Writer Challenge 2: Polling Thread Everyone Needed and Invited

[Marxist]

WOW!!!

Excellent stories all around. I wish I could mention names but as everyone knows, this round is being held anonymously. Please, if you know who wrote what, keep it to yourself.

The stories are being posted in the order they were received. I've done no editing to any of the stories. They are being posted just as they came to me. If you are a writer and see a mistake that you'd like to correct (spelling or grammar not plot) please PM me and I'll correct it.

I won't be forwarding the stories to Laurel. I do recommend those that participated to do so a week from now when the poll closes. Hopefully this thread will serve as place to openly say what you like and dislike about each story and have the author improve it or leave it alone prior to submission.

So have at it. Talk about what you hate or love, just don't identify the authors by anything other than their poll number.

 

[Marxist]

Story Number 1

UNTITLED

Paul was relaxing in his recliner after a hard day at work. 38 and single, Paul normally kept to himself, occasionally going out on dates with women friends introduced to him by his buddies. He suffered through these dates time and time again with no real hope of finding someone with whom he connected. Although he led a mostly solitary life, it wasn’t due to him being undesirable. Standing at 6’4 with blonde hair, broad shoulders, and a charming smile, he often attracted women of all types, but he invariably attracted the ones who couldn’t stimulate his intellect as well as his libido.

Paul mechanically flipped the channels, quickly growing bored and restless. His thoughts turned toward his computer in the study – to the website he accidentally stumbled upon last week. Thinking himself a “man’s man”, he never once gave a second thought to sites that portrayed domination, specifically being dominated by a woman. However, some of the pictures on this particular site captured his attention and he lingered, clicking on the thumbnail pics and finally… reading the erotica. He found himself absorbed in the stories, practically placing himself in each scene (except for the one about the midget) and discovered that he was aroused by the thought of having a woman dominate him sexually. Recklessly, he had emailed the “Mistress” of the site encouraging more information. A week had passed since and he had yet to hear anything. He scoffed at his naiveté and went about his routine as usual. Now, however, Paul found his thoughts drifting back to that site and all it contained. He fought the impulse to log on and return to the site, thinking that by doing so he was essentially admitting a weakness. The desire to be subjected to abuse and humiliation from a woman threatened his idea of masculinity. He didn’t want that. Did he?

Frustrated, he tossed the remote on the coffee table and went into the study. He sat in front of the computer and waited as the connection was made and methodically typed in the address to the website. The homepage background was all black backlit with torches and depicted a female dressed in leather brandishing a whip with a feral look about her. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he moved his mouse to click on the “erotica” section. Lost in the descriptive stories, he almost didn’t hear the knocking at his door. He hurried to answer, adjusting his erection so that it would be less noticeable, and opened the door. Standing before him was a man dressed in uniform. He held an envelope in his hand which he silently gestured for Paul to take. “Yes? Who are you?” Paul questioned, not taking the envelop at first. The man once more gestured for him to accept the envelop. Paul looked down at it and at once saw the blood-red heart etched into the saffron-colored stationary. He took the envelop in his hand and flipped it over, looking for anything recognizable. The only thing visible was a waxen signet embossed with a bright yellow “J”.

Paul broke the seal. Inscribed in jet-black ink, hand written in delicate calligraphy, he read, “Your presence is requested by Madame Justine at 545 Holcomb Circle. Arrive promptly at 6:45pm.”

He read the note three times and looked at the funny little man patiently waiting in the doorway. “Who sent this?” he questioned. The man remained silent. Paul looked past him into the street. He saw the white stretch limo parked in the cul-de-sac, motor running with the driver door ajar. His attention was once more drawn first to the man in front of him and again to the cryptic note he still held in his left hand.

“I have instructions to allow you 10 minutes to decide,” said the uniformed man. He then tipped his hat, turned on his heel and walked back towards the limo. Paul watched his retreating form in stunned silence. What was this all about, he wondered. Obviously he was not going to be given any more information than what he’d already received. Warning flags signaled in his brain, but still he was intrigued. Quickly, he shut the door and changed clothes, thinking all the while how foolish it was for him to go along with such a situation. Part of him believed this was his friend, Jack’s idea of a joke, so as he dressed, he chuckled to himself at what might be waiting for him at his destination.

Seated in the back of the plush limo, he poured himself a glass of champagne and shook his head at the length Jack had gone to draw him into this latest scheme. Before long, the car stopped and the driver opened Paul’s door and led him towards the door of a large Victorian-style home. After pressing the bell, the doorman again tipped his hat and left Paul standing alone to be received. The door was opened by a very young woman, perhaps 18, dressed only in a sheer gown. Paul’s mouth dropped open at the sight of her and mentally thanked Jack. “Come in, Paul, Mistress Justine has been waiting for you.”

Hearing his host’s name, Paul felt his heart stop. His eyes widened and fear gripped his belly. “This can’t be!” he thought… and he frantically searched for the limo driver, anxious to get away – and as quickly as possible. The young woman grasped his wrist and pulled him into the house, shutting the door behind him. Paul felt trapped, scared – no terrified of what he now realized was a situation Jack had nothing to do with at all. Mistress Justine descended the stairway leading into the foyer with deliberate care. She was dressed in a tight corset that pushed her breasts together and up, the material gathered tightly at her crotch, blatantly separating her pussylips, defining them. Shiny leather gloves clung to her arms up past her elbows just as her 4” spiked leather boots clung to her calves and over her knees. She was tall, maybe 5’9 with jet black hair that hung in a sleek curtain framing her face and ending at her waist. Her skin was impossibly pale, accented by the flaming red lipstick coating her lush, full mouth – currently twisted into a mocking half smile… her gaze lazily drifted from his feet to his face taking in every inch of him. Instantly, he felt his cock begin to stir and harden.

“Come, Paul… “ she said, motioning to him, her voice husky and deep, the mocking smile widening as her gaze lingered on the growing bulge between his legs. She took his hand in hers and lightly chuckled as she led him downstairs. “What?” she questioned with a raised brow, “Are you afraid I’ll injure you?” Again, she laughed but this time, at the desperation in his eyes. He allowed her to lead him down the stairs and found himself in a dim unfinished basement, the floors concrete, the air quite cold.

“I got your message, Paul,” Mistress Justine said, referring to his email sent a week prior. “And I have a surprise for you.” Paul couldn’t speak, could do nothing more than follow her lead. His heart was racing, beating frantically in his chest as he took in every movement of her body, the room, the circumstance. “Now, now… just relax and let me show you, show you that I know what you really need.” She purred against his ear as her body rubbed against his. He relaxed then, giving himself to her. He felt his arms being lifted and placed in metal cuffs over his head. His legs pushed apart and fastened wide open, ankles also secured in cuffs secured to the floor. His eyes were covered with a dark silken cloth, blinding him and his senses immediately became more acute. He felt her hands at his pants, drawing them down over his hips, felt the crisp air of the basement raise goose bumps on his skin. He began to tremble with a combination of fear and anticipation, feeling himself so vulnerable to her every whim.

