Lyra’s Near-Death Experience
A Quickie by RedBud

His hands were beautiful.

She watched them.  She watched through the dusty window of the gas station as he stepped out of the car.  He was bald.  He wasn’t fit.  But his hands – his hands were beautiful.  She was drawn to them.  She stepped out of the office with its old Coke machine filled with bottles and its rows of dusty 10-40 and 10-30 SAE.  A curl of red dust licked the truck’s tires, her legs and the shoes of the bald man.  She crossed the hot asphalt as he reached for one of the nozzles.  “You can’t do that,” she lied.  She had to see his hands.  She stepped onto the curb between the pumps.  He stopped.

“Oh…” he was nervous.  He pushed up his glasses – thick black-plastic frames.  He was wearing bowling shoes, or were they golf shoes?  – a black suit and thin tie.  But his fingers were beautiful.  She wanted him to push his glasses again.  “This is a long way from nowhere,” he said, smiling nervously.  A shot of heat lifted the dust again and shook the desert broom growing close to the cracked white asphalt.

“What kind?” she asked.

“What?”

“What kind of gasoline?” she asked.  He was trying not to look at her breasts and hips.  She never knew which was worse – the guys who looked at her as if they owned her or the nervous ones that wanted to.

“Supreme,” he answered.

She turned.  Let him look.  Let him get it out of his system.  She wasn’t wearing much today.  She was nineteen, slender, tanned and taut.  She was probably the most girl he had seen in a long time – just a tank top barely covering her belly button and ripped jean shorts.  She turned again.  “You need to pop the lid.”

“The lid?” he asked, staring at her breasts.  “Oh!  The lid!” He turned, reached to the bottom of the truck seat and popped the lid.

And then she wanted to cut loose.  Fuck it.  What am I doing here?  Why am I still in this dump?  Why the fuck was she living in a trailer behind a gas station in the middle of a desert – where every Dad wanted to fuck a piece of trailer trash.  Just a quick doggy, she could see it in their eyes. Fuck them!

“Your hands!” she blurted instead.

“Excuse me?” he pushed up his glasses.

“Do you,” she couldn’t help herself.  “Your hands…  do you do commercials?”  Commercials? What the fuck kind of question was that?

“No.” The bald man flashed another nervous smile.  “I’m a Prestidigitator.  I don’t advertize.”

“A what?”

“A Presti-digi-tator,” he said again.  “Here…  wait…” He dug for a wallet in his back pocket.  “Here…” He handed her a card.

“What…  like a pianist?” An unimpressive card.

“Oh no…no!” He laughed a squeaky little laugh.  “But I `am’ a professional.”

“Like a concert pianist?” she asked sarcastically.

“Well…  sort of…”

“Well…” She was getting impatient, re-imagining her tirade: deserts, dumps, dead ends.  “Well…  Sort of…  What?”

“I’m good with my fingers…” Glasses up again.  God, those hands!  – those fingers!  “I help people…  women…  and sometimes men.  I mean, I help men help women…”

“…to what?” she asked.

“Marital problems,” he answered.  “Sex,” he whispered, nodding.  “Those kinds of problems.”

Those fingers…  Jesus.  They were beautiful.  She tried not to look. What was wrong with her?  Was this a fetish?  “Well, I don’t even have a boyfriend, so no use to me….” She lifted the pump handle.  The old machine ground to zeros.  “Know why?  They all dumped me…”

“Why?” the man asked.  “May I ask?”

She suddenly wanted the conversation to end.  “They couldn’t make me cum, OK?”

“I could help you with that.”

“Like `hell’ you could…”

“I mean,” he quickly added, “professionally.”

“Do you mind getting out of the way?”

“Out of the…Oh!” The little man broke into another sheepish smile and quickly moved out of the way.  “I have recommendations…”

“You have…” She tried not to laugh, snorted instead.  But what the fuck, why not?  Maybe she was a little horny.  How long had it been?  “Ok… as soon as I’m…”

Jesus!  She gasped.  Interrupted.  Jesus Christ!  How did he?  His fingers!  So quick!  Just some tears in her jeans but somehow…  he found it – the one – the tear right at her crotch.  She had clamped down on the nozzle.  Oh! Jesus! The pump began to grind out the gallons.  Oh God!  His fingers!  Butterflies!  Hummingbirds!  He was…  They were…

How was it possible?

They were so smooth!  So deft!  So light!  So quick.  One gallon.  She felt warm, hot, wet…  soaked.  “Uh!” Fuck!  She wasn’t watching the pump. No, not at all, she was staring out beyond the truck, across the road, across the Saw-Toothed Ditaxis , the Creosote Bush, Fishhook Cacti, and Bufflegrass, out at the distant mountains. The could smell the heat of the dry desert scrub.

