Apr 132014
 

Tommy was taller than me by at least a foot. He was solid. He was thick. I felt the time he put in at the gym when he pressed against me. I didn’t want to pull away. My body had nowhere else to go, anyway. There was no safe zone. I couldn’t get around him. I didn’t want to. We were face-to-face. I had to pay up.

He gently referenced kink. He had my attention. He knew it. My playful banter and coy responses, brought about his warning. He was no one to tease. My stomach dropped and my pussy convulsed. I wanted to tease him. I wanted to test him.

He was a regular at the bar. He kept to himself, but gave way to coy flirting and witty backcap. He gave as good as he got. The innuendos were quiet, even with the loud background and my business with other patrons.  All of the witty repartee siphoned out his dominant side. He knew I had an obvious understanding, but had chosen to teeter on the bratty side. I did so from behind the bar. It was a safe zone, mentioned many times. It was part of our game. I could tell it excited him. It excited me.

When Tommy stayed for more than his usual three beers, we spoke more in-depth. He couldn’t adapt to a vanilla relationship. And no relationship adapted to him. He was taking a break for a while. He went to the gym. He went to work. He came to the bar. Happy hour was very happy for both of us.

Some of his words sent me dipping out of sight. Hidden behind the bar was an unused kitchen. It stored two big beer coolers and the liquor kept in stock. There was never time to rub one out at work. Someone was always fucking thirsty. It did provide enough privacy to regain mental footing, if only for a moment. It was becoming obvious to him what was sending me running for cover. It amused him. I never expected him to follow me.

But there he stood. Shock stole my tongue. I looked up at him. He looked straight down to me. He was stoic.  I considered nervously laughing off my surrender. But the atmosphere changed, and I didn’t have any more witty remarks. He leaned down and filled his hands with the back of my thighs. His fingertips gripped tightly just above the shredded line of my cut-offs. He lifted me with up with spread legs and leaned his weight against me and the beer cooler.

His lips were fat. I wanted to suck one. I tried to kiss him, but he pulled away. I looked up at him, instinctually; my face questioning what I thought was his hesitance. But I didn’t see him. He caught my mouth the instant before. Those lips that I wanted to taste were eating me whole.

It wasn’t romantic. It had nothing to do with what I wanted. This person was who he warned me about. He told me that he was no one to tease. There was no safety of the bar’s depth between them. Three beers today. Tommy wasn’t thirsty. Tommy was hungry.

The thick seam from my cut-off jeans rode up in between the plump outer lips of my pussy. Tommy’s handfuls were kneading their way up to my ass. I got his lip, for a moment. He let me have it. He nosed down and bit my nipple through my t-shirt. He could have it. I was cock hungry. He could have pushed the panties aside and slid right in. Time wouldn’t have allowed for it, but it’s what I wanted more than anything in that moment.

I dry humped him like a flat-backing whore. He came back up for my mouth. I sucked on his lip, just like I wanted to do his cock. Then I bit it. I bit it hard. He growled and I let go as his body tensed against mine. He went for my neck. He licked it. He slithered his tongue over my throat so that his teeth would have a slick place to land and sink in. I wanted to cum. He bit my neck. He bit it hard. I pulled at the back of his t-shirt when his teeth sank in. My cunt jerked and spat.

I was cock hungry.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Mar 102014
 

Snow hillHer love for him was fresh and untainted. It was a sunny day with a hill of untouched snow. It was delicate. It was a pretty picture.

Their tracks went back and forth on top of the hill. They hung on to each other for better footing. Neither wanted to upset the fragile allowance beneath them. In time, steps became stomps and walking gave into a run.

On her way down, she felt a hand at her back, not one that offered aid. Her body cleared a path down the hill. The snow hid the branches that tore at her clothes. The slicked grass permitted her no foothold.

She slid. He watched from the top. He was stoic. She relinquished flesh and tears to the tumble. There was no pardon for her. It was inescapable. Every rock, branch, and punch of earth was a recitation of what she already knew; but had to live through to pocket the experience.

Be careful who you climb hills with.

 

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Mar 022014
 

I write dark. I write sinister. There’s a tone for it. My pieces are triggers if they are written well. My new ones, mostly and fully. I believe it’s because each write is a collection of thoughts that have grown turgid and vile in the dark. Also, I shouldn’t be allowed the latitude that I have in D/s and life in general.

