Now you're thinking with portals.

Silent screams left his throat as he opened, accepting the thick, wet cock inside. The burning prompted swift withdrawal. When it had subsided, he cautiously returned. He resisted rushing, despite the sublime feeling of his engulfing, gripping, consuming arse. Inch by delicious inch, he buried himself in the insane heat of his hole, and moaned high. He started pulsing his hips, thrusting gradually more and more until he was fucking himself with abandon and it felt so good he couldn't hold back. He felt the hot, silky gush and gasped.

Aperture Science had a new line of sex toys.

Excerpt from "Moving Out", my imminent novella...

Verity’s room faced south west, and the room warmed every day until it made a fair sauna. Together with the mild exercise of lifting and carrying, Màiri felt sweat trickling down her neck, making her shudder. She looked down and saw that she was sweating through her garments.

“This weather is trying to kill me. I’m going to go and change into a tank top.”

“Mind if I take this off?” he asked, plucking his soaked shirt away from his body.

“Go ahead,” she said, walking past him to the door. In her peripheral vision, she saw his body revealed as he yanked his shirt over his head. He had been working out. His muscles bunched under his pale skin; his body wasn’t fatless enough to show striations, but enough to send a shiver up her neck. His chest was thickly haired, like his arms, and his left shoulder was covered with an elaborate tattoo she had only seen glimpses of before. And, his right nipple was pierced with a titanium ring.

She closed the door behind her, and leaned against it for a moment, biting her lip. Up till that point, clearing Verity’s room had been fairly straightforward, but if he was planning on working topless, that might change. Instead of going straight to her room, she jumped into the shower and turned on the cold water full blast. It had the opposite effect to that intended; her half hard nipples leapt out, tingling with sensation, whereas the heat conserved within her intimate folds contrasted with the freezing sensation over the rest of her skin, making her superlatively aware of that part. She briefly considered a liaison with the showerhead, but decided to get out and dressed as fast as possible.

In her room, she chose a tank top and workout shorts. Though she had gained a few pounds over the exam season, by self medicating her stress with Tunnock’s Caramel Wafers, they hung attractively on her breasts and bottom. She walked back to Verity’s room blithely, not realising that her subconscious had clad her in the most provoking outfit her wardrobe had to offer.

When she returned, his gaze lingered a little longer than normal, before he glanced away, blushing. Initially she felt embarrassed when she realised how much her clothes revealed; but it faded to smugness when she realised he was diverted by the sight of her scantily clad figure as much as she by him. Silently, they continued with their work, never quite out of each other’s view

She gazed at him. In the sunset glow, the sight of him gave her an unsettling feeling of seeing beauty in something she thought she had known, but had never examined very carefully before. His hair was as dark as a raven's wing and gleamed in the sun's slanting rays; his long and lean and sleek body, biceps peaking tightly, indicating strength out of all proportion to size. He had arranged himself, whether by accident or design, in such a way that the firmness of his torso resembled a Classical statue, with his Adonis' belt diving cleanly under the waistband of his shorts. That unexpected ring caught the light and winked at her. He caught her eye and smiled at her, matched the incline of her head and asked,
"Do you like what you see?"
"Hmm?" Màiri blushed as he shocked her from her reverie.
"I mean, I can put my shirt back on if I’m distracting you..."
"That's quite all right."
"It's really no problem, if you're having trouble concentrating..."
"Shut up!"  
He grinned and did so.

Slowly, they broke down the pile of stuff into orderly stacks. Dan put on shoes and a shirt and took the binbags down to the bins; while Màiri took another shower. This time she didn’t ignore the showerhead’s siren song. Her body felt unusually alive and tingly, from being exposed to the air and her flatmate’s discreet ogling. She moved it up and down her body, varying between holding it high and low, experimenting with focussing the spray or letting it fall harder, assisted by gravity.. Presently she began to focus the spray on her tits, by far the most erogenous part of her. She leaned back on the wall and ran the spray up and down her belly, letting it splash on her pussy momentarily, before going back to her tits. The spray spent more and more time on her clit, and she spread her legs wider as she got closer to orgasm.

She came with her back arched up, the spray pulsing deliciously on her arsehole like a hundred tiny tongues, her fingers on her clit and her hard nipples rubbing against the cold tiles.

When she emerged, feeling fully refreshed, Dan had slunk back into his room again. She shrugged and went to her room. The place was in total disarray. Usually the sight of it made her want to cry, but now she felt relaxed. After cleaning Verity’s room, anything seemed possible. She popped downstairs for the binbags, and started sorting through items to be trashed, recycled, donated or kept. As the binbags grew fatter, she felt calmer. She hadn’t realised that creating order out of her chaotic belongings could have a parallel effect on her mind. When she collapsed into bed, she felt completely calm. Until her thoughts returned to her flatmate, whom she could hear moving around next door.

