Arriving after dress rehearsals, Drew stood at the door, for our final scene. Did he know? As I inhaled the sangria and sweat emanating from his body, I couldn’t help myself. Two fisted, I grabbed him by the white shirt and pulled him to me. The touch was all it took.

“Be in character, English accent and all.” Those were the only words I could manage.

I stared up into his eyes. There was heat, and I knew he craved me. I observed him, searching for the change and then the character emerged.

“Who are you?”


“What’s happening, William?”

“The battle. I will most likely die; this is our last chance to be together.”

The shirt had never let me down.

I first experienced the shirt with Drew after his opening night performance at the theater. Congratulating him on his effort, I shook his hand, and the material of the shirt glanced off my skin. At that moment, it happened. A synergy occurred between the shirt and me. Visions, sights, and sounds of another place and period ran through my mind. The shirt not only transported me but it introduced me to a character through the wearer.

Drew and I attempted a relationship, but I found that he couldn’t handle two roles with me.  Did he realize it was the character in the shirt I craved? Had he figured out I used him for my pleasure?

Now, in the present, gripping both arms, William towered over me. The shirt had taken over. “Yes, but if it’s the last triste what shall you remember, sir?”

“This, Bria.” He picked me up and moving swiftly to my bedroom, threw me face forward on the mattress. He snatched my dress up baring my panties. His flowing, cotton shirt rubbed my back.  He slapped my ass. Oh yes, the sting. I felt his urgency. This man searched for the last pleasure he might know. His teeth sunk into my skin and marked his final attempt of desire.

“Get your rump to the end of the bed.”

I scurried there.

“Hands behind your back. Chest down. Ass up.”

In position, I teetered on the edge of the bed. William leaned over me pressing into my back. I felt the girth of the erection along with the weight of our last encounter. The buttons on the shirt dug into my skin; they too marked me like his teeth.

His breath was hot and wet in my ear. “This pleasure is for me, Bria.”

What is it about accents? Transported to another place with unknown rules, it excited me. What would he do? How would he do it?

With his hands on my derriere, he dropped my panties to my knees. His eager fingers probed my cunt. The cadence of his breathing changed while he pulled on my vulva lips, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. Pain and pleasure stirred inside me like a potion mixing in my body. Two fingers moved up through my slit and bathed in my essence. He grazed my clit and ignored the space that longed to be filled. His groan nearly filled it.

“Open your eyes.” Blinking, I saw his erection poised and ready. “Lift up. I want your lips wrapped around me.” I maneuvered to all fours, and he grabbed my head. I opened my mouth.

“In the end, Bria. I need to feel desire.” His voice had dropped at least an octave, primal and raw.

I had barely steadied myself when he thrust his penis in my mouth. I tasted desperation and desire and met it with fury and passion. The shirt’s billowy material fanned my face as I went down on him. Upon moving up, the lightweight fabric ballooned out. It was like a cape giving me directions. With its white color, it signaled my surrender. Yes, take me. He grabbed my hair, stopping my motion.

“Not like this.”

“Wait, William. Will you mark me first?” My eyes pleaded as I called to his darker side. I would beg if I had to. “I want your cum on me. Mark me.”

“Sit on the edge of the bed.” He pulled the shirt off over his head. “I may not control death’s timing, but I can control this.” Using the shirt’s sleeves to bind my arms behind me, it caused my shoulders to pull back, and my breasts jut forward. The shirt’s magic attached itself to me. My hardened nipples pressed against my outfit and he noted the response.

“Naked nipples, you strumpet.” He shoved his fingers into the neckline of my dress and squeezed my breast. I gasped as heat ignited in me. Yanking the bodice past both my shoulders and breasts, I laid bare to him.

“You want to be marked?” He sucked hard on one nipple and then the other. He slapped my breast, and I came alive. While stroking his cock with one hand, he bit my breast. Using his other hand, he twisted and pulled on my nipples matching his effort on his cock. This connection to passion was overpowering. When his mouth clamped on my nipple and then let go, I knew he was coming. I opened my mouth hoping to catch all I could. He spurted over my face and my breasts. Our panting filled the room.

I felt Drew beginning to slip out of character. I had to keep him there to experience it all.

“Sir, you are not finished. Smear yourself on my pussy and then do what you will.”

His nostrils flared. He dragged his palm across my face collecting his essence. I sucked quickly on his thumb as it crossed my mouth. He pinched my nipple and then wiped across my breasts, holding a handful of natural lubricant.

“You are mine.” After his bellow, I rolled on my side and then faced down. The shirt’s sleeves provided an anchor of stability and a promise of more. I witnessed a new behavior for Drew as William, and I wanted it like I had never wanted anything else from him. Scooting backward to the edge of the bed, I wiggled my bottom.

“Take me, please. I am begging you.”

His big body pressed against my buttocks, and his fingers were wetting me with his come. Testing my resolve, he teased my asshole. I whimpered. He rubbed his erection in the space between my cheeks before he inserted a finger, moving in and out, slowly.

“Yes, you are mine.”

Holding the shirt material, I locked into and secured myself to this fantasy of a man from somewhere else. I pushed back to meet him as he pressed inside me. “AAAhhh, yes.”  My utterance spurred him on. He pulled my hips back with both hands. I felt his cock, hot, at my entrance. “Take me,” I growled.

He entered me with a grunt.

“More; I can take it.”

Those words sent him over the edge. He had no restraint as he plunged inside me over and over. I held tight to my wrists and the shirt binding. His body curved into mine, pumping. He found my clit and pinched it. Fire ran hot through me. With my face smashed into the bed, the material abraded me. His pounding took me to new places in my mind. I screamed incoherent syllables, and he shouted something, and then we were a jumble of flesh on the bed. His ragged breathing hit my ear. “Let me untie your arms.”  Once he had freed me, he rubbed my shoulders and wrists. I was full and complete.

The shirt remained trapped between us. Lucky for me, it captured the event, absorbed our body’s oils, sweat, and sex scent. It was my talisman, my friend.

