The Last Post

Five years, more than eighty erotic stories, thousands of visitors, nearly 50,000 views - peaking at 4,000 per month in 2009, and a lot of orgasms.

Now it’s time for me to stop.

Writing this blog has been an adventure. I’ve discovered things about myself I didn’t know – some good and some bad. I’ve poured out my darkest dreams and deepest fantasies, sharing my urges, desires and frustrations with the world.

But after all this I’ve realised that as well as lying to my wife, friends and family, I’ve been lying to myself. In some ways I’m no longer sure what the truth is; I’m so wrapped up in an endless web of lies that it’s like a fog, or a tangle of hedgerow, obscuring the green grass, open countryside and blue skies beyond. So the time has come for clarity.

I don’t know if I can do this; temptation is just a smartphone away and – like alcohol or cigarettes – it’s not possible to put out of reach. But there’s a fluttering, torn fragment of hope that hasn’t quite been caught by the gale of destruction that’s ripped through my life this year. I have to try and catch it, otherwise my life will just become a void of dreamt erotic fantasy, devoid of passion or feeling, and most frighteningly, without love or fun.

I look back at all the faces who’ve come and gone in this odd, endorphine-charged and lust-filled sphere of the internet. Some, like Cake, found their happiness and seem to have achieved her dreams. Others, like Ms. Inconspicuous, faded into the ether after thrilling us with tales and images of delicious debauchery. The crazy tree-climbing B – remember her? Scarlet, ever posting how she’d return to blogging (did she? I haven’t looked for years). EA – the writer who inspired me to blog in the first place, and so many others. Os and the insane crowd of HNTers – with whom I’m proud to have joined in. And on twitter: Susie, Dirty Jess , Miss B, NSN, Princess, Ruby; all such good friends – ironically given how this started. I’ll miss you all.

But I love my wife.

And that fact alone is the only real truth in my life, and I can’t keep lying to myself about it. So I have to stop – or try to stop – at the risk of my own sanity.

And so I bid farewell. The blog will remain; I like the idea that my words might bring pleasure to more readers. Please tell me if they do; I will drop by occasionally to read any comments, transformed from author to reader, and comments always make me smile.

Cross your fingers for me. But most of all, promise me that you will be true to yourselves and find your joy, pleasure, contentment or heart’s desire. None of us come to this place because we are fulfilled – we all end up here because we’re looking for something that was missing. But I finally realised that what I was looking for was right in front of me after all; you should go and find it now too.

Good luck.

Mendicatus. x

Gift

I pushed through the revolving door and walked across the lobby to the reception desk. There was no queue, and the pretty girl behind the counter looked up at me, smiling pleasantly through her mask of make-up, eagerly asking how she could please me.

“Checking in”, I said, handin her my passport, and waited while she ran through the paperwork. “I’d like a room on a high floor – with a view of the bay, if you have one, please.”

She nodded her consent and tapped on the computer, brow slightly furrowing as she tried to juggle reservations to please me. I watched her work, drumming the hardwood of the desk and then her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, there’s a message for you Sir.” She pushed her chair back on its castors and swung around in one movement. “Let me get it”.

I wondered idly who might have left me a message, hoping it wasn’t a crisis at work; it’d been a long flight, and I wasn’t planning to hit the office for another twelve hours yet. The girl arrived back, landing on the swivel-chair with a bounce, and sliding elegantly in behind her keyboard as she reached out the message in her hand to me, before continuing to type.

I turned envelope in my hand, looking for clues before roughly tearing the top apart. The paper was heavy, good quality, not branded with the hotel crest; the note must have been written in advance, rather than dropped in by hand or telexed to reception. I slid the letter from its sheath and flipped it open.

“M, your gift is waiting for you in reception. It’s a little early, but I couldn’t wait for you to have it. Enjoy, and make sure you use it properly. S“

I paused, surprised. Only one person could have written that note, but she was several thousand miles away, and we weren’t supposed to be hooking up for months yet.

“Sir?”

The girl behind the desk repeated herself, holding out my room card and reservation details. “26th floor, and with a bay view”, she said, smiling and looking pleased with herself – but slightly forlorn at my lack of attention.

“Sorry, got a bit distracted by this message” I thanked her, with a wink. She grinned.

I picked up my case and walked away from the desk, heading vaguely towards the elevator, but looking around the lobby. ‘Waiting in reception’. What did that mean? Should I ask at the desk? Surely they’d have given it to me with the message if it was a package.

My phone buzzed.

It slipped it out of my pocket, to see the text alert from a number I didn’t recognise.

“Ahead of you, sitting down“

I looked up and there, in one of the lobby’s easy armchairs, was a girl. Tall, slim, pretty, with long brown slightly waved brunette hair, wearing a light tan knee-length overcoat and, presumably, a skirt – although I couldn’t see a hem. On her feet were black mate Oxford Brogues with a 3″ heel, laced up tight. She was reading the hotel’s free newspaper, but held a cheap cellphone in her hand. As I looked at her, she looked straight back, holding my gaze. I turned my head fractionally, raising my eyebrows almost imperceptibly, as I slipped my phone back into my pocket. I knew the answer, and knew there would be no further messages.