Her feet moved apart, her back arched, opening her sex – her opening – to the squat bald man behind her – the squat bald man with the beautiful fingers.  Oh, God!  Her eyelids drooped, her mouth fell open, and the pump clicked past three gallons.  How was he doing it?  How did he find room?  His fingers were opening the petals between her thighs like a bee at the flower’s throat.  Oh!  She never felt so open!  Her sex was going to open, open and swallow her!  Why didn’t he fill it.  Jesus!  – she felt empty.  She…

She was looking down at herself!

She was above her body!  She was out of her body!  She could see everything!  She could see the sunburn reddening the top of the squat man’s head.  She could see herself, back arched, ass up, and the man’s beautiful, lovely fingers between her thighs.  She could see herself looking blankly across the road.  She had dandruff.  Fucking worthless shampoo.

But she could see everything!

Matter.  Time.  Atoms and four gallons clicked by and then she…

She was looking down at the earth!  So small!  So perfect!  And in such a deep and lonely darkness.  But she knew where she was.  Yes, she know exactly where she was standing on the little, blue and white ball hanging in the stars.  And she could see the billionth spark of life that moved across its surface, in pain, in happiness, sorrow, ecstasy, emptiness and completion.  She felt a tremendous tenderness for it all, and love.  It all made sense.  And she could still hear the grinding click of the pump.  5 gallons.

And then there was light!

Not just light, but a mandala – ecstatic, unimaginable, perfectly forgiving and perfect love.  If she could have wept, she would have.  If she could have stayed there in the perfect, beautiful, loving light, she would have.  But somewhere, on a tiny mote, a speck, an atom in the unimaginably deep ocean of the cosmos, an old gas pump ground through 6 gallons, 7, 8, and finally, at 21 gallons, the nozzle abruptly released.

She convulsed, in her body, there, back in the desert, with sharp, quick pulses of ecstacy that made her cry out and arch again and again.  She was dribbling down her narrow thighs.  Her nipples ached and chaffed against her tank top.  She wanted to shed it all.  She wanted to fly.  She was in orgasm.  She was trying to breath.  Each pulse gripped her taut belly, breasts and hips.  She couldn’t breath.  And then it was over.  There were flowers blooming – Scarlet Spiderlings.  She had never noticed them before. Just on the other side of the road.  Yes, they were beautiful.  Everything was brighter, colors more colorful, the sky bluer, the air sweeter.

“Miss?”

Why should she turn?  The world was beautiful.

“Miss?”

Was he pushing up his glasses?

“There are more things,” she said in her raspy 19 year old voice, “in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“Shakespeare?”

“No,” she said.  “Just a hunch.” Clarity.  Oh yes, she had clarity.  It all made sense.  She knew what she needed to do.  First, she would quit smoking.  Then she would sell the trailer.  And who was this little bald man?

“Do you take credit?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, still gazing at the beautiful desert.  “It’s on me.”

The squat man awkwardly sidled next to her, glanced at her, smiled sheepishly as he took her hand, the hand holding the nozzle, and removed it from the truck.  She heard the cap close.  She heard the truck-door close, she heard the motor start.  He pulled away.  She looked at the card again.

Prestidigitator.  A drawing: two hands, open, like the wings of an angel.

Dangerous Lapdance
Nightmare & Vision #74

I sat in his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, fingers tangled in his curly hair. His strong hands roamed up and down my sides and back. We were both naked, and his erection pressed up between the cheeks of my ass as we kissed long and deep. I wanted him so bad, his pole was already wet from my arousal. My purse was somewhere on the floor among the scattered clothing. I just needed to get the condom out of it.

Our tongues fought as his hands traced up my sides to my breasts, thumbs brushing across my hard nipples. When I was this excited, which happened too rarely for my taste, my breasts were nearly as sensitive as my clit. I moaned into his mouth and shuddered at his touch, forgetting everything but how it felt. I was going to cum just from his hands on my breasts and my grinding into his lap.

Still lost in the sensations, I almost whined in protest when his hands moved under my arms. He lifted me, breaking our kiss. Before I could complain too much, his hot mouth had closed on my left nipple, and I arched my back and moaned loud, pressing forward into his face, grabbing and holding his head there as he suckled. His rising shaft poked my perineum, only adding to the sensation.

He turned his attention to my right breast, and pleasure coursed through me. He leaned forward, hands sliding to my waist. Before I knew what had happened, he’d pushed me back and down, and I was sinking onto his cock. Alarms went off in my head and I started to protest and push away, but he chose that second to give my nipple a gentle bite, followed by a savage sucking and swirling attack of his tongue. My objections turned into lusty moans and my body bucked. Instinctively, I impaled myself on his cock, magically doubling my pleasure. My lust-addled brain drowned out whatever worries had threatened my body’s continuing fulfillment.

