After years of thinking about it, I started a Medium Page. It took me a while to get to it but it looks like it will be a fun place to write as well as expand my readers base.
Anyhow, here’s the link to my first story. I hope you enjoy it.
This is a section from my upcoming short story collection entitled “Shhh… It’s almost 4 A.M.” I hope to get this one out in the first part of next year. It’s the opening of the story so the relationships of the characters and what’s going on in their lives is establish.
Thanks for taking the time to enjoy the snippet from my upcoming WIP.
Kind of Bluish
The vacant screen of his digit audio workstation mocks him.
Rowan took this gig mainly for the challenge. By the description it seemed like an ease job. Score a short film for a festival screening. Easy in and easy out but this has been anything but easy.
This has transformed into one of those nightmare jobs he’s fought hard to avoid. For the amount of money they’re paying, he can’t drop everything just to deal with this megalomaniac producer slash, director slash, lead actor, slash whatever the hell other jobs he’s claimed because he’s so fucking difficult to work with.
If this was due to tension caused by creative differences it might be somewhat understandable. That was not the case. This jackass had no idea what he wanted musically and hated everything Rowan has created.
“Can you give me some examples of songs or soundtracks you’d like this to sound like?”
“Scorsese!”
“Okay? Which film?”
“You watched my film. Which one do you think?”
The fact he places his under exposed, heavy-handed dialogue, lacking character development with no semblance of plot short film on the same level as anything Martin Scorsese has done was laughable. At one point, Rowan lowered the pitch to the title sequence for Raging Bull and sent it to him just to see his reaction.
“What the hell this shit?”
“Scorsese, just like you asked.”
“Well, this is bullshit!”
It’s starting to feel like this guy wants to complain about everything so he could justify not to paying. However, the contract clearly stated, with all legal implications, the only way that could happen would be if Rowan quit. Now, as he sits in front of the blank screen, Rowan weighs if leaving this project is the best thing for him to do.
On top of that, his blood still boils from the conversation he just had with the director less than an hour ago.
“Dude, it’s fucking three o’clock in the fucking morning!?!”
It took everything in his power not to cuss this guy out and walk away but he didn’t want to bother his neighbors. That’s the problem with working freelance gigs. Clients want filet mignon at McDonald’s prices. It’s the reason why Rowan doesn’t work without a signed contract. That still doesn’t stop them from calling you at any time of the day in some cocaine induced, drunken fit of inspiration that lacks both focus and creativity.
Rowan sits at his desk in the living room, attempting to focus by taking deep breaths but nothing works. He grabs his Bluetooth headphones, puts them on, opens up his jazz playlist, and lies down on the couch. He’s too angry to compose but maybe listening to the masters do their thing will inspire him.
Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue plays. It’s one of Rowan’s favorite albums. It’s perfect for both relaxation and inspiration. In fact, a poster of Miles, John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, and Bill Evans during the recording of the album hangs on the wall above his couch. The first track ‘So What’ crawls into his ears. The piano and bass instantly smooth him. The title alone gives him joy. If he walks away from the hellish gig so what? He’s created some great tunes he can use for other projects.
Rowan’s eyelids become heavy. He slowly blinks while staring at the base of the frame of the poster. Sleep is finally overcoming him when he notices the poster move. It was slight. Maybe from a mild earthquake several miles away? As long as he’s lived in Los Angeles, these events no longer shock him. Then, the poster moves again. This time bouncing minimally from the wall in a somewhat erratic rhythm. It breaks the tempo of the music and he can’t block it out. Whatever’s going on, it’s happening in the apartment next to him. The surge of anger that had almost left his body returns. Rowan rips his headphones off, annoyed at the disturbance. What the hell could they be doing at this time in the morning? He prepares to bang on the wall to let his neighbors know to keep it down when a low muffled moan creeps through the wall.
He waits for a moment. Another moan comes, this one deeper than the first. Now, he’s intrigued and places his ear against the wall. Next a soft thud, followed by a series of a rhythmic squeaks, punctuated by what he can only discern as a male voice encapsulated in the throes of passion.
As normal as this should be, Rowan couldn’t help but picture his next door neighbors. They were a married couple and if it’s true that opposites attract, these two would be mascots.
Alex was a barrel chested, heavily tattooed, towering figure. At first sight he gave off ex-con energy to Rowan but he later found out that he was stunt coordinator for one of the major studios. He knew it was Alex’s voice but what he couldn’t compute was the fact that he was actually having sex with is wife, Camila.
From the first time he met her, Rowan could best describe her as mousy. Her lithe frame appeared as if she would easily be crushed under Alex’s size. She was attractive in that uptight librarian type of way with her black cat-eye glasses and long brunette hair always tied up in a bun.
In the year plus they’ve lived next to each other they’ve probably said no more than a few words. In fact, the first time they met was in the elevator. She was already in there when he stopped the door so he could grab a few things from his car in the garage. When she saw him, she jumped and plastered herself against the wall. Then, in an action that he thought was strange, she hit the button for the next floor, even though the button for the garage was illuminated that she had obviously pressed, and rushed by him nervously mumbling to herself. He first thought she has afraid of African-American men but Alex assured him that she wasn’t racist but Rowan still had his suspicions.
Rowan never viewed her as a sexual person. She was always so stoic in public, even with Alex. In all honesty he didn’t think too much about their relationship. He was cordial whenever he saw them and they mostly made little effort to know each other outside of the pleasantries of living next to each other.
Rowan pressed his ear tighter against the wall. The fact he hasn’t heard Camila’s voice he finds typical. He pictures her laying there, probably with her body covered as much as possible in an oversized shirt as Alex pounds away hoping to create some sort of verbal reaction from his wife.
“Jesus,” Rowan whispers to himself as the banging on the wall grows more intense. The walls of these apartments are pretty well sound proofed so the fact he can hear anything is amazing. He can’t get the image of Camila laying there, taking everything Alex can throw into her out of his mind and soon his erection follows.
A part of him feels wrong for listening but the stress of what he’s going through takes over. What harm could it do? He teases the head of his cock through his boxers, timing his strokes to the banging of the wall. Then, unexpectedly, Camila’s voice breaks through.
“That’s right, baby. Open that asshole up for Mommy.”
‘What the fuck?’ Rowan thinks. Did he really hear Camila say that?
“You love it when I pound your ass, don’t you? Tell me how much you love it, Alex?”