She nodded feintly and, uncrossing her legs and dropping the folded paper beside her, stood up and walked over to me, hard soles clacking on the marble floor. She didn’t slow down as she approached, opening her arms and sliding them around my waist, pulling herself against me and pushing her lips onto mine. I instinctively dropped my case and slipped my arms around her waist as she pushed her tongue deep into my mouth, hard, firm, exploring me, tasting sweet from the juice drink she must have just finished. Her hands slipped around my neck, pushing into my hair, as I pulled her closer to me, forcing my already-stiffening cock against her navel. My head spun, still processing this unexpected sensation overload, but wanting more and exploring her mouth with my tongue.

Finally, she broke the kiss, pulling her head back and smiling bemusedly at my astonished expression.

“And you’re…?” I asked, gasping for breath and not really caring what the answer might be.

“My name is Susie and I am your gift”, she whispered in my ear, giggling. “I am your fucktoy, to do with as you please.” She licked my
ear, as if to punctuate the sentence and ensure there was no doubt.

“But you’re supposed to be….?” My voice trailed off as she kissed my ear again, biting my lobe.

“I decided to surprise you. I couldn’t wait until Christmas.” She giggled. “I know you wanted to meet me and fuck me in a Santa outfit, but you’ll like what I’m wearing, I’m sure. It’s all for you. I’m all for you.”

She began to walk to the elevator. “Come on.”

I picked up my case and followed her, watching her slender finger press the ‘Call’ button, looking her up and down from behind as she tapped her foot impatiently, admiring her long tanned legs disappearing up under the overcoat, and her obviously firm arse beneath the lightly pleated material.

The lift doors opened, and she waved me in, following me and pushing me into the corner, pressing up against me. As the doors slowly slid closed behind her she twisted the bottom two buttons of her coat open, and took my hand.

“Index finger”, she hissed into my ear, hot breath followed by another flick of her tongue. I did as she asked – my palm upwards and a single finger stretched straight. She drew it between the folds of her coat, rising between her legs until it must have been close to her pussy.

“No skirt, you dirty girl?” I smiled, kissing and nuzzling her soft neck.

She giggled again. “You like dirty. And I’m your present. So you get dirty. I’m not naked…. ” she trailed off, pulling my hand to her heat. As my fingertip caressed her thigh and then brushed her already wet, smooth and swollen labia, I could feel a soft line of what felt like satin drawn up over her lips and mound. I raised my eyebrow as she traced along it slowly with my finger. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.

“That’s a tiny thong….” I muttered, as she guided my hand ever so slowly over the fabric, before dropping it away. She shook her head as I lifted my hand to my mouth, breathing in her musky scent and then licking my finger. “No…. guess again”, but before I could say anything she thrust her tongue in my mouth again, pressing her chest against me.

The electronic bell chimed to signal that we were at our floor, and the doors slid back to reveal the corridor. We stepped out, and turned left, following the numbers for toward my room. I led the way, and she followed behind, coat parting as she walked, revealing her long legs. We passed a couple of other guests, and I was conscious that they ignored me, all eyes focused on my gift as she followed me.

When we reached the door, I slipped my keycard into it and it clicked open. I paused.

“So you’re really my gift? My toy? I can ask you to do anything I want?”

She looked at me, wide-eyed with excitement, smiling and breathing hard.

“Yes…. Play with me.”

I felt my heart pounding, and my cock pulsing with every beat, straining at my trousers. I leant against the doorframe, and slowly drew my zip down. Her smile grew and she licked her lips. She knew exactly what I was thinking, but just saying it out loud made my cock thump harder.

“Get on your knees and suck my cock, right here in the corridor.”

There was no hesitation, no pause. She stepped forward, and neatly parted her coat as she knelt, allowing me a momentary flash of red before she was on her knees, feet outstretched into the middle of the hall. Anyone passing us would actually need to step around – or over – her calves.

“Right here?”, she asked, smiling up at me defiantly as she slipped my zip the rest of the way down, and reached her slender fingers inside, stertching my boxers down over my stiff length and slipping her fingers around my hard flesh. I looked up and down the corridor, hearing voices at the elevator, but they faded away as they took the opposite wing of the hotel. At that instant, her hot breath hit my loins, and here head pushed forward, taking my full length deep into her throat.

I stood, looking down at her as she sucked and licked my thick pulsing cock, her eyes occasionally flicking up to meet mine as I tried to control my breathing. Her tongue flicked around my glans, tracing the creases of my foreskin and then gliding down my length, pushing against the softness of my sack with a lick and then drawing back up my shaft, smacking her lips together as they broke contact with my tip. She was so good, and concentrated solely on my cock, oblivious to the fact that we were still standing (well, standing and kneeling) outside the hotel room, my case next to me and the door just ajar. With each roll of her head and kiss of her lips I could feel the cool air against the skin of my shaft, her saliva raising tiny goosebumps across my hard flesh. Her head bobbed back faster and faster, and with each stroke of her lips along my length she squeezed her fingers and rolled my foreskin back and forth, wanking me as she expertly fellated me. I could feel I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Stop.”