He barely paused when switching his oral attention to the other breast. I was almost reclined, back and neck supported by either one of his arms, while his free hand massaged and kneaded the breast he wasn’t latched on to. My lower body worked by itself, undulating up and down his thick shaft of its own accord. The pleasure flowed and engulfed me, and I came violently, arching and screaming for what seemed like hours.

My senses came back slowly, and with them, the realization and urgency to get the protection in place before things got any further. From the sweat on his body and the pace of his breathing, he wasn’t going to last much longer, and I wanted him in me, but safe, when he came.

Gently, I pushed him back to sitting straight up, reassuring him, with kisses and words. I lifted up off of him and turned to search for my purse. His hands came to my shoulders and began to push me down. I looked down at him, objecting words on my tongue, but from what I saw in his eyes he wasn’t going to be listening.

I realized it was too late to do anything as he forced me back down on his swelling shaft, thrusting up into me as I struggled to rise off him. He filled me more and more, and then his head rushed forward and attacked my right breast again.

I don’t know what did it – some untapped erotic reservoir, or the combination of force and danger as he pulled my unprotected pussy down onto him, but a second climax crashed over me, sucked out of my nipple, fucked into me by the bare cock. During this crashing, screaming cum, I heard and felt his own orgasm strike – his seed erupting up into my body with nothing to stop it…

Possessive Tense
A Daydream & Distraction

He said he didn’t want to go.
But he keeps asking you the same questions as you dress.
How late will you be?  Who will you be meeting with?  Why are you wearing that?

Every time he asks, you give him the same answers: the convention; faculty from other colleges, PHDs, authors, influential women and powerful men.  He sits on the bed of the hotel room. He watches you as you step out of the bathroom, after your shower, naked and moist – sees you the way other men will imagine seeing you.  You give him a crooked little smile, your lover, maybe your husband, the carpenter without a college degree.  He’s not jealous.  No, you wouldn’t call him jealous.  You would call it possessive.  And you have described him that way to girlfriends.  He’s a possessive man, not jealous.

But maybe you’re a little possessive too.  You’ve noticed how other women glance at him: his sun-browned face, the strength in his shoulders, his defined arms, the glint of smile lines, rough hands and scars, and the muscular hips – virile hips.  You’ve noticed how the other women glance at him while they sashay on the arm of a lawyer, doctor or banker.

You stop answering his questions.  Yes, you say No.

You reach up behind your neck to fasten your necklace.  You take longer, though you could be quicker.  You do it while you’re naked.  Your breasts rise.  Your nipples stiffen as your skin dries. You could have done this after getting dressed.  But you do it now.  You face the desk mirror.  In the reflection, you see him behind you looking at your long legs, your narrow hips and ass.  You see exactly where he looks, at the inward curving of your waist, then down the swell of her hips, then at the dark meeting of your buttocks and thighs.  You subtly arch your back.

“I’ll be at the bar,” he says, a little louder than necessary.
“How late?” you ask.
“You won’t be back until 2 or 3, right?” He means AM.
“That’s right,” you answer.  But you know what he means.  There will be other women there.

“OK,” you answer, maybe a little louder than necessary.  You go to the open closet behind the hotel room door.  You pull the strapless tube dress from the hanger and slink into it, swivelling your hips more than necessary and drawing it’s top, slower than necessary, over your breasts.
“You’re going like that?” he asks, still sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah.” But you know what he means.  No bra.  No panties.

He stands up fast, almost jumping from the edge of the bed.  And then he’s on you, behind you.  Your wrists, just at your hips, are suddenly tightly in the vice of his fingers.  He forcefully lifts your hands up to the closet pole.  You don’t have a chance.  He’s a hell of a lot stronger than you and the simple fact of it twinges your pussy.  “Keep them there!” he snaps at you.

Of course, you don’t.  “I don’t have time for this!” you lie.
Smack!  You cry out.  He’s spanked your ass hard.  You reach for your ass, but he forces your hands up to the closest pole.  Smack!  You inhale deeply.  Your stomach feels feather light. This time you keep your hands on the closet pole.  Smack!  You grip it hard!  Smack!  He pulls up your tube dress.  Smack! You groan.  Smack!  You spread your legs.  Smack!  You groan and arch your back.  And then one more smack!  You exhale – a long and open mouth moan.  Your back is wantonly arched.  He roughly yanks down the front of your tube dress, exposing your tits.