The intensity of her voice was as clear as if they were in the room with him. Rowan couldn’t wrap his head around the timid woman he’s witnessed in the hallway being so assertive. However, the thing that shocked him the most was the way this was turning him on. Soon, Rowan’s cock achieves a level of hardness he hasn’t felt in years. He vigorously strokes himself, feeding off the energy in the opposing room. No longer caring about the morality of what he’s doing, he just craves release. The banging from next door crescendos, as does the verbal expressions of pleasure, and soon Rowan comes hard and releases a high pitched groan of satisfaction.
He clutches his still engorged cock, doing his best to make sure none of his ejaculate spills on the cushions and realizes everything has gone silent.
No panting. No postcoital sighs. Just pure, eerie, silence.
Had they heard him? That thought sent chills up his spine. He does his best to get off the couch without making a sound. Anxiety ravishes his body as he slowly backs towards his bedroom. All he can think about is how he can avoid them as much as possible until they can both forget what happened this morning.
Nervous tremors kept him up. The best thing he could do was grab his laptop and head to his favorite coffee shop to work. He knew it would be a couple of hours before Camila and Alex would leave. He subconsciously knew their schedule by the sound of their door opening and closing. If he’s quiet he could slip away without them knowing.
He closes his front door and softly rushes past their door. His heart pounds in his ears as he turns the corner. The swoosh of the doors opening allows him to give a sigh of relief. It feels like he’s made a safe getaway. His body relaxes as the door starts to close when a petite hand reaches in. Camila stands there in a bathrobe with a laundry cart in tow. She steps in, presses button for the basement without saying a word to him, and they both make their decent.
The silence is killing him. It’s too much for him to take and his legs fidget as his nerves are a wreck.
“Did you enjoy yourself this morning?”
The directness of her question shocks Rowan.
“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stammers.
He can’t find the strength to look at her and directs his focus on the floor. From his peripheral vision he sees Camila shaking her head in disapproval. Then, out of nowhere, she reaches over, punches the emergency stop button, and steps to him. The aggressive nature of her movements freaks him out enough that if she had been a man he would’ve thrown a punch.
“I hate being lied to.” Camila takes a step forward. Rowan jumps back, slamming into the wall in a complete reverse of the first time they met. “I bet you thought it was me getting fucked didn’t you? Then when you heard Alex moan… I bet you got harder than you’ve ever been in your life.”
Rowan can’t handle how accurate she is and her straightforwardness has his hard on returning with a vengeance. She takes a glance down, notices the bulge in his pants, smirks, and then flips her head back to him.
“You whine like a little bitch when you come. I didn’t know that until this morning.” She delivers a giggle that feels like it’s on the edge of being sinister. “Don’t worry, Alex does the same thing when I have a good stiff dick deep in his ass.”
She switches to being coy. Rowan would have never guessed this vixen resided behind all that vintage 50’s chic.
“Next time, rather than jerking off alone in your living room like a degenerate, just knock lightly on the wall come over and join us, pervert.”
She reaches into the pocket of her robe, grabs something, and then slowly places her hand in Rowan’s front pocket. Her fingers brush against his turgid dick as she deliberately applies pressure. A few more seconds of this and Rowan feels like he’ll explode.
“Or you can just call? I just gave you my number. Don’t worry. Alex is excited. I’ve been trying to convince him about doing something like this ever since I met you.”
She steps into him and takes a firm grip of his cock through his pants. Her lips are inches away from his forcing Rowan to hyperventilate with excitement.
“Just think about it.”
Their eyes lock. She tightens her grasp on his dick. He feels the urge to lean in and kiss her but the elevator comes to a stop. They quickly separate as an elderly woman and her wire haired terrier get on the elevator.
Rowan’s forehead drips with sweat. Camila returns to her usual meek self as if nothing’s happened. When the elevator stops at the garage Rowan rushes out.
“Have a good day, Rowan. Don’t be a stranger,” Camila states.
The doors close. Rowan stands there alone, stunned about what happened. The one thing he knows for sure is that he won’t be able to avoid Camila and Alex for too long.
The pointed edges of the frigid aluminum shop table dug into his shoulders. A combination of coarse black feathers intertwined with the remnants of her molted talons locked him tight against the surface. Any attempt he’d made to move up to this point had been futile.
If he’d known six months ago while fighting through a drunken bout of depression that saving a wounded crow from being run over would lead to this, he might not have been so eager to save her. Then again, with the bond they’ve created, it would be nearly impossible to picture his life without her.
The air was tinged with the metallic scent of fresh blood. Her howls of pain still echoed through the cinder block walls of the sub basement. The fact that his neck was strapped down to the table along with the rest of his body only left him with the sounds of her transformation and the violent shadows cast against the wall from the bare ceiling lights to inform him of what was happening.
At times it was too painful to watch. When he did look he couldn’t believe his eyes. What he’d witnessed was so incomprehensible that his soul trembled with both terror and anticipation. He had no point of reference for this. He could only track the events that led him down here tonight and hope that maybe, things were not as they appeared.
He never intended to keep her as a pet. His only goal was to give this crow a fighting chance to survive. The more he read about crow behavior the more he understood how difficult that could be. The fight she gave him when he picked up her broken body from the street let him know she had the will to survive. Even the veterinarian he took her to in order access the damage to her body suggested they euthanize her but he refused. The chance this bird had to be reintroduced in the wild was slim but it was a risk he was willing to take.
Due to her severely broken wings and the damage to her legs the trust they formed was essential to both of their survival. Weeks of bloody knuckles from her attacks as he was trying to feed her soon transformed into mutual respect and understanding. She gave him a purpose. The emotional elements that plagued him he redirected towards her survival and soon the intelligence of her breed of bird was on full display.
She could read his mood better than any human he’s ever encountered. Her ability to display empathy was unique. Their method of communicating through gestures and sounds felt as if they had created a language of their own. In his heart he knew this was temporary but her exquisite ability to read him made things difficult. She was a wild animal, something that was never meant to be tamed to the point where he refused to give her a name until he felt ridiculous trying to avoid it.
“What about Vina?”
She cocked her neck to the side and flapped her still healing wings in a display of excitement that allowed that name to stick.
As she got stronger, he did his best to reintroduce her to the wild by keeping his human contact to a minimum but she wouldn’t let him go. He’d take her to a park, miles away from where he lived, and released her only to find her waiting for him on his windowsill when he returned. As much as he wished to give her a normal existence away from him, she kept coming back but he refused to cage her. His dedication was to her freedom and if she chose to return he’d be willing to receive her with open arms. He knew crow’s mated for life and he hoped she’d find a mate and eventually live the life she was destined to live.
He had no idea the mate she would choose was him.