Drew left with no fanfare even though I had used him, in more ways than one. As he exited, I made it clear I was keeping my white charm.

Now I held the treasure that provided a portal to another place, and another fantasy, to use whenever I wished. Curiosity and desire make passionate and risky bedfellows. I wondered what power it would give me as I slipped the shirt on.

For more WICKED WEDNESDAY stories, Click. HERE

Earl’s buddy had found a pinup poster of his all-time favorite model in his vintage collection of Playboy magazines. The guys teased him about his love of out-of-date, classy women. The day Emmie walked into the garage, he thought his unforgettable model had stepped right off the page. How could he be this lucky seeing these curves and style in person? As Earl had imagined her body wrapped in delicate lace lingerie, she had made a play for him, and he accepted.

As he stared at the pin-up over his desk, he fantasized about Emmie in her lingerie; his dick strained in his pants, and the phone rang.

“Lloyd’s Long Term Parking and Garage.”


“Emmie, I was just thinking about you.”

“Are you busy, Earl?”

“I’m sitting at the desk doing paperwork. I love this distraction.”

“I like being your distraction.”

“You are the best and the naughty kind.”

“Well, I enjoyed our little, garage romp, garter man.”

“You little minx.”

“Thinking about it got me all hot and bothered, Earl.”

“I like that, Emmie.”

“I was calling to see if we could do it again?”

“Name the time.”

“Friday night sound good? 6pm.”

“That works. Say, Emmie, what color is your lingerie?”

“Sapphire blue, why?”

“Color against your skin turns me on.”

“Are you turned on now?”

“Hard as a rock.”

“Maybe I can help you with that?”

“What do you have in mind, Emmie?”
“Unzip your pants and let the stallion out.”

Earl looked around the shop and then rubbed his hand across his pants like Emmie would. He unzipped, and his erection surged into the air.

“Earl, I love listening to your ragged breath.”

“Dirty talk does that to me.”

“Stroke your cock. I’m going to lick you. Feel me?”

“Hmmm, yes.”

“My bra is off. Nestle that steel rod between my breasts. Oh, yes, my girls love it. My nipples are hard. I’m dripping. Feel my tongue swirling around your cock?”

Earl’s strokes intensified in strength and speed. “Oh, yeah.”

“What do you want to do to me, Earl?”

“I want to grab that luscious ass of yours and ram my cock deep inside you, so you don’t know your name.”

“Damn. Not fair. I’m in an office full of people, squirming.”

“Hey, you’re the one who called.”

“I’d probably get fired if they knew what I was doing?”

“I’m pumping hard, Emmie.”

“Oh God, give it to me good. Fuck me, Earl.”

“Oh, yes.” The chair shifted, rocked and rolled then reared back when his orgasm erupted.

“Emmie, I love your work distractions, how come you are so good?”

“I guess I get it naturally.”


“Yeah, you know that poster over your desk.”

“My prize possession.”

“Does it remind you of me?”

“It does.”

Emmie chuckled. “Earl. That’s my momma in that picture.”

“Hell, no.”


“Well, I’m one lucky man. My fantasy became real life.”

“Just wait until Friday. Momma taught me how to fulfill all your fantasies.”

Writing for Friday Flash. Check out the other flashing stories.

A crusty, old man with a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a purple-haired emo twenty-something, and I waited in the hall with our fellow students as the custodian unlocked the studio. Echoed footsteps and murmurs surrounded me standing in this tobacco laced space. I had never pictured myself with these students. I scheduled this class because I was bored and lonely and I hoped to meet a sex partner. If this was my pool of potentials, then the class may cure my boredom, but the people possibilities would not cure my loneliness or aid me in locating a sex partner.

After month one, interest in basic drawing techniques for still life replaced boredom. Our instructor moved us on to live models, and we studied the body’s form and architecture. We began with a female model and Rubenesque curves. The grumpy man in my class livened, as did the purple-haired woman. Their appreciative sighs filled the room as we worked. I was glad somebody received sexual gratification. But for me, drawing continued to be a technical and rote process eliminating boredom until body model, Samuel Livingston arrived. I bid goodbye to lonely and greeted horny with an open mind.

The model sat on a stool, shirtless and motionless, as the instructor walked around him dissecting his body into elements of art. Every single thing about him screamed, “Sexy.” Lust, yes, lust took over.

“Ms. Stevens, did you hear me?”

“Pardon me, no, sir.”

“Come note the cord of Mr. Livingston’s bicep. I’ve watched your work improve, but I think if you feel the muscle it will be easier to draw.”

“You want me to touch him?”

“Yes, Ms. Stevens.”

Touch his muscle? Can I touch a different one? I walked around our easels and stood in front of the model.

“Do a study, Ms. Stevens. Take all the time you need.” The instructor left me and went to check on other students.

Mr. Livingston observed me with a penetrating stare and a mouth that sported a smirk.

“May I place my hand on your arm, Mr. Livingston?” I shook a little realizing that my voice cracked.

“I wish you would, Ms. Stevens. Then we can be on a first name basis.”

A heated expression moved across his face.

“What does that mean?”

“When you look, it’s Mr. Livingston, but when you touch, it’s Samuel.” He leaned in and whispered, “And when you fuck me, it’s Sam.”

I turned to see if the others heard him.

“And what makes you think things will go that route, Mr. Livingston?”

“You’ve been fucking me with your eyes all session. Touch me and you’ll see, Ms. Parker.”

He was right, I been in sex mode all night. What I saw was tight, thigh muscles under his jeans, laugh crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and an expanse of chest and shoulders that could indeed hold up the world. He smelled divine. I was afraid to touch him because I might jump his body in front of everyone.

“I smell peppermint.” My words blurted out of nowhere.

He sucked on a mint, and I watched him swipe his tongue across his bottom lip. What would he taste like laced with peppermint?

“Is peppermint going to stop you from feeling my muscle?”

