#MondaysMuse on The Erotic Writers Group: Challenge Central

#MondaysMuse: Third Person Love

The Challenge

Write a piece in third person narrative.

They had met in highschool and hardly noticed one another. She was a skinny girl with coke bottle glasses and an inability to tame her wild hair who sat behind the most popular boy in the whole school during endless biology lessons conducted by none other than Mr. Bates – or as the school girls called him “Bator”.

He was popular at the school for a lot of reasons. First, his family owned half the town. His father was the mayor, his mother hosted grand banquets and all his brother’s – who were older than him – had these amazing jobs as lawyers and CEO’s. Then, he was a star athlete in the most extreme way that you could imagine. If there was a sport to be played, he was front and center, winning every medal imaginable. You’d never believe it by looking at him, but he had placed first in a ballet competition in Russia and had a dozen medals for professional wrestling.

When they first met, he was a relentless tease. He was incredibly good looking and when he was’t being a total ass, he was quite charming. Girls flocked to him constantly and even though he showed little interest, they just kept coming. Her first memory of him involves the dissection of a lamb’s eye – something she dreaded and he had looked forward to his whole life; it was the reason he was in biology instead of the other science classes taught at this jail cell they call highschool.

Years passed before they would meet again and this time, all the time that made up a life by this point had changed them entirely. He was still ridiculously good looking, although no longer boyish looking at all. Grey hair had creeped into his once dark locks, giving him an air of dignity that was hard to anticipate. He was no longer a successful athlete due to a stinging pain in his knees although his name was well-known from his long running career as such.

She was the most unrecognizable. Years of heartache, break-ups and make-ups gone bad, failures in her personal and professional life and hours wasted crying, left her looking ragged and frazzled beyond repair. Her wild hair, which had always been hard to tame, wiggled around her face in dizzy curls. Her skin was ruddy from too much sun, not enough protection and love and her lips chapped at the corners.

They bumped into each other on the street. He was rushing to the office, a briefcase in one hand and a coffee in the other, talking into the device strapped to his ear. She was off to meet her best friend Ivy for a coffee at the local shop they both spent way too much time at. Neither of them were paying any attention to the world around them and when they collided, his briefcase popped open and his coffee sprayed all over her tattered white dress.

She immediately started making this harsh cooing sound, as the coffee soaked right through the light fabric burning her sensitive nipples in an instant. He swooped down over the papers fleeing from the case, cursing loudly at the pantheon of random deities about his “stupid luck”. The whole street moved around them, as if there were some barrier keeping them from the dramatic scene about to unfold, as the too of them gathered themselves and their belongings.

She stood with her arms raised up by her side, trying to keep the hot fabric still on her hardening nipples. He closed up the briefcase, saying a silent goodbye to the lost charts and pages floating in the wind, and rose to see the white dress stained and clinging to her nipples. She pointed her finger, from it’s raised position, “Hey, I know you, don’t I?”.

He squinted his eyes at her, cocking his head slightly and reached up to brush a wet strand of hair out of her face. “Oh, maybe… I… uhm… I think so…”. She grabbed his waist and pulled him in for a tight hug, “Of course you do, it’s me!” and he felt strange because the girl he thought she was was not the type of girl who would or should hug him and yet, here she was…

She smelt like vanilla to him and her hair crowded his face. Without meaning to, his manhood sprung to life and she cooed at the feel of it against the wet front of her dress. He embraced her slightly tighter and she kissed his cheek as she pulled away. “Do you have somewhere you have to be?”, she asked him rather innocently and he nodded as he gulped, trying to cover himself with his briefcase. “Is it important?”, she implored, her freckled cheeks looking adorable behind her big glasses and wild hair. He just barely shrugged his shoulders and began to open his lips to explain, when she grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her.

They walked rather hurriedly and every time he opened his mouth to ask a question or argue their fleeing with her, she turned and smiled and he forgot that he cared to know. They stopped in the middle of an alley between two tall brick buildings, a narrow curvy street winding between them. She pulled him in tightly again and wriggled against him, enjoying the feel of him through her thin dress.

She shoved him up against the brick wall and began undoing his pants, working his belt out of the front loops and unlatching the button. He seemed to grow and grow as her long fingers worked his length out of his pants. He put his hand in her wild and scraggly hair, feeling much softer than it looked, and pulled her in for a deep kiss and she pressed her body up against his, the front of her dress damp.

