Friday, April 24, 2009

Talk Hard

"Why is it," you murmur, "that you let me do such dirty things to you but won't tell me your fantasies?" You smack my ass, watch me writhe.

"I don't know," I manage. "It's just so...intimate."

"And this isn't?" You slowly work a finger into my [DELETED]. My head spins.

"Point taken." But I'm silent. Distracted.

You take your hands away. I whimper. "Tell me," you say.

"Well…" I falter. "We're at a restaurant." You touch me again: instant reward. "You grab me. By the restrooms. You tell me not to scream. You drag me inside, pull my shirt up to cover my eyes. You use my panties to tie my wrists behind me."

You turn me face-up, spread me open, rub against me.

"You push me down, shove your [DELETED] into my mouth. Harder than usual. I realize I never saw your face. You could be anyone."

You slide into me just a bit, then out, holding my hips so I can't wriggle onto you.

"You [DELETED] my face," I pant, "a little too roughly. I can't catch my breath. You hit the back of my throat over and over…"

You grunt, but don't move.

"And then you hoist me up, bend me over the sink and thrust into me, and I'm coming --"

You groan, finally slamming into my [DELETED]. One, two, three strokes…

And you pull out, leaving me open-mouthed, gasping. You head for the door. "Get dressed," you say, grinning. "I'm taking you to dinner."

[written for Alison Tyler's "[DELETED]" contest]

Monday, April 6, 2009

The Good Humor Man

That was the summer with the heat wave. That was the summer when it was so hot for so long that we ran outside with the neighborhood kids every time the ice cream truck went by. I tried everything that year - Toasted Almond and Bomb Pops and Push-ups and Hoodsie Cups with the flat wooden spoons that tasted like my childhood.

That was the summer we both got a crush on the towheaded college kid that drove the thing around. I'd never seen you like that around another man before. It was like you wanted to flirt but couldn't quite figure out how, so you just got tongue-tied and goofy. I could see you blushing even through the heat.

And late one night we found him parked at the ballfield long after everyone had gone home. All he had left were boring old popsicles, and I got so distracted by the prospect of you going down on a guy that I practically started fellating that neon monstrosity without realizing it. Which certainly got both of your attention, and I leaned in and kissed you, and then him, multicolored tongues mixing crazy new concoctions. And you and I knelt together in front of our Mr. Softee (who was, in fact, not at all soft), and we licked and sucked him until he melted with pleasure, his come sweeter than any ice cream I've ever tasted. And then we brought him home, all three of us sticky and dripping and grinning.

[written for Alison Tyler's "eavesdropping erotica crafts dessert" contest]