Suddenly he felt her silky hair brush against his thighs and he gasped. He imagined her kneeling before him, her mouth inches away from his now hard cock – jutting forward in front of him, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. “Now,” she whispered, “I’m going to stroke your cock but you can’t cum until I say, do you understand?”

Paul was barely able to speak, his mouth was dry, he was panting, his arms ached from being stretched so tightly. “Y- yes,” he stammered, trying to focus on reigning in his desire. She began at once, her hand slickly oiled. Her fist gripped his cock and began to stroke, slowly at first and then faster- pulling so hard his body swayed with the movements. Paul groaned and wondered if he could pass the test.

(to be continued… Marxist didn’t say it had to be a complete story.. heh)

 

[Marxist]

Story Number 2

THE WHORES OF HELL

The envelope sat neatly centered on his desk, his name inscribed on the
creamy paper in delicate calligraphy. His secretary told him he'd had
no phone calls or visitors today. So they wanted him to know that they
reach him whenever they wanted. Good. He liked a little mystery.

The envelope was sealed with a dollop of red wax, the wax stamped with
the letter "J" entwined with a serpent. He broke the seal and pulled
out the single sheet inside. The writing was in the same elegant script.
"The Duquesne Hotel dining room, seven-thirty. Bring the money."

He pressed a buzzer on his desk. "Cancel my appointments for the next
two weeks."

"Yes, sir."

She showed no concern that he was clearing his calendar. He no longer
had important meetings. He'd sold his company and was now just another
rich man with nothing to do. But now he had a very special appointment
to keep.

*****

At the hotel the tuxedoed matire'd said, "Ah, monsieur, good evening!"

"My name is Travers, I'm..."

The matire'd held up a hand. "You are expected. Please, follow me."

He was led to a small hallway near the kitchen. A turn left, and Roger
found himself facing a closed door. The maitre'd tapped three times.

"Yes?" a voice asked from within.

"Your guest, monsieur."

"Send him in."

Roger stepped inside and stopped cold. He stood in a private dining
room, a table cluttered with plates laden with steaming food. There were
three diners-two gorgeous, blonde women, and a man. The man was the
reason Roger stood frozen in place. He was a midget, not even four feet
tall.

The midget dug a knife into a slab of fois gras and smeared it over a
toast point. He wore an enormous signet ring, and Roger could see the
raised letter "J" twisted with a snake.

"You're gaping like a fish, Mr. Travers."

Roger set his jaw, angry for showing weakness. "I didn't expect a
mid...I'm sorry. A little person. Isn't that what you people prefer to be
called?"

The insult was ignored. "I prefer to be called Monsieur Joubert, and I
like to be paid in cash. You have it?"

Roger took the envelope from his inside pocket and set it on the table.
"Twenty-five thousand."

The girl on the left, a beauty who might have been plucked fresh from
South Beach, opened the envelope and riffed through the cash with the
mechanical skill of a Vegas dealer. "It's all here."

"Thank you, my dear." Joubert said. He looked at Roger. "You'll receive
instructions tomorrow. Follow them to the letter." He lifted an oyster
to his lips. "Good evening, sir," he said, ending the interview.

Roger left, irritated. Joubert had treated him like a schoolboy. Well,
he thought as he patted the erection in his pants, he would show those
two women who was a boy and who was a man.

*****

The next day he received another envelope in the mail. "You will be
picked up at eight-thirty. Bring the other half." Roger wore his Hugo Boss
tuxedo, filled another envelope with money, and waited.

At eight-thirty sharp a limousine pulled up. A striking redhead in a
green sheath dress held the door. "Good evening, Mr. Travers. I'm
Chantal."

"Good evening." He slid into the leather seat and Chantal snuggled next
to him.

"I apologize, but you have the money?"

He produced the envelope. "No need to apologize."

She counted it with the same skill as the blonde at the hotel. "Thank
you."

Roger couldn't see through the dark windows of the limo, and he
couldn't tell where they were going. The drive took a half-hour and Roger
passed the time toying with his lovely escort. When the limo stopped, she
slipped back into her dress and produced a black velvet sash. "You have
to wear this." He allowed her to blindfold him. More mystery,
excellent. They passed through a door and he heard his footsteps echoing on a
hard linoleum floor.

They stopped, the blindfold was removed, and he found himself standing
in front of a young Vietnamese woman wearing a billowy saffron robe. It
looked like they were in the locker room of an athletic club.

She bowed. "Please, remove your clothes, set them on the chair." He
undressed, and stood before her nude and erect. She showed no
embarrassment. "I will take you to your rendezvous."

She replaced the blindfold. He walked barefoot on carpeting, then a
hand forced his head down as he walked through a low doorway. The door
whuffed shut.

"You may remove your blindfold now." It was Joubert. Roger tore it off
and looked around. He was standing in a racquetball court. The gallery
above the court was packed with spectators. It was dark, the court lit
by torches in each corner.

"Are you ready, Mr. Travers?"

"I'm ready," he said, but his voice quavered.

Joubert laughed. "I doubt that."

The door flew open, and two figures entered. Roger stared. They
were...perfect. Heavy, round breasts. Long, sculpted legs. One had thick,
golden blonde hair, the other's was black and so lustrous it shone even in
the dim light.

The blonde was in her early forties, the brunette in her twenties. He
loved the idea of fucking a mother and daughter. He didn't care that he
had an audience. He stepped forward.

And then he screamed.

Their eyes were red. Glowing. They were feral and inhuman and he
staggered back, terrified. He heard the laughter from the gallery as he
frantically clawed the walls, trying to escape.

They fell on him. The blonde yanked him back and dug her long nails
into his buttocks. She knelt and made room for the young brunette. They
licked their lips.

With tongues over ten inches long.

Roger screamed. The young one coiled her tongue around his shaft like a
long, pink snake and pulled him into her mouth. The pleasure hit him
like a punch, he let out a long, cowlike moan.

Her mother slithered behind him and yanked his asscheeks apart. And
then, oh God, that enormous tongue thrust up inside him, filling his
anus, undulating inside him. It was pleasure on a scale he hadn't known
existed.

He couldn't move. The tongue around his cock and the tongue up his ass
paralyzed him. The older woman reached between his legs and gripped his
testicles. She gave a violent tug, and Roger screamed again. It didn't
hurt. But he knew he'd just suffered some terrible injury.