“Ah, no.” I stepped to his side while he flexed a bicep and posed for me to explore him. Gingerly, I placed my hand on his arm. Inventory: Hair. Heat. Thickness. Hard. Width. Length. I had closed my eyes and lost myself fingering him. It was as if I became the instrument sketching what I touched. My fingertips and palms memorized the structure and pliability of his bicep. He caught me off guard when he released and pumped the muscle again. How would I translate that to paper?

“The other muscle jumped, too. My hardness is pressed against my pants now.” I looked directly at him filled with desire, and then cast my eyes to see the evidence of his words. The instructor turned his attention to us.

“Ms. Parker, I’d like to see you get the general outline on paper tonight.”

“Yes, Professor.” I moved to my seat and started drawing. The last two students completed their sketches, and the instructor dismissed them.

“Mr. Livingston, I want to get an initial rendering to begin next week’s class. Would you mind slipping your pants down and laying in the recliner? Ms. Parker, you don’t mind if I sketch while you finish up, do you?”

My entire body vibrated.

“No problem, Professor.”

Samuel stood up and moved to the recliner. The snap on his pants clicked open, and my nipples hardened. The zipper-pull eked down the teeth as if they were moving south unzipping my hot, wet, sex. I snuck a quick glance and viewed one hot ass, as he pushed his pants to his knees.

“That’s good enough, Mr. Livingston. Take a seat.”

My face flushed as the room soared to mid-summer Florida temperatures. I reached for my water bottle and took a sip. As I leaned over to sit it down, I stole another peek, and I understood why he was the model. His large, erect penis was a work of art. I had no clue how I was supposed to focus and draw his arm now. I fumbled with my pencil attempting to complete the assignment while I steadied my breathing as the instructor sketched. I was elated when I heard his drawing pad close.

“Ms. Parker, I’m headed to my office. Stay as long as you need to finish up. I’ll check your work next week. Good night, Mr. Livingston.” He closed the door when he left.

The gravelly, deep voice caught me off-guard. “You could start your next assignment early if you want.”

“I could.”

“You’ve already had your hand on me. What’s checking out one more muscle?”

He flirted so well. Ready to be closer, I walked to the recliner.

“Come on. Don’t be shy. Just reach out and touch my man muscle like before.”

“Are you going to pump it up, too?” I grinned.

“Auto pumping is engaged as we speak.”

His cock was rock solid. I wanted to feel it, even if we were in the studio. The pulse in my temples elevated as I consider that the instructor might come back? He’d probably give me an A for doing research on next week’s form. Yes, that was what I’d tell myself.

Samuel had the body of a rock star, athlete, and he invited me to know him for art’s sake.  I wanted to experience his personal anatomy with every part of my body. Like before, my hand hovered over him. Take the Inventory: Heat. Girth. Length. Velvet. His penis bobbed reacting to my hand, and Samuel chuckled.

“It likes you. Go on.”

With the mind of an artist, I explored the erection length, the curve at the ledge under the head, and the slit, now leaking with fluid. I slid my fingers to cup his testicles and noted the skin texture difference and squeezed. Samuel’s breathing had changed, and I opened my eyes.

“You are a dedicated student, Ms. Parker. Thorough.” I continued stroking him as he repositioned the back of the chair a little more upright.

“Ms. Parker. It’s past time for you and me to be on a first name basis. Don’t you think? You have touched me twice now.”

“Yes, Samuel.”

“I’d like you to call me Sam.”

“So it’s fucking time?”

“Well, you do have my cock in your hand.” He held my gaze and arched an eyebrow, waiting.

With my body humming, I felt vibrant and ready to fulfill my third objective.

“Margie. My name is Margie.”

“Ever made 3-D art before Margie?”

“No, not like this.”

“Lose your panties and you can start the process.”

“I like the sound of that, Sam.” 

Writing for MASTURBATION MONDAY and WICKED WEDNESDAY. Click on those words for more sexy stories.

Installment #6 of A Service House Story Click HERE to read from the beginning.

Every trainee packed the room on teaching night at the house. As the most senior trainer, Lowell Anderson led the lecture. However, at this moment, it remained difficult to grasp that idea because Orlando loomed large over him. Orlando wasn’t supposed to be here. His dominance and presence called to me like it always did. But at this moment, there in front of me, the event overshadowed my thoughts, and it felt odd to experience Orlando’s attentions focused on someone else.  

Bound to the massive wooden table, Lowell’s body was splayed out, with each arm and each leg to a table corner. This position served to highlight the steely lines of an intriguing masculine physique. Orlando’s hand was attached to Lowell’s hard, enormous cock and he worked it like a master magician. The connection hypnotized me. Lowell’s cock and Orlando’s hand were wet and slick. The wet slaps resonated around the room. When Orlando applied pressure around the circumference of Lowell’s erection, my pussy clenched.

What was the point here? Bring him to a pleasure point and stop? Teach him a lesson? Explore the mind-body relationship? I had so much to learn.

No one in the room breathed while Lowell pumped his erection into Orlando’s fist atop the platform. I watched living art. His back bowed, and his taut, muscular body lifted upward, Lowell’s pelvis searched for more of Orlando’s hand. His ass bucked the hardwood table before every upstroke. When Orlando eased up on his grip, Lowell pushed higher seeking to get all he could. As Orlando let go of Lowell’s cock, he locked his gaze on me.

As I focused on him, my eyelids blinked, and then blinked again, while I considered the orgasm denial and the tormenting tease I had witnessed Orlando providing. I felt this experience as if it occurred on my skin. Lowell thrashed on the table, his breathing labored, as he recognized there would be no orgasm. His face told the story, clenched jaw and eyes squeezed shut indicating his physical distress.

Had I looked like that?

This interaction in the room stirred something deep inside me. Blowing out his breath, Lowell turned his head to see what had caught Orlando’s attention. Now two sets of eyes scrutinized me. Trapped between two different and intense desires, I quivered in place.