It had been weeks since he last saw her. The first night she didn’t return, he was worried. Those feelings prevailed until he finally reached a sense of calm, through waves of sadness, until he reached a level of acceptance.
What he hadn’t realized was she had returned but never made her presence known. Vina processed his wants and needs through her observations through his window. Every private craving he indulged in, his proclivities towards being dominated by a strong female presence as he scanned the web for the perfect images to release his tensions… she’d seen all of it from a dark perch after he felt that she wouldn’t return and he stopped looking for her.
Her eyes consumed every storks he gave himself. Every moan of ecstasy that crawled from his mouth. The immense pleasure he gave himself which would be followed by intense sleep. Up until this point, her purpose had not been revealed until a spiritual homing instinct lead her back to his apartment tonight.
“Vina,” he called out as she beat her wings against the window forcing him to open it. She flew in and headed directly to the front door and scratched he claws against the wood.
“Follow me,” she cooed softly.
Normally, he would’ve been shocked but a crows ability to mimic allowed him not to question things too much. He opened the door and followed her in a trance until they reached the basement.
At the end of the hallways was a thick metal door. A remnant of when buildings had bomb shelters in the 1950’s due to the threat of a possible nuclear attack. He watched in awe as she diligently observed the old rusty padlock and made quick work, with her beak, to break the ages of rust that had kept this door shut to the world and whatever contents that were behind it.
She made a gesture with her head that could only be understood that she was asking him to open it. He used all of his strength to pull open the door when the hard smell of decay pierced his being and he passed out.
Now, as he lay strapped to this table by the physical elements of her bird state he waited for her to reveal herself. He focused his eyes on the shadow of a female body approaching. Her movements a perfect combination of human and avian until she reached the end of the table.
Panic set in. A simple redirection of his eye would reveal to him what she looked like in human form but the muscles in his neck locked up. His mind attempted to figure out how this was possible. Whatever magic that had created this couldn’t be good in any way. It wasn’t until her soft familiar voice called out his name that he was able to face what she had become.
“Marvin…”
Her voice trembled with anticipation, almost to the point of being nervous, and he tilted his head and way amazed at what she had become.
A beautiful, statuesque woman, completely devoid of any bird like biology, fully naked with feathered onyx hair. Her skin was slightly lighter in color with indentions to where her feather used to be. He swallowed hard at the beauty before him, not sure what to say or how to react, but his eyes radiated with a sense of amazement that she returned with a smile.
“You like?” she asked.
He nodded in approval, lost for words. Her smile grew brighter as she moved closer to him. An intoxicating scent washed over him as his nerves spiked. His eyes drifted from her to his own naked body as his erection that was once dormant with fear sprang to life.
Vina glanced. The smile on her face grew curious as spasms of nervousness focused his cock to flench. She leans forward, gave him a tender kiss on the lips before climbing her silken body on top of his restrained body.
“Now, we mate,” she said gently.
Before he could process what was happening Vina gripped his cock and lowered herself on top of him. The sensation was sublime as if they were created for each other until her animal nature took over. She pounded herself upon him. Her body brewing a glossy sweat as her eyes focused on his. He recognized the familiar look, that one of devotion she’d given him so many times as he helped her to heal, which allowed him to stop questioning what was happening and accept his fate, as the howls of pleasure echoed off the wall surrounding them.
The air trapped in my lungs was painful as the squeeze of her thighs against my ears muffled her prayers. My physical discomfort was nothing in comparison to her spiritual turmoil. At least, that’s what Allison told me numerous times and still we somehow found ourselves locked in this constant struggle. She weaved her trembling fingers through my thick hair before yanking my head up, forcing me to look at her, but not far enough to lift my lips from her clit. Her forehead was filled with anguish. I struggled to pull my lips away but Allison locked her ankles around my waist.
“Why are you making me do this?”
The reflection of the gold letters embossed on the black leather of her bible placed carefully on my nightstand stung my eyes. She placed it there on purpose. This was a reminder of what she’d allowed me to do to her, forgetting she’d succumbed to her urgent desires despite my protests. Now, she expected me to take the full burden of her guilt but this gaze into her soul hid my turmoil. I wanted out but her essence was so intoxicating I ignored all the signs of impending doom.
The urge to look away consumed me but a desperate whimper of unmitigated lust brought my eyes back to her face. My tongue glided inside her pussy, forcing her to release the vice her thighs had created on my head. My ears stung from the pressure of her thighs as she yanked my head away, glaring at me as if she were daring me to continue. The next moment was in my hands. She dripped from my lips, nourishing my need to take her, and yet fully understanding the delicate balancing act I had to perform at this moment.
The silence was unsettling. As much as I wanted to lick my lips and draw her deeper into my being, I didn’t dare. I needed her to submit to her desires first or I would be lost forever knowing that the sinner she viewed me to be was weak. Her stare grew more daring by the second, almost to the point of rebellion and I tilted my head down. Focusing on her glistening pussy I knew, until my intrusion, no other man had touched her there. Where lust should’ve been the motivating factor to continue, responsibility clouded my desire. I positioned my body to stand, knowing any motion not to continue would be interpreted as rejection and felt the strength of her grip on the back of my neck. Her tongue pierced between my lips and quickly became serpentine.
The innocence she once possessed was gone. She was now fueled by her physical need not to remain a virgin by her thirtieth birthday. Others had tried and failed but this was no victory for me. This was about timing. A mutual friend, one that I had carnal knowledge of, planted the seed in Allison’s head and allowed it fester. I was just a cock for hire to perform the dirty deed. This was a one and done experience but I lost focus on my task and found myself disoriented in the clarity of her need. There was no pretense, no gimmicks or social platitudes involved. This wasn’t some curious girl filled with uncontrolled desire but a woman focused on a singular goal and my cock was the solution to her problem. Who I was didn’t matter as much as my willingness to fill her need. I completed that task over a month ago, and even though I’ve done this before, with Allison I found it impossible to let go and I knew there was a part of me deep down that didn’t want to.
“Fuck me hard,” she creaked barely above a whisper and attempted to pull me into her.
“No,” I muttered and I pulled my hips back just out of her reach.
She chuckled in defiance knowing all too well it was going to happen. It always happened and no amount of protesting I delivered would stop her. Allison tightened her grip on my neck, pulling my flush to her body to the point it felt like she was choking me.