Their sucking mouths and slippery tongues inflicted an ecstasy beyond
belief. The pleasure was unbearable. "I can't come!" he shrieked, and
the spectators hooted. His balls began to ache, filling with more and
more semen as the blonde's tongue excited his prostate and the brunette
sucked him like some kind of infernal machine.

"Please," he sobbed. "Please! Let me come!" He babbled for over ten
minutes, begging for release.

"Enough, my darlings," Joubert said at last. The blonde seized Roger's
balls and twisted and he felt a blissful pressure in his groin. "Oh,
Christ!" he screamed. He was going to come!

The older woman extracted her tongue from his rectum and he nearly
fainted. She scuttled around just as the first gout of semen spurted from
his cockhead. The girl swallowed his come with those red eyes burning
with fury.

His climax went on and on, ten seconds, twenty, sixty. The girl sucking
him never slowed, never stopped swallowing. Until the end.

She released her constricting tongue and pulled her mouth away. Roger
collapsed. The blonde opened her mouth, and the girl extended her tongue
and poured a pint of come down her mother's throat. When the white
flood ended the women embraced and kissed, their tongues entwined, sticky
ropes of semen stretched between their lips.

He was destroyed. The door opened and two brawny men tossed a plastic
body bag on the floor. They stuffed him inside, zippered it closed, and
carried him out. They dumped him on the floor of the limo, and this
time the ride only took twenty minutes. The men flung him out of the car
and tossed his wadded-up tux on the lawn. Roger struggled out of his
plastic cocoon just in time to watch them drive away.

He crawled into his house. There was an envelope lying on the floor. It
read, "The pain will last a week. Drink as many fluids as possible."
Then, at the bottom, "It was worth it, wasn't it?"

Joubert issuing one final challenge. Was it worth fifty thousand
dollars to be tortured by two witches? He couldn't walk. His testicles felt
small as raisins. But, yes, it had been worth it. Because that titanic
orgasm still echoed through his aching body. And it would the rest of
his life.

He threw the note away. He staggered to the kitchen and guzzled a quart
of milk. And then he crawled on the couch and went to sleep.

 

[Marxist]

Story Number 3

CAVE-IN
This story is fantasy only, and is not meant to condone any form of violence or sexual abuse. If you do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality, please leave now.


Beth reached for the wailing alarm clock. "Fucking Hell," she sighed, "5am, I must be mad". She eased her 6' 1" frame out of the snug duvet and headed for the shower. On the way she glanced at her body in the full-length mirror.

"Not bad," she thought, sucking in her tummy. Beth was 26, attractive, dark haired, long legged, full breasted and blessed, or as she saw it cursed, with CBH (child bearing hips). Beth found that her height and fairly aggressive manner intimidated most men - you didn't get to be the top salesperson at Randall & Hopkirk by being a patsy. The riotous tangle of her hairy black bush was testament to the fact that she hadn't had a lover for over seven months - "Must get that trimmed," she thought for the hundredth time.

Returning from a quick shower Beth looked for something suitable to wear. What did it say on the invite? She rummaged through her papers - there it was, the gold-leaf invitation with its beautiful calligraphy.

Patrick & Co.

invite

Ms Elizabeth Small

to a day of potholing at
Blue John Caves, Derbyshire

Saturday 10th February 2002

Sturdy clothing & strong shoes

RSVP



"Sturdy clothing and Strong Shoes," Beth muttered. Well her Timberland boots would do for footwear but what to else to wear? Beth pulled her saffron-coloured jump suit out of the closet. 'Too gaudy,' she thought and finally settled for black combat trousers and a tight grey T-shirt. She would also wear her fleece.


As she pulled on her boots she heard the car horn tooting. "That will be David," she thought. "What an asshole, waking up the neighbours". David was also on the sales team at R & H and Beth did not like him one little bit. He was smarmy, arrogant, somewhat sinister and irritatingly, he was extremely good looking. Unfortunately he only lived a few blocks away and it would have been churlish to refuse the lift he had offered.

Another blast on the horn forced Beth to run down stairs; she grabbed her coat and bag and ran out of the house pulling the door behind her.

Beth went round the back off the car to get to the passenger door of the Ford Sierra and noticed his bumper sticker "MY OTHER CAR IS A LIMOUSINE"; not for the first time she thought, 'Asshole'.

And it wasn't much later, when they got stuck on a narrow country road behind a mechanical digger, that she was again thinking, 'Asshole.'

"Get out of the fucking way or I will rip your fucking heart out," David raged.

"David, slow down," shouted Beth, as he weaved in and out looking for a gap.

"Shut the fuck up!" David gave a feral snarl and raced dangerously past the digger. For the rest of the journey Beth sulked and David seethed.

Just after 7am they arrived at the cave entrance to be met by John Hughes, MD of Patrick & Co. He took them into a wooden hut, where two roaring log fires burned and steaming hot coffee was served.

Minutes later the briefing began. Safety was the key issue for Patrick & Co.; they did not want any injuries. Cavers had to have a 'buddy' (unfortunately for Beth - she was stuck with David) with them at all times, wear helmets and head torches and hand-in anything that could catch on the rocks, such as jewellery. Off came Beth's earrings and chain, closely followed by David's gold signet ring.

The first part of the cave system was fairly easy going and then the openings got smaller and tighter until at last David and Beth reached a particularly small cave opening. David motioned Beth forward.

"You're joking!" exclaimed Beth. "You'd have to be a fucking midget to get through there!"

"Go on, give it a try," he replied, "it's on our route map so we must be able to get through"

Beth squeezed into the hole, it was extremely tight and she had to really wriggle. After a few moments she realised that she was firmly stuck. She couldn't go on and she couldn't go back. Her big hips had wedged her tight in the entrance.

"Pull me out!" she called.

Nothing happened and then she heard David whisper, "You don't like me, do you?"

"Oh, David! Stopping fucking about and pull me out!"

She felt his hands on her thighs and felt him start to tug. She could feel some movement but it wasn't just her, her trousers were also sliding over her hips. Beth wasn't bothered about her immodesty only the fact that she would soon be out of this mess.

"Aahhh!" Beth screamed. Pain course through her hips as David rammed her back into the hole.

"Now I've got you right where I want you," David's silky voice echoed in the cavern, "mmmm, nice panties." Beth could feel David stroke her mound through her sheer silk black knickers.

"What are you doing, you bastard!"

"Enjoying myself," he laughed as he removed her boots, socks and trousers.

"What a hairy cunt you must have." She felt him tugging on the stray hairs that her knickers failed to contain. Beth on her hands and knees with her upper body jammed in the hole was in no position to do anything but endure David' cruel ministrations as he prodded and stroked her cunt through the thin material.

"You'll see, I am not a selfish lover."