A sly smile formed on Lowell’s lips. “Periwinkle, you are up next.”

Fury raced across Orlando’s face. I didn’t know why, but he flinched and pursed his lips together and looked away. Two trainees stepped in front of Orlando and unfastened Lowell’s arms and legs; the buckles clanked on the table. He motioned for me to take my place.

As I moved closer, Lowell and the trainees blocked my view of Orlando, but I could sense him. I couldn’t get in trouble with him again, but I haven’t done anything wrong. He is not happy. I sat my naked self on the table. Lowell stood in front of me, his hard body, erect penis, and aroused man scent enveloped me.

“Go ahead, Periwinkle, stroke it. See how hard Orlando made me.”

I swallowed and placed my palm around his girth and then closed my fingers around it. Raw masculine power rested in my hand. Lowell looked down to our connection.

“Periwinkle, Orlando can be a bastard on withholding. He’s the opposite of me; I’m about giving. Stroke me.”

I moved my hand up and down. Lowell leaned into me placing both hands on either side of my thighs. My heart rate increased as his breath lingered on my ear. He pulled on my neck ribbon with his teeth.

“Don’t stop. Do I feel good, Periwinkle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you feel as you watched Orlando fist me?”

Was this a trap? I know I am going to get in trouble, one way or the other. I’m sure he felt the tremble of my hand.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir?”

“Ignore Orlando. I am in charge of training tonight. Have you ever felt what you think I felt when he stopped the action on my cock?”

I closed my eyes and thought back to the pleasure/punishment session. Most trainees received orgasmic ecstasy, but I received punishment.

“Yes, sir. The punishment session aroused me, but I was told not to have an orgasm.”

“Yes, and?”

“The entire situation awakened me even with no touch. I ached to have an orgasm.”

“Did you think I was, too?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was,” he whispered. “We are going to take care of that ache tonight, for both of us. We are more in sync than you know.”

He backed away from me, breaking the hold I had on his penis.

“Everyone, tonight we will experience pleasure derived from a deep aching, in the body and the mind. Periwinkle, please take the X position on the table.”

As I lay across the table, hands at each extremity worked to secure me. The table was harder than I imagined.

“Get with your trainee partner and prepare for mutual masturbation. Periwinkle and I will lead the pairing.”

Nothing about this could be good, could it?

Even though Orlando was out of my sight from this position, I know that there is animosity between him and Lowell, which worried me. This situation would not serve me well.

“Periwinkle, tonight intense pleasure with a magic wand is yours. As your orgasm approaches, you will turn your head and take my cock. My orgasm will be yours, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want the table circled with pairs so that we all can experience the sights, sounds, aromas, and tastes of the sexual energy in the room. Dominique and Sable, I charge you with wand duty. Make it gratifying.”

Each one of them moved to the sides of the table with a wand in hand.

“Everyone enjoy.”

As bodies shifted, sighs and moans echoed around me. I heard the click of the wand motor and Lowell stationed himself by my head.

“Little one, I’m going to give you what Orlando never will.” He leaned over me and stroked my face and to my surprise he kissed me. That kiss held passion and heat and just like when Lowell lifted off the table to reach for more from Orlando, my head responded by lifting up to Lowell. He tasted like mint and lust. As our tongues searched and stroked, Lowell pinched my nipples, and the trainees applied vibrations to my vulva and clit. It was the perfect combination. My body was on fire. I memorized every detail of pleasure and savored it all. I was an instrument that three people played brilliantly. When I thought I couldn’t take more pleasure, I did. This affair began to erase the recall of orgasm denial. I was high and in another dimension when my orgasm approached, and Lowell traded his tongue for his cock. I sucked it as if my life depended on it. At one moment I thought maybe he would take it away, and I hurried.

The sound in the room was deafening, it was one giant orgasm. With two vibrators playing between my legs, my nipples twisted, and Lowell’s hard cock on the verge of spurting, my orgasm rumbled through me. Everything in my world intensified as my body shook and I sucked and swallowed, then sucked and swallowed some more. I couldn’t get enough of Lowell. A little bell went off in my head, and I heard Orlando’s words. “Would it be this good without experiencing denial?”

Spent, I stared up at the ceiling acutely aware of the leather around my hands and feet and the bones of my back pressed into the hardwood.

Lowell touched my hair and caught my earlobe between his fingers. His words were as light as his touch. “We are the better pair, Periwinkle.”

Writing for Masturbation Monday. Click HERE form more hotness.
Writing for Wicked Wednesday. Click HERE for more wickedness. While the prompt was blood, I didn't write to that!

“Baby, I want this.” Adam sat naked on the floor of the bedroom enjoying Lucy disrobing. His mouth watered, for a cunt in his face and a backdoor view. Lucy took her time getting her black dress off. As she dropped each article of clothing, Adam noticed her hands shook. Her panties came off last like they were her last bit of protection.

“I just want to know every part of you, even your ass.”

“You want my ass?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Now get over here.” Adam thought every inch of a person’s skin provided pleasure, and he wanted all of her, even the parts of her for which she was ashamed and hesitant to share.

“How do we do this, Adam?”

“Turn around. I want you to straddle my legs.” Lucy turned so her ass was in Adam’s face and she shivered. He knew she wondered what it would feel like, so did he, but he was excited to find out, and he wasn’t sure she was.


“You are beautiful you know,” he said stroking her skin.  She blushed, and the pink color of her skin made him hot. “Bend over and place your hands on my knees.”

She began to bend and stopped abruptly. “I can’t do it yet. I’m sorry.” Her voice shook with nervousness.

“Hey, hey, no problem. Give me a hand to get up.”

She reached back and offered her hand and pulled when he clasped it. She headed to the bed and lay down. “I know how much you want this. I guess I’m embarrassed or something.”

“No worries. It’ll happen when you’re ready. How about we do something you love, maybe a little snake charming?”

She laughed. “Always about you, huh?”