“Wider!” he says.  You quickly obey.  You hear is jeans unzip.
“Huhn!” He fills you hard and quick.  He opens your pussy and fills it, all of it.  You sound another throaty exhalation.
Then he’s fucking you from behind.  He’s pulling your ass back toward him.  Your toes are barely touching the floor.  Your hanging on to the closet pole.  You’re grunting with each thrust and your ass still burns from your spanking.
“Let go of it!” he says, bluntly.

You do.  He walks you, one hand arching your neck by the hair.  H walks you, you on your toes, your pussy full of cock, to the desk’s chair back.  He bends you over it.  You face the mirror.  Bigger than you, stronger than you, a man, your man, and possessed by you, he yanks your head back by the hair.  He makes sure you see yourself, bent over, on the balls of your feet, legs straight and open, being fucked from behind.  And he wants you to see who’s fucking you.

“What are you?” he asks fiercely.
“A woman…” you groan.
“Who do you belong to?”

“You…y…your cock” He’s deep.  His hands on your hips.  The rough callouses of his thick fingers dig into your soft hips.
“Whose?”
“Yours…”
“You’re mine!” he growls, his thrusts harder,
“Fuck me…” you grown your agreement.
“Mine!” he repeats.

“Fuck… Uhn!… fuck me from behind,” you gasp.  Smack! You arch, as if it were any more possible, letting him own your cunt.  He makes you watch your slender body.  He makes you watch as it gives to him your orgasm.
“Tell me again!” Smack! “What does this…” Smack!  “…belong to?”
“Y… you… only your cock…only…” You groan and your belly clenches the cock, your lover’s cock, yours, your man – only yours.  “…yours…”
He’s pulsing inside you, filling you.  His cum, traveling the length of his cock, explodes deep inside you.

Then he’s spun you around.  He makes you kneel, knees wide, heels curled under your ass.  He runs the tip of his cock round your lips.  He lifts you up and as he does so your tit brushes the semen from his cock.  He kisses you hard and deeply.  “Don’t you dare clean yourself,” he says.  He’s marked you.  He’s marked his territory.  You carry his juice in your pussy, his scent on your lips and tits.  Your belly is full of him.  You obediently pull down your tube dress and cover your breasts, meeting his gaze.  Your ass still stings.  “Put on your panties,” he says.  With a submissive glance you reach for your panties.

Then, panties in one hand, you reach up with the other, behind his neck, and draw his ear down toward your lips and tongue.  You stand on the tips of your small toes.  (He’s so much bigger than you.) “Don’t you dare,” you whisper, feminine and softly, “take a shower.”

:Will Crimson
December 1 2009

Previous: Cat in Heat

Janine stepped pointedly out of the kitchen. To hell with all of them, she fumed.
She flopped herself down in the livingroom, next to her stepbrother, Pos, but not too close. She pushed a pillow out of her way. He was watching ESPN, just like always. He didn’t even notice her. His arms were crossed, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, and he didn’t so much as glance at her.

“What’s the matter, Jani, nobody throwin’ you a bone?”
“Fuck you, Pos,” she answered flatly and glared at the TV.
“Maybe if you wagged your tail more.”
“You know…” she glared at  Pos again. “Like you do anything at all. You just sit and watch TV… whenever. Like I actually want to go out and talk to ‘human beings’. “

”And that makes me…”
“Less than,” she answered.
“So… why don’t you go out and find your own kind.”
“I’m out of money.”

“Spend it accessorizing at the check out?”
“Fuck you.” Janine crossed her arms, glaring at ESPN.
Voices drifted through the hallway from the kitchen and sometimes laughter. “God damn, this is boring, Pos,” Janine finally blurted.
“What can I do to save you from this purgatory?”
“This what?”
“How can I get you out of here.”
“Give me some money,” she blurted. “I’ll pay you back.”

Pos laughed. “You and what piggy bank? Get a job, Janine. Have you ever worked for anything in your life?”
“30 bucks,” Janine leaned toward him. “I swear to God, I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
“30 bucks?” Pos laughed. “Get a job.”
“What job? Where?” Janine shot back. “In this fucking excuse for a town?”
“Golly Jani,” Pos answered sarcastically, glancing at the slim girl. “I guess you’ll just have to fall back on something besides brains.”

“Pervert,” she glared. “You know… you think I haven’t noticed you lookin’ at me.”
“Yeah Jani,” Pos returned, “you think there’s ‘any’ man hasn’t ‘noticed’ the way you wag your butt around here. I’m not giving you a nickel.”
Janine glared at her feet, glanced at the couch, then uttered an expletive. She stood, brushed crumbs from Potato Chips off her tight white jeans and bent over. Pos noticed. She was brushing crumbs from her shins. She stopped, saw Pos eyeing her. She didn’t stand. She stayed the way she was, bent over. Their eyes locked. They said nothing for a moment. Blood rushing to both their faces.