Wish One – Become a Better Writer

I’ve hung from tripods and train tracks, but I really want to do more suspension. I just don’t get enough rope time.

Wish Two – Fly

Now I’m going to make a wish that’s not sexy. I was selfish with the other two. I’m not trying to get all “Miss America” in here, but I’d feed everybody. I’m not going to get political with it, but I’d fucking feed everybody.

Wish Three – Everybody Eat

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Feb 182014
 

TipThey had contact with each other through the internet for years. They were friendly shoulders during personal times. They were comfortable enough to reveal sexual secrets. He liked administering spankings. She preferred the receiving end. She also preferred an initial conversation and sexual teasing during dinner at a nice restaurant; followed by the actual encounter and an expensive gift. It made her feel like a lovely whore.

They had met once, in her car. It was a hurried encounter. He was paranoid and all paws. She enjoyed his roaming hands and drooling compliments.  She wanted more.

She walked in, spotted him, and dipped her chin to the hostess. She took her seat at the table and asked him if all the particulars were taken care of. He nodded nervously. She laughed softly and patted his thigh before picking up a menu.

She had the chicken. He had the salmon. The conversation of family, work, and kids flowed fluidly between them. None of what was said was new information, just updates. He’s trepidation was gone. Her touching and laughing was easy. She made it easy for him, too. The body contact was making him breathless. She felt his urgency to pay the check. They finished up and took to the room adjoining the hotel.

Entering the room before her, he turned, looking for approval. She smiled in assurance. He’d made good choices. Once she’d perched herself at the end of the bed, he brought her a tiny box, which she recognized by its light green color.  It came from one of the tiny antique jewelry shops in Five Points. They were peridot, in silver settings. She couldn’t have been happier. She was squealing. He was beaming. She’d mentioned the stone a few times in conversation over the years. He knew it would be a ringer.

She wrapped her arms around him with a big kiss and a whole lot of tongue. He was immediately anxious to have her. She turned her back to him and asked that he unzip her. When she felt the heaviness of the zipper fall to her waist against the thin fabric of her dress, she turned around to face him.

His eyes drank in the scene. Unzipping her dress and watching as she turned to reveal her breasts. He ran the back of his fingers along the side of both tits. Her nipples tightened. “Uuhh, That feels good.”  His eyes lifted to her face. She was squirmy. He grinned.

She turned from him and pealed her dress over her ass and surrendered it to the floor.  She took two steps in front of him so that he could fully enjoy the site of her naked ass. Afterall, he paid for it.

His cock was strong and appreciative. She locked her knees and bent her elbows into the plush sheets of the bed.  He pulled one of the chairs in the room over to the end of the bed. She felt his hands move up the backs of her thighs to her bottom. He slapped one of her ass cheeks and she arched back for him. He slapped her again, harder. He stood up behind her. She could feel his cock through his pants, between the cheeks of her ass. He turned to set on the bed. The slaps continued until her ass was hot.

Her pussy was wet and she needed to get off, “suck my cunt? I need to cum.”

He was more than willing, “fuck yes.”

They switched positions. She sat up at the end of the bed and he was on the floor, sucking cunt juice. She knew he secretly loved to eat pussy, but not be berated for it. He loved the smell of pussy on his face. He wanted to be surrounded by it. She leaned back and sighed as his tongue dug deep and made a mess on the both of them. He began sucking her clit and she pushed her pelvis against his face. Squeezing her thighs together and spreading them apart only spurred him on. Finally, her fingers found his hair. She lovingly ran her fingers through it. She whispered, “suck my cunt, Baby. Suck on my pussy.” She felt him prickle. She began to chuckle. They had fallen into an easy mode. They were comfortable enough to ask for what they wanted, and to tease. He stood up and looked at her, “You know I hate that.”

That didn’t stop her,”I couldn’t help it. You fucking make me horny. I feel like your whore.”  She was watching him strip in haste as she cooed her filthy words.

“Come suck my dick.” His hand was a port for his enraged cock.

She began shaking her head, “I’ve already told you that I’m not sucking it unless you shave it. It’s not shaved. You don’t even trim it!” She’d seen pictures of his cock and his cum. During many a conversation that turned sexual they had both sent pictures and videos of themselves masturbating. She’d questioned his lack of shaving and he was adamant about his natural look. She’d never sucked a cock with that much hair. She expected a mouthful of pubes and her inability to overlook it and give a good blowjob.