“Oh, no. I know how you get off on commanding my stick and believe me, your powers charm.”

“I do like to control your stick, so let’s work a double header. Get on top of me.”

Adam wasted no time moving; he could never get enough of her. As his leg flew over Lucy’s body, he looked like a cowboy saddling a horse. As his face hovered over her mound, he nuzzled her. She sucked on his ball sac, moaned and grabbed his cock letting him know she was in charge.

He sprinkled kisses on her inside thigh and blew air across her skin to see her wiggle. She stroked his cock while she bathed his jewels with her tongue. He dabbed his tongue on her clit which caused her to suck with intensity on his balls and dropped her legs wide open. She ran her finger over his slit to feel the wetness she would soon taste. Adam was determined to follow her lead.

“I know you are holding back, Adam. Get busy.”

“I wanted to make sure you get it just like you want.”

She licked his stick like it was pure cane sugar. For every lick she provided, he flicked a little deeper into her vulva. As he inched his way down her body, her warm lips circled the head of his penis and sucked gently. When she opened her mouth wider to take him in, he scooped his arms around her legs securing them by his head and then anchored his hands on her butt. He loved this reciprocal state. The tighter he held her, the more she affixed on him. One moment he was giving, the next she was. It was a pleasure loop that they both relished.

While Adam sucked her clit and licked her lips, over and over, Lucy took him in deeper and deeper. His hands had control of her pelvic movements. Every time she tried to shift positions, she took him with her. Adam was relentless, but so was Lucy.

They were nestled together as one when his sexual energy surged up through him signaling his orgasm and Lucy sucked him like she would never get enough. He fancied himself lucky that she drained him dry and took it all in like the hellcat he knew.

After his orgasm, Lucy pushed him off her.

“Babe, why are you pushing me off? You didn’t have an orgasm yet.”

“I figured if I was near my orgasm, then it was time for you to give me a rim job.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You want me back in that position with my hands on your knees?”

“I do, baby.”

Adam sat on the floor with his back against the bed. Feeing her excitement and trepidation, he decided to work at a slower pace. He didn’t want to spook her; he wanted to make her feel good.

“Okay, Lucy. Get your standing balance and straddle me. I’m going to eat your pussy just like I was doing.”

Lucy moved across Adam’s legs, positioned her hands on his knees and bent. He had a face full of her intimate parts, all of them. He was in heaven. Adam stroked her thighs, as he inserted his tongue into the heart of her cunt and that little squeak he loved escaped her mouth. Moving his fingers up her legs, he stopped at her ass and kneaded each cheek.

“How does this feel, Lucy?”

“Splendid. Your tongue—” He drew her ass cheeks apart and flat tongued her vulva. “Oh, God. That’s good.”

He continued with long, even strokes and enjoyed the hip action it brought out of Lucy. After one long lick to her vulva, he positioned his tongue between her vagina and asshole and stroked up.

“Ooohhhh. That feels—”

“Delightful, I hope.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Nerve endings for pleasure are everywhere, baby.”

Adam alternated between licking her pussy and her asshole. He pushed her cheeks together and moved them around while he sucked on her skin.

“Wow, everything is wet and pleasurable. Mmmm. Oh, yes.”

Continuing to hold her cheeks together Adam wiggled his tongue in the crevice of her ass as he moved her cheeks, so it seemed like he was licking everywhere. Lucy groaned and backed into his face. As he separated her cheeks, he sank his tongue onto her rosette. Adam was where he always wanted to be. He loved the feel of her ass on either side of his tongue as he tickled her with his tip. As she continued to back into him, he reached around to find her clit. He was buried in her ass with his nose, mouth, and tongue, taking all he could.

“Adam, I’m coming.”

Her entire body trembled. Adam shook his head between her cheeks working his lips and tongue. He timed his licks and flicks to her ass with his circular motion on her clit. As muscle contractions wracked her body, Adam felt like the bobble head on the car dashboard. Being with Lucy, like this, was everything he had dreamed and more. When she stilled, he dragged her down on his lap and dropped kisses on her shoulder. Lucy’s limp body molded into his and she sighed. He waited to see what she would say.

“I’m a dope.”

Adam chuckled. “That wasn’t what I thought you would say.”

“I never imagined that an orgasm could feel that good. I’m a dope for holding out so long.”

“Baby, when you decide, it is always good.”

“I guess you have to lead me down the sexy, smutty path.”

“Well, now that you say that, I was wondering how good it would feel to insert other things into your ass.”

“Uh, huh. You realize that that’s a body part we have in common, you know, minus a prostate.” Adam held her closer, wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her hair. Lucy lifted her face to his. “Maybe I want to go on a little ass play endeavor on yours.”

Adam squeezed her tightly. “I was thinking the same thing.” 

Writing for WICKED WEDNESDAY. For other stories click HERE

A Service House Story #5 
If you would like to read them in sequence Click HERE to start at the beginning. The Story is entitled How May I be of Service.

I get off on watching the new trainees. Me, Lowell Anderson, dominant trained the second year, must come to terms with the desire I feel for Periwinkle, fellow trainee submissive. And she is off limits because Master Orlando staked his claim.

Every beginner at The Service House had “a look.”  I’ve seen them all in my nearly two years here. Periwinkle had one. It was a question, desire, and an uncertainty rolled into one haunting expression. The new ones were always ripe, as their look was confirmed, sandwiched between lust and debauchery,

Most trainees wanted to come to terms with their inward sexuality. The Service House afforded everyone this opportunity. A person would always come to terms with it, one way or another.

New member, Kate, transformed into Periwinkle overnight. In most respects, each of us transformed. We either received an answer we liked or disliked, or accepted a desire we never knew we had, or identified something about ourselves that took us by surprise. In any event, this place allowed us to discover pleasure, in all its sorted and mysterious combinations.

When Periwinkle stood in line with the other submissive trainees, her purple ribbon around her neck, I knew. She was in a class all her own. Her skin which contrasted with her docile presence tapped directly into my dominant personality. I wanted everything about her directed toward me.