“You know how much I want it.” Her voice raised a third of an octave. Then she nibbled my earlobe but her word choice struck me. Allison never said she needed me. The word she chose was it as if the rest of me didn’t matter. That was the trap. It always felt like an innocent choice of wording but it was deliberate. I glanced back over at her bible. The gold letter was now assaulting my conscious imprinting the weight of who she truly was into my soul and I found myself praying for the strength not to do this again. Soon, I was struggling for breath. I dug my fingers into the mattress in an attempt to break free. Then, she bit my ear, sending a surge of pain through my head that washed away any effect the good book had instilled in me. Now, my urge to breathe was primal. As I tensed my muscles to break free the unwrapped her arms, leaving me exposed long enough for the to grab my cock and drive myself into her.
“Oh, God!”
The words shot out of Allison’s mouth and she slapped her hand over her lips just as quick before tilting her head towards her bible. Her legs remained prone as I felt her guilt wrap around my body from the depth of my cock inside her.
“Why are you making me do this, Dennis?” she whined.
Now, I was determined not to go through with this and fought through the seamless lock of her pussy around my cock. I withdrew myself slowly, allowing myself to feel every slick inch of my extraction until I was moments away from escaping her grasps only to have Allison lock her ankles around my waist again.
“Did I tell you to stop? It’s too late for that. You’ve already ruined me.”
The grit in her eyes offset her smirk. In that moment of my confusion, Allison used her legs to throw myself back into her deep and held me there until I willingly thrust myself into her. Her body tensed as she pulled my head down to kiss me, and then moved her lips to my ear.
“Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body,” she whispered. “What book does that come from Dennis?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Think about it. We’ve gone over this before.”
I throbbed inside her knowing if I got this wrong she might stop. I could end her quest to convert me this way but instead, I saw the passage float in front of my face.
“First Corinthians. Chapter 6, verse 18.”
“Very good, Dennis. Now, you know what you have to do, don’t you?”
I nodded realizing Allison had just given me permission to take her. I’d freed her from succumbing to her lust and all I could do to honor that was to take this sin to its full completion.
It’s been a long time since I’ve done a Quick Colorful Encounter, but it’s a new year so let’s start off fresh. Quick Colorful Encounters are works of short fiction under 1500 words.
So, please enjoy and feel free to comment on my first QCE for 2016.
This cock feels so good in my pussy.
Ten years ago this thought would’ve never entered my mind. A few years ago, I would’ve been too embarrassed to admit it. Now that I’m divorced from a man who refused to fuck me on Sundays because it was The Lord’s Day, I can fully embrace it. At 50, my sex life is supposed to be heading towards the downside, right? Fuck that! I didn’t feel like this in my twenties, thirties or even my forties. Then again, I was married to Mister “a proper wife doesn’t act like that” towards me while he was dipping his wick into his boss’ assistant.
I can taste his hunger as he groans in my ear. His attempt to hold off from coming gets challenged when I contract on his dick. His teeth dig into the flesh of my shoulder and he throws himself into me.
“How bad do you want it?”
I don’t respond and wait for him to force me to speak. He weaves his fingers through my sweat matted hair and with a yank, forces me to beg for it.
Last year the thought of dealing with any man was nauseating but after too much Soju at my divorce party, my urges slipped out while talking to my niece Hae-won and she suggested that we go ‘shopping’.
I’d never been in a sex store before but being tipsy and having Hae-won with me gave me courage. She must come here a lot. Everybody knew her and soon my head swirled with knowledge of lubes, dildos, vibrators, and anal toys. I had no idea people put things in their ass for pleasure but when Hae-won said this was her gift to me, I figured why not? There were places in my body I had no idea could turn me on and once I figured out that lube and relaxation are the keys to anal, I was hooked.
Those gifts did wonders for me but I missed the pressure of a man’s body. The sounds he makes as he’s about to come. The taste of his sweat as it drips off his lips onto mine. That’s exactly what I’m getting now but no matter how clear you make things, there’s usually a price to pay.
Male egos are fragile. Even if you fully explain all you need is the sex, they always think you want more. After spending most of my life with a man who didn’t try to get me off, I didn’t have the patience to be polite. Fuck me and leave might not seem polite but I’m not running for Woman of the Year.
When I first started I went way too young. I followed that up by dealing with men close to my age but none of that worked for me. That Mommy fetish or that fucking Cougar bullshit was just as bad as the old dudes with the blue pills who thought, just because they had a medically induced erection, I should do what they say.
The Asian fetish had to be the worst. Most guys I’ve been with had that one but since I was Korean, I didn’t quite meet their fantasies and nine times out of ten they were a lousy fuck anyway. I knew this guy was different because what he’s doing with my body right now… fantastic.
He lifts my body off the bed by my shoulders. I arch into him absorbing every furious inch and knew there was one place I needed him to be before the afternoon was out.
If I’d known he had this type of skill and endurance I would’ve lured him in the first time I walked past his apartment building. Then again, I wasn’t looking for anything at the time. I was still feeling the effects of the last failed excursion. All I wanted was to take my afternoon power walk around the block. I was so into my music I didn’t even notice him until my body reacted to his energy.
He wasn’t the typical guy I went for but I made a detour and circled his building just to be sure. His ebony skin and short dreads pulled me in. Soon my hips followed suit and with a glance over my shoulder I knew he was interested. I didn’t have the time today but I wanted to see if my allure would hold up the next time we met. A few days later I could almost feel him before I turned the corner. He smiled as I passed by. That gave me the excuse to perform my personal checklist. No marriage or engagement ring. A nice muscular build and he appeared to be the right age. This time, I felt his eyes on me all the way down the block but by the time I came back around, he was gone. Then earlier today when I spotted him I didn’t want to risk missing out.
“Why don’t we go back to my apartment and fuck?” I whispered. Being that direct takes away any guesswork. He knew what I wanted. The rest is up to him.
“Okay,” he stated with a smile.
The right answer to a simple question.
I laid out the details on the few blocks it took to get here. By the time the door closed behind us he was undressing me. His lips were soft. His grip, strong and soon I gave myself over to him. He knew what he was going to get so he took his time savoring my body. The true sign of an experienced lover.
“You’re gonna come for me first before I fuck you.”
My body writhed under his command and I allowed him to strip me and before I had a chance to settle into his touch, he yanked down my shorts and locked his mouth onto my pussy. It had been so long since anybody had gone down on me voluntarily and I squealed. When the flutters of my orgasm hit, I tried to push him away but he was too strong and all I could do was come on his mouth. My weakened body slid to the floor as he stood, supporting my body to the floor leaving my eye level with his sturdy erection and without hesitation I took it out and lodged his dick in my mouth.