The shower scene from my upcoming short, "Bending over the Rugby Boy"

[I have removed this excerpt, as the KDP Select Programme demands exclusivisity. I'll return it as soon as I'm allowed. Until then, perhaps Strap on Vignette will be to your taste.]

Bending over the Rugby Boy is out now on Amazon!

Tech Support

I pride myself on being reasonably tech savvy, but this particular problem had me admitting defeat. My network access had been spotty for the last couple of hours, and had finally crapped out just as I needed to submit the report. Fucking typical that it would happen at this time of night, just when I wanted to go home and forget about it for a blessed few hours. I picked up the phone, without much hope of an answer, and dialed tech support.

“Hi, tech support, Andy speaking?” I was surprised and not a little delighted by the voice I heard. Firstly, it wasn’t the usual respondent, the unfunny idiot who insisted on repeating the catchphrase from The IT Crowd every. single. time. Secondly, Andy’s warm, deep, voice always grabs my interest on a non work related level.

“Hi there, I’ve been having trouble connecting to the...”

“I’ll be right over.” Despite myself, I checked my appearance in the dim reflection of my phone.

Andy loped into the room, his toned biceps stretching the sleeves of his ironic t shirt. I seemed to recall him talking about sports, rock climbing or snowboarding or something glamourous with a high injury rate like that. We caught eyes and his face crinkled charmingly as he flashed his white teeth at me. His dark red hair was cropped short, and his sideburns extended a little further than most guys wear them, sitting in between his earlobe (with modest sized tunnels) and sharp, scruff covered jawline. He hadn't turned around yet, but I can close my eyes any time I want and see his lovely arse encased in his tight jeans. He looked as confident and fit as any jock, but the triforce tattoo on his bicep and his encyclopaedic knowledge of Star Trek belied his true geekdom.

“So, what was the issue again?” he asked.

“I can’t connect to the network. I’ve tried reconnecting, rebooting, all the obvious stuff. It started getting a little flaky about half three/four, now I’m just getting nothing.” I don’t want him to think I’m some sort of idiot. I also want him to get the salient info before he renders me speechless with those green eyes. I stand up and let him have a look. As I move out from behind my desk, our bodies brush for an instant. I feel his heat, and the firmness of him, against me. I try and remember the feeling, to call back for later. Did he pause for a second there? Or did I? I stand to the side, trying to conceal my blush.

He sat, and after lowering the seat several inches, he started clicking around. I saw him purse his lips and open up a command prompt window. I felt reassured; I’m not much of a programmer, but if the issue needed that level of tinkering, I couldn’t be a total dunce.

“Right, let’s have a check behind here.” He gets up. This time, the brushing is no accident. I feel his hips on the small of my back, his breath on my neck. His arm brushes mine, and we catch each others’ eye. He lifts his eyebrows a fraction, then squatted down. I sat, modestly crossing my legs.

He gazed up from the shadows beneath my desk, and grinned. He looked a little scary from that angle. His teeth are actually a little larger than normal if you look closely, and the canines point a more than the rest. Together with his lean face and his position, emerging from the dark, he looked positively eldritch.

“Found your problem.” He held up the end of a network cable.

“It was unplugged‽ But how...” I paused, remembering my habit of swinging on my chair when I’m bored.Pushing back on the computer tower for support, swinging back and forth... yeah, that would probably do it.

“This will be a fun one to log. I’ll file it under P. “Problem exists between chair and keyboard.”

“Fuck off!” I kick at him, and he sniggers and grabs my feet, one by one. Realising I’m trapped, I continue pushing him with my legs. He slides his hands up my calves, up my hips while slowly standing up, finally standing resting them on the wall behind me. I’m eye level with Lego Mr T. My gaze flashes downward rather than up. He doesn’t appear to be hard yet, but I can tell he has a lot to fit into those vintage Wranglers. Then he taps the side of my face, and I look up, seeing his face inches from mine. He inclines his head to the side, silently asking. I reply equally silently, touching my lips to his. At first, he answers the lightness of that initial touch, then pushes his finger through the back of my head, lightly grabbing my hair as he intensifies the kiss. He slowly lowers himself onto my lap and pulls me close. He is heavy on me but I like it. I can feel him grinding against  me lightly, his lips fluttering petal soft on mine as he tugs my hair. God, he’s making me so hot, this blend of animalism and tenderness. I pull away from him and kiss his neck, and pull his shirt down with my finger, kissing between his clavicles. His whole body stiffens, and I feel his bulge lurching inside his jeans. I take my cue and continue kissing his neck, graduating to kisses and bites. As I sink in my teeth, he moans and starts bucking his hips. I return to his lips and he starts to flicker his tongue into my mouth.