She paused, motionless with my cock halfway into her mouth, her red lips making a perfect ‘O’ around my girth. She lightly flicked my frenulum with her tongue tip, defying my command as though movements inside her mouth didn’t count.

“I said stop”, I smiled, reaching my hand out and delicately lifting her to her feet, my erect cock still poking through my fly.

She fluttered her eyes lightly at me, feigning innocence, with her hands crossed behind her. “But I did stop!”, she giggled. Glancing down at the thick pink protrusion from my trousers, she licked her lips again. “Should you put that away now?”

I turned and pushed into the bedroom. “Bring my case”.

I walked into the room, loosening my tie and undoing my cuffs, folding them back to expose my forearms. I stood in front of the window, looking out over the Hudson river, conscious of my exposed erection pulsing as the world passed by below. Ant-people walked along the sidewalks and Matchbox cars queued at stop signs. I could hear her placing the case next to the wardrobe, and then pace back to the middle of the room.

“I think it’s time to unwrap my gift”, I said, sensing the crackle of excitement from her as I turned around. She’d straightened her coat, noticeably widening the lapels to reveal a hint more of her clavicles and pulling the hem straight and neat. The cut of the coat made it look like she was wearing a skirt underneath, although I knew better. I kicked off my shoes and padded over to her.

She stood motionless, waiting for my next move. I pushed my hand onto her chest, feeling her full breast through the coat; as I rubbed her breast slowly with my palm her breathing quickened and she moaned quietly under her breath. With my other hand I reached for the top button and twisted it open, revealing a little more cleavage. Then the next button, each one slowly and deliberately; she stood motionless as I undid her, hands clasped behind her, chest pushing out slightly to ease the coat apart as each button dropped open.

When I reached her belt, I stopped and pulled the lapels open wide, exposing her full firm tits, covered by a tiny red halter-neck bikini. The small triangles of satin material were no bigger than a cigarette pack, her hard nipples standing proud and firm through them. I cupped her breast and rubbed her nipple with my thumb, tracing around her areolas, feeling their swollen roundness under the bikini-top. Her eyes closed, she licked her lips with each rotation of my thumb.

“Thinking of my cock in your mouth again, fucktoy?”

She nodded, saying nothing.

“You’ll have it soon enough, and a throat full of come.”

She nodded again, her tongue running across her upper lip.

“So, I think I’ll finish unwrapping you and see what my surprise is. Bikini briefs?”

She shook her head, smiling.

I slipped the loose end through the coat’s buckle.

___________________________________

Unfinished. For Susie.

Practice

“Again.”

I spoke softly, the frustration in my voice just starting to show. In her defence, it probably wasn’t easy. She knelt in front of me, naked but for the black silk suspender belt and sheer stockings, which shone in the candlelight over her milky white skin.

The room was warm, but I could see her shivering; possibly with trepidation, definitely with excitement. Her dark brown hair fell in soft curves over her shoulders, flowing over her back and swaying across her decolletage as she leant forward again. I imaged how the tips of the dark curls must be tickling her hard pink nipples, distracting her as they brushed her swollen areolas.

“Slowly”, I coaxed her.

She leant forwards, stretching her mouth wide, her full pink lips pouting slightly as she tried to sense the right direction this time. As her head moved down I could see her hands crossed at the base of her spine. The silk binding looked to be staying tight and firm, even though her fingers curled up and tugged idly at the satin corners of her restraint.

I could feel her breath on my thighs as she leant toward me, and my cock danced, pulsing with each heartbeat. My swollen red glans glistened in the soft yellow light, the remnants of saliva from her previous attempts still soft and wet on my taut skin.

“All the way?” she asked innocently, getting impatient. I couldn’t see her eyes behind the velvet blindfold, but I could sense the mischief in her voice and knew her eyes would be sparkling.

“Yes”, I reminded her, growling the word. “All of it. And don’t gag this time.”

Her lips were inches from my tip now, mouth wide open, tongue pulled back inside her mouth and curled in that way only certain genetics allow. As her arse lifted off her heels, revealing the stub of the glass butt-plug, I contemplated how far we’d come since we met. She’d been shy at first, unsure of even touching me in public, and always dressing smartly, professionally and in a slightly prim style. It was that virginal appearance which had turned me on so much, and I still savoured the first time she’d crossed the line, pulling aside her panties under the table in the bar and fingering herself for me as I whispered filth into her ear, blushing scarlet at her own shame but unable to fight the urge to come as my words coaxed out the brazen slut deep inside her.

We’d progressed quickly, breaking each boundary one-by-one. She’d come to work without a bra many times now, and no longer wore knickers unless I specifically requested it. Most days she would take pictures of her pussy and email them to me, optionally with various toys or office equipment inserted into her. But the biggest change was her desire.