I didn’t want to rush things but my cunt was still tingling, and his cock was the right size for what I needed him to do. He gave shallow thrust as his body succumbed to my mouth. I stood and attempted to lead him to my bedroom but he couldn’t wait. He turned me around until I faced the front door and slicked his cock into my willing pussy. It was sudden, dirty, and I loved every second of it.
That brings me to now, as we’ve move to the bedroom, and I reach for the lube in my nightstand to slick up my asshole for him. He slows his stroke in anticipation. He must be shocked at what I was offering to him and when I glide two fingers into my ass, he pulls his cock out of me and watches. He was so close I felt his breath between my cheeks but what I need most is his cock deep inside me.
I prepared myself for him to pound my ass but he takes his time, placing pressure on my lower back as he enters me. Soon I’m biting my comforter with my fingers in my cunt as my asshole tightens around his cock. He pulls my body towards him, fighting through my tautness and cursing himself for enjoying me so much. I know I can’t last much longer. I’m practically fucking my own ass with his cock and from the power he’s throwing towards me, I feel he’s close. Through staggered breath, I throw my head back and croon, “I need you to come in my ass.”
Need was the perfect word because he soon explodes inside of me and the internal flutter forces me to orgasm.
As our bodies calm down, confusion sets in because the urge for him to leave isn’t there. When he asks for me to point him to my bathroom panic grips my soul. When he comes back with a warm washcloth to clean up the mess we made together, there is only one thing to say.
“I’m Jeannie by the way.”
“Rick. Nice to meet you,” he laughs.
“So, Rick? I hope you’re not too busy today because I’d like you to hang out for a while.”
My throat was raw from the pounding of the latex cock into my gullet. A salty trail of tears decorated my cheeks as an expression of my devotion towards her as I fought through the discomfort of the brutality she displayed in fucking my mouth.
Why she needed to do this wasn’t as important to me as my willingness to let it to happen.
I reminded myself this was temporary whenever she grabbed my hair and took my breath away with a solid thrust from her hips. I coughed, a natural response, and started to apologize but was silenced with a slap to the cheek.
“Don’t you dare.”
Her voice was strained. Sweat cascaded down the curves of her naked body and dripped off her erect nipples into my bloodshot eyes. Her jet black hair was damp and matted from exertion. I still felt the love Nathalie had towards me in her gaze. My orifices were the road she used to travel on in order to set herself free from whatever was haunting her and I offered them to her without questions.
The latex cock was soon back in my mouth pushing deeper than before. I clenched my body tight accepting the agony. Through the harness I could see her inner thighs glistening. The scent of her arousal filled me to the point I could almost taste her but dared not make an attempt. Instead I shut my eyes and fought my urge allowing the darkness swallow me.
The sounds were as penetrating as her thrust. The squelch from the plunging of my mouth invaded the room followed by a familiar taste. Nathalie had replaced the latex cock with her fingers. The flavor of her cunt swarmed my used mouth as she pushed her fingers to the back of my tongue. I inhaled. The air rushed into my lungs making her flavor that much more potent forcing my own arousal to peak. As much as I wanted this moment to be for Nathalie, my cock betrayed me. It’s arrival was unwanted mentally but keeping my focus on remaining contained resulted in a raging erection.
Her amusement glowed through her smirk. She knelt and wrapped those wet fingers around my cock controlling me with firm deliberate strokes. I opened my eyes and she pressed her thumb against my glans with increased strength.
“It’ll be all over soon if you’re good.”
Her vocal tone had a raspy quality to it almost as if she were possessed. Even the wording she used didn’t feel like Nathalie but her fist pumping around my dick made if difficult to think about anything else. She let me go of my cock and hunched over me, jabbing the dildo back in my mouth, and reaching between my ass cheeks to pull on the base of the butt plug that had been inside me for the past few hours. That was the only thing she asked of me, to have my ass lubed and primed for whatever might happen.
“Your cunt sounds like it’s begging to get fucked.”
Fear crept into me as Nathalie yanked on the butt plug, creating an air pocket that rang inside my hollow and well lubed cavity. My forehead pushed against her stomach forcing an uncomfortable torque as she continued to pound my mouth. Shivers of intensity filled me as she gave the butt plug a slap. My need for air took over. I pushed hard against her thighs and Nathalie stumbled back somewhat taken by my burst of strength.
“Stand.”
Nathalie grabbed me by my hair and forced me to my feet.
“I wanna look into your eyes when I fuck you.”
She pushed me against the kitchen counter. Using my hair like a puppeteer, Nathalie forced me on top of the cold yellow tile and gently pulled the butt plug out. That hollow sensation of being empty after so much time rushed through my body and almost as soon as I was able to enjoy the relief Nathalie filled my asshole with the dildo.
Her entry was slow but soon her pace quickened as if her previous tenderness was a recognition of the man who’d shown his unconditional dedication to her needs. However, the ghost that haunted her could only be destroyed by pounding away any emotional connection she had towards me.
Each thrust she powered into my ass was designed to obliterate her love for me until there was only a pulsating orifice that struggled to remain tight despite her force. There wasn’t as much pain as there was pressure. Her perfectly aimed strikes throttled my prostate and the surge of pleasure was sublime rendering me speechless and quivering. I lost sight of my purpose, trapped in the ecstasy of what she was doing to me until a firm grasp of my throat tore me away from my blissful trance.
“This is what a slut like you deserves.”
Her legs shook from fatigue as she tightened the grip on my throat and attempted to split me open. She was possessed, so close to the place she fought so desperately to arrive at. I could bare a few moments of discomfort if it allowed her to be free of this burden.
My stomach felt hollow. I knew I wouldn’t be able to contain myself. A high pitched whimper slipped from my lips and she knew she owned my body with that latex cock. There was nothing more to do than to give in to her and she fucked my ass with every once of strength she could dish out.
“Damn you, Trevor!”
I didn’t know who Trevor was or what he’d done but when she screamed his name, I felt the tension drain from her body. Tears flooded her dark brown eyes like ebony pools of anguish that streamed down her cheeks until the Nathalie I knew returned. Her body trembled as she pulled the dildo from my ass. Sobs accented her tears as her hands unhooked the harness and climbed on top of me with apologetic kissed.
“I’m so fucked up,” she cried.
She was far from that but any words of reassurance I could give were muffled by her tongue. Her trembling hands blindly searched for my rigid cock and drove it deep inside the wetness of her cunt. I wrapped my arms around Nathalie wanting to pump into her but knew she needed this release more than I did. Her lips cried ‘sorry’ into my mouth as she pushed herself towards an orgasm that would wipe away the ill effects of what she’d done to me in pursuit of her emotional freedom.