She hesitantly motioned for him to come closer. She took her time inspecting his hairy cock. Despite the hair, his skin was smooth. She ran her closed lips up and down his shaft. She enjoyed the feel of it on her cheeks. His moaning alerted her to his urgency. She eased it in, rolling her tongue around the head. His hisses were an unmistakable sign that his balls were heavy. She drove her face down on his dick. Her saliva mixed with his hair. She almost gagged and pulled back.  His hand was in her hair before she could come off of his cock. He pushed even more of his hairy dick inside her mouth and she let out a little squeak. He began to pump her face.

She could taste pubic hair, his engorged cock, and the precum leaking from it. She was irritated that he was face fucking her. Her cunt was on fire at the same time. Her hands massaged his heavy nut sacks. His thrusting deeper and deeper led to a goopy mess of cum and hair all down her throat, on her face, and even on her lips and dripping onto her breasts.

He was squeezing out what was left in his cock onto her tit while he laughed, “There’s a first time for everything.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Feb 052014
 

Dead GirlCatching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked to where he was sitting. She wasn’t even supposed to have her friend there, but Marie was almost her sister and how in God’s name was she supposed to go through this without her? She could also give her Mother some closure if this all went South, God help.

It was cold in Jersey. She was dressed to a tee thanks to Jimmy. She was wearing a big warm fur from Jimmy. And she was wired to the fucking gills thanks to the fucking FEDs. She was also going into Jimmy’s place. Jimmy’s place! She tried to tell the FEDs that they didn’t have nobody inside there. They kept insisting that they did. Fucking FEDs.

Angela was a girlfriend. Angela also processed a certain amount of coke that she’d recently been busted on which gave the FEDS reason to wiretap her phone. They got Nicky on everything from Conspiracy , Racketeering, down to fucking jay walking. So she rolled. Now she’s a rat. Now Nikky’s gonna kill her.

When she finally sat down across from him, she knew she’d hit a lucky. He was high as fuck, all fidgety and shit. She moved real close and shushed him, “Hey, hey, Baby…what’s wrong?” The waitress came by and Angela waved her down, “Scotch! Two triples!” Angela went right back to tending to Nicky. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Nicky kept sniffing and coke checking his nose. “The fucking FEDs, that’s what.” Angela had tried to tell those fucking FEDs. She told them that they didn’t have nobody in here. Nicky would find out. When the drinks came, Nicky downed his and asked for another. Angela’s kisses and cooing were a benefit to the drinks. Nicky started to notice Angela more. Her legs, her lips, her thighs.

Nicky watched her smiling at him, closed out his drink, and took her hand. “Upstairs.” She followed him, knowing that undressing was a bullet she couldn’t dodge. Coming into Nicky’s room above the restaurant meant that the FEDs couldn’t hear her through the interference in the walls. They were trying to get the audio feed back up.

“I’m getting in the shower. Be naked and ready when I get out.” He was already closing the bathroom door as he said it. She’d never stop with the Hail Mary’s if she got out of this one. She stripped, pulling cords and wires everywhere. She shoved them in her bag and it under the bed. She was naked when he came out in a towel. He smiled gently, dropping the towel. He kissed the inside of her ankles before he snatched her to him.

He slid inside her with a deep breath and a grunt when his cock fully landed. His hold on her ankles loosened as he slid his grip up her legs and tightened on the top of her thighs. Her back arched while his body slammed against hers. Nicky always was a good fuck.

Angela’s body started to shake and Nikky pinned down both of her wrists. He leaned down close to her face, “This is my pussy. It doesn’t belong to anybody else, especially not the FEDs.” Angela’s body was already squeezing and manipulating around Nicky’s cock. She couldn’t stop. “Nicky spat the words at her,” Come on, cum for me you dirty whore.”

And cum she did, right up until the moment that the electrical cord tightened just a little too much.  Nicky let her body slump back, flat against the bed. He put his pants on and hit a button on the phone.

“Hey, I need a couple of guys to deal with a thing. Ok. Yeah.” Nicky put his shirt on, buttoned up and looked at Angela’s body on the bed. He slid in one cufflink at a time and shook his head. It was sad. Angela always was a good fuck.
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Nov 182013
 

Cigar SecretsShe gingerly sifted through her Mother’s personal belongings. She and her sisters had taken to the task since the funeral. Their Mother had a treasure trove of secrets. Mother dated cigar boxes, along with a small accounting book of all the money that came in and went out during that time, and how it came in.