Beth felt her knickers being removed. Then David's agile fingers returned to her pussy, searching for her clit. No way was she going to give him any satisfaction - she was not going to get aroused. But her own body betrayed her. As David expertly stroked her clit and then fingered her moistening pussy the seven months without a lover started to tell. Beth couldn't help herself she was suddenly awash with pussy juice, her nipples as hard as bullets.

"Enjoying yourself now, aren't you," David whispered as her forced three fingers into her steamy cunt. If Beth hadn't been so stuck she would have ground herself against his hand. For a few minutes he toyed with her pussy and forced a moan of disappointment when he removed them.

"Don't worry, plenty more where that came from."

Beth heard the rustling of clothing and then David's fingers were back on her clit teasing her close to orgasm. She felt him dip a couple of fingers into her pussy, coating them with her juices.

"I bet you think I am a complete asshole," he laughed, "well its your asshole that I am going to have now."

"Fuck off!" she managed weakly.

"Naughty!" David slapped her ass hard, three times.

Still toying with her clit David pushed the well-lubricated fingers up her virgin passage.

"I guess your wondering Beth whether I can fuck you in this position? Well, I think that you're too far in for me to fuck your cunt but, with a bit of a struggle, I reckon I can fuck this tight asshole. Would you like that?"

"Fuck off!" She replied, hoping that David was playing mind games with her. Surely heed never be able to fuck her in the ass in this position.

"Hey, but don't worry you can have your pleasure first."

The tempo of his fingers on her clit increased and although it was the last thing that she wanted her orgasm got nearer and nearer. Suddenly, it rushed over her like a tidal wave. Her buttocks clenched against the invading fingers and she screamed as wave after wave of pleasure pounded through her body.

Beth almost blacked out, but she was still able to feel David removing his fingers from her ass and also the pain in her hips as they scraped roughly against the rock face. "Thank God," she thought, "he's pulling me out."

He was, but not all the way out, just far enough to get to her pussy. The next thing she felt was David's hard cock at the entrance to her cunt. She heard him grunt as he forced himself into her slick pussy.

"Slag! Slut! Bitch!" He chanted, as he slammed into her.

"Slag! Slut! Bitch!" He chanted, as he slapped her ass in time to his fucking.

David was close to coming be he wanted Beth to suffer one final humiliation. He withdrew from her sopping cunt and positioned his glistening cock at the entrance to her red-cheeked bottom.

"Nooooo…." she wailed, as his cock nestled against her anal ring.

"Noooooo…" she wailed, again as his rock hard cock penetrated her virgin ass.

David pounded Beth's ass. It was so tight and Beth could tell that David wouldn't last for long. With a huge groan his seed spurted from his cock deep into Beth's ravaged ass.


Footnote
Beth is now David's sex slave!

 

[Marxist]

Story Number 4

NO ONE COMPARES TO YOU



Edward wanted to fuck Tracy.

Sitting in the limousine, its mechanical heart purring contentedly, Saffron ached with the knowledge that Edward wanted to fuck Tracy. Saffron looked across the car at him, her wet lips parted invitingly, and purred, “You want that girl, don’t you, Edward?” Desperately, she hoped that he couldn’t hear the injured pride in her voice.

"Nah." He eyed her speculatively as he twisted his pinky ring.

She had given him the heavy signet ring last night. Inscribed with her name in delicate calligraphy, it also bore the boldly incised Greek word for ‘slave.’ It gave him the right to her life, her body, her actions, and her soul. She belonged to him.

He twisted the ring, watching her, and it glinted in the subdued lighting of the quietly expensive automobile. "She's a cunt." His eyes bored into hers. "Are you jealous of her, baby?"

Aching with the need to please and despairing the fact that she’d allowed her jealousy out again, she leaned back and closed her eyes, her hands moving over her breasts suggestively. Her fingers played and twisted and stroked over the erect nipples that poked from beneath the silk blouse she wore.

"Take it off.” His voice roughly commanded her obedience. "All of it."

Saffron’s eyes snapped open. “Edward, honey, it'll get wrinkled.” Her big blue eyes begged him to rescind his directive.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Take it off. If I want you to walk in there naked, you will.” He twisted the ring.

She watched it slide around his finger. Indecisively, she sat still, wanting to refuse, knowing she could not.

"Saffron?" She looked over at him, troubled. Calm expectation of her obedience shone from his face, and when he spoke, his voice was certain of her compliance. "Take. Your. Clothes. Off. Right. Now."

Despite the half-angry tears that sprang into her eyes, she began to unbutton her blouse, the raw silk slipping smoothly between her fingers as if eager to be free of her body. Stripping it off, she folded it and carefully laid it in the hand he held out. Making liars of her confusion and hurt, her breasts heaved with arousal, their nipples tightly erect.

She was beautiful to him and he stared openly.

She met his eyes brazenly and her skin pebbled. A keening moan filtered from the back of her throat as she raised a finger to slide it over the tight tip of her nipple. Her breathing became erratic and she shifted on her knees, restless, as the fist of need began flexing deep inside her sex. She was confused and aroused, afraid and excited. She had no idea what he would require next.

He tapped the controls at his side and lowered the window between their compartment and the front of the car.

“Come here please, Carl”, he instructed politely as the driver listened attentively, “I’d like your help with something”.

She stiffened but made no move to cover herself and he smiled at her control.

A moment later Carl was standing in the opened door, the dusk silhouetting him. “Sir?”

"Would you remove Saffron's skirt, Carl? She must have forgotten how to do it because it was supposed to be off already, but, as you can see, it is still on her body."

Saffron moaned quietly. Humiliation bloomed across her cheeks. She flicked her eyes up to Edward and found him gazing at her dispassionately.

Carl climbed into the car and pulled the door closed behind him, then knelt behind Saffron and unzipped her skirt. His hands pulled the dark silk down her hips as she knelt, trembling a little at being so intimately touched by another man. The skirt slid down her thighs and puddled around her knees. Carl’s fingers rested lightly, not moving, against the narrow black lace band of her garter belt.

Edward motioned Carl back, then lifted Saffron’s chin with a fingertip and looked her directly in the eyes. “Take your skirt off now, Saffron. You may not use your hands.”

She shook her head slowly, moaning with arousal, with disbelief. Her voice shaking as a tear slipped down her cheek. “What will I wear tonight?”

“I don’t know, darling. Now take the skirt off.”

Both men watched as she shimmied and twisted and struggled out of the skirt, her hands fisted impotently at her sides. After just a few moments, though it must have seemed longer to her, she was nearly prone on the floor of the car, her skirt finally off and kicked into a pile near the door.

“Doesn’t she have a nice ass, Carl?”

“Yeah, Boss, but you know I don’t swing that way.”

Edward laughed “I wasn’t offering it to you, Carl.” He crooked a finger at her. “Crawl over here, little feral cat.”