A tremendous plunge of her hips sent an explosion of liquid from her cunt coating my body as well as the kitchen counter. Her body trembled as her orgasm peaked and I took that moment to unleash the passion burning inside me. Using my heels for leverage, I lifted Nathalie off the counter by my hips and flung my cock inside her. Her sobs transformed into throaty gasps of elation. My muscles were tight but I pushed through the sting as I wanted nothing more than to fill her up, break through her distress, and bring her back to me not longer broken but on the mend.
“Fill me up with me everything you’ve got, Jake.”
Her voice was almost back to normal. My fatigued muscles sensed the onset of cramping but I refused to stop. I needed this. She needed this. We both deserved this and with a tightening of her cunt against my thrusting shaft Nathalie forced me to explode inside her. I flooded her pussy as my legs gave into the strain and collapsed. I took deep breaths to fend off the impending cramps. Nathalie’s body continued to shiver as she rested her weight on my body and my cock spurted inside her until I was empty.
“I wanted you to know-”
I placed my finger on her lips. The only thing that mattered was for Nathalie to understand that she didn’t have to explain her actions to me. Her eyes radiated with clarity. She accepted my body in this moment of silence as a gift and gave me a kiss to signify that.
“Thank you,” she whispered and stroked her hand through my sweat drenched hair.
At times like this silence speaks volumes, unconditional dedication erases all doubt, and knowing that allows the much needed healing to begin.
When I saw them in the hallway I never spoke to them beyond pleasantries but at night, those two were all I could think about. Our bedrooms shared a common wall and despite my attempts not to pay attention to them, the thin plaster membrane that separated us left little to the imagination and at times that could be somewhat disturbing.
I didn’t want to deprive them from enjoying each other. There were times I just wished they weren’t so loud. When they first moved in next door, they christened every room in their apartment with such verbosity that I slept on the couch in the living room. I could still hear them go at it but at least I was far enough away so I could get some sleep. I even thought about saying something to them but I didn’t want them to think I had a problem with them being gay.
What people do with each other in the privacy of their bedroom is no business of mine but that wall made me feel like I was right there with them.
Last night, after a brutal double shift at work, I was long over due for some much needed sleep. As I drifted off those two started up. The bass from their music started to shake the walls in a vain attempt to muffle their groans. I thought about banging on the wall to let them know I was trying to sleep. Instead, I grabbed my pillow and headed for the couch when a deep male groan cut through the music.
“Ah, come on,” I mumbled.
The focus of my distress was aimed at what was happening on the other side of that wall but I was also talking to my dick, which started to get erect as the sounds of their pleasure grew louder.
I’m straight. I shouldn’t get turned on by this, right? As much as I wanted to walk away I found my hand wrapped around my cock, stroking myself, and heading back to my bed. By the time I reached the mattress I was fully erect. I tried to wrap my head around why as the moans escalated to clear verbal exchanges.
“I want you to come in my mouth.”
I don’t know which one of them said that but it didn’t matter. I was throbbing in my hand with my ear pressed against the wall, and my mind was doing its best not to picture them together. Emanuel was light skinned, barrel chested, stocky, and bald but he had a thick beard with flecks of gray. His partner, Abel was built similar but was shorter, with darker skin, and more round.
“Keep dicking my ass deep like that, baby.”
That’s Abel’s voice. I recognized the gruff tone. Then a loud thud banged against the wall right by my ear and I pictured Emanuel bent over with his butt checks spread apart while Abel rammed his cock through the tightness of his sphincter.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be picturing that at all but I was jerking my dick at a furious pace, needing to come so badly, and wanting myself to deal with these thoughts afterwards. My balls went tight as did my grip. I held my breath with my ear locked on those curious melodic sounds of powerful man fucking just inches away. A surge of energy shot through me. I lifted my hips off the bed as I pumped myself into submission floating on the sounds coming from next door and then…
“Oh, fuck!”
I thought that was Emanuel but it was me who shouted. Then everything went quiet.
“You think he heard us?”
“Of course. We can hear him too. Sounds like he’s enjoying it.”
Embarrassment flooded my body but my dick jumped at the knowledge that they knew I was listening.
“He is kinda cute. Maybe we should invite him over to join us?” Emanuel cooed.
“I bet you’d love that you dirty slut,” Abel chuckled.
“I wonder if he’s got a big dick? You know what they say about the quiet ones? If he did come over would you let him fuck me?”
A low grunt pierced through the wall followed by a slap.
“Just thinking about it has your ass all tight and shit.”
A high-pitched yelp cracked the air. I was now the focus of their sexual fantasy and despite how disturbing I thought that was I couldn’t stop tugging away at my cock. My stomach tightened as I violently pounded into my grip until a gruff voice floated through the wall.
“What’s your name, cutie?”
“Walter,” I responded but I wasn’t quite sure why.
“You wanna join us, Walter?”
“No!”
I didn’t mean for the words to come out of my mouth with such bite.
“So you just want to lie their jerking you cock my your lonesome and listen to us fuck then?”
I hesitated before I answered as I was holding my breath trying to delay the inevitable.
“Yes,” I croaked.
I covered my mouth with my hands in shock. What was I doing? Why was I so willing to continue and why had they stopped? I stared at my turgid dick, its head glistening, and the scent of my precum drifted to my nose off my fingers.
“Well, if you’re not going to join us then at least let us hear you. We’d like that wouldn’t we Emanuel?”
He hummed in agreement.
“Now grab that cock of yours and let us hear it.”
I’ve gone this far so why stop now? I gripped my cock with both hands, squeezed, and shouted, “Fuck his ass so hard I can feel it!”
“Ooh, I like your style, Walter.”
A loud thud followed by the scratching of fingernails against the wall is what I heard next and then Abel released a sound from the depths of his soul that echoed through the apartment building. I slipped one hand down and cupped my balls as my other hand pulled on my shaft so hard I thought I might separate my dick from my body. They invited me into their passion and I was going to enjoy this for everything it’s worth. The banging against the wall grew louder. Abel’s painful bliss shot through his ass, out of his mouth, and into my ears. The upstairs neighbors started stomping on the floor screaming for them to stop but we were all so close to relief that nothing else mattered.
“I’m gonna…”
“Not it there. Let me taste it.”
There was a rustling as their bed banged against the wall. Then Abel groaned, which sounded more like a battle cry, and I pictured him coating Emanuel’s face in a creamy white blast.
