Backseat Deal

This story I started out as a Wicked Wednesday post. The prompt was hand-holding, which happens to fit nicely with one of my favourite ways to give the Fella a handjob. But I didn’t get it finished before the deadline so decided to change my personal piece into a bit of erotica. I combined what I had with an idea I had for Kink of the Week, et voila. 

A few weeks ago, my best friend Jace and I made a deal. See, we each have something we want but can no longer get it from the people who used to give it to us. So instead we’ve decided to swap favours. Do one another a solid. He’s going to scratch my back and I’m… you get the picture.

That’s why we’re wedged into the back seat of his little banger, Jace with unbuttoned jeans and me with my tits out. It’s not all that late in the day, but the country lane we’re parked on is lined with trees that overhang the road so it’s pretty dark inside the car. I can’t see his face to properly gauge how he’s feeling. And that means he can’t see mine either, so unless one of us breaks the ice we’ll be sat here hanging out probably indefinitely. Continue reading “Backseat Deal”

Pretty in Pink

Okay, sugar, park your ass on the sofa. Yeah, right there on the throw. The pink of your skirt looks good against that baby blue, right? And damn, I love the way those white knee socks pop against the black leather down there. That blonde hair of yours is gonna pop against the black, too. Lean back a little, lemme see. Fluff your pigtails a bit. Yeah, just as I thought. Pop!

Now sit forward, right on the edge of the seat, and part your legs. Wider. A bit more. Good, good! Now keep your feet where they are – fuck, those Mary Jane’s are hot – and pull your knees together. Nice!

Elbows on your knees. Shoulders back, hands on your chin. Ohh, cute. Now that’s cute. Isn’t she cute, Tommy? She’s got some striking eyes on her, amarite? Damn, I could look into those peepers all day long. You make my heart throb, do you know that? Come on, flutter your lashes for me. Lick your lips. Gimme your best pout. Fuck, you’re making something else throb now, too. Continue reading “Pretty in Pink”

Bloodbath

Image used with permission of Cara Thereon
**This story is a continuation of my vampire series, part one of which you can find here. Bloodbath is a wordy piece and a violently bloody, cruelly stabby one, too, so be sure you wanna read it before diving in…**

“Tell me why we’re here again?”

Eamon’s weary eyes meet mine in the light of the tiny flame that appears a few feet from my face. One deep breath fills my lungs with damp air, the next leaves a tang of sulphur dioxide in the back of my throat. I watch a small orange ball crackle, flare, then settle into a warm glow as smoke coils in front of my old friend’s wizened face.

He doesn’t press for an answer to his question because he doesn’t need one. I made the necessity of venturing into this part of the city distinctly clear on the way here. No, what he wants from me is reassurance. He wants to know that when, if, we walk out of this hellmouth of a place we’ll be in the same condition we’re in now, however doubtful that condition may be. As much as I’d like to offer that reassurance, I can’t, Fuck knows what state we’ll be in after our audience with Aziz. Continue reading “Bloodbath”

Narcissistic Fairy Tale

I have a secret. I’ve kept it ever since I was eighteen, and I’m forty-eight now. Not even once have I considered sharing it. Nobody would believe me if I did. Hell, sometimes I don’t even believe it, I’ve managed to convince myself that it’s all in my head many a time. But then I’m faced with it again and I can’t deny that it’s real. Implausible, fantastical, but absolutely real.

You’re probably wondering what my secret is, and do you know what? I think that now…yes, I am ready to divulge it now… Continue reading “Narcissistic Fairy Tale”

Bleed All Over Me

This story is the continuation of a previously posted piece. Before you read this instalment, check out A Pain in the Neck if you haven’t already. CW: both stories contain much blood, murder, and other gloriously gory things.

Is there any point in being quiet? As I kick in the door of another addict shack, I tell myself no. Those who should be running know I’m coming. They’d have caught my scent the second I entered the city. And yet, every single one of the five dealers in the place has remained. I smell them. I hear the way their thick, dead blood crawls sluggishly through their veins.

Are they arrogant or stupid? That’s the question I’m asking myself as I step over the husk of what had once been a trendy young man. Judging by the designer logo on his shirt, the lips still plump from fillers, and the expensive shoes on his feet, he’d come from money. Will he be missed? Might his death be the death that finally begins the conversation every fucking person in power is afraid to have? Continue reading “Bleed All Over Me”

His Spitting Image

Oh. My. God!

I can’t believe I’m actually standing in a lift with… no, it can’t be. I must be mistaken. Kidding myself. Dreaming even. I mean, what would he be doing here? Heading for the second floor of a bloody Travel Lodge? This guy must be a lookalike, an imposter, he can’t really be…

But he looks so much like him! The all-black ensemble is so on point it’s almost scary. Old band t-shirt stretched over hard muscle. Tight jeans, heavy with silver chains and trimmed by a tarnished belt buckle, the rubies in the skull’s eyes glowing when they catch the light. Leather boots, chunky, unlaced and showing flashes of uncharacteristically colourful socks.

And the famous bandana and shades combo! Continue reading “His Spitting Image”

Seaside

Like the big kid he is, Dominic tosses a short plank onto the bonfire. The girls clustered nearby give him the stank-eye as they dance away from flying sparks. He laughs maniacally, racing to the water’s edge and back again with a sopping wet bunch of seaweed in his hand, laughing louder when the girls’ irritated sighs turn to screams of disgust.

The thought that I should probably tell my best friend to wind it in a bit crosses my mind, but I don’t. I don’t even give him more than a distracted tongue click when he lobs the soggy seaweed in my direction. I’m far too busy watching Stefan watching Lisa to care much about Dom’s attention whoring. Continue reading “Seaside”

Doppelgänger

“You using, lying, sack of shit! Don’t ever come near me again!”

Helena – aka my suddenly ex-best friend – picked up the skirts of her saloon girl dress and stalked away, leaving me standing there gawping after her like I was having an attack of the dumbs. Everyone at the faculty fancy dress party was staring at me like I’d just announced I had a tail, but they had to know that the woman was batshit crazy. I hadn’t laid a finger on her and had no intentions of ever doing so.

Drunkenly telling our friends that I’d eaten her out like a starving man eats cake was bad enough, but telling them right in front of me was even worse! I mean, I’d never even seen a pussy let alone put my face in one. Cock I’d been up close and personal with, and I’d had more than one butt banquet in my lifetime, but pussy was as foreign to me as Frenchmen. Continue reading “Doppelgänger”

Soulmate

Once in every lifetime,
Comes a love like this…

You know you have a true, lasting connection to someone when you bump into them after a period apart and it immediately feels like it was only yesterday when you were last with them. That easy flowing conversation. Familiar touching if your relationship is intimate in nature, the automatic respect for personal space if it isn’t.

Some believe that those people are our soulmates.

I know they are. Continue reading “Soulmate”

Awakening the Wet Dream

If I was less drunk I might have been self-conscious about the headboard smacking off the wall. I might have made an effort to cover Adam’s mouth. And I would definitely have opted to wear a condom.

But, as being drunk goes, I’m probably the worst I’ve ever been, and I’m giving my date such a hard, bareback anal fucking the headboard has been knocking holes into plaster for going on half an hour. Adam’s been hollering ‘Oh God, fuck yes!’ so loudly I wouldn’t have been surprised if the Almighty descended from heaven in corporeal form, just to tell him to shut the fuck up. Continue reading “Awakening the Wet Dream”