She rolled to her hands and knees and crawled toward Edward. She murmured to him indistinctly, pleadingly. She rubbed her face on his pant leg like the cat he’d called her. Her ass moved and circled restlessly, in time to her more-frequent moans. “Edward…” she begged, "Edward... please, touch me… Edward, please... oh please…”

Edward rummaged into the black bag at his side until he found a shiny, red dildo. He tossed it down to her.

“In your cunt, Saffron. Now.”

He turned to Carl. “Wait in front, please. If Tracy shows, have her wait up there with you, as well. Turn the heater on. I want it hot as a torch in here.”

"Whatever you want, Boss." He slipped out and closed the door firmly behind him. Dimly, Saffron heard the door locks click into place.

“On your back,” Edward told Saffron, impatience coloring his words harshly.

Saffron slid to her back, spreading her legs widely to the outside of his, her body totally open to his eyes. The red vibrator jutted obscenely from her pale pink pussy. With mounting urgency, her hands worked the thing, moving it into her body, pulling it out, in and out, in and out, faster and deeper, in time with her panting arousal.

Leaning, Edward shoved the dildo deeply into her cunt. “Harder, slut,” he grated, “Faster.” Opening his trousers, he began to stroke his cock.

She cried out, her voice ringing in the small confines of the car. One hand passed up her body to work at a nipple, pulling and twisting, pinching and scratching. The other manipulated the dildo, her pelvis arcing to meet the hard thrust, then relaxing as she pulled The red color of the toy flashed him as she fucked herself. His eyes were on her, his breathing wildly uncontrolled, as his hand mimicked hers.

She writhed on the floor as the vibrator pummeled into her cunt and out, faster and faster. His fist tightened and he groaned harshly, his pelvis rising to meet the cruel slapping of his own hand. Straining, arching toward her, he shuddered and roared gutturally as several thick ropes of his semen spurted from the purple tip of his throbbing cock to land on her frantic body. She jerked as his hot jizm splashed over her face, her breasts, and down toward her cunt. Her screams of pleasure began as his ended and he sagged, watching as her orgasm took control of her body.

Finally, spent, she lay sobbing, her body akimbo on the floor. The vibrator tossed aside, a midget red smear against the vastness of the car’s beige carpeting. Leaning down, Edward pulled her into his embrace and soothed her as the last of the shudders wracked her body. One of his big hands smoothed down to stroke gently over her bare ass as he used the thumb of his other hand to wipe the trace of her tears from her cheeks.

He thumbed the button next to him. “We’re going home, Carl,” he instructed hoarsely, “We need to change.”

Saffron could hear Tracy begin to sputter and whine about being late to the party as Edward cut the connection, his hands still soothing over her body.


Edward tilted her face up toward his. “For me, Saffron, there will never be anyone who compares to you.”

 

[Marxist]

Story Number 5

KIM



Kim’s heart beats a frantic rhythm beneath her heaving chest. Her nipples, standing out hard and proud atop pert breasts, danced in erratic circles, keeping time with her heat beat and feral moaning.

~~~~~~

Kim’s father James, was out of town for the week, leaving Kim and her stepmother at home. Ashley was 8 years older than Kim, she was pretty, smart and friendly but Kim had never really got close to her. Since her mother had died, Kim had held most people at arms length.

When Kim had got home from high school on Friday afternoon, Ashley had been sitting at the kitchen counter watching TV. Glancing at the screen she’d seen half a dozen midgets tumble out of a saffron limousine with gaudy calligraphy down the side. A commercial she assumed or a Miami Vice re-run. Ashley hadn’t seemed to be concentrating on the screen though. Kim traipsed up the stairs, dropping her bag in her bedroom doorway and leaving her clothes where they fell as she changed into her jeans and T-shirt. Kim didn’t go in for dressing up and she had no plans tonight, as usual. Although she was pretty her plain dress and shy manner kept her out of the social spotlight, she was comfortable with that, usually.

Down stairs again, the TV was off, Ashley sat, her hands clasped in her lap. “Kim, we . . . need to talk.”

Kim’s heart had sunk, oh god, what she thought to herself, mind racing over all the possibilities.

Haltingly Ashley tried to clarify, “You’re getting older now, and your father that is, we, thought that it was time we talked to you about, you know, sex.” She’d blushed, this shouldn’t have been so hard.

Kim part relieved, part embarrassed had watched a cloud pass over her stepmother’s face. “Do we really have to do this?”

Ashley fetched herself a glass of wine. “Well, Jim wants to talk about it. I figured it would be easier on you,” she smiled, “And me, if we could have a girl talk.”

Kim sighed and pulled up a stool, taking Ashley’s wineglass from her and sipping it. Ashley grinned at her and went to get another for herself, paused with the refrigerator open, then bought the whole bottle back to the counter. With difficulty at first, then more easily as the wine washed away inhibitions the two women had talked. At one point talking about condoms, Ashley took a condom from the drawer in front of her and giggled “I was ready for this”, reached into the draw again and withdrew a torch. Both women descended into a fit of laughter as they gauged its size. With unsteady hands Ashley demonstrated how to apply the sheath, which promptly tore as it was stretched to it’s maximum over the flashlight’s catch.

“Shit” swore Ashley, the shredded rubber in her hands. Her eyebrows raised, then a wicked glint shone in hers eyes. “Wait here love, I’ll be right back.”

“Ta-da” Ashley stood in front of Kim, a silver vibrator in her hand. Kim gazed at her uncomprehending for a moment, unaware that she’d closed her eyes. Then mirth and shock stole across her in equal measures.

“Oh my god Ash.” She laughed her eyes wide. “And you . . ? Can I hold it?”

“Yes I do,” Ashley chuckled handing the mechanical toy to Kim, “And you can too, if you want.”

Kim sat for a moment, entranced by the shiny device. Tapped it against her signet ring and shivered as it clicked solidly. Ran her fingers along the smooth tip, and the ridged shaft. Catching Ashley’s eye on her, she laughed self-consciously and handed it back, “The condom thing?”

Ashley grinned at her, she had a feeling she was doing that quite a lot, thank you wine. The demonstration with the new condom went smoothly.

“We’ll I’m exhausted. I think we can talk about things now, if there is anything else you want to know, ever, don’t be afraid to ask.” She kissed Kim on the forehead, “Goodnight love.” Leaving the wineglasses and condom encased vibrator on the counter she made her way up to bed. Kim stared at the vibrator for a moment, before reaching for it. Upstairs she’d dropped the vibrator on the pillow and stripped off her clothes, climbing into bed in panties and a bra, she was asleep the instant she’d lain her head down.


Ashley had woken late the following morning and glanced at the clock, very late she amended. She dragged fingers through her hair, she’d rolled over and stroked the pillow where James’ head would usually lie. From down the hall she heard a soft noise and stopped. That must have been what had woken her. She listened for a moment, there it was again. It sounded like Kim, a sort of frustrated, exasperated whimper. Climbing from the bed, she’d paused momentarily to survey her naked body in the mirror before tying a silk robe about it.

When Ashley had reached Kim’s room, she’d popped her head around the door, hand raised to knock. The sight before her had stopped her in her tracks. Kim had lain on the bed, covers thrown back, panties in a pile next to her as she tried to push the humming vibrator into her tight hole. Kim had knocked then, “Hon?” concern in her voice. Kim’s eyes flew open and stared straight into Ashley’s emerald gaze. She’d clamped her legs together and flung the covers back over herself. It had been her turn to blush. Ashley had sat on the side of the bed, not saying anything, only the unrelenting buzzing of the vibrator broke the silence.

Ashley held out her hand. Kim looked up at her and knew. She reached beneath the covers and retrieved the toy, placing it in Ashley’s hand. Ashley shut off the little motor.

Kim whimpered, tears glistened in her eyes, “Why didn’t it work Ash, why didn’t it feel good?”

Ashley had gathered her up in her arms. “Darling, if a boy had tried to rush you like that, you’d never have let him touch you again. You have too work up to getting it inside you. Did you stroke yourself? Your breasts? Your belly? Your clitoris?”

Mutely Kim shook her head.

“Sometimes, you’ll find yourself ready for fast rough sex, but often you’ll need to build up to penetration. And that’s the same when you’re masturbating.” Ashley barely hesitated before she continued, “Would you like me to help you?”

“How?”

“Put your hands on mine, I’ll do to you what I do to myself, and you can follow.”

Kim lay back as Ashley kept talking, “Most of my masturbation happens in my mind, I close my eyes and imagine something, as my hands touch my body.” With Kim’s fingers resting on hers, Ashley had reached up and run her fingers over Kim’s eyes, closing them, trailing her fingers across her ears, pulling gently on her earrings then down her throat. One hand had paused to stroke the underside of Kim’s breasts in turn, while the other worked down her side and caressed Kim’s thighs. Kim sighed as Ashley cupped her breasts through the thin bra rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Kim’s legs spread of their own volition when their hands had journeyed up her inner thighs and closer to her sex.

Ashley slipped a finger into her stepdaughter’s mouth at the same time she pressed her other hand over her young pussy. Kim gasped, then sucked on the offered finger. Her mouth hot and wet as she was growing between her legs. Ashley stroked her folds and dipped a finger into the juice collecting there, then focussed on her clit. She’d rubbed and rolled Kim’s clit as she massaged her breasts and soon discarded the bra altogether. When Kim’s legs started to draw up, Ashley reached for the vibrator, replacing her finger with the toy. She placed the shiny machine in Kim’s hand and guided her to stroke herself.