“I’ll give you 30 bucks.”
Janine stood, her back and ass still toward him. She swivelled on her hips. “Fuck. You.”
“I’ll give you 60 bucks.”
Janine said nothing, her breath deepening and uneven at the same moment, nervous.
“It’s a job,” Pos said, meeting her glare.
She still said nothing. The sound of laughter from the kitchen made her glance nervously toward the hallway. “80 bucks,” she finally said, half choking on the words.

“120,” Pos shot back, openly gazing at her hips and breasts. “Twice. You’re good for it.”
Janine turned, facing him, her hands nervously fluttering at her hips. “You think?
“You’re stalling,” Pos was already feeling his crotch.
“OK…” she answered, almost a whisper. “When?”
Pos laughed again. “When? Right now! You gotta’ work for it! I’m not a fucking credit card.”

“Now?” Janine rolled her eyes, glancing toward the hallway. “Where?”
Pos stood and approached the young woman. Janine stood her ground, nervously shifting her weight from one high heel to the other. She gasped when his large hand cupped her sex. Her hips followed her hand as he gently moved back and forth between her thighs. He tried to kiss her but she turned her lips away. He hesitated, then licked her cheek. “I’ve been wantin’ to do this for such a long time.” He peered at the hallway then turned his gaze to her breasts and the nipples, already poking behind her black blouse. “In your room,” he growled.
“What if they’re lookin’ for me?”

“What the fuck?” he answered. “Tell them to leave you alone; you’re on my cock.”
“Lock the door,” she shot back.
“Get in the room,” he growled at the girl.
She went. He followed, staring at her hips and ass. He closed the door behind them, locked it. Janine’s stomach fluttered. There was only one reason to lock a door with a man in the room. She could still change her mind.
“Get on your knees,” he said.

“Show me the money,” she answered, her voice quavering with a mix of fear and something else.
Pos dug into his wallet and tossed the money on her mattress. He looked around the room. A teddy bear was on her pillow and some of her favorite stuffed animals were collected on the shelf above her bed. Posters filled the wall and her computer was humming on a small pink desk. A mirror was on the door out of the bedroom with pictures of herself, her friends and boyfriends. They were interspersed with paper flowers and comments from her friends. “You know,” Pos began unbuckling his belt, “you’re too old for all this shit.”

“What do you know about me?”
“Get on your knees.”
Janine hesitated, inhaled, started to speak, then glanced at the money. He had paid for her. Something in her body reacted to the thought – to being bought. She was wet. She glared at him but slowly fell to her knees.
“Good girl,” he released his cock.

She didn’t speak. She felt lightheaded.
Pos stepped forward. Janine’s lips parted. “Good,” he muttered. He traced the tip of his cock around her lips. She wet them with her lips and gazed up at him. “I know exactly what I need to know about you,” he pushed his cock into her mouth. “You don’t have twelve year old lips anymore. You got the cock-sucking lips of a woman. You got the hips and ass of a woman.” He breathed deeply as she sucked on his cock, her lips kissing and opening around the head of his cock. “ I’ve wanted to see you like this for such a long time. This is right where you belong. This is what your mouth was made for.”
She glanced at the money again, then gazed up at him.

“Lift up your shirt,” he said. “I want to see your tits when you’re sucking me.”
She lifted up her shirt and her young breasts were swollen with their tits stiffly upward. His cock was big, bigger than her boyfriend’s, maybe not longer but wider at the head.
“That’s it,” he gasped. “That’s your proper place.” He pushed her down, by her shoulders, until his cock slipped out of her mouth and she was sitting on her feet. “God damn. You almost blew me,” he gasped. “Now I’m gonna’ show you the only other position you need to know – what god and nature made you for. Turn around,” he growled. “Pull your jeans down.” His heart was racing. He was masturbating his  straining cock.

“You talk to all your girlfriends like this?” she answered as she turned around.
“Fuck off,” he answered. “You’re not my girlfriend. I’m paying for your ass. I own it. Pull your little size-zero skin-tights down. Then get on your hands and knees. And don’t turn around or look at me. I’m just interested in your ass – your ass and your pussy.”
Janine unbuckled her belt. Her breathing was shallow and her nipples ached. She shimmied her hips left, then right as she pushed down her pants down.
“That’s far enough,” Pos breathed.
Her jeans were just below her ass.  She lowered herself to the floor onto her hands and knees.
“Closer to the door,” he said. “Crawl, like a dog.”

She did.