My whole body feels hot, and I want more. I kiss him some more, delicately, then abruptly push his chin upwards and bite his neck. Hard. I don’t restrain him in any way as he pulls my hair even harder, and kisses me again, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches for my tit and squeezes, a little too hard, before pinching my hard nipple through the fabric. Now it’s my turn to lose control, pushing my hips against his, feeling the heat of his cock through his trousers.

He yanks up my dress, slipping his hand down the front of my leggings and burying his fingers in my slit. He starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, hard and fast. It feels good, but I know it will just end up hurting if he continues.

“More like this...” I whisper in his ear, swirling my fingers on his neck the way that I like to touch myself. He complies, and I begin to moan like him. He bends down to suck and bite my nipples through my dress. I’ve never been terribly fast to cum, so it’s a shock when I do, bucking and moaning and even squirting a little into my knickers.

Shivering, I reach for his waistband, below which I can see his cock clearly outlined. I stroke it and feel its heat. Suddenly inspiration strikes and I unbutton my dress, slipping off the top half and then removing my bra. It feels a bit unreal, being topless in the office. His eyes are riveted to my tits (I must say, I don’t blame him one bit). I take the little bottle of moisturiser I keep on my desk and pour a generous amount between them, then scoot down so that I knelt, leaning backwards with my back on the seat. It’s his turn to be an exhibitionist. I unbutton him and free him from his too tight underwear. His hair is darker here, more of an auburn. He instantly understands what I’m thinking about and pushes my breasts around his cock to form a slippery channel. The sight of his cock head, slipping in and out between my tits, makes me wet all over again. I smile up at him and flicker my tongue out to touch his head, hoping to make him cum before too long. I don’t know when the cleaners come, exactly.

He shoots over my decollete, with a small drop landing on my chin. I lick it off, gazing into his half closed eyes, then reach for some tissues. He steps away, almost shy now, and zips up.

“Well, I’m off home now. But be sure to call me again if you have any issues.” He winks and leaves. I lean back, suddenly conscious of the smell of sex in the air.

Just before I shut down, I see a new .txt file, right in the middle of the desktop, named Open Me. I obey. Inside is a mobile phone number... and a url to a reddit profile. I email the file to myself and hurry out the door. I know better than to open it on my work computer. My mind flashes back to that discussion we had about Ladybonersgw and my heart starts racing again.

Not for the usual reason, I can’t wait to get home.

Dreamy Teacher

Seeing him rocketed my heart into my throat, the same as all those years ago. He looked different in the details: shaggier hair, a tattoo that either hadn’t been there before (or covered by shirtsleeves in the classroom) but the tight arse, slim waist and hard, broad shoulders, were the same, even ten years later. Back then, as a shy sixteen year old, his encouraging my daily piano practice at school embarrassed me beyond belief. My cheeks remained reddened at the thought of him, even after I left school, though the reason why evolved. I wasn’t used to male attention, and certainly not that of a beautiful, fully grown man, without the teenage silliness present in even the coolest of my peers.

But that was back then— I moulted that skin, to become a journalist, barging backstage to interview an up and coming band. Of which he— my dreamy teacher, the cause of frenetic practise to please him,the subject of many a breath stopping late night fantasy— was the drummer.

“Hi, I’m here to do the interview? I’m Amy from Crossbeam.” At least my voice sounded confident. He turned, and fixed his eyes, stunningly blue even in this low light, on mine. His eyebrows raised a fraction, and his face cracked into a lopsided grin.

“Hey, I know you! Mrs Bach!” His old, old nickname for me, given in honour of the hours I’d spent trying to wrap my fingers around the man from Eisenach’s fugues. My heart lurched again, seemingly loose from its proper moorings. He extended his hand, clasping mine briefly, then called the rest of the band over.

“Guys, this is one of my pupils from back in the day, here to do the interview. I am so fucking old.”

“That’s a good wee pull quote,” I said, pulling out my dictaphone.

The interview went smoothly. The band said nothing untoward. Evidently they had become enough of a big deal to have been given some media training. Once I’d finished, they zoomed off to get ready for the show. But Mr Chester (or Mike, as I tried to remember to call him) stayed with me.

“You know, it’s really good to see you again. It’s students like you who helped me cope with being a teacher.”

“Um... thanks.” I felt myself blush, every bit as red as teenage me. “You were definitely one of my favourite teachers. You showed me that being an adult didn’t have to be absolutely fucking miserable.” I felt humiliated as soon as it came out of my mouth, but he didn’t seem shocked. In fact he looked like he understood.