Each box had given new life to old whispers. The sisters stumbled across information hidden to them,   but well organized, since before their birth. Some of the records and family information dated back over a hundred years. The girls found property deeds, and notes to places where money was stashed around the house. She cooked the books for more than one business. Unspeakable and illegal acts and consorts; their Mother had kept it all buried from their little eyes.

Mother was cookies and cornbread. She sewed and called for the laundry. She also laundered money and moved some packages for some “friends of hers.” The girls did recall having many “drop-by” Uncles, bringing gifts and baskets of chocolate.

The three of them were giving it a go together with a bottle or two of wine, seeing what else their Mother had been up-to all these years. Each began with a box. Donna took two. Everything was ‘something,’ her dictation regarding who had given her the expensive and sentimental items in her jewelry box and closet. Some of the names, they’d heard mention, even as children, or in college.

She sat back and wondered if the devil just ripped out her Mother’s heart. She couldn’t put herself in her Mother’s place, but she was her child, and she was loved by that woman. She might carry sins she didn’t understand, but she was a good Mother.

Her sister nudged her, and then smiled. She’d drifted off on a silent rant. She reached for the next piece of paper in her box. She began to read mindlessly out loud.

 

Dear Mother,

I left with him. I’m pregnant. We’re going to get married. We’ll be fine.

I love you,

Donna

June, 1978

 

 

Donna,

Bring me the baby and you can come back.

I love you,

Mother

July, 1978

 

…. She was born in December of that year, …and her sister was crying.

 

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Oct 062013
 

BeetleThe blonde put a strain on the already squealing brakes of her old VW Bug. A busty girl with a hell of a tan ran out of a house and slammed the screen door. Sunglasses bobbling, the back of her thighs slid across the worn leather seat. She loved that summer sting on the back of her thighs.

“Tell your Mama you’re sleeping over?”

“Yep. You?”

“Yep.”

Second gear stuck, but it was summer and they had opportunities waiting.

Two little redneck girls sashayed into the “Modeling Agency” at two O’clock. They gave the receptionist their names and re-glossed their lips. A few minutes later out popped the man they were supposed to meet. That Rick guy. He was all smiles. He ushered them into his office. It was ornate for a strip-mall business. He arranged to have his receptionist take one girl away to get a polaroid while he spoke with the other.

The busty girl walked into the room with music pumping through the speakers. She walked to the “X” in front of the camera. The receptionist informed her that at this agency, they want you to smile and take pictures of your best assets. She said that The Agency liked for it to be a fun experience. It was, for a little while. The music was loud and she was dancing. The receptionist played her part. She put her chips in. The girl never saw the pictures, but they were all polariods, and they all went into a file marked 74.

The blonde had been in his office answering perfectly normal questions about scheduling around shoots and traveling mixed in with the personal information that he actually needed. She was the one who volunteered their alibi for that very night, thinking it was a funny quip, funny indeed. After her interview, she was unknowingly asked questions about her friends, boyfriends, school, medications, family, money, etc… He had to end the interview with her. History Completed – File #75.

They switched girls, but the situation was exactly the same. Only the file numbers were different.

When everyone filed back into Rick’s office, the two girls sat in the chairs facing his desk. Different men began entering the room, keeping silent, but taking place. He bumped eye contact between different men around the room and the girls.

The air was heavy with excitement and naivety until Rick broke the silence.

“You’ve both been selected to enter The Agency.”

He explained to them about The Training House that they would both be moved to immediately. Once they graduated, they would be available to The Academy Slave Block, where each of them would no doubt bring in large sums of money, bringing pride to both The Academy and The Training House.

That was it. Both girls were obviously confused. Their attempts to interrupt were thwarted.

As soon as Rick stopped speaking, four of the suits took hold of the girls to escort them out of the office and into the vehicle that would take them to the house.

The blonde girl screamed as she wrestled with the men that overpowered her, “This is NOT what we signed up for!”

Rick chuckled, set his drink down and slid off the corner of his desk. He sauntered over and pinched her cheek forcefully.

“I know. I signed you up for it.”