~~~~~~

She stroked her clit with the vibrator and squeezed and pulled her nipples. Breath came in gasps and she felt the universe contracting around her. Ashley pressed the vibrator inside her pussy, she felt herself filled and stretched, her other hand was guided back to her clit where she rubbed furiously without any prompting. Her pussy sucked at the toy as it plunged into her, she arched her back, release imminent. Her toes curled and thighs quivered, a rising moan issued from between her lips.

“Ohhhhhh” She screamed and shuddered, Ashley pushed the vibrator into her hard and deep. She felt torn and injured and fulfilled as another spasm crashed over her. Her finger lay lightly on her clit - unmoving, the vibrator still pulsed inside her, sliding slowly in and out as she convulsed again and again.

Finally she lay sated, sore and sweating. Ashley lay down beside her, holding her tenderly.

“Thank you” whispered Kim dreamily.

 

[Marxist]

Story Number 6

DOMINIC AND SABRINA: A TALE OF NON-CONSENSUAL SEDUCTION


“You are an emotional midget and if I have to spend one more minute with you, I’ll stab you in the heart with this fucking fork!”

And with that, Sabrina tossed the makeshift weapon onto her plate scattering saffron rice across the white tablecloth. In one angry movement she grabbed her purse and pushed her chair from the table, jostling the untouched Sauvignon Blanc.

The restaurant clientele watched her with feral interest as she headed for the exit. Glancing back at him one more time, she stepped out onto the sidewalk before he could see the angry tears welling in her eyes. Two yearsof her life down the drain.

She stumbled over to one of the parked limousines and leaned against it as she dug through her purse for a tissue. Tears blinded her and she dropped it. She pulled at it, but it was tightly wedged in between the curb and the tire.

“Damnit!” Sabrina yelled and tugged the strap of her purse harder.

She kicked the tire, as if it was the one that had caused her all this pain and injury. The strap broke and with it, her facade. Hugging the limo, holding onto it for support as her body shook with loss, Sabrina was oblivious to the view she was giving the man inside.

Dominic observed the breasts smearing against the mirrored glass with a wicked smile playing across his lips. He took one last searing swallow of his scotch, then lowered the median between him and his driver.

“Henry?”

"Yes Mr. Zuckerente?”

“There is a girl crying all over my limousine.”

Henry grinned, “Yes Sir. Shall I remove her?”

“I think not Henry. I think we shall have a bit of fun tonight. Bring me the girl.”

“The easy way, or the hard way, Sir?”

“The hard way, but use some finesse this time.”

Henry leaned his bulk over the seat and reached into the glove box, removing a handkerchief and a tiny vial. His actions were mechanical, belying practiced movements. Opening the door, he unfolded his six foot four inch frame, startling the girl from her sobs.

“Miss?” Henry questioned.

Mortified, Sabrina stammered, “I’m... damn, I’m sorry. It’s just that, well... damn” Sabrina looked down and noticed her purse and thanked God she had an excuse for leaning on the car. A tap on her shoulder made her turn before she could mention it. He was behind her now, startling her with his stealth.

Henry held the handkerchief out to her. She took it with a tentative, “Thanks”.

No sooner did she put it to her nose when she felt his big hand close over her mouth and nose. She struggled against him feeling the world swirl, then nothing. Henry put the handkerchief in his pocket and opened the door. He placed her unconscious body in the backseat and handed Dominic her purse.

“Not bad, Henry, not bad. You’re getting very good at this.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Henry grinned and shut the door.

***

Sabrina tried to shake off the groggy feeling, attempting to move her limbs and open her eyes. She struggled, her heart racing as he realized she was bound and blindfolded.

Quietly watching from his chair, Dominic appreciated the view of her undulating body and felt his dick agree with him. She finally stopped, breathing heavily from her exertions. She lay there, limbs spread in a perfect X, her dress up around her waist. The view of her silky panties molding to her pussy lips was almost enough to make him cum.