“Well, I need to get going. Are you staying for the show?”

“I don’t have a ticket.”

“Fuck that. You can watch from behind the stage. Got a press pass or anything?”

“Not exactly...” My magazine was somewhat of a fly-by-night operation.

“Well... if anyone asks, just say you’re my girlfriend.” He smirked and pulled me in for a hug. It felt... I don’t even have words. I felt like a desert being rained on for the first time in a decade, only more so. Soon blood not only suffused my cheeks, but every part of me. I wondered if he could feel the changes he was causing, which made me blush more. Then he pulled back, and softly kissed my forehead. “If anyone asks, I’ll back you up.” He walked off, waving cheerily. I just stood there dumbly.

But soon, their set started. The frontman strode on, arms up, charisma leaking from every orifice, but I had only eyes for the lean, dark man behind the drumkit. He wore a short sleeved checked shirt over a white tank top. He soon dispensed with the former. His sweaty, tattooed arms gleamed in the harsh stage lights, the light flickering with his movements, ranging from a hummingbird flutter on the snare to Thor-like strikes on the toms. I knew I should be taking in the whole band, making notes to round out my interview, but I couldn’t. Certainly the other musicians were more than competent, but I had eyes only for him. Seeing the band in reverse like this, with the drummer to the fore, made them seem like they were there to back him.

Photo credit: Amir Kuckovic

Having his rhythm pulse through me felt unutterably erotic.

When they had finished— after an encore, before which he swigged water from a bottle I handed him, and peeled off his sweat soaked vest— he bounced over to me. “We’re going round to Pete’s for some bevvies. Coming?” This one hour assignment had turned into an all night affair, but I had no complaints.

Back at Pete’s, we all had a few drinks, and more than a few spliffs, rolled by the bassist’s nimble fingers. Mike pretended to be shocked when I put one to my lips, then raised his eyebrows, impressed, when I blew out a couple of smoke rings. I smiled and passed to him. He inhaled deeply and breathed out to the ceiling, leaning back on the sofa cushions, his body sprawling into my space. I tried to screw my journalist head back on, taking mental notes on the guitarist’s self absorption, the bassist’s quiet virtuosity, and the way the singer clearly thought he had me entranced. Some bands seem to just love fitting the stereotypes. But the man beside me had my full attention. Together with the weed smoke and the way he magnetised my focus to him, I doubted I’d have any memories beyond what I had on the dictaphone to write my article with.

It was late, and I had a temping shift the next day. I excused myself.

“Where do you stay?” Mike said. I named an area of the city. “Want to share a cab?”

I told the taxi driver my location, and then Mike added his. He slumped against me, humming their encore song into my shoulder. I put my arm round him and smiled. Somehow, I didn’t think he would be making it to his house.

“So how did you end up here?” he said into my flesh, his voice sticky with smoke and whisky and... lust? His hand had found its way to my hip.

“It’s a long story.” I steeled myself. “Want to come up for a bit and hear it?”

His head lifted off my shoulder, his face a request for confirmation. I nodded, barely, and took his hand. I pushed the fare through the taxi driver’s window and thanked him; then I led my prize up the stairs before he could ask any questions about the second destination.

“Amy.” he said, as we entered. “I’m not sure about this.”

“Not sure about what?” I opened my eyes wide and fluttered my lashes. “I thought I was going to tell you how I ended up in journalism?” He glanced at his feet and chuckled,  then looked around taking in my studio flat. It’s tiny, but all my own.

“Nice place.”

“I like living alone. Want anything to drink?” I went to boil the kettle, feeling the need for hydration rather than more intoxicants. I threw a peppermint tea bag in a mug and looked over at him expectantly.

“Uh, water. Thanks.” Where was his rock n’ roll swagger now? I had to put him at ease quickly, if I planned to fulfill the dream of a lifetime.

“Mike. I get it, I really do. I used to be your pupil. There’s a barrier in your head. But I’m twenty six now. I have grey hairs and back pain. I’m sure you knew I fancied you back then. But now I’m old enough to do something about it. You didn’t invite yourself up here; I did.”

“I thought you were going to tell me how you got into journalism?” He grinned at me wolfishly. I walked across the room with my tea and his water and sat next to him on the sofa.

“Well. I did a degree in...” He leaned over and softly kissed me, his silky lips barely making contact with mine. My hands twined themselves through his hair. My palms felt hungry for the feel of his skin. His fingers stroked up my belly to my tits, stroking my nipples, then withdrawing, touching, withdrawing... I moaned through his lips, and swung a leg over him, connecting my core with his through our clothing. He gently parted his lips from mine and laughed.

“You like that?”

“Evidently.”