She turned away from him and lifted up the back of her dress, revealing nothing but her smooth white ass. He instinctively reached out and grabbed it when he realized that she was already very wet. He quickly rammed his strong cock deep into her and she let out a yelp as he pulled out and thrust deep again. He pulled hard on her hips, thrusting himself into her and she muffled the sounds of her screams in her hands which were firmly clasping around her mouth.

His final thrust was his hardest and her hands fell to the ground to support herself as he half collapsed on her backside shivering, the wall behind him just barely keeping him off the ground. He sunk until he was seated and she moved with him, keeping his shrinking cock inside of her. He closed his eyes trying to piece together what had just happened and she turned herself around to face him.

She stroked his hair as she kissed his forehead, this small crease forming on it from a vein that appeared when he became confused. Her hands traveled through his greying hair and she laid kisses around his nose, down his neck, across his jawbone as the muscles of her pussy gently clenched around him. His hands wrapped about her body and he gently rocked his hips without being aware of his slight actions.

He muttered, “What just… happened…?” and she shook her head, “We’re just getting to know one another, now, aren’t we?”, and he nodded even though he had no idea what she meant. They sat in that alley, in that position for what felt like a lifetime, muttering things back and forth to each other and before they knew it, they felt like they had gotten to know one another. They exchanged stories and told truths, they spoke about work and friends and by the end of it had repeated another climax for each of them, in that position.

When they walked away from that encounter, her cellphone squealing with calls from her missed coffee with Ivy and his head heaving with all the appointments he had just missed, they never considered that would be the start of what has now become a 20-year marriage with 3 kids and 6 grandkids…

 

Advertisements
#SaturdaySerenade: Erotic Limericks

#SaturdaySerenade: Erotic Limericks – The Cane

The Challenge:

Write an erotic limerick.

There was an old man named Yoo
Who crafted canes of bamboo
They made the girls shriek
And weren’t for the meak
And if you’re lucky, you’ll get it too

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There once lived a lady named Jane
Who couldn’t resist the cane
With every hard smack
She rubbed at her crack
And immensely enjoyed the pain

Her lover was gentle yet firm
As her bottom began to burn
She yelped and she cried
It filled him with pride
And then she began to squirm

He hit her hard from behind
She had no places to hide
He had had enough
Was done being tough
And laid down at her side

They wrapped up in each other
And she began to hover
In that mythical place
They call subspace
Protected by her lover

The #DailyChallenge on The Erotic Writers Group: Challenge Central

#DailyChallenge: Celebrate the First – It Started at Prom

The Challenge:

Write about a first experience reading or writing erotica.

My first time ever writing erotica (which was technically my first time reading it as well) felt like coming home at Christmas. It was a welcoming experience that filled me with a knowing that I had found my calling. Albeit, I’m not the most amazing storyteller that ever lived and I’ll never compare to the love stories of the ancients, but it’s where I find comfort and peace.

I never graduated or attended my own prom, but my older sister did. And I got to be her date. It was an amazing night. I couldn’t tell you for one second what she was doing all night, but I was enjoying the attention from all the boys at least two years older than me.

I had had a crush on this one boy for pretty much my entire pre-teenhood. By this time, I was a teenager and he was only a year away from legally being an adult. I couldn’t tell you why he was at my sisters prom, because he didn’t go to our school, but it was just another amazing thing to add to a night of greatness.

After hours upon hours of sweating it out on the dancefloor, he pulled me off to the side and we began to makeout, as only teenagers can. Then, hours afterwards, another boy whom I had just met, takes me out to his car and we begin making out. The only problem, they were both boys and what I really wanted was a girl…

That night, after having a wonderful time, we came home and I laid in my bed thinking about the two boys I had just kissed and fantasizing… The image of my fantasy, two girls and a guy, one of the girls being me, just wouldn’t leave my head. It kept replaying over and over and I started to get frustrated.

At this time, I was journaling rather heavily and decided to whip out my journal and hash out this now annoying fantasy. The only part I can still vividly remember, and which is still a fantasy that causes me more anguish than pleasure, is the other girl and the the guy having sex directly over my face as I lap hungrily at the taste of them combined.

Ever since, I’ve often used erotica to get pesky fantasies, the ones that leave you perpetually aroused, off my mind. True story.