What started as a shy giggle, when I touched her back inappropriately in the office canteen, had moved through intentional brushes across my trousers when we passed in the corridor, to hand-jobs in the stair-well. We’d moved on from those quickly – watching her mop my seed from the floor with her g-string was fun but risky, so before long I’d told her to get on her knees and suck my cock. She’d been unsure at first, but was soon swallowing my mess eagerly. The first day I told her not to swallow I think she was actually disappointed, but when I explained that we’d walk right through the open plan office and into the street, her mouth full of semen, she thought I was pushing it too far.

“Fine”, I’d said. “There are other girls…” and started up the stairs. She’d grabbed my hand and, opening her mouth to show me my sticky mess still coating her tongue, shook her head – and then nodded in submission. We walked across the open-plan area, weaving between the desks, and even pausing while I talked to colleagues; she’d nodded quietly and respectfully, saying nothing, her cheeks reddening at the prospect of being caught. When we finally walked out through the bustling throng in reception she turned to me as we stood on the street, dropping her jaw to show me her sticky mouthful was still intact and I kissed her hard, pushing my tongue between her lips and tasting myself in her mouth before finally breaking away and quietly breathing in her ear “swallow my spunk now, you obedient little slut”. She gulped it down, smacking her lips and smiling at me wide-eyed, looking for my approval, and at that point I knew she was broken, like a colt who finally accepts a saddle. I could ask anything of her.

Things moved quickly after that. I fucked her in different places; offices, taxis, and on street corners or alleyways. Just one text message was all it took for her to masturbate until she was dripping wet and desperate for me, and then I’d meet her, lift her skirt and fuck her against a wall or bent over railings. She spent a lot of time on her knees, pussy full of toys (she told me she liked the eggs the most, saying they filled her up full like I did) mouth full of my thick hard shaft, begging to swallow my thick silky streams of come, never once refusing to do my bidding or shying away from the lewd acts I asked her to perform.

So here we were, going over her cock-sucking technique, perfecting it so she could instinctively take my whole length in her mouth before her lips gouged my shaft, working the gag reflex out of her technique. She was a good little student, and made up for her lack of skills with an enthusiasm to go over things again and again until she got them right and I showed my pleasure. This time, kneeling and bound, she eagerly leant forwards and dropped her mouth around my length, saliva dripping from her bottom lip onto my balls, closing her lips around the base of my shaft and then drawing her teeth along my hard flesh until they lightly brushed my tip. She was very good – and I struggled not to unload straight into her throat. But I had other things on my mind, and as if to remind me, my phone buzzed.

“Sure”, I confirmed, speaking into the receiver as she continued to fellate me – she knew not to stop when I took a call, and that if it mattered to her I would speak once I’d hung up.

“Come straight up, she’s ready”.

I felt her pause, briefly forgetting herself before vigorously bobbing her head back up and down to make up for her short pause.

“I have a couple of friends dropping in. Hope you don’t mind”, I nonchalantly mentioned. I think one of them is bringing his girl. You’ll like her.”

She strained to look up at me from behind the blindfold, her mouth still full of my cock.

“Don’t stop what you’re doing”, I reminded her, dropping my hand to her head and pushing her face back down onto my lap. She sucked me in deeper, licking my balls.

“Today you are going to get fucked in the ass while you suck my cock. You need to practice your concentration.”

She moaned with a mixture of fear, trepidation and excitement as my cockhead hit the back of her throat, arching her back and raising her bottom, until I could see the glass butt-plug between her cheeks. It shimmered with her juices.

The latch clicked and the door swung open and my friends walked in.

“Don’t worry”, I reassured her. “There are only four of them.”

___________________________

This post is part of Ruby’s WankWednesday literary festival. If it turned you on, go and read more stories titled “practice”.

Hitch

I sat in a tall chair, rolling the ice around the heavy crystal tumbler, listening to the bell-like chink before lifting the glass to my lips and taking a swig of neat vodka. The liquor was strong and smooth, not quite burning as it slipped down my throat, but making me breathe in deeply as it hit my stomach. I placed the glass down on the table next to me, and began to unbutton my shirt.

“Come”, I answered, and the handle turned slowly, a shaft of light bleeding into the room as the door eased open and you slipped into the room, quietly pushing the door closed behind you and twisting the lock with a loud ‘click’.

You stepped slowly and deliberately toward the centre of the room, pausing at the edge of the disc of light thrown from the lamp behind me, with your feet neatly together at the penumbra, softly lit. And you waited.

I looked you up and down, nodding gently with approval. Your creamy blonde hair was tied back in a neat French plait, a few strands of hair teased out intentionally to frame your face. Your dress was black, tight, following your curves, hemmed at mid-thigh, your long sleek legs bare beneath it, straining on scarlet near-patent four-inch open-toed stilettos. A wide red belt pulled the waist in tight, and the buttons that dotted down the full length of the front of the dress showed that you’d chosen the garment not because you wanted me to see you in it, but because it was simple and effortless to discard. Your deep red lips glistened and your eyes sparkled with anticipation as you waited for me to speak.