“Sabrina ” He said her name thoughtfully, watching her thighs flex in a futile attempt to close her legs; nobody could hold a torch to Henry’s knot work.

“Who are you? What do you want from me? Let me go, please.” The words spilled out, sounding cliche even to Sabrina. She swallowed a strangled whimper.

Dominic walked over to her and whispered against her ear. “Sabrina”, he purred, touching his lips to her ear. “There is no need for you to go anywhere. You belong to me now.” Her body trembled with dread as he slowly stroked her arm. She winced; he hated that.

Removing his hands, he went to the nightstand removing a knife, cream and Ben Wa balls from the drawer. He knelt on the bed between her legs preparing to slice the clothes from her body.
“Let me go... fuck... let me go”

“No, little one. Try to relax. You’ll enjoy it eventually, I promise. I’d rather not gag you, but will if you insist on whining. Now, don’t move or you’ll hurt yourself.”

What the hell is he doing? Sabrina wondered, as she felt his hands slide firmly up her thighs. With one flick of the wrist her dress lay in pieces around her. The rise and fall of those perfect breasts mesmerized him. Sabrina shivered, her nipples hardening inside her nude lacebrassiere. He had to see her bare.

He cut her bra, and she gasped, feeling her nipples get harder. His hands were cupping her breasts, the pads of his thumbs teasing the pink tips. It’s not supposed to feel good, she kept thinking, making it her prayer, her mantra.

She was fighting him again, and Dominic didn’t like it. He knew he would have to use the balls and the cream before she would submit to him.

“Sabrina, you must not fight me.”

“I don’t know you. You can’t do this to me.”

“I am doing this to you, and you’ll be begging me to make love to you before the night is over.”

“Hah!! Make love? This isn’t love.”

Sabrina‘s attitude was making him very angry. “You will love it”; the words were forced and clipped. He got louder. “You will love me, damn it, and, you will be begging for my cock to fuck you. Now let’s see where his new home is.”

Sabrina tugged at her bonds, bucking her hips. “Fuck you! I will never beg you. NEVER!” Sabrina was still screaming when she felt him rip her flimsy panties off her pussy.

“Well, well, well, Sabrina, what do we have here?” He cupped her bare cunt roughly, then started stroking it lightly. The sensation soothed him.

“You will beg me, Little One, mark my words. You will beg me.” He pushed his finger deeply inside her and smiled as she jerked clamping down on it.

“Your body is begging me already.” Dominic removed his finger and sucked the juice from it.

“I hate you”

“Don’t say things you will regret later, Sabrina.” He smiled and smeared the cream over her pussy lips.

She wondered if he was right.

Dominic grinned then dipped his head and bit her nipple. When she cried out he pushed the two balls inside her, then slapped her thigh.

She reacted with a sudden jerk, then felt them. "Ohhhhhh... OHhhh... my GOD... what ?” The balls were teasing inside her causing a flush to spread across her skin. When the cream started heating her pussy lips, she knew it was a losing battle.

“Please don’t do this to me.”

Ignoring her, he massaged cream into her nipples, tugging them once in awhile causing her hips to buck and moans to spill from her lips. He lowered his body onto hers and she realized he was naked. She squirmed against him, the balls inside her making her skin deliciously sensitive.

Dominic pressed her into the bed, kissing her neck, sucking her collarbone. She was moaning. He knew she needed his cock, and it was ready for her. “Tell me, Little One. Tell me what I want to hear.”

Sabrina couldn’t think; she could only feel. She was all nipples, clit and cunt. His hard cock was imprinting her skin like a signet ring in wax.

She wanted it inside her, in her bare little cunt. He slid cream soaked fingers against her clit, swirling the little nubbin until she surged against his touch.

“Please, Sabrina, please say the words and we will cum together.”

Her arousal was almost painful. She broke. “Please, Please fuck me... I need your cock. Please!” Sabrina was begging for release.

When he drove his cock into her cunt it was in one hard thrust. he metal balls swirled against him as he rocked inside her, urged on by her screams. He slipped his hand between their bodies and rubbed her slick little clit. Her pussy throbbed around him, squeezing, releasing. She was cumming and he felt it gush around his cock and down his balls. She groaned when he took is dick from her cunt, came again when he drove it into her ass, rocking the balls in her cunt. Sabrina was his.

Dominic slid his dick from her ass and wrote “My Sab” on her stomach in perfect calligraphy.

 

[Marxist]

Story Number 7

INTO THE BLUE

She strode through the transit hall at Changi Airport, Singapore, long blonde hair streaming behind her as she cut through the crowds. The five hour flight had been tiring; plane seats really are made for midgets, she thought. Spotting the bar, she ordered a vodka tonic and claimed a table. Then, sipping gratefully, she booted her laptop and logged on to Literotica. The pages loaded, and she scanned the General Board hurriedly, looking for his post. There it was. She smiled softly and caught her bottom lip with her teeth as she read his location: Waiting in Changi. Suddenly, the Private Message notification popped up, startling her. Quickly, she switched screens and opened the message. It was from him, and was brief: “Transfer limousine leaves 14.30. Room 216, Airport Hotel. Booked under Signet.”.

Her heart raced, her blood pumped. This was it. Months of flirting, weeks of cybering, a couple of stolen phone calls from opposite ends of the globe. But, always words, never pictures. Never flesh, never real. She preferred it that way, though he knew what she looked like. But now… this. Two separate people, coincidental travel plans. She, flying one way; he, the other. By twist of fate, a mutual lay-over for 6 hours in Singapore. How could they not meet? For a moment, she wavered, anxious to avoid injuring the status quo of their current relationship. Then, with a toss of her head, she decided. She snapped her laptop shut, gathered her hand luggage and was gone, hurrying away to meet her on-line lover.

The hotel room was cool and dim, curtains drawn against the brightness of the day. The ceiling fan swirled lazily overhead, stirring the humid air and cooling drops of nervous perspiration beading on her skin. She had blindfolded herself, and dressed in a sheer negligee. Deprived of sight, her ears strained for the slightest sound or movement that would indicate his presence.

Then, a click. Footsteps sounded, muffled by thick carpet. She rose to greet him, and he was upon her instantly, tracing his fingers over her face, scraping his nails lightly against her pale skin. “Beautiful girl, I’ve waited so long for this,” he muttered, his words vibrating against the hollow of her throat. She strained to meet his touch, mewling, instantly wet, aching for him.

“Be still,” he commanded, silencing her greeting with long, deep kisses. His tongue flicked and intertwined with hers, while his hands played over her ass, cupping, caressing, pulling her soft curves against his male hardness, torching flames of desire through her. Suddenly, he pulled away. She reeled from the shock of separation, sounds of their ragged, feral breathing filling the room, echoing with mutual desire. “Good girl for wearing your blindfold,” he crooned, as he gently stroked her cheek. Then, she gasped in pleasure as he fondled her full breasts through the gauzy fabric of her negligee, twisting and rolling her nipples in his fingers.