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Oct 012013
 

BitemarksShe belonged to both of them. Thomas owned her for two years prior to the decision to bring Brian into the relationship. Thomas and Brian were life-long friends and roommates. Having Brian living in the guest room of the large apartment was a natural fit. Although the two men’s relationship was purely platonic, they both shared similar interests in slaves. The decision to share the girl was an obvious one for the lot.

Thomas was Master. Thomas was thorough. He was detailed. He was a suit. He never missed anything. He was strict. He wanted her to meet his expectations. He wanted her to achieve goals that she’d set for herself inside and outside of the relationship. He pushed her when she needed to be pushed. He listened to her when she needed to speak. She laughed with him. She cried with him. They were hand in glove.

Brian was Sir. Brian led a cavalier lifestyle. He worked at a bar in the city at night. He spent hours at the gym during the day.  He often benefitted from Thomas’ advice. He was spontaneous. He enjoyed her service.

Brian and Thomas both had different sexual needs. Thomas challenged her to give herself to him. She enjoyed his happiness. She loved being in his sexual service.

Brian was primal. He enjoyed her in an animalistic way. He wanted a game. He wanted her to fear him. He watched her during the day for any insignificant mistake, ones that Thomas would overlook as adjustments to day-today activity. Brian liked to take those puny missteps as sexual blackmail. She knew that there would be no consequences from Thomas. Brian savored in the mind fuck. Part of her enjoyed this. She didn’t understand why. She never purposely gave Brian an excuse.

On this day, she would be out all afternoon. The morning included daily laundry, a vacuum of the apartment, and the dishes. Diner was at seven. That gave her enough time to do the shopping and get back to prepare it.

She roamed from room to room, doing a supply checklist for the home. She’d need to make several unforeseen stops. This would affect her routine vastly. Around five she had the prudence to call Thomas and ask for an eight o’clock dinner.

He told her he was fine with that. There was an issue with a client and he hoped to be home by eleven. On the scarce occurrences that Thomas was not there for the seven o’clock meal, she left a plate in the fridge, but freshened it up when he arrived home.

He told her make sure that Brian was fine with it. She called Brian’s cell phone three times, every 15 minutes for a period of forty-five minutes. He did not answer. By default, she went with Thomas’ orders.

Her afternoon of late shopping was evident when Brian strolled into the kitchen and was met with counters topped full of groceries overflowing their bags. Evidence of all her trips, the bakery, the market, florists, the cleaners, all caught his attention. He was secretly impressed at her.

She popped up on the other side of the kitchen with a smile and an embellished sigh. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and headed to the couch. “Yeah, your busy day is all over the kitchen.”

“I asked Master if it would be alright if we could change dinner to eight instead of seven. He said that he wouldn’t be home until late because of clients, so it would be fine, as long as it was ok with you. I tried your cell phone three times, Sir. Since I couldn’t get ahold of you I went with Master’s plan.”

“I was at the gym, and technically, no. You didn’t ask me.”

She had been nervously hopping about the kitchen, and putting things away until he spoke. She slowed and met him with silence. That moment gave him what he wanted. He would get more. Her voice was confessing an account and praying for justification.

She glanced at the clock. Seven –thirty-two. He stood up and finished his beer. He let the baseball game play on while he walked to the kitchen and grabbed her by the hair. He pulled her into his room.  Her footfalls were frenzied.

He slammed the door, then her up against it.  He began to strip himself as well her. With his own clothes, he dashed through. With her clothes, he treated them like wrapping paper on a present, threads ripped, zippers popped.

“You lied to your Master. You told him that you’d do as he said, as long as I gave you my permission. Three phone calls is not the same thing as my permission.”

“I asked Master….” Her voice and the excuse seemed paltry, but his hand was strong and forceful as it struck across her cheek.

“That’s not the same thing.”

Brian leaned in on her. He huffed up and down her neck and into her hair. She felt him growing against her.

He put both hands around the back of her neck and pulled her forehead to his lips.  He kissed her in a gentle, loving way. Her body molded to his. He was warm. He had her sweet, unassuming submission. He treasured that.

He wanted her to fear him. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have far to go. He released her, edging her back with one large hand wrapped around her throat.

She wasn’t allowed to touch their hands, beg, or speak unless spoken to while in this position, unless given permission. His hand was as loose as it could be against her throat, so she knew that this was the beginning of the game.

“It’s hard not to crawl on you. Rip you to shreds. I have to leave you in decent shape. And of course I can’t just tell my best friend that I got carried away and damaged our girl.”