“That’s the only other position you need to know,” he said. “You know what’s going to happen?”
“Yeah…” she answered, her voice strained.
“What?”
“You’re gonna’…”
“Gonna’ what?” he asked, kneeling behind her.
“Fuck me,” she breathed.
“Why?”
“Jesus Pos, just…’

“Shut the fuck up,” Pos snarled.  He traced a finger along her pussy. “I’m fuckin’ payin’ you 120 dollars so I don’t have to masturbate tonight, so I got something to cum in besides my hand. Stick your ass up. That’s it -  like a woman that needs to be fucked,  and answer my question. Why am I going to fuck you little step-sister?”
“Don’t… don’t call me that.” She shuddered at the feeling of his finger.
“Answer the question…”
“Cause you paid me,” she answered.

“How much is your tight little ass worth?” he asked. She wanted to see his cock again. She wanted to look at him. She felt his a hand on her hip.
“120 dollars,” she answered, her voice quavering. “Huhn!” She grunted aloud. He was big. Bigger than she had expected inside her! She hadn’t wanted to give him the satisfaction of hearing her whimper with his penetration. She felt the lips of her sex drawn in by the size of him, just the head of him. She whined, despite herself, when the flared head of him finally sunk past her lips. Jesus, he felt good.

“Say it again!” he groaned.
“120 bucks,” she whined and exhaled with the fullness of his cock.
Both his hands were on her hips now. She felt him draw back, felt the lips of her sex open up as if in anticipation, and then he thrust, sinking the rest of the way into her narrow waist. “Uhhnnn!” she groaned. “God!”

Then he was thrusting. She wanted to open her legs, to somehow take the size of him. But she couldn’t. Her legs were kept tight by the pants snugged around her thighs. Fuck, he knew this would happen! His knees were on either side, outside of hers.  He was fucking her! “Uh! Uh!”
Christ! Someone was knocking at the door. Pos wasn’t stopping! “Yeah?” she answered, gutturally.
“Jani?” It was her Dad.
“What?” she asked. O fuck, he was hitting her cervix! He was watching her in the door mirror, watching her face, her tits as they bounced under her.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah,” she answered, the word almost knocked out of her. “What? What… what is it?”

“Have you seen Pos?”
“No!” The word came out as a grunt.
The doorknob rattled. Jani meant to stand up but Pos grabbed her hair and yanked back, bending her slender back into a submissive arch, opening her belly fully to his thrusts. O fuck, she was going to cum!
“Jani?” Her Dad again. “Are you OK?”
“Jesus Dad,” she almost screamed. “It’s a woman thing, can you give me some privacy?”
“OK… ok…”

And then she came, pulsing on his cock. Pos held her, feeling her cunt alternately squeeze and release him, doing her woman thing to his penetration. Her fingers dug into the carpet. She was staring blankly at the ceiling as he held her head back, as she twitched. Her vision dimmed. O God! She couldn’t stop cumming. Her breathing was ragged, hoarse. And then, at last, her spasms slowed. He began thrusting again, hard and faster this time. “God, I’ve wanted this. I’ve been dreaming of your ass just like this, your beautiful little back all arched and copulative. You’re too old for anything else.”

And then he came. Her step-brother, the man who she almost despised, was spurting his juices into her belly. 120 dollars. O fuck, God, she was cumming again! The bastard. Don’t stop! He felt so good. She was dripping down her thighs and into her panties – a fucked and soaked woman. It felt so good. Why didn’t he stop squirting. Jesus, she was overflowing. And then, finally, he was done juicing her pussy. He let go of her hair and she fell forward, her ass in the air, her thighs still tightly closed by her soaked panties and pants. She felt Pos’s cock slowly slip out of her. He fell backward, sitting against the bottom of the bed. “Fuck…” he breathed.
She turned, pulling up her panties. She felt her pussy through them, as if making sure it was still there. She was catching her breath.

“Why are you crying?” Pos asked, catching his own breath.
Janine leaned forward and slapped him. He didn’t stop her. She slapped him again. He felt his jaw than reached behind him. “Here’s a teddy bear.”
Janine caught the bear.
She put it down and leaned forward, over it, and kissed him, hard. He kissed her in return. He put his hand at the back of her neck and didn’t let her go until both of them were breathless.
“I’ve never…” Janine gasped. “I’ve never cum before, having sex.”

Pos put his thumb against her bottom lip, then gently palmed her cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Janine laughed – a quick and short laugh. “No,” she moved forward, pushing her jeans off. She opened her legs, her knees to either side of his legs, and kneed forward until her soaked panties were over his hardening cock. She pushed her panties to one side and opened her glistening sex with two fingers.
“Again,” she whispered. “Put it in me.”
He reached for her tit. She slapped him.

“Pay me!” she hissed.
“Bitch!” he felt his cheek.