Photo credit: Karyn Cullen

I had worn rather a low cut top, which made it easy for him to pull it down, exposing me. His mouth began to tease my nipple, flickering his tongue, squeezing lightly with his teeth, before pulling back to kiss my lips again. My tortured nipple stood out, the wetness from his mouth chilling it and making it even harder. My hips began to move against his. I felt the hardness I had prompted below me, grinding on my pussy, which made me near-mad with lust. I pushed his head back down to my nipple, as guttural, animal noises ripped from my throat. Usually, I’m the tease, the one who has the male begging for the next morsel of relief. But I had waited ten years for this. I didn’t have the patience.

“I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to promise not to kill me.” I looked down at his flushed face, into his dilated pupils. “Are you sure about this. We’re both pretty high...”

“Mike... I’ve been thinking of this night for ten years. It’s definitely not just the weed.” He seemed satisfied by that, and got back to alternately teasing my nipples, leaving me guessing as to whether he would bite, or blow, or suck... I began to feel my clothes as unbearable constraints, and stood to ease them off. He watched intently, but not as closely as I watched him. His charisma made him seem to occupy a larger space and draw more attention than a normal man. I didn’t blame my seventeen year old self for being maddened by him. I owed him a great deal (not counting my Grade 8 Merit pass in piano). His aura had wound itself around my life, exhorting me to push a little harder and further in everything I did, always with my goal in mind. Perhaps, this evening, I would begin to repay him a little.

I removed all my clothes, but when I began to pull my underwear towards the floor, he signalled to leave them on. I nodded, then leaned over, unbuttoning his shirt, which he shrugged off, then knelt between his knees and unbuttoned his jeans. I looked at his face; at first he seemed impassive, then he gave me that damned lopsided grin. I smiled back and pulled them down a little, at once releasing his hardened, precum-moistened cock. I touched my tongue to the tip, my eyes still riveted to his. His lips had parted a little, and his breath had quickened. “Let’s see how much he likes being teased.” I thought.

I swirled my tongue round the head, collecting every salty-tangy drop of his fluids, then engulfed him in my mouth. He pulled his jeans down further, letting me stroke his balls and allowing an experimental finger beneath. My eyes had closed, making the situation seem a little more unreal. Here was my hot-ass teacher, on my sofa, and here I was in front of him, delivering the best blowjob of my life so far. I dismissed my uncertainly of reality as unimportant, wetting my finger in my mouth and stroking round the rim of his arse. I could feel him clenching and releasing, and mirrored the rhythm with my cunt. I sucked him lazily. I didn’t want him to cum, not yet.

I pulled away, and took his hand. I led him to the bed, where he took off his jeans entirely and peeled away his socks.

“See how wet you’ve made me?” I guided his hand to my cunt, allowing him to slip his blunt fingers between my lips. His fingers wandered inside me, curling in and pushing against my G spot. I spasmed around them, and weakened, moving from a kneeling position to a supine one. His musician’s fingers stroked up, under the soaked fabric of my underwear, to where my clit throbbed, echoing the hardness of his cock. He pulled his hand away, and I moaned with frustration. He licked my juices off his fingers, taking his cock in his hand and wanking to my taste. Then he kissed me again, not teasingly like before, but fucking my mouth with his tongue, smearing his pussy flavoured lips over mine, mingling my juice with his precum in my mouth. Then he returned to my core, pulling my underwear roughly down my thighs and sucking hard on my clit, before rolling his tongue over it. I felt his fingers inside me again, first the index, then the first two, then the index and pinkie... he experimented with combinations while his tongue laved over me.

Then, he started to tease my nether orifice just as I had done to his, circling it with a finger damp with my own juices before slipping one in, then another. My arse is so sensitive it’s like flicking a light switch inside me; before long I was cumming in his face. He kept licking and finger fucking me until my convulsions subsided, then knelt back, grabbed his jeans and pulled a condom from the pocket. He sheathed himself and placed his tip at my entrance. He filled me slowly, my eyes closing with bliss before opening wide at shock at how full I felt. It’s odd how it can be hard to judge the girth of a man before feeling him inside.

“So... thick...” I managed to gasp, before he started fucking me properly. At first his pace was leisurely, but soon his hips were bucking wildly as he fucked his way to his own orgasm. I grabbed his bum and pulled him into me deeper, hungry for that feeling of being stretched almost too wide. It didn’t take him long. His face looked almost pained as he came, my cunt tingling deliciously as though his orgasm was being passed nerve to nerve.

He lay on me for a long moment, panting, then rolled off to lie at my side. Our hands found each other.