“Undress me,” he ordered suddenly, guiding her hands to his chest. She unbuttoned his shirt greedily, fumbling in her haste. She traced her hands over his chest, feeling roped muscles taut beneath rough skin. Next, his pants, struggling with his belt buckle, fingers shaking as she took down his zip. Slowly, she sank to her knees in front of him, trailing her lips and tongue over his flesh, dragging her nails down his broad back. She teased the waistband of his boxers with her fingers, hearing him groan as she pulled his shorts down, releasing his thick, hard cock.

Hands cupping his firm ass, she pulled him toward her, lightly touching her moist pink tongue against the tip of his member. She groaned as he buried his hands in her hair, pulling her face into him, urging her to suck, lick, taste him. Hungrily closing her lips around the head of his cock, she sucked him into her warm mouth, deeper and deeper until he hit the soft back of her throat, filling her mouth with his hardness.

She was completely aroused now, her pussy juices flowing and her nipples hard against the sheer material of her negligee. Craving his cock to satisfy her lust for him, she moved her head back and forth slowly, then with increasing urgency, running her tongue along the underside of his shaft as his cock pumped in and out of her mouth. Still blindfolded, she couldn’t see his face contorted in ecstasy as he fucked her mouth, feeding as much of himself to her as possible. He felt his orgasm building as she pleasured him, her tongue licking and stroking him, her teeth grazing lightly over his shaft, the suction of her mouth drawing him further and further inside, her hands grabbing and clutching at his ass to keep balance as he rocked her back and forth on her knees. He exploded into her mouth suddenly, spilling his seed over her lips and tongue, and flooding her throat. “Drink it, baby, drink it,” he groaned, as she swallowed, capturing as much of his essence as possible.

Desperate for pleasure now, she rose to her feet and felt blindly for him. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, his cum still glistening on her face. He caught her arms gently, yet firmly, leading her to the bed. “Not so fast, little one,” he murmured, laying her on the bed. “We have plenty of time.” Carefully, he checked her blindfold, making sure it was still secure. Then, spooning her into him, her back pressed against his front, they settled, their frenzied heartbeats slowly returning to normal. Talking softly, wrapped in one another, they acquainted themselves in real-time, no longer at the mercy of unpredictable Internet connections or crackling cell phones lines. And, just as their virtual-life connection wound silken strands around them so many weeks before, so they bonded in real-life in the midst of quiet whispers, gentle recollections and stolen kisses that clung to their skin like saffron.

Gradually, as their touches became increasingly urgent, languid affection turned to passion once more. Following the sweeping curves of her body, he trailed his hands over her, touching and reveling in her soft skin and molding her against him. Aching for him, she pressed against him, silently urging him on, parting her legs slightly as his hands moved ever lower. He slipped one hand gently between her legs, seeking her heat, her warmth, her wetness. Sliding over her wet pussy folds, he delved further, taunting her with his touch. The first feeling of his fingers against her hyper sensitive clit shocked her and sent her spiraling into paroxysms of pleasure. Simultaneously, he brushed over her breasts and nipples with his other hand, tweaking and teasing.

Caught in his arms, he was all over her, pleasuring her slowly and deliberately as she writhed against him, needing more and more of him. She could feel his hard cock pressing into her back now, and she craved it inside her, filling her. “Do you want me inside you?” he whispered, as his fingers slipped inside her, fondled her nipples, his lips and teeth nipping at the back of her neck, driving her higher and higher. “Yes,” she sobbed, almost crying as her need for him became blissfully unbearable.

Penetration, when it came, was long and slow and relentless as he pushed into her wet pussy from behind, spreading her open as she writhed on his cock. Impaled, she moaned as she urged him deeper and deeper, bucking against him as he fucked her, his fingers still playing on her juice soaked clit. He increased his pace now, wanting to fill her completely, thrusting into her over and over, harder and harder as she gasped for air. Then, together, they were cumming, pushed over the edge as their senses crashed around them like shattering glass, her pussy contracting like a vice around his cock as he flooded her with stream after stream of cum, groaning against her neck as he did. Crying helplessly, she collapsed against him, allowing the waves of passion to rock over them, swallowing them, drowning them.

Later, much later, she awoke alone to the sound of her cell phone alarm, warning of her impending flight’s departure. The once crisp sheets were tangled about her body, the scent of sex hanging heavy in the humid air, traces of their passion crackling on her thighs. Removing the blindfold, she leapt from the bed, showered, and quickly dressed. In a whirl, she left the room, anxiously hurrying back to reality. As the door clicked closed, a scrap of unnoticed paper and a passport photograph, disturbed by the sudden activity, floated from the dresser and settled on the floor.

His calligraphy on paper, remained unread. His face, captured mechanically, remained unseen. But the silken strands that connected them, first in virtual life and now in real life, remained.

 

[Marxist]

sex is not intoxicating...i swear

 

[TN_Vixen]

I read them all - very very good!

*applauding* It was hard to choose, but I thought the wonderful imagination of Writer #2 deserved the vote. I loved Joubert. (smile)

 

[Marxist]

I'm gonna go to bed now. And don't worry about the formatting, I'll keep trying to get it right.

 

[Wiggles]

<snip>

Fantastic work everyone.

*Bravo* to all.

 

[Natalie Nessus]

I loved allWhy you do not write I am amazed

My favourire is a secret

 

[Summery]

Applauds everyone's contribution.
Great work.
Off to vote now...........

 

[Cotedebeaune]

my vote is cast.......but you all deserve an accolade

 

[KillerMuffin]

*bump*

 

[Marxist]

Nikka-Costa-shaking-her-hips-so-hard-the-roof-falls-in *BUMP*

 

[Andreina]

*bump*

 

[Guest]

Number 2 is so good you would think it's the work of a pro. Awesome stories all around. But number 2 is stronly my favorite.

 

[seXieleXie]

¿? ¡!

 

[Andreina]

*running through the thread naked* WoHoo!!
Halo

 

[Cherry]

Great job, authors. They were all very enjoyable.

Btw, I didn't feel that the stories were too long to read with the added allowed word length. I would say, just about right.

I did prefer the links layout in the first post used in the first contest though. It was a little bit more difficult to scroll through the previously read stories when not able to read them all in one sitting.

We all appreciate your efforts, Marx.

My vote is in.

 

[Andreina]

<<< bumpedy bump >>>

Halo

 

[christo]

I'm a thing that goes bump in the night...

 

[Juspar Emvan]

Fantastic effort everyone, I'm disapointed I couldn't in good conscience vote for myself.