“Please,” she leaned forward and licked his hand and cheek. “Please, pay me. Please. I’m for sale…”
Pos understood. Finally. He understood.
He licked her neck in return. “I own you,” he growled.
“Only you,” she answered, tweaking her nipples as she swivelled her opening above his rigid cock. “Just you, Pos.”
Pos dug awkwardly into his back pocket and opened his wallet. He stuffed three twenties into her panties. “Don’t you have to go out?” he asked.
“Huhn!” she impaled herself on his cock.

:Will Crimson
November 30 2009

]]> http://eroticwriter.wordpress.com/2009/11/28/daydreams-distractions-%e2%98%bc-not-so-innocent/ Sat, 28 Nov 2009 23:58:02 +0000 willcrimson http://eroticwriter.wordpress.com/2009/11/28/daydreams-distractions-%e2%98%bc-not-so-innocent/

Not So Innocent
A Daydream & Distraction

She had always teased you.
She had always said you were a slut.  You just didn’t know it.
Whenever you met a boy, she said, you looked at his crotch first.  All the boys know you’d make a good lay, she said.  They’re just waiting for the first thick cock to open the way.  But this is never what she meant.  This isn’t what you meant.  Already each thrust draws a high, feminine cry from you.  You’re on your belly, your cheek pressed against the bed, your hands tightly grip the top edge of the mattress.
Your legs are tightly together.  Your toes pointed straight back and off the bed.  The flats of your feet are tightly arched.  You’re getting fucked from behind, hard.  You feel his cock draw back, almost fully, then plunge straight  down into you.  “Huh!” Your pussy expectantly guides the soft ball of its tip into the deepest part of your flat belly – there – waiting for it to burst inside you – there. He plunges again and again.  And the only part of you that is not touching the mattress is your pelvis.  Your back is arched obscenely.  Your legs are tightly together, but your sex is filled from behind, then emptied, then filled again.
You bite the pillow.  You smell your sweat and his. Then you taste his finger pressed between your teeth.  He penetrates you in both places.  He takes you completely.  You suck on his finger.  Your breath hisses through your nose. Your back arches.  He owns you.  He owns your mouth. He owns your pussy.  He owns the nubbin deep in the privacy of your belly. And he knows it.
You’re a mounted woman.
And you’re going to cum on his cock.  You feel it starting deep in your womb, right where the length of him rams against your insides – the first time a man has ever touched you there.  He makes you grunt each time, acknowledging him.  And there’s nothing you can do about it.  He owns you.  Your toes arch.  Your brows begin to knot.  You whine.  You mewl.  Your nostrils flare. You want to say something, anything, but your lips suck on his finger.
Your best friend, the girl who trusted you in everything you did, is waking up.
You want to say something, anything.
She sees you on the bed next to her.  In a hot moonlit breeze she sees her boyfriend, the man she wanted to marry, fucking you from behind.  You want to say something, but all you can manage is a long groan as your belly surrenders, as your eyes meet hers, only half focused, as your pussy grips his cock again and again, as he spurts, uncompromisingly, inside you.  You want to say how sorry you are.
But all she does… is grin.

:Will Crimson
November 28 2009

Previous: Nature
Next: Cat in Heat

Nature
A Distraction & Daydream

They had been hiking all day.
They put down their packs on an untraveled ridge.  The valley’s heat blew warmly and steadily over the granite and scrub pine.  They took off their damp clothes.  He was swollen and stiff with the sight of her and she had taken him in his mouth.  Her own body moistened and was heavy with arousal.  It had all seemed so natural and so inevitable.  They were alone, thousands of feet above the Whites.  There was no computer, no texting or cell phones. They were just a man and woman.
They put down their heaviest blanket. He sat, legs stretched out, back supported by the warmth of granite.  She turned her back to him and slowly lowered herself, feeling his sturdy length rise upward into her belly.  They faced the same direction and gazed across scores of miles.  For an afternoon he gently traced his fingers over the supple curves of her spine, shoulders and waist.  She moved slowly, languorously, just feeling his nakedness inside her.  The fullness of his cock never abated, neither did her desire to be filled.  The sky turned to darkness and they gazed at the stars.
Their breaths shook, but not from cold.
“Do you want to?” she asks, barely a whisper.
“Do you?” he answers, his own voice thick with the agony of their wait.
“The stars are beautiful,” she says.
“Yes,” he answers.
“Let’s come back next year,” she says, rising, then falling quickly and abruptly, in the knowledge of her full nakedness.
They both gasp and exhale, nothing more to decide.
Their bodies follow their natural course, the place where they join quickly grows wet, thick and sticky with their mutual completion – the sounds of liquid moves between them.  Their sexes convulse powerfully after so long.  Then, finally, they can see, hear and breathe again.  She still moves subtly against him.  The world has changed.
The moon appears, yellow and huge.
They brought nothing, not even condoms.