Sunbathing

His broad, golden skinned chest had warmed in the sun, pinkening somewhat. Dumb bastard never put on sunscreen. I grab my own bottle and he rolls his eyes and smirks. I swing my bare leg over him, and squeeze some gloopy factor 50 into my palm. I begin to smooth it into his chest. I felt the heat of his skin on my legs; it reminded me  of sunbathing on smooth, sun warmed rocks as a child in Finland. Just above the fork of my legs, I saw him twitch a little under his shorts. He likes it when I’m brazen. We are in our back garden, with its 6 foot modesty fence, so I can afford to be so. Assuming the neighbours aren’t watching though their back windows.

I continue to lotion his chest, savouring the feel of his firm, strong muscles under the skin, and the roughness of his hair against my palms. My hands find his nipples in their travels; I apply more lotion and move my palms in circles over them, before moving on to his broad shoulders and his neck. Now I really have his attention; if there’s one thing he likes more than nipple play, it’s attention to his neck. It’s funny, I thought that was a girl thing before I met him. It goes to show how silly stereotyping can be. His cock is fully, unconcealably erect, and I fancy I can see a spot of precum soaking through the fabric of his straining shorts.

He takes the bottle of lotion himself, now, and pours a generous amount into his own palms. He reciprocates my attentions, lotioning my décolleté and shoulders, then working it into my upper back. Suddenly I feel a release of tension around my back, and my bikini top slips down my arms. He pulls it off fully and smiles slow and broad as he squeezes the lotion into his palms. It feels cold on my nipples, and I feel the blood rush into them as they erect. I feel deliciously exposed like this, although, as I mentioned, it’s unlikely anybody can see us.

Much as I’m enjoying his attentions, I crave something more. I pull off his shorts, freeing his cock from its constraints. It springs up, gleaming in the sun. Though we’ve been together for some time now, I still get caught off guard by the sight of it; golden skin, a little darker than the rest of him, a dripping wet ruby head, and so thick around I can’t quite clasp it in my hand. I pull off my bikini bottom now, and see how wet he has made me already. He pulls off his shorts the rest of the way and puts his hands on my waist, just where my hips flare out from my body, and locks his dark eyes to mine. He bites his lip in the way that sends a flutter throughout my body.

I position his tip at my opening, and take him inside me; but he grabs my hips and forces me to take the rest of him at an infuriatingly slow pace. My breath hisses out as his thick cock fills me up; reaching deep inside and touching that spot inside me that brings tears to my eyes.

I begin to rock my thighs, barely thrusting an inch, grinding my swollen clit against his pubic bone. He tolerates this for a time, that same lazy smile on his face, but suddenly his face darkens and he grabs me again, increasing the rhythm and depth until he’s pounding me and I’m biting my lips to stay quiet. His fingers lock around my nipples, pulling, squeezing and making me feel like I might cum on the spot. Finally I can take no more and pull away, mounting his face instead. His expert tongue does its work, while his thick fingers work their way into my arse, well lubricated by my cunt juices. The combination of his tongue and fingers cause a tingly orgasm, like bubbles of pleasure rising to my skin and bursting. I manage to keep quiet, apart from a loud gasp after its passing.

Now I’ve had mine, he moves me back to his cock. But this time he angles my hips, subtly hinting at what he wants. He’s more than earned it, and I’m sure he prepared me well enough; I grab his slippery cock with one hand and guide it into my arse. His eyes squeeze shut as I carefully take his whole length inside me, and then open to see what he has told me is his favourite sight: my twitching, post orgasmic pussy, with his cock fucking my arse below. This image, together with my fingers on his nipples, make him cum explosively in my arse. He moans aloud as he fills me up. I hold him inside me for a while longer, then lie beside him, naked in the sun.

He gazes over at me and smirks again, his fingers twining in my hair.

Instant messaging tryst

I was waiting for my code to compile. OK, that’s a lie. I had been banging my head against my code for most of the morning trying to iron out the bugs, but new errors kept springing, hydra like, from my corrections. I’d been driven into procrastination. I logged into chat and looked to see who was available.

me:  yo

A small delay, then:

Penny: hey. How’s it going?

me: This code might be the death of me. I’m looking for interesting ways to procrastinate; ideas?

Penny: porn?

me:  Ha ha. Somehow I don’t think that a screenful of mutton flaps would delight my officemates.

Penny: mutton... flaps? :/

me: I could have used a worse synonym. Anyway, I’m bored, entertain me.

Penny: only boring people get bored :p

me: Guilty, I guess...

Penny: sooo.... what have you been up to?

me: Staring at this screen. Forever.

Penny: Did you see the pics from the party on Saturday?

me: Yep. [a fairly tame do at a faculty member’s home; I left early]

Penny: this one?