The first night she arrived, I availed myself to ten different female trainees, searching. I wanted to see the color on them that I knew I could bring to her skin. I applied everything from my arsenal of techniques, and I never observed on their skin what was in my mind’s eye about her’s.

Later in that first evening, when the group used her as a serving table, I was mesmerized by her feminine lines and with her roundness. The shape of her breasts when they faced downward, and the curves of her ass astounded me. Master David reprimanded me for taking too long in my strokes on Trainee Alice, but I hid what preoccupied me.

Periwinkle aroused me and distracted me then, and she provoked me now.

I imagined her luscious body splayed out and bent over my lap. Her scent now cataloged in my mind from that quick step she took by me. It was fresh and crisp, like a fruit orchard. She held her frame so well, a real exhibitionist, presenting herself in absolute ease. I created a path in my mind that I would use to explore and trace the edges of her body. I craved to know what her response would be to my touch, my attentions.

I stripped off my clothes, headed to my bed, and took my cock in hand. The last time I saw her was at the pleasure/punishment session. Surrounded by the other trainees who received pleasure, she experienced the opposite in orgasm denial, but she couldn’t stop the automatic and unconscious responses of her body. Her skin flush moved evenly over her body like the sunrise added light across the earth. It captivated me. While many received orgasmic pleasure from those providing massive masturbation efforts, I responded to Periwinkle’s anguish. She took her punishment well that night, but her body gave her away. Even with her eyes blindfolded, her face conveyed a range of emotions. They were detailed yet subtle. My memory of her expression encapsulated the buzzing and moaning with the thick and musky arousal scents of those around her. Laying on my bed, I back into this memory, it was as if she was here now. It made me harder as I thought about it. What had she done or not done to find herself receiving punishment?

Without a doubt, she needed training, and I wanted to dominate her. I wanted to do wicked things to her, and I wanted her to do particular things for me. With one hand stroking my erection, I used the other hand to caress my body and pretended it was her hand. I commanded her on what path to take. Her hard nipples, perfectly large for accepting individual and harsh attention, dragged across my chest and stomach. I considered how I could bind them to make a flush occur across her skin. After binding, I would play with them while she placed her mouth on my cock. With the thought of her warm mouth and lips on me, my hand jerked in my rhythmic motions. Building on my surge, I became lost, in thoughts of her, her expressions, her skin, and her persona.  My orgasm surprised me. I shot off hard and fast.

Nothing surprises me, this did. Periwinkle did. I survive on control, but I can’t seem to control myself concerning her.

With my semen covered hand, I rubbed my slick substance over my lower abdomen and considered how I would have Periwinkle clean me up.

Orlando doesn’t run the show. I will become Periwinkle's dominant. 

Click HERE to Read #6 His Ass Bucked Hardwood.

Writing today for #WICKED WEDNESDAY. Click HERE to read other stories about READING, erotic or not.

In the midst of a crowd milling around me, the stale smoke and cotton candy scents overwhelm me. I stare at the Wonder Wheel, lost. What a misnomer it is. I don’t wonder, I know. Tonight’s the night. You are probably on the ride with her now.

When you told me you had a surprise, I foolishly thought it was for me. As you described your plan to pay the attendant to make the chair stop at the top, my heart sang. My imagination took over, creating our naughty scene; until I heard you say her name, “Desiree.” It stunned me that you wanted her. I have been right beside you through everything, your best friend, and want-to-be lover. Am I invisible to you?

The moan of metal gears alerts me that the wheel is slowing to a stop. My nipples harden knowing you are freeing Desiree’s breasts. You relish the night air’s work creating hard nipples to your liking. I taste the cotton candy sticky-sweet on your lips. They leave a trail of kisses on me like little footprints in the sand. I imagine how your lips would feel around my nipples as your hands knead and invite me to a higher plane of desire making me want to taste and feel yours.

I would sit on your lap to be closer. Yes, I would take the risk high atop the wheel to be as close as I could get to you. I seek out your delectable mouth and mate with your tongue. I mimic what I would like to do to your labia and clit, licking, sucking, and nipping. The carnival music drifts up from the ground. The squeak in the chair continues as we rock high above everyone, locked together in our passion.

You would know my craving for you. I would make it easy, a skirt and no panties. Touch my hot, wet skin. Let me feel your fingers explore what I want to give you. My outer lips swell. Stroke my inner petals. Do you feel me, hot, slick, and wet?

I back into the shadows and rub my hand over my mound and then wiggle them over my bare skin. My lips are swollen and slick. I hear my heartbeat in my ears as I imagine your lust directed at me. My fingers flick across my clit frantically and send me higher, hopefully, as high as you are. Maybe you will feel my presence up there. Maybe my energy will overwhelm you. As you slide your fingers in her, maybe it’s me, you feel.

My fingers dive in and out of my hidden space as my thumb works my clit. I see your face, taste your lips, and feel your touch. Doubling over, I quake into my orgasm.

Warm arms wrap around me.

“So thinking about me with someone else does it for you?”

“Hmmmm, yes.”

“Come on. We’re going up. It’s my turn on the wheel.”

Writing for Friday Flash to the photo prompt by fdotleonora.com Click HERE for other stories.

Writing for Masturbation Monday. Click HERE for MORE.

“Grab the beach bag. I’ve got the camera.”

“What time is it?”

“2 a.m. Come on; we can’t miss it.”

“This is your thing, Paul. Not mine.”

“But we can do this together. I promise it will be good.”

I sat up and grabbed my ponytail band and bound my hair up. Paul collected his camera bag and started putting drinks in our little cooler.

“Where are we going?”

“I scouted the best spot to capture the show. We are going out on the pier.”

I threw on a sundress over my naked body.

“We can’t go there. That’s inside the state park.”

“But guess who got a 24 hour, special pass code to get us in?”

Paul walked over to me. He kissed my nose and grabbed my ass. Those manly hands kneaded me into an awakened state.