“You taste so delicious, sweetie. Now it’s your turn.”
It was apparent from the clanging that Emanuel was jerking off and my bed was rattling against the wall as I did the same. I felt suspended and trapped as my semen shot through my shaft splashing on my taught stomach as I let go a groan of relief. I was so caught up that I didn’t hear Emanuel come but I heard Abel smacking his lips from the aftermath. I reclined on my bed panting, listening to their soft kisses as I pictured them licking their faces clean. Then the confusion set in. I gazed at my come-saturated stomach questioning everything I knew about myself up to this point.
“Walter? Are you, okay?” Abel asked.
“But I’m not gay,” I pleaded as I felt tears welling up.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he responded.
“Yeah.”
“Then that’s the only thing that matters. The only people who know are the three of us, right?”
I knew that but hearing those words put my mind at ease a little. I glared the mess I’d made of my body not sure what to say. Then the words fell out of my mouth.
“Thank you.”
Everything went quiet again.
“You’re welcome. Pleasant dreams, Walter.”
“You too… fellas.”
I rushed to the shower to clean up. A few moments later I heard their shower turn on.
“We should invite him over for lunch or something. It would be nice if he had someone to talk to about this.”
“I hope he doesn’t think we’re trying to get him into a threesome. Even though-”
“Shut up, Abel and wash my back, please. All we can do is extend the invitation.”
Yes to the invitation and as far as the threesome, I’m not sure if I’d ever be ready for but after what happened tonight, it would be nice to have someone who understands to talk to about this.
I’ve written in a lot of different genres and formats from plays, screenplays, TV, and short stories but it wasn’t until I took this journey into erotica that I started getting questions that I never got in those other formats.
I love writing about crime, mainly murders. There is something about all the players that come together in order to make a crime story work. However, I’ve never had anybody ask me if I’ve ever murdered somebody in order to make my stories work as well as they did.
When I first started writing erotica, I tried my hands at everything, searching for what would work best for me. From group sex, BDSM, M/F, and the one genre that I seem to have the best results, F/F stories. Yet, whenever I write a M/M story and I have someone read it who knows me personally I always get the same question.
Are you sure you’re not gay?
I take that question as a compliment because if the sex in the story is so convincing that people who know me have to ask the question then I must be doing something right.
In my mind I’ve been the neophyte with the virgin ass who desires to get fucked by the perfect man. I’ve been the come guzzling man whore who can’t get enough cock in every hole he has to offer. I’ve been the dominate top and the submissive bottom. I’ve been the man who loves the taste of come and the guy who hastes it, but loves the warm feeling of a man’s seed on his skin.
I’ve been able to describe the sensation of having your asshole stretched out by a sizable cock even though, up until I discovered the wonders of Aneros’ products, the only item I’ve ever had in my ass was my college girlfriend’s thumb.
What I try to do is be as authentic as possible. Sometimes that takes a lot of research and investigation but there’s nothing worse than reading a story by a person has no idea what the hell they were writing about and don’t care either.
So, to answer the question ‘does this cock in my mind make me gay’?
Yes, it does.
Because readers getting turned on and enjoying my M/M stories is the only thing I really care about.
Cyber Monday might have come and gone but that doesn’t mean you can’t still have some excitement for the holidays, right?
This year I have a special treat for you. A MMF erotic comedy Christmas story that’s a hot and fun read. I had a blast writing this one and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much.
Here’s what Her Cup Runneth Over is all about:
A casual holiday dinner ignites into a night of lust filled passion when Gloria invites her co-worker, Colum to share a Christmas meal with herself and her roommate, Miguel.
If you need a little more, here’s an excerpt that shows the spark that changes the events of the evening.
Her Cup Runneth Over
Each laugh from Colum’s mouth broke down Miguel’s façade until the fun guy I had known since pre-school appeared. I sat between them on the couch flipping through embarrassing pictures of Miguel and I as Colum passed the bottle of Irish whiskey between us. Then I stopped at a picture of Miguel and I from junior prom.
“What in the fuck,” Colum chuckled when he saw what we were wearing. “Please tell me this was a dare or something?”
In my heart I wished it had been. The dress I had on was too big for my body except for my breasts. It looked like I was wearing a gold trash bag with a corsage and Miguel looked like a toddler wearing his father’s tuxedo.
“Oh, my God, Gloria. Stop the torture, please,” Miguel tittered.
“What’s going on with both of your eyes,” Colum asked.
Our eyes were both bloodshot with droopy eyelids.
“Mahalo,” Miguel and I shouted. Colum looked at us confused.
“He was this white kid with dreads that we knew in high school,” Miguel laughed. “He was born in Hawaii.”
“That’s how he got his nickname,” I said. “He was a senior I think. He’d been held back a year right?”
“At least. He was kind of creepy but he had the best weed in town,” Miguel stated.
“That would explain it,” Colum uttered and then took a sip from the bottle before he handed it across my body to Miguel.
“He had the smallest dick with these enormous balls,” Miguel shivered. “I can’t believe you made me suck his cock for that small bag of weed, Gloria.”
“Hey, I paid for dinner, the tickets, the limo-”
“Your father put on a suit and drove your Nana’s caddy.”
“Still, it was the least you could do, Miguel.”
“Yeah, the very least but that weed did make the rest of that evening interesting.”
Miguel snapped his head in my direction. The smile on his face let me know that he might have dropped his front but not his game plan.
“What’s that all about,” Colum asked when he sensed the tension between us.
“You wanna tell him since you decided to take this trip down memory lane, Glo?”
If my eyes were knives I would’ve decapitated Miguel.
“I know you want to so go ahead.”
Miguel leaned forward so he could look right at Colum.
“So, you know how weed makes some people horny?” He glanced at me and then rolled his eyes. “Well, this one got pure loco on that shit.” He bent over further to where his head was almost in my lap. “I understood we were on a date, but not like a real date because we’re friends, but not like that. Anyhow, Gloria had her eye on this boy, who wasn’t all that cute to begin with, but she thought if she got a room he might fall for her.”
I groaned, “fuck,” as my embarrassment attacked me.
“Well, we get to this roach motel her cousin Myra got for her and the next thing you know, this boy shows up. What was his name?”
“Tony.”
“That’s right, Tony. So they go into the room and leave me outside in a bad part of town with the local riff raff doing what ever they do at that time of night. The next thing you know Tony stormed out of the room and I looked inside to see Gloria on the bed in shock.”
“What happened,” Colum asked me but I was too humiliated to respond.
“He wanted her to blow him but she wouldn’t do it,” Miguel whispered.