I clicked, to see Penny as I had never seen her before. Her dark hair soaked and clinging seal-slick to her skin, a little smirk of triumph on her face. Not to mention completely naked. She’s more or less as I pictured her; amber skin covering shapely flesh, her breasts slight in size but each looking like they’d fit into the palm of my hand. I feel blood throb into my cock, and soon I had to adjust my posture to conceal my arousal.

me: no, I haven’t. oh my god.

Penny:  So what happened: I met a guy there who was on the swim team of a rival college.

He started talking shit, then he challenged me to swim a length of the pool underwater

When he came out he’d taken his suit off and started windmilling.

I guess it was all an excuse to get naked.

So I dove in. Did two laps, underwater. Then came out to applause. He didn’t mention nudity as part of the bet, but, well, I thought why not? Getting out of a bikini underwater is more impressive than just taking off your shorts.

Yeah, that pic didn’t make it to facebook.

me: fukcing hell penny...

I usually pride myself on my perfect typing, but she had provoked me beyond reason.

Penny: so, I guess I discovered I’m an exhibitionist... ;)

And I met a couple of other members of his swim team who weren’t douches

me: Yeah?

Penny: and we found a spare bedroom...

Me and the girl 69d while the guy watched for a bit, then he fucked me while she ate me out :)

Ahhh :) afterwards I felt totally relaxed.

The opposite to me, then. I hoped I could transport this erection to the toilets undetected, to get rid of it. Part of my arousal came from picturing Penny behaving so far out of character. She’s usually so quiet and dignified, with an underlying sharp wit I adore. Besides that, up till now, I hadn’t known anything about her. I tucked my cock under my belt where it pulsated insolently, took a breath, and walked towards the bathrooms.

I spotted her after she saw me, striding, swaggering really, to the same destination from the other end of the corridor. The bathrooms in our building are all unisex; stalls each have their own washbasin, connected by a common hallway. So there was nothing unusual about us entering the corridor together, where we stepped unseen into the same cubicle.

My lips and hands seem magnetised towards the woman I had seen in the photograph. I could feel her smiling into the kiss, her hands sliding under my shirt to caress my back. I pushed her against the wall and dug my hard cock into her leg. I knew it would hurt her; I wanted the bitch to see what she’d done to me. She bit my lower lip and pulled away, running her teeth over my flesh, and forced her hand between our bodies, undoing my trousers and pulling my cock free. I reciprocated, by unbuttoning her blouse and yanking down the cups of her bra. Her plum coloured nipples were as hard as my cock, and I drew a satisfying gasp from her as I sucked one into my mouth. The warmth against my lips was delicious. I reached under her conservative, knee length skirt, and stroked her mound under layers of underwear and tights. Her grasp on my cock was driving me mad. I located the beginning of a little hole at the seam of her tights and tore it wider, pulled her knickers aside and slid my fingers between her lips, feeling her heat and wetness, then slid higher to feel her clit throb against my fingertips.

She got the message, straddling me, and pulling a condom out of her cardigan pocket. She sheathed me expertly and stood, manoeuvering the tip of my cock to her opening. I felt myself slowly engulfed in her, her flesh sucking in around me until I was surrounded by her heat. I found her clit with my thumb and closed my eyes, praying I would last long enough to please her. As she began to rock her thighs, she grunted, repositioned my hand a little, and squeaked as though stifling a scream.

When I opened my eyes again, hers had closed. One hand was on her nipple, her other was on my chest, exploring my chest under my shirt, alternately stroking and scratching, pausing to pinch at my own nipple. I pushed her hand away; I was close enough as it was. I began to move my thumb on her clit rather than just allowing her to rock it at her own pace, and was soon rewarded by a quickening of breath. Her cunt squeezed me harder and harder, then I felt her muscles fluttering around me as she gasped and spasmed and ran her nails into my chest. My balls bunched against my body as I took in the sight of her. When I came, I bit my lip so hard to stay quiet that I tasted blood.

She stood, rebuttoned herself, checked herself in the mirror, and smoothed her hair. She glanced down at her ruined tights and simply took them off, putting them in the bin. She smiled at me, cheekily squeezing the tip of her tongue between her teeth, and left, silently, leaving me in the wreckage of my own preconceptions.

I returned to my desk, and entered my password. I realised I had left with the chat log on the screen; I glanced around, but my officemates seemed oblivious to what had happened. I tried to get back to work, and actually made a little progress, but the notification ping sounded again and I rapidly alt-tabbed back to the chat window.

Penny: I’d like that to happen again.

me: most definitely.

Penny: On one condition...

never say “mutton flaps” again.

A harsh proviso, but one I was willing to accept.