“Top three buttons. Now”, I barked, reaching for the glass and taking another sip of the cool fire.

You smiled, nodding almost indiscernibly, and reached up to flick the top three buttons open, spreading the lapels wide and revealing your decolletage. Even in the dim light, I could make out the lace of your black bra cups, leading up to slender straps across your creamy shoulders.

“Wider.”

You pulled the dress open, straining and then popping off the fourth button which rattled across the floor and disappeared into a dark corner. Dragging the dress off your shoulders, you pulled it down until it only just covered the swell of your cleavage.

“Better”, I hissed, noting your smile as I complimented your adherence to my instructions.

“Come closer”, I breathed, and savoured the waft of strong musky perfume as you stepped forward until just out of my reach.

“Bottom two buttons”, I ordered, putting the glass down and laying my hand on the swelling in my pinstriped trousers. My cock pulsed beneath my touch as I watched you lean forward and delicately twist the bottom buttons of your dress apart – affording me a perfect view of your soft round breasts and cleavage down the parted neckline.

As you straightened up, the buttons undone, you glanced at my crotch, lips glistening as you flicked your tongue across them. My shaft pulsed.

“Be patient”, I whispered. “All in good time, you little cock-whore”. You grinned, taking the compliment as it was intended.

I looked you up and down, the lamp giving just enough light for me to see the shimmer of your satin thong between the edges of your unbuttoned dress.

“Hitch it up”, I commanded, settling back into my armchair.

You reached down and took the separate corners of the dress and slid them up your thighs, wriggling your hips as you slowly drew the material up to your navel, where it rucked up around your waist, revealing the tiniest of black thongs with tiny strings reaching up over your hips, and a small narrow triangle of satin covering the soft mound of your pussy, disappearing between your slightly parted legs. The satin glimmered in the lamp-light, and where it lay taut over your labia I could see it glistened slightly. You’d been wet long before you knocked on the door, and I had no doubt that your fingers had slipped between your legs and into your panties while you’d sat in the back of the car travelling to meet me.

I unzipped my trousers and slipped my cock out into the cool air, letting it pulse and bob back and forth with each heartbeat. You looked down at it, eyes widening, hips subconsciously pushing forward towards me. I patted the cushion of the armchair next to my hip.

“Foot.”

You obeyed immediately, lifting your foot up onto the cushion next to me, your pussy just inches from my face, hitching your dress up to your red belt to reveal your soft belly.

I leant forward, and hooking the side of the satin thong with my finger, dragged it aside to reveal your smooth bare pussy. Your lips were plump, pink and moist, and your juices oozed from your slit, sweet scented and sparkling in the soft light.

I slipped my finger up into you, watching your eyes close as it slid into your tight wet cunt, soft and warm, muscles clenching around my digit pushing deep inside you.

Your breathing quickened as I fingered you, your mouth dropping slightly open and tongue tracing your lips. You rolled your head from side to side, and when I slid another two fingers up into you, I could feel you roll your hips, urging me deeper inside you. I pulled you closer, leaning toward you until my breath tickled your navel, and as my tongue met your belly, slowly tracing a circle around your neat button, you bit your lip hard. I kissed and licked your navel, working my lips down to your mons, lightly brushing your skin with my mouth and making you shudder with each flick of my tongue tip, until finally it reached the line of your slit, and I pushed it hard onto your clit, my warm muscle hitting a thousand nerve-endings and causing your legs to weaken.

I took the foot that rested on the armchair next to me and lifted it up to my shoulder, spreading you wider. Your stiletto scraped down my shoulder-blade, coming to rest on the seat-back, until you were astride me, my face pushed hard between your spread thighs. I forced my tongue into your soaking pussy, feeling the silky softness of your g-string against my cheek as I devoured your cunt, filling you with my tongue and lapping your juices. My hands reached around for your arse, pulling your hips harder onto my face, and you felt yourself topple, dropping your skirts and grabbing my head to steady yourself – burying my face firmly in your pussy as you did so. As I licked and flicked your clit and gently nibbled your soft lips you moaned and sighed, muttering filthy language under your breath.

“Mmm…. cock… fuck… lick me out… eat my pussy… oh… love ….your… tongue in my cunt… mmmmm…. fuck yesss…” you moaned, and as your vocabulary trawled the gutter and your first climax rippled through your body, my cock throbbed.

You squirmed and twisted over me, pushing against the chair back and trying to keep your balance with your remaining foot on the floor as you convulsed with each thrust of my tongue into your cunt. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer – my cock was beating hard and felt like it was going to explode. I eased you backwards and dropped your foot to the floor, savouring the perfect view of of your pussy before your dress slipped down your thighs.