The #DailyChallenge on The Erotic Writers Group: Challenge Central

#DailyChallenge Submission: Snap. Snap. Snap.

The Challenge:

Write an erotic piece using the following photo as inspiration.

Photo by Max Maslansky from the Hammer Museum at UCLA

Photo by Max Maslansky from the Hammer Museum at UCLA

The entire room bustled around them, but in that moment all he could comprehend was her. She sat atop his dressing table, her legs opened wide revealing a shapely mound of curly dark hair. He gazed at her admiringly as she spoke softly to him, “You must look your best out there and you must be graceful. And don’t forget to get some pictures of the crowd for me. You promise you’ll be good boy?”.

He nodded his head hazily staring deeply in her eyes. She wrapped her long, elegant fingers around his firm testicle and lovingly brushed powder on his growing shaft. The powder did little to conceal anything on his hardening member, but the sensation of the bristles drove him wild and in the moment he felt as though they were connecting on a deeper, more intimate level.

Her name was called over the speakers spread throughout the theater, and she hastily threw the brush on the dressing table beneath her. She grabbed his head and said, “You know what to do!” and he bent forward, nuzzled his face between her hairy slit and turned and walked out onto the stage.

The lights were hot and blinding and the shutters of cameras could be heard all about him. He slowly raised his own camera up and began snapping pictures of the crowd. Women were screaming and men were yelling out instructions, “To the left. Wooo! Lift your head!”. The more he followed their instructions, the more they cheered, the more they jeered, the more they hollered. Snap. Snap. Snap.

She walked out on stage and the entire crowd went silent. All the cameras stopped and the incessant flashing ceased. The lights dimmed and for a split moment all the faces in the crowd were visible to him. Then, as if the moment had never happened, all the cheering, the flashing, the instructions began again, this time at a deafening roar.

She came up behind him and reached her hands around his chest. She tore the red top that he wore right down the middle and the audience cooed. He was unaware of what might happened next and had stopped taking pictures. She pulled his hair hard and shouted into his ear, burning from the wailing crowd, “Where’s my pictures?!?”. He snapped into the pool of people.

She let her hands fall down around his neck, gripping at the skin along his chest and abdomen, then wrapped both her hands around his now stiff cock. The whole auditorium went up with epic noise, and the cameras snapped faster than you could imagine. Snap. Snap. Snap.

The adrenaline pumped through his veins as his one true fantasy was finally coming to life. Just thinking about being able to relive this moment through all these photos was enough to send him over the edge. As he came, the entire audience erupted into laughter and she laughed at the mess he had made, yelling at him, “Look at that pitiful, disgusting little mess you left there! It’s so gross!” and he fell to his knees, trying to hide himself from the exposure, the pending humiliation and shame.

She walked around him and yelled more mocking words at him as the crowd chanted along. Cameras still snapped and a group of girls, that he could not see no matter how hard he looked, cheered wildly. She grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face down to the stage floor. He pushed back against her hand and she pushed harder, and he licked up the small amount of cum beneath his nose, the crowd pushing in closer to the stage to get closer shots. Snap. Snap. Snap.

#WordcountWednesday: Gasps of Fear (243 Words)

The Challenge:

Write an erotic piece that is no more than 250 words in length.

His hand reached up and strong, leathery fingers wrapped firmly about her neck. She lifted her chin and looked deep into his eyes as he pressed into her smooth, fragile skin. She gasped, not because of the pressure, but because of the sudden onset of fear.

She trusted him with all her heart and yet, every time she felt the knuckles of his fingers press into the veins on the side of her long, thin neck, her heart raced and her desire to scream was only suppressed by her desire to please.

He smiled, the way he always does, as he entered her swiftly. She couldn’t restrain herself from digging her nails into his arms, as he pushed against her throat harder. They paused in the moment, her eyes filled with fears, his calm and controlled. As she closed her eyes, he released her throat and her hands frantically clung to him as he thrust upon her faster and harder, their chests heaving rhythmically.

He collapsed on her, his entire weight robbing her of her breath again. She was stricken with the same fear as before, this time feeling powerless to his size, not his strength. She gasped and he began gently rocking on her, moans gently escaping between her tightened lips.

He lifted himself off her and kissed her deeply as she shuttered beneath him, opening her lips to take in all the air she could manage, fear turning to enlightened euphoria.