“I’m right here, you know,” I spat and pushed Miguel off my lap.
“What? You hadn’t had sex before,” Colum asked somewhat surprised.
“No. That wasn’t it. I’d sex a few times but I had never done that. I thought it was nasty at the time. Tony said he had a girlfriend so he couldn’t have sex with me, but he said it was okay if I blew him.” As the words poured out of my mouth I felt like I was sixteen again.
“I did what I could to calm her down but she wasn’t having any of it so-” Miguel waited for me to fill in the details but I signaled him to continue. “So, she asked me to teach her how to suck dick.”
No,” Colum gasped. “So the first time you did it was with-”
“Me,” Miguel beamed as his face filled with pride.
“And how was she?”
“Good enough to take his virginity,” I stated and slammed the photo album shut.
“Wait? Hadn’t you-” he looked at Miguel confused.
“Yeah, but never with a woman.”
“Fuck me,” Colum chuckled and took a hard sip from the bottle. “And how was that?”
“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” Miguel stated.
“I’m the only pussy you’ve ever had, Miguel”
Colum looked back and forth at us and then smirked.
“And was that the only time it happened?”
I wasn’t expecting that question and from the expression on his face, neither was Miguel.
“I guess that silence answers my question.”
In the stillness of the room, I noticed the bottle of Midleton was a shot away from being empty and my nerves had me wanting to be anyplace but here.
“We need some tequila,” I said and stood up. “I think we have a bottle in the kitchen.”
I rushed to the kitchen and spotted an almost full bottle of 1800 tequila. As I grabbed it I heard Miguel ask Colum, “So, when did you discover that you had a taste for dick?” Another silence fell over the apartment. I peeked into the living room to see Colum with a stoic gaze locked on Miguel.
And things just get better from here. So, head over and get you a copy for only .99.
Her wetness echoed off the thin aluminum walls of the heating vent from the apartment below me as I attempted to push myself through the final touches of this editorial on the failures of the school district to moderate funding for inner city tutoring programs. Each time my mind would lock on the specific wording of a phrase my focus was destroyed by the vivid sound of Diana pleasuring herself.
“Why don’t you come down here and take this pussy?”
Her words were directed at me. Diana made no attempt to hide that but getting involved with someone who lived in your apartment complex, let alone someone who lived directly underneath you, was something I had no interest in doing. That closeness created problems too numerous to count yet the allure of her voice, as it bit my ear from the vent above my desk, had my dick harder than I thought possible.
“Oh fuck, Keith! Just listen to what you do to my pussy.”
A drenched symphony erupted as her guttural moans accented the jabbing of her her fingers inside herself which crescendoed with intensity until a wet slap followed by a shriek brought everything to a sudden stop.
“I know you’re awake. I can hear your feet tapping on the floor. You know you can’t write while I’m doing this so why don’t you come down here and do something about it?”
My dick was already in my hand as I fought off temptation.
“All you have to do is say the word and I’ll unlock the front door for you.”
Fuck! She’s not making this easy and at this point, I didn’t care. All I wanted to do is to make sure I was strong enough to stay in my apartment. I pulled down my pants below my knees so any move to exit would be met with resistance. I licked my thumb and rolled it around the head of my cock, closed my eyes and locked into her voice.
“What are you waiting for?” she whispered. “I know how frustrated you are. I would do things to you that she would never allow herself to do.”
I stopped. In all the times Diana had done this she never got personal. Then it hit me that as easily as I could hear anything in her apartment Diana could just as easily listen to what was going on in mine. She must have overheard the last fight I had with Lynda. The one where her lack of sexual exploration reached a critical point and when I called her on it. Lynda attacked me as a pervert and stormed out. That was over a week ago and if she had done what she was doing now that night, I would’ve been down there instantly.
“She didn’t understand you like I do. Sometimes you need to give a man what he wants so you can get what you need and I know what you need, Keith.”
“And what is that?”
I never expected to respond to her but my dick was throbbing and I was intrigued by what she might say.
“You need a woman who’s not afraid to embrace her sexuality. Someone who won’t judge you for what you like and where you like it. A woman who understands that you can’t find balance unless you explore the extremes.”
I went back to gently stroking my cock as her words invaded my soul.
“Did you really think denying what you needed would work out for you? I could tell when I first saw her that she wasn’t a closet freak but you still tried to turn a housewife into a something she could never be.”
She was right and I felt a rush of anger fill my body at her recognition of my romantic flaw and took that out by increasing the strength of the grip around my cock as I stroked it.
“I’ve been there before and it never ends pretty but when we met we both felt the potential of where this could go. Now, you’re sitting up there alone, thinking about what could’ve been and all you have to do is walk down those steps.”
I reached for my pants and stopped myself. Everything about this was wrong and once I headed for that door there would be no turning back. She was silent as if she were waiting for my reaction then a high pitched wail ricocheted through the heating vent that was peppered with restraint as the all too familiar sound of Diana’s vibrator layered underneath her voice.
“Stop acting like a bitch and come down here and fuck me or did she take your manhood with her when she left?”
I rushed towards the front door. I didn’t even pull my pants all the way up. All I could think about was throwing my hard mahogany cock between her caramel thighs, forcing her to cum hard as I released all of my angst into her body. By the time I hit the bottom of the flight of stairs I was in full stride. I turned towards her apartment and reached for the door when it opened. There she was standing completely naked working the vibrator in and out of her pussy. I stopped for a moment and watched as her stomach muscles flexed with each plunge of her hand.
“Get in here!”
She pulled me in her apartment and slammed the door behind me. I leaned in to kiss her but Diana grabbed my pants, yanked them down to my ankles, turned me around and shoved my body against the front door. I braced myself from crashing into the wood and arched my back to get better footing when I heard the vibrator turn off and felt her fingers reach between my ass cheeks and pull them apart.
“You don’t waste any time do you?”
“I’ve waited long enough.”
Diana worked up the saliva in her mouth before she launched a perfectly aimed projectile of spit in the center of my sphincter. She turned the vibrator back on and stroked the tip behind my balls. I clawed at the door as my erection ached in anticipation of Diana’s next move. She moved the vibrator upwards and stopped right at my anal opening before reaching around and taking a firm grip of my cock.
“I told you I knew what you needed.”
Diana slowly pushed the vibrator past the tightness of my sphincter. I took a deep breath and attempted to relax as Diana steadily inserted the tip of the vibrator into my tense muscle ring of pleasure.
“So, what took you so fucking long to get down here?”
“Walter? Are you, okay?” Abel asked.
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