“Turn around”, I instructed, and you complied swiftly, bending slightly and hitching your skirt up over your firm arse quickly. Further commands weren’t necessary – you lowered yourself to my lap, reaching between your legs and stroking my shaft up and down with your soft slender fingers before dropping and guiding me into you. My thick shaft slid deep into your wet pussy, filling you with hard heat and drawing a sharp intake of breath as you settled down on me, spreading your legs either side of my lap and wriggling your hips to take every inch of me.

You started to bounce on my lap, sliding my cock in and out of you, using the armrests to lift yourself and then driving your ass back down hard onto me. I could feel your juices seeping and spreading across the crotch of my trousers as you fucked me, cool on my navel and boxer shorts.

My hands slipped around your waist, and I unbuttoned the remainder of the dress, twisting the clasp of the belt open and casting it aside. I cupped your breast with one hand, slipping it up inside the bra cup and squeezing it roughly, while my other hand snaked between your spread legs, fingers massaging your pussy and finding the hard nub of your clitoris as you bounced up and down vigorously on my pulsating cock.

You rocked harder and harder, taking every inch of me, moaning low groans under your breath as each rise and fall slid my thick shaft in and out of your soft warm pussy. Your hand met mine between your thighs, and pushed my fingers harder down onto your sensitive bud, the sensation causing you to buck and twist on me as another orgasm coarsed through you.

Your pussy clenched and pulsed around my cock, and I felt my stomach begin to tighten and convulse. My scrotum tightened, and your fingers pushed down into my trousers, rubbing my balls and cupping them, until I burst into you, my hot seed filling your pussy in thick streams, you rubbed and squeezed me gently as if to urge every last drop of come deep into you. My cock throbbed, oozing thick semen deep inside you, filling your core before oozing back out of your slit and down onto my navel. You twisted on my lap, savouring my hot stickiness inside you, finally slowing your rocking and bouncing as the last waves of your own climax shuddered through your spine.

We sat in the dim light, pausing while our interlocked bodies throbbed together and the waves of pleasure rippled over us, gradually subsiding and calming until finally you stood, turning to face me. Your unbuttoned dress fell away, your soft belly glistening with perspiration and your crumpled thong still pulled aside – I looked at your delicious pussy, my come still dripping from it and running down your inner thigh.

“Get me another drink”, I told you, implicitly denying you permission to fix your clothes. You walked over to the decanter and poured more vodka into my tumbler, dropping another couple of ice cubes into the glass before walking back and passing it to me. I dipped my finger into the clear drink and drew it along the underside of my still-firm cock, leaving a dripping trail of the clear liquid.

“Help yourself to a drink….” I smiled. You were already casting your dress off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor before kneeling in front of me and dropping your mouth onto my cock….

___________________________

This post is part of Ruby’s WankWednesday literary festival. If it turned you on, go and read more stories titled “hitch”.

Working From Home

I was working at home. The sun was shining, the sky blue, and the house too warm, so I was in the garden on a sun-lounger with a laptop and a tall glass of lemonade, trying to be productive. It was proving difficult though; a pair of loose shorts and an internet-full of porn meant that I was continually distracted by the desire to switch away from Excel and give myself some relief. But with deadlines looming, I persevered.

As I worked on the numbers, my phone buzzed, and I picked it up to see a text from you.

“I’m hot”. I grinned, thinking of you at your desk, and the lack of air-conditioning.

“I know. You make me hard”, I replied, deliberately misinterpreting you. I smiled, knowing you’d be cursing me as you sat in your stuffy office.

The phone buzzed again. “Answer the fucking door!!”, the message read.

Confused at first, I pulled on my T-shirt and slipped my feet into my flip-flops, placing the laptop on the grass, before walking into the kitchen and through the house. The door chime was ringing. As I padded up the hall, I could see your silhouette through the frosted glass of the front door, face pressed against it, peering in for signs of movement.

I pulled the door open, and looked at you standing, one hand on your hip and the other still resting on the button. Your long blonde hair was pulled through the back of your cap in a pony-tail, and you wore a light denim shirt tied at your navel, with a denim microskirt and sandals. I looked you up and down, licking my lips.

“Couldn’t you hear me?”, you asked impatiently. “I’ve been knocking and ringing for about 10 minutes”.

“Sorry, I was in the garden”, I replied idly, staring at the your cleavage between the unbuttoned shirt. “Wow, you definitely look hot”.

I pulled you in and pushed the door shut, slamming you up against the wall and kissing you hard. You dropped your bag and slid your hands around my neck, pulling my tongue deeper into your mouth as I pressed my rapidly-stiffening cock against your navel. My hand squeezed your arse through the tiny denim skirt, as my other fingers traced a line down from your shoulder to your chest, cupping and then squeezing you hard. You moaned, as your tongue explored my mouth.

I broke the kiss, breathing deeply. Your hand trailed down across my crisp white tee, your fingertip heading towards the waistband of my shorts, tracing a line to the tip of my erection, which was stretching my shorts taut. My cock pulsed as you fingers encircled it through the thin material, gripping me firmly.

