from her.
April kept going. Stroking and kissing his lips before stepping off to his right with right hand still wrapped around his firm member. Then he came and it spurted out in a long, thick stream of white goo that arced through the air and landed in the gutter of the alley.
"Big load for a big boy" April seductively sighed. The deed done she drew her hands up and slowly licked the wet palms. "See ya around" she said before walking down the alleyway and disappearing leaving the man to wonder what happened."
Satisfied the story was done I capped the pen and closed the book. The lights turned off. Blinds drawn. Crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep. What I didn't know was, while I was doing this, on the other side of town, there was a man standing in a alleyway with his pants around his ankles wondering why some busty cosplayer gave him a handjob and left him there.
(The Book doesn't cause mind control and force people to do things against their will. Instead it creates the character, as described, for the author's purpose. For this story I'm looking for a partner to make this more fast and loose, lots of sex and adventure and not uptight and serious. However, the Book's existance is known by other groups who desire to get it for their own nefarious purposes.)
I never understood why a magician, of all people, would bother with a diary. Or, how a pen can never run out of ink. Then again, my father was one for longwinded stories. That's what they were-stories.
Going off to college my first semester was long, tiresome...boring. On my own for the first time with nothing to do, and no friends, the internet in the dorms was crap. After one long essay for psychology, I slumped into my dorm chair and glared at the blue computer screen. Bah! I didn't want to see that glow anymore and turned it off. Looking away that's when my eyes connected with that battered leather diary sitting alone on a small wall bookshelf. Pursed my lips I got up and retrieved it. Dropped it onto the desk and opened. Found the pen in the drawer. Uncapped up and looked at the spade-shaped tip for a moment. My father's words came back into my mind. "..you will make things come alive!"
One thing I've never done was keep a diary logging my daily routine. That's because there was nothing going on! Just wake up, go to close, do homework, that's it. That was my routine. The school had hundreds of students my age, from all walks of life. Yet, I could never connect with them. They had formed their groups; jocks, the nerds, the bitches, so forth. I was an outsider everywhere I went. There were some girls that I liked. Some were even smoking hot. Like Melissa, this senior could fill her jeans with that booty. You can spot her from 100 yards away. They could be models, some of these women. Way out of my game.
The pages...entirely blank. Not typical notebook lines and straight edged paper. Thick pulp and pressed and cut leaving rather rough edges made the paper heavier but durable.
Ideas swirled in my head. I wanted to just write a story. Something just for me. I could use real people. Then again, if my diary was ever stolen, then those featured would find out how I viewed them. Closed my eyes and thought, why not erotic? It's just for me, right?
For some reason the first name to flash in my mind was, April O'Neil, but I also combined traits of Melissa. Then married that with another girl, Amy, a girl who, I swear, is banging her professor. The way she comes into class with a stereotypical school girl attire and low cut top, sits in front of the class, and laughs at everything the professor says. Total suck up.
That's it! An idea. Now let's get to work:
A glance over the shoulder at the bay window told me it was well past sunset. A heavy overcast night and probably going to rain. Dreary night.
Turning back to the paper the tip of the pen touched it and the ink flowed. "t was a cloudy and cold night as April O'Neil, Channel 6 reporter, walked the sidewalks of downtown. Her bright yellow one-piece jump suit standing out against the dark colors. That light brown hair, cut about the jaw line was well conditioned and puffy that it flopped with each step in her white leather boots that ran halfway up her shins. A white leather belt wrapped loosely around her thin hips. What else was flopping with her was her chest. The top of her jumpsuit was opened by two buttons exposing the very tops of her ample cleavage. She knew it was exposed. That was the point. You see, April wasn't on the prowl for a story. She was on the prowl for a stud.
Confidently she walked past other people on the sidewalk. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed people eyeing her. Men leering and women shaking their heads. It was when she reached the Red Velvet, an upper class club with a long line that she licked her half pursed lips. Something yummy stepped outside to get some air.
The man was dressed in a gray suit. Black hair slicked back. Went to get a smoke because the club doesn't allow them inside. He placed the cigarette to his lips and flicked open his lighter when this yellow beauty walked right up. She slapped the cigarette from his mouth, saying, "Those are bad for you. I'm better." Before planting a wet kiss on his lips. She threw herself at him. Pressing her soft body against him and the wall she wanted him.
"What the-" he began to say.
"Shhhh. Don't talk" whispered April. Without taking his eyes off his face she reached down, opened fly, and pulled out his rod. Wetting her palms with a lick of her tongue, slowly as he watched, she went to work stroking him hand over. Quickly he got hard. Eyes wide and mouth open he didn't resist as the women gingerly stroked. Her hot breath against his face. Large chest against him. Finally he grabbed her plump backside drawing a giggle from her.
April kept going. Stroking and kissing his lips before stepping off to his right with right hand still wrapped around his firm member. Then he came and it spurted out in a long, thick stream of white goo that arced through the air and landed in the gutter of the alley.
"Big load for a big boy" April seductively sighed. The deed done she drew her hands up and slowly licked the wet palms. "See ya around" she said before walking down the alleyway and disappearing leaving the man to wonder what happened."
Satisfied the story was done I capped the pen and closed the book. The lights turned off. Blinds drawn. Crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep. What I didn't know was, while I was doing this, on the other side of town, there was a man standing in a alleyway with his pants around his ankles wondering why some busty cosplayer gave him a handjob and left him there.
(The Book doesn't cause mind control and force people to do things against their will. Instead it creates the character, as described, for the author's purpose. For this story I'm looking for a partner to make this more fast and loose, lots of sex and adventure and not uptight and serious. However, the Book's existance is known by other groups who desire to get it for their own nefarious purposes.)
