Prove

Eventually, he’s going to fuck me. Knelt at the foot of the bed with his fingers loosely holding his cock. Now it’s the same colour as the knuckles around it, but soon the flesh will be solid and deep and the knuckles white, bright against the veins and power of his erection.

Not yet though.

Now he is delicate and supple, pliant in his hands, rolling over the part of himself he knows best. His belly rises and falls a fraction quicker than usual as the fingers slip back and forth and the tender flesh rises too, thickens with the motion of his hand and the sight of my naked body, shower-damp and displayed before him. He passes his thumb over the head and it’s sticky. My desire to lick it off I quell, for now.

He moans. Sweet, earthy sounds I could listen to forever. His chest flushes pink too. Tense biceps flex and soften as he strokes himself.

Now the muscle supports itself without his cradling. There is a way to go before it is fully hard; ready for what he has in store for me. The pattern of veins is beautiful; a map of his pleasure and growth. Again he swipes the fluid from the head and lubricates his shaft. I note the whitening of his knuckles – see, so stark against his carmine cock. Urgent and necessary. The hand moves quicker now, the grip tighter as the meat within pushes back against his grasp. It is almost a fight. A battle between his body and his body and we know how it will end.

He rubs the thickening shaft – now barely contained within his palm – and the other hand sinks lower to seal the pact, stroking his heavy, cum-filled balls, and even the thought of this makes my mouth water.

“Fuck me.” I think. “FUCK ME.”

We agreed silence only. Eye-fucking one another for the past ten minutes. Eye-fucked me to a plump, fragrant high and him to a swollen, twitching crescendo. Both ready. Both stirred to perfection.

For a moment he removes his hand and I see him in every inch of his glory – pulsating and tumid. Delicious. Delectable. Proved to perfection.

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Her husband

From the Story in 12 prompt ‘Courtship’

I didn’t know her well. I thought she was very beautiful – from photos, from snapshots of her social media – and witty and clever, but like a popstar or a princess she always seemed unknowable.

He, on the other hand, the most open of open books. I felt like I was on first name terms with his genitals well before we slept together. He talked a good game. He looked incredible. He was kind and sharp and so hyper-intelligent that alone made me a little wet. The first time he made me come he was explaining how I’d misspelt and misused a word in a previous missive.

The first time we fucked was….. sixteen minutes into our first date. Continue reading

Three (Smutathon 2018)

The final Smutathon story! This for Gorgeous Missy who asked for a D/s Threesome which I hope I have delivered.

Look at him. King of the castle. The cat that got the cream. Lying here in this reasonably priced hotel room with his wife and her lover. These beautiful women. One of whom he owns and worships, one he adores as she serves his beloved.

He had girl strip as soon as she entered – she was not permitted to glance at the bed where beloved sat astride him – and instructed her to stand at the open window with her hands behind her head, exposed to the patrons in the bar opposite. He asked her to raise her hand each time she was spotted, and describe the response of the voyeur.

“He is making lewd gestures.”

“More specific.”
“He grabbed his crotch and then pretended to grab my hair as if I was sucking him.”

“Good. He knows that’s all you’re good for, girl.”
“Now a woman is looking.”
“And?”
“Just looking. Her eyes are wide. She’s stroking the rim of her champagne glass.”

Continue reading

The View (Smutathon 2018)

This was for the excellent Afro Film Viewer for his kind Smutathon donation and the only story I managed to contain within my own wordcount.

I’ve seen them before. They never seem to close their curtains. Their front room faces directly onto mine – only the width of the narrow, foot traffic only street between us. I’ve seen them eat dinner, row. Sit in the eerie blue glow of the TV as one of them slowly nodded off.

Older couple. 50’s maybe. Her older than him. Dyed blonde Helen Mirren hair. He’s rough, dark. Probably stubble.

I shouldn’t watch. Because it’s rude, because their lives aren’t that interesting. But my eyes will always drift over to them and that’s how I find myself now, eyes drifting from the film on my TV to the view across the street.

They’re kissing. She’s in control, at least to start. She straddles his waist, swallowing him alive. Kissing his mouth, neck, across his chest. That’s when he grabs her. Pulls her close. Whispers in her ear.

She sinks to her knees and I creep closer to my own open window. Aware they might see but unable to tear my eyes away.

I watch her reach between his thighs and wrap her fingers around his cock. It’s big enough for me to be able to see it from here. Watch him grab the back of her head and push her down onto it, his head thrown back.

I feel my own cock star to twitch. I watch her head bob up and down.

I reach inside my jeans and imagine her touching me how she’s touching him.

He holds her down and down and down until she pulls back, chest heaving. Beautiful.

She swallows him again, faster, faster and I stroke my cock, faster, faster.

Over the warm summer breeze I hear him growl “Swallow it all you filthy bitch.” and as she swallows his load, I feel my own rise and spill out over my hand.

As the mellow high of climax washes over me I’m sure I hear her voice.

“Do you think he enjoyed that?”

 

Ten. (Smutathon 2018)

Beautiful Bee’s story. Shared with permission. Written with love.

“Close your eyes and count to ten. Slowly. Then knock on the door. Can you remember that?”

She nodded and he petted her head, lovingly.
“So desperate to please, aren’t you?” and she nuzzled his hand.

“So desperate to prove herself. “

He reached down and twisted her prominent nipple between his thick, unforgiving fingers and she moaned.

“Pathetic.” He laughed as he shut the door behind him.

Naked in the centre of the landing, she brought her hands to her face and began to count out loud.

Continue reading