Casino

Written in response to a Fiverr request

Clarissa strode through the Moreno's vestibule. She turned quite a few heads as she did so; though beautiful women weren't rare in this exclusive Las Vegas casino, few had Clarissa's gravitas. She was tall (even without her six inch heels) with long, deep red hair cascading to the middle of a smooth, pale back. Her skin there was left bare by a gown which was as subtly glamorous as it was expensive. She walked into the elevator.

"Top floor" she told the gaping doorman.

She gazed at herself in the mirror languidly, her hips rolling ever so slightly with arousal. She had been waiting for him for longer than she would have preferred.

Richard Morano saw her reflection in the penthouse window first, and caught his breath. He turned, to see her standing, smirking before him. He had just enough time to admire her dress before she unhooked it at its halter neck and let it fall to the floor, showing her flawless body wrapped in wisps of lingerie. His jaw dropped a little. She advanced and grabbed his tie, using it to yank him to his feet.

"I hope you're ready for me, Morano." she murmured, and kissed him fiercely, pulling back suddenly and pushing him back onto the bed. She removed the tie from his neck, using it to bind his wrists to the bed, and snarled as she tore open his shirt, pearl buttons scattering over the floor. She kissed him again with lips and tongue and teeth, like a warrioress claiming her battle spoils, scratching her nails down his chest to mark him as hers. Richard was nothing loath to give into her unspoken demands. Though he was powerfully dominant in business, in the bedroom he loved letting a glorious creature like Clarissa take the reins.

She undid his belt, sliding it through the loops and pulling it away, before unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them off with his underwear. His cock sprang free, a drop of precum glistening at its tip, showing his anticipation. Clarissa looped the belt around her hand, pushed the crotch of her underwear to one side and straddled him, absorbing his girthy cock in one stroke. She screamed, scraping her nails down him again, and began riding him, rocking her hips and grinding her clit into his pubic bone. He moaned and began thrusting into her, but it wasn't enough to satisfy her hungry cunt. She slapped his own belt into his thigh and growled, "Fuck me harder, you brute."

Richard fixed his eyes on the beautiful, ferocious nymphomaniac impaled on him, using him like a sex toy for her relief. Her full tits, now freed from her bra, undulated in her hands, her fingers pinching on her pale pink nipples. He could feel his orgasm build up in his balls- it took all his restraint to hold back till she came. When her orgasm hit her, the sensation of her pussy contracting seemed to almost suck the cum out of him, his moans blending with hers.

She stood and stretched, then lay back on the bed, nude but for heels and that damned smirk.

"Draw me a bath." she ordered. The evening had barely begun.

Teased in the shower

I have just enough time to shower and throw on a suit before I start my commute. I’ll have to take breakfast at my desk today. I walk to the bathroom nude and turn the taps, stepping in while it’s still cold and allowing the bracing spray to assist in waking me up. As the shower warms, I fill my palms with lime scented shower gel and lather it across my chest and armpits. My hands are joined by a smaller, darker pair, and I can feel the soft warmth of your tits pushing into the midpoint of my back. You are so much smaller than me, yet you yield so much power. And often, you can be less than ethical in how you use it. I have no doubt that my lateness was what prompted you to leave the bed and follow me.

I open my mouth to protest, but am only able to produce a moan as your nimble fingers pinch at my nipples and your sharp little teeth nibble at my neck. I am suddenly conscious of the hot water streaming over my cock, the jets focusing slowly on the head as it everts. Awareness of my lateness, of time, of most things but you and the water fades away.

You turn to face me. I frown at you, but I can’t bear a grudge against that cute little face, with its huge brown eyes and pouting red lips. Deceptively cute. Your parents named you Mohini, after the trickster goddess who lures the unwary to her bedroom. Were they prescient? I don’t know. You sink to your knees, and engulf my erection in that sweet little mouth. My eyes close, but I force them open to watch you, with one hand gripping my arse and the other sliding between your lips, gathering the dew from your cunt and slicking it over your clit.

Photo credit: Camil Tulcan

I feel a finger slide inside me. My cock twitches when I realise that it’s the finger you had inside yourself, lubricated by your arousal. This is another thing you love because of my initial aversion. You took great delight in corrupting me, making me into the sort of man who will beg for your attentions on my hole. I squeak as your finger reaches its mark. My orgasm feels unbearably close, but you pull your lips away from me, maintaining your attentions with the spray on my tightly clenched balls and your finger on my prostate. I grunt with frustration as my ruined orgasm tingles through me. You smirk up, licking my cum off your lips with your sharp pink tongue. I feel like an addict chasing the intensity of their first high.

Photo credit: Josh Pesavento

I glance at my watch. An hour has passed. I curse under my breath, call a taxi and prepare to inform my boss. I’ll need to think up a good excuse this time. She has begun to comment on my frequent lateness.