His jaw tightened with his fist around her throat. Her air was gone so fast, and the words she heard so harsh. Both caught her completely off guard.

He let her go completely and she fell like bricks to the ground, gasping and coughing. He chuckled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He reached out and dragged her to him by her hair. He pulled her up between his legs. His fat dick was hanging in front of her, like a weapon of pride. His hand wrapped around her pained neck. His thumb rubbed out a perfect spot for his teeth. She would endure his animalistic biting until he broke the skin and her tears mixed with the blood. His teeth cut into her shoulders once her neck began bruising and swelling, blood running between teeth marks. It made it almost impossible to see where to attack next. Under her chin and even her cheeks had been purchased by the sharpness of his teeth.

She sobbed and begged for mercy, even tried to push him away. Brian held her close and decided only to allow her air when she displayed behavior acceptable to him.

“Now you’ve got a little fight, huh?”

Instead of a allowing her to answer, he slapped her. He loved the confusion he saw in her. He stood and went straight for his pile of discarded clothes. He came back with his belt.

She had taken the opportunity to move to the other side of the bed. There was nowhere to run from him. She couldn’t hide, and her face stung. However, fear and pain will do funny things to people.

He moved on top of his bed and simply looped the belt around her throat, pulling her up and onto the bed. He found her hiding place and his ability to hook her quite amusing.

“I’m going to choke the fuck out of you. Do you understand?” He smiled down to her.

She clawed at the belt. He loosened it so that she he could stuff his cock down her throat. Her tears and gagging originally came from him choking her, but now it was his dick that caused the pain from the inside. He held her face. He fucked her mouth until he reached the brink. He pulled out and let her head drop like a stone onto the bed.

“Roll over, I want your ass.”

He slapped her right ass cheek hard enough to rock her. She turned on him and shoved him, slapping against his chest as she screamed for him to stop. Every word spoken and turn to her body was a stinging reminder of the bites he had marked her with.

He’d allow for her arms to flail. He’d let her have her fight. He loved it when she thought she was going to get somewhere, and might have the hope of escape. His favorite part was crushing that hope. Each time he pinned an arm, or a leg, or grabbed a fistful of hair; he took that hope.

She knew that in the end, he always won. He acquiesced when it came to her fighting back, because he enjoyed it. When it was said and done, his cock ploughed through any hole he wanted. Part of her hated it, but she still screamed when he made her cum.

 

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Sep 152013
 

Killer Red ShoesShe met him online. He was in her area. They talked for weeks. He made her laugh. She felt comfortable with him. They spoke of fetishes; what they enjoyed and didn’t. When she brought up the topic of meeting, he was excited about it. They were very eager about meeting for dinner and the possibility of play afterwards. They wore grins the full week before.

The night of, she was running behind getting out of work. She probably wouldn’t be ready until the eleventh-hour. She’d decided on simple make-up, black dress, and killer red shoes. She would have to fly to the restaurant just to be late.

He was fifteen minutes early. He anxiously watched time tick by. At ten minutes after, he chalked that up to getting ready and minor delays, but he gave her a call that was automatically picked-up by her voicemail. Another 20 minutes and two phone calls to her voicemail went by. Three phone calls with no answer and thirty minutes late, and he knew that she’d bailed.

It’s always hard to find out a person you thought you knew, wasn’t that person at all. He knew that was always a possibility. That didn’t make it any better, or hurt any less.  He paid for the drink’s he’d had and stopped to pick up his coat. When he hit the street he shivered at coolness of the air.

The flashing lights of the ambulance and police grabbed his attention. They were zipping a woman up a body bag. He grimaced and turned from the site, a pair of killer red shoes catching his attention before he could avert his eyes.

 

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Sep 112013
 

Boss3I don’t know how many new pages I opened. I’m not sure of how many established pieces I have worked on since the “Tease” prompt went up. Thinking about what to write for this prompt has teased the fuck out of me.

I thought about writing possibilities and found myself knuckle-deep in my pussy. I imagined scenarios, and before I could finish them I’m rumbling away to G-spot heaven. I looked at my older work and even pictures for some guidance and have ridden cock to the point of not caring.

How hard was it for me to get down a well written piece that pushed me, one that wasn’t a cop out or fallback? I couldn’t. The entire thing was a big tease.

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