“Let’s get you out of those hot clothes”, I breathed in your ear, turning and leaning against the wall, and pulling you in front of me. You pushed your firm bottom back onto my groin, and I kissed the back of your neck, watching your reflection in the hall mirror as my hand snakes from your hips up to the denim knot on your navel. I pulled the tips and your shirt swung open, revealing your bikini top beneath it – two small white cotton triangles covering your pert tits, with a halter-string leading up to your knape. I pulled the shirt down off your shoulders, and dropped it to the floor, your arse momentarily moving away from me before you pushed back your hips again, grinding against my cock.

You threw your head back on my shoulder, my tongue and lips trailing kisses up your neck and cheek as my fingers slipped up inside your bikini-top, cupping your firm breasts and making circles around your hard nipples. You wriggled as I squeezed and rubbed your chest, moaning and sighing with each tweak of your hard pink nubs.

“Mmmmm”, you breathed, reaching up behind your head with one hand and drawing the loose string tight to undo the halter. “I’m soooo fucking hot now…”.

I watched you in the mirror as the strings around your neck dropped apart; the bikini flopped down, revealing my hands cupping your gorgeous tits. You pulled the string behind your back and with a light flick the tiny white garment dropped to the floor. I slipped my hands to your waist, pulling you tightly into me and staring at your topless reflection, marvelling at your deep red-pink nipples standing proud and hard.

I kissedd your neck and cupped your tits again, and you slipped your slipped down inside the waistband of my shorts, my knees trembling slightly as your soft touch delved down toward my thick hard shaft. As you brushed my tip, the coolness of my pre-come smeared your fingertips and my cocks jerked with your touch. You slipped your fingers around my shaft, slowly stroking me, wanking me gently as you pushed back against me.

I dropped one hand from your chest and pushed down across your stomach, sliding it over the wide strip of denim that was trying to be a skirt. I pulled the frayed hem up, reaching between your legs, instantly feeling you push your hips forward to meet my touch. My fingers brushed across the thin cotton triangle covering your pussy, sensing the heat; as I cupped your mound, my fingers feeling the softness of your labia through the wet fabric, you let out another moan.

“Your cunt feels so hot and wet”, I whispered into your ear in a low voice. I pressed my fingers hard, pushing the cotton briefs into your slit. “So fucking hot, and so fucking wet”.

“I need to be fucked…”, you sighed back, moaning as I twisted your nipple again and you squeezed my thick cock in your hand. “Fucked hard.”

I pushed the thin cotton aside and watched the reflection of my hand cupping your pussy, as my fingers slid into you. You were dripping wet, hot and tight, and as my second and third fingers filled you I could feel you sigh, your chest rising and falling in my other hand. I slowly slid my hand back and forth, fucking you with my fingers and rubbing your clit with my thumb. You began to rock your hips forward and back, driving my fingers deeper into your pussy, pressing your breast against my other hand as I tweaked and twisted your nipple.

“Oooooh, fuck yes” you groaned, your hand behind your back stroking my cock faster and firmer as I fingered you faster and harder.

Finally, unable to take any more, you pushed forwards, planting your hands on the mirror leaving sweaty handprint smears, arching your back and pushing your firm denim-covered arse towards me.

“Cock…. now” you moaned under your breath. “F-f-f-uck me now”, you stuttered between breaths.

I pulled your skirt up over your arse, looking at the thin cotton string of your bikini brief which trailed between your cheeks before widening to barely cover your pussy. I pulled it aside, exposing your wet pink lips, trailing a finger across them as I pulled my shorts down, my cock springing free. I rolled back my foreskin, and pulled your cheeks apart, spreading you wide, and drove my cock deep into your cunt; you squealed as my thick shaft filled you, stretching your wet soft lips wide. I placed my hands on your denim skirt which had ridden up to your waist, and stroked into you, pulling your hips back hard until my cock rippled your tight pussy completely. I watched your face in the mirror, eyes closed and biting your lip as I fucked you harder and harder, little rivulets of perspiration running down your spine. You pushed your feed apart, spreading yourself wider for me, urging every inch of me deep into you. As I drove my hips forward you dropped a hand, reaching between your legs and cupping and fondling my smooth balls which dripped with your juices. I moved one hand up your ribs, roughly kneading and squeezing your breast, taking your blonde ponytail in my other hand and pulling back hard, snapping your head back as I thrust my fat cock deep inside you. Faster and faster I fucked you, hard and harder, your muscles spasming and clenching my shaft as each little climax rocked through you, until you felt my balls lift and tighten in your fingers, my cock twitching. You squeezed my sack gently, fingers stroking the base of my shaft as my own orgasm rose inside me, my hard shaft pulsing as it slid in and out of your tight cunt.

I exploded inside you, thick hot spunk filling you up, oozing out of you onto my balls and your fingers as I stroked in and out of you, my hand crushing your breast, your gleaming back and arse dripping with sweat.

As the last streams of sticky come filled you, I slowed my thrusts and collapsed onto you wrapping my arms around you and pulling you back upright. Your arse pressed firmly against me, and my cock still inside you, I kissed your nape, breathing in the scent of your exertions.