“I’m telling you this is going to be good.”

The last time I heard those words we were in that hotel in San Diego and the sex was so hot, I was afraid we would set fire to the bed.

“Promises, promises. That’s what you science nerds are good at.”

“Now Julie, you know I’m good on my promises. This meteor shower is going to be awe-inspiring.”

We piled in the Subaru and drove across the island to the state park. There was no traffic, and it felt like it was just us and the universe. Paul punched in the access code, and the gate opened. We drove five miles to the pier turnoff. With a clearer head, I kept the critter count. We spotted several deer, armadillos, possums, and a stray cat. The animal world was getting ready for the lights from heaven. When Paul parked the car, and I looked up in the sky, I shivered. Tonight could well be extraordinary.

We unloaded our gear. The ocean waves rumbled when they broke on the shore, and a forceful breeze pushed on my body. Were they messengers pulling us forward? While carrying the blankets and cooler, my eyes adjusted to the light.

“Julie, this way.”

I followed the echo of Paul’s footsteps. It was inky dark; I could see why this would be the best place to watch the stars. We passed two fishermen leaving the pier grumbling they hadn’t caught anything for their night’s efforts. It was a half a mile walk to the end of the pier.

I loved how the wind played with my dress. It was like a sheet hanging out on the clothesline, whipping around and flapping all over the place. It teased my naked skin and slapped me like a whip being wielded by a master. The more I walked, the more I was turned on.

In the open space at the end of the pier, Paul set up his tripod. I spread out the blanket and opened the cooler and got two beers. While my science nerd situated all his equipment, I sat on the blanket and gazed left.

“Paul, I saw one.” My voice shook in sheer delight. Is this what the excitement is like for him?

“Just wait, the Perseid meteors will pack the sky and it’ll be better than a fourth of July fireworks show. I will have captured it on film.”

He joined me on the blanket and took a draw on his beer. Paul radiated happiness and contentment.

“Why do you like this so much?”

“What’s not to like? It’s Nature at its finest, showing off. It’s just the two of us.” His finger caressed my skin by the top of the dress strap. “You have nothing on but that skimpy little dress. Life is good.”

I loved this man. He was so clear about his desires.

“Give me that beer.”

“What, I only had one sip?”

“I’ve got something better for you.”

He handed me the beer, and I sat both of ours in the cooler. I love that we dressed in the middle of the night with easy-access clothes.

“Lay back.”

When he did, I inched my fingers into the waistband of his running shorts and pulled them over his growing erection and then down his thighs.

“Well, this could be better than the beer.”

Straddling Paul’s hips, I slipped the thin straps off my shoulder and wiggled the dress to my waist.

“Hang on one second I need to get the trigger for the camera in reach.” As Paul turned and reached out, I captured his penis between my breasts and rubbed up and down his length. His moan made my efforts worthwhile.

“God, I love it when you do that.”

“I know.”

My nipples were rock solid, and I took turns circling each one on the head of his penis. I loved how the pre-cum oozed onto them, responding to my efforts. When the ocean air touched my wet skin, my pussy clenched.

“The timing is right, the sky is filling up,” said Paul.

“Talk about filling. That’s what you are going to do to me.”

“I am? You have a plan here.”

I slid my wet pussy up his erection as I leaned in to kiss Paul. “Always, when it comes to you, baby.” His lips tasted like salt and his tongue, beer. This is my man. Rubbing my hard nipples over his chest, I whispered in his ear. “The cosmos is within us. We are made of star stuff.”

“Julie, oh my God. You quoted Carl Sagan for me. Tonight.” He pushed me back, sat up, and smiled. “We are, you know, made of star stuff.”

“I do. And I know what turns you on. So tonight we dance with our cosmos, to our song. Grab the trigger and hold on.”

I don’t know what came over me, the glistening at the corner of Paul’s eyes, his lopsided smile telling me I had made his night or the intense need that coursed through every element of my body. The cosmos called me. The vibration of the stars magnetically pulled me to Paul.

Balanced, on one hand, the trigger under his thumb, Paul wrapped the other arm around my back. The kiss we shared was one I would always remember. It was intense, dark, filled with lust and longing and swallowed up in the scent and the bellow of the sea. I rose up so I could take his penis inside me. Guiding it in, filling me deeply, I watched the stars explode across the sky. Paul clutched me tightly, driving me down, as I moved up and down on his shaft.

His breathing was layered over the wind and stroked the need in me. He faced west, and I faced east and our eyes locked on the entire sky. Our grunts and groans became lost as the wind picked up and signaled me to move faster. Both of us were close. Together, we went over the edge and when I threw my head back, a meteor shot up over me, and I rode it until I burned out. I felt confident that Paul captured that shot. Starbursts continued, over and over and I finally collapsed down beside Paul on the blanket. We snuggled together under the stars.

“That should be an Olympic sport,” said Paul.

“Star fucking?


“You’ve been watching too much TV. I don’t know how you would coordinate that every four years,” I said, shaking my head.

“Right. I’m sure that’s not possible. So I guess we have to be satisfied with our inaugural event during the Rio Olympics, giving us a gold medal.”

“But that was only one event. I think maybe, I’d like our team to enter a couple more events.”

“You had me when you said enter.” Paul lifted up beside me.

“Uh huh.”

“My tongue is about to enter…”

Writing for MASTURBATION MONDAY. For other stories click HERE.


Naked, the cold air meets my nipples. The transition awakens my body. I love the texture when they are hard, erect, and attentive. You and I know they are the express elevator to my sex explosion.


Touch them and all desire moves south.

Taste them and heat radiates through me.

Lick them and moans erupt from me.

Suck them and my body rises to meet you.

Nip them and soul sex ensues.

Twist them and wrench me into orgasm.

Clip them or bind them. Make me mad.

It’s a movement meditation; a film that replays in my head.