“Mmmmm…. I’m still hot though”, you sighed as I slipped out of you. You turned around and kissed me hard, taking my still-firm cock in your hand and stroking it, smearing my mess along my shaft. “I need a drink. Have you got any ice Lollies in the freezer?”.

I unbuttoned your mini-skirt and watched it drop to the floor, and looked at your tiny white bikini briefs stretched wet and taut over the soft mound of your pussy.

“Yes, but we need a cool shower first. I’m sure there will be something hard for you to suck on though”, and I led you up the stairs.

I’m Back.

Ladies, spread your legs and open your mouths. This is going to get messy.

Preparation

Strip down to your underwear and toss your clothes into the pile in the corner of your room. Admire your body in the mirror, thinking about what I’ll say, what I’ll do when I see you undressed. Turn this way and that, taking in your lines, admiring your lean body and all of its curves – and how my fingers and tongue will feel when they slide across your silky skin.

Unclip your bra. Let the straps slip off your shoulders, drooping gently before they drop, the cups falling away from the swell of your breasts. Wriggle slightly, allowing it to drop to the floor. Watch the swells of your chest as you twist in front of the mirror, tiny goosebumps rising on your areolas as the pink buds of your nipples harden in the cool air. Resist touching them, as if that would stop you getting more aroused; it’s the thought of your fingers, my lips and teeth, that makes your pink tips erect.

Trail your fingers between your legs, brushing your soft mound through your knickers, feeling the swell of your mons and brushing your lips. Hook your fingers in your panties, imagining them to be mine, dragging them down over your hips, pushing them down your thighs until they drop to the floor. Lift a foot, and snatch the garment in your fingers, rubbing it softly between your legs, savouring its soft silky feel over your slightly-wet lips.

Look at the clock, and sigh, realising how long you’ve been there in front of the mirror, feasting your eyes on your naked form. Waft into the bathroom and twist the dial, the fog of steam warm against your skin. Step into the shower, the first touch of hot water almost burning your skin, making you jump the same way you will later when I touch you. Rivulets stream down your body, drips gathering on your elbows and nipples before leaping to their fate in the foamy whirlpool around your feet. You’re looking skywards, eyes closed as the water trails down your back, drawing your hair into a long smooth strip down between your shoulder blades.

The first handful of shampoo lathers up and you writhe as you work it into your scalp, fingers massaging your skin, soft touch triggering tiny reactions through your body. Thick blobs of suds run down your belly, caressing your skin like the lightest of touches, trailing to your navel before flopping to your feet. As the warm soapy bubbles trail across your pubis, kiss your lips and run down your thighs, imagine my touch there, lingering and probing, driving into your sex. Hold back from taking yourself too far – the delicious denial only heightening your excitement of when you’ll climax in a few short hours.

The shower over, pause to let the last of the water trail away down your long slender legs and then towel yourself dry, soft fluffy warmth soaking up the dampness from your smooth clewn skin, but leaving one moist area out of reach.

Apply your make-up, softening the smile-lines around your mouth, accentuating the stormy darkness in your eyes, and finally painting on a scarlet heart of shimmering colour so that later, when you are on your knees, your lips will leave a ring around the base of my hard flesh.

Next you brush and style, twisting the straightening tongs and pulling your hair taut until it springs back in loose spirals that frame your face. You stretch your hair, gripping harder than you need, savouring the feeling of your follicles straining, and smiling inwardly at the mental image of my fist gripping your curls, forcing your face down to my lap, or pulling your head back as I stand behind your kneeling form.

Reluctantly you rummage amongst your lingerie for something to slip into. You slide the hold-ups over your feet and smooth them onto your thighs, taking extra care on the only pieces of clothing you’ll be sure to keep on all night. The decadant lace patterned tops look and feel pretty; you know I’ll appreciate their finesse as I make my way between your spread legs.

Next a tiny black thong, so small it barely covers what would be your pussy – were you not waxed bare – but sheer enough that it won’t afford you any modesty. You giggle as the fabric presses up against your already-wet lips: “modesty” will hardly be appropriate.

A lace, half-cup balcony bra which lifts your firm breasts and creates an extra touch of cleavage. You know how I love to kiss and lick your decolletages, and the lace trim that nestles up to – but doesn’t cover – your nipples will guide my tongue to your sensitive buds.

The dress you pick out is black, tiny – so short you will have to beware of strangers when walking up stairs. But you know that as I follow you up to the table you booked in the gallery, I will get more than a hint of your stocking-tops. It slips over your head and ripples on the air as it settles around you and drapes over your hips, enhancing your curves, and giving a very explicit message.

Finally the footwear… black, patent, with a four-inch silver heel that will leave scratches in my back. Not quite dominatrix, but definitely fuck-me shoes.

As the buzzer rings on your door, and your grab your purse and coat to head out and meet me; your body tingles, your nipples erect, pussy dripping and heart thumping.

And, after all the time, care, primping and preening, perhaps you’ll just invite me in and cancel the restaurant booking after all?