With expert fingers, I execute my pleasure concentrating on the feel of my flesh as the wetness pours from my center. Slick and warm on me, I bring my fingers to my nose and sniff my essence. My tongue darts out confirming the tangy taste of my arousal. Lost in my clit flick, I miss that you entered the room. As I attempt another hefty nipple tug, you slap my hand away and replace it with your hot mouth and teeth.

My mental tape is on replay and combines with my real world experience of you. My hand in my wet folds maneuvers to your tongue’s touch and your teeth scrapes. Yes, pull the orgasm from me. My swollen clit hides, but I work around it as your hair tickles my skin.

When you move to my other nipple, icy air smacks it and my wet skin shivers. My areolas pebble and my peak stiffen. Your thumbs and forefingers stroke and pull each one. I match your movement with my hand between my legs. You slow your touches.

“No, please, no. Make it fast. ”

You pinch hard and twist each nipple. While holding them in that grip, you introduce a pulse, a rhythm for me to follow. I add firmer circling pressure to my clit and slide two fingers inside me, imitating the pulse you created.

Instantly the express elevator arrives, and the doors fling open to my sex detonation.  I hang suspended by your fingers which draw out the orgasm, longer, harder, and stronger. My urgency is intense, and the sensation moves through me like a flood rushing to find open space. You are my anchor to this world, a tether keeping me from an outer body exit, so I can come back and do this with you, again.

As my eyes open to your sweet face and smile, your words make me soar before I can come off this high.

“The clips are next, my dear. And then there's champagne."


 It’s dreamlike for me, as I float. How do you know my desires so well?  Yes, there, right there.

You play in my secret garden. You tiptoe on a predetermined path as you visit every inch of the landscape. How you begin the journey, tells me what is coming. Today, you surprise me.

The heat of your four fingertips under my left cheek arouses me.

Your thumb executes a specific plan. After circling my clit, it slides up my clitoral body like it is your penis length you stroke. You give me what you want me to have, so different from what I do for myself.

You command me. I move at your whim, a puppet to a puppeteer.

I can’t stop my knees as they shake together, a witness to your mastery. My body rears up to meet you.

What is that? A smell. A taste. It’s something familiar.

I am on the Chicago River, on a boat showcasing the famous architecture of the city. The unforgettable smell hits me. Chocolate. Every molecule of air contains the creamy confection. It consumes me.  

My eyelids pop open.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Ray rubs my foot as he sits on the bed.

“I think I’ve been dreaming.”

“You have? Tell me.”

“You were teasing me in some new way to get my attention. And then there was chocolate.”

I sniff.

“There is chocolate.”

“Happy Birthday, Molly. The double boiler’s out. I’m simmering the chocolate for your cake.”

“Yeah, but the chocolate smell is in here,” Ray smiles and ducks his head down continuing to rub my foot and then up my leg.

I throw back the sheet. My naked body houses a birthday surprise. A chocolate heart captures and outlines my bellybutton like I was a finger painting canvas.

“Maybe, I haven’t been dreaming this morning.”

“Maybe, not.” Ray grabs my other foot and drags me down the bed, splaying my legs out, so his body is between them. I see the desire in his eyes and feel lust emanating from his hands.

“Naughty chef. You have made a delightful chocolate mess on me.”

“Shall I clean it up?” He traces the inside of the heart with his finger, careful not to touch the chocolate. The hardened edges pull back a little from my skin and goosebumps flash across my abdomen.

“Yes, please. Do a good job, or there will be a consequence.”

Ray begins the clean-up employing a new technique. He leans in and rubs his scruffy chin from the top of my mound to the bottom of the chocolate heart.

“Oh, my. You are full of surprises today.”

“And with another year, I have to keep surprising you.”

The back side of his hand caresses the inside of my thigh as he exhales his warm breath on my chocolate laced skin. I anticipate his lips, his tongue on my belly but instead his fingers slide through my wetness, showing me he is in charge.

“Oh, yes. You played with me while I was asleep.”

With his hand positioned low, he slipped between my vulva lips so the entire length of his hand, from his wrist to his little finger, rocked up into my heat.

“I wanted you to be ready when the chocolate was ready.” The motion is slow and steady on me as he leans in once more and blows warm air on my skin.

“So you are just a chef, working on the scheduling of the courses.”

“And just like a chef knows food timing, this one knows the art of preparing you.”

“He does?” His thumb presses down on my clit then flutters with staccato-like beats. My pelvis launches off the bed. He does.

“You know I must combine ingredients.” The faster his flutter, the more lubrication seeps out of me. Catching my breath, I hear him say something as his wide, flat tongue runs through my wetness and continues north. The exquisite roughness of his beard brands me again. Then as his tongue finds the chocolate, he inserts his fingers into my potential space filling me up. His tongue swirls chocolate and combines with the clit fluttering as his digits move in and out. The motions combine as my sex scent, and chocolate permeates the room. I hover on the edge of fullness as he pushes into me more and I release all the buildup. My shaking body shatters into pieces like a chocolate bar hitting the floor.

Licking, all I feel is the licking.

I smile and run my fingers through Ray’s hair. It is thick and curly, and I tug his head up by his unruly mop.

“You out did yourself. But I want a birthday kiss.”

“I’m not finished cleaning you up. I might get a punishment.”

I giggle and pull him to me until we are nose to nose. “It would be a penalty you would enjoy.” Watching him suck on his bottom lip, I lean in to taste. I snake my tongue inside searching for his, so I may express my deepest appreciation for his work. When I pull back, there is chocolate on his nose.

“Look at you, Mr. Chocolate. Where did that come from?”

He smirks. “Do you think you could smell chocolate from the kitchen to the bedroom?”

My hand goes to my face, and I feel the chocolate smeared there.

“What do you call this dish, Chef Ray?”

“It’s called, Chocolate Delight, but the main ingredient is one of a kind.”

“I think we need to start working on Chocolate Double Delight. Get those clothes off.”

Writing for #WickedWednesday. See what other stories you like by clicking HERE. 


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