:Will Crimson
November 28 2009

Previous: And She Always Does
Next: Not So Innocent

I was confused and frightened anew. How could I become Grandmother? There was only ever one. And she had always been there. Of course, part of me knew that couldn’t be true. The Grandmother was not the oldest of the People. But how? I whined questions, still feeling like a girl and not a Mother, alone and needing. The Grandmother was no comfort at the moment, her eyes were closed, her attention turned inward on whatever was happening inside her.

End

(To Be Continued)

pregnancy treatments

If a woman is not able to get abundant through accustomed insemination she may use acceptable infertility treatments such as the use of abundance pregnancy treatments drugs IVF and bogus insemination. Formation is the addition of agent into the changeable uterus during animal intercourse. Formation which takes abode through animal action is accepted as accustomed formation or NI. Formation which takes abode after animal action is accepted as bogus formation or Pregnancy Treatments AI.

Alternatively she may try use Pregnancy Treatments Acceptable Chinese Medicine TCM and assemble treatment. If you appetite to alpha TCM for infertility treatments the best affair to do first is to argue with your doctor. Your doctor may actuate that the infertility stems from a structural problem such as block Fallopian tubes and again TCM is not an option.

Do bethink that your doctor may not accept the appropriate training to advance Herbal Medications. This agency you may ambition to argue with Pregnancy Homeopathic your approved doctor in affiliation with a doctor accomplished in TCM. Do acknowledge your accommodation to do so with your doctor to ensure that he/she has abounding admission to your medical history. You do not appetite to accompany a acceptable and an another medical analysis for infertility simultaneously unless you accommodate abounding acknowledgment of what drugs you are taking etc. to both doctors.

TCM has been acclimated for bags of years to advice women adapt menstruation and ovulation and restore egg quality. Many women would advance that TCM contributed to them accepting acknowledged and advantageous pregnancies.

TCM which is based on a mix of Herbal Medications and acupuncture has accurate able in some cases in abating anatomy disharmony which causes infertility. Herbal Medications are medications able from plants and bulb extracts and which sometimes accommodate bee and fungal products as able-bodied as minerals. Numerous analytic trials accept apparent that some Herbal Medications are both safe and effective.

One of the bounds abaft Herbal Medications is that they may abetment in the abolishment of any bad habits that could be causing infertility. A acceptable diet and comestible supplements enhance your adventitious of conception. The actual aboriginal affair you should do is to annihilate caffeine alcohol and tobacco from your diet and ensure you are bistro healthy counterbalanced meals. Consider abacus vitamins A C and E folic acid selenium blubbery acids and zinc to your circadian diet. You can get these if you are demography prenatal vitamins. Men should attending into demography L-Carnitine tablets which are an amino pregnancy treatments acerbic that helps the anatomy to aftermath acceptable affection sperm advice access the agent calculation and additionally to accord the agent greater motility. Herbs to barrier accent and all-overs and this can accord to a acknowledged pregnancy.

Any alone application herbal medicines should booty the aforementioned affliction as with decree medicines to abstain overdose interactions with added medications and misuse. It is additionally important to abide with Western medical treatments to ensure all avenues for infertility analysis are explored.

TCM accept admiring growing attention abnormally as some ART treatments and decidedly the added invasive ones account some controversy.

Most shocking thing today: I read this article yesterday and it blew my mind. A fertility doctor in Connecticut not only artificially inseminated a woman with the wrong sperm, but with his own sperm. Holy….

Also, apparently this is not the first time this has happened. Oh wow.

45

The small meeting room gradually filled with parents and students.
“Is that really you, Shandra?”
“Yeah,” the young woman answered.
“You’re a senior?” The older man was incredulous. Divorced. From out of state. He hardly recognized his daughter’s best friend.
“Yes.”
“Can you believe it?”Shandra’s mother beamed.  “My little baby.”
“Mom…” Shandra rolled her eyes.
“You look a little nervous,” her friend’s father smiled, noticing the young woman’s flushed complexion. “I could never speak in front of people.”
“No…” The girl laughed. “We thought we were late. We ran from the car.”

45 Minutes Before

“Oh my God, I thought Mom would never leave,” said Shandra.
Her boyfriend, Matthew, followed her into the kitchen where she quickly picked up a book, some notes  and a spiral notepad.
“What time do you need to be there?”
“Like, now,” she snapped.  “Seriously, I want to be there early.”
“It’s only five minutes from here!”
Shandra felt her boyfriend’s hand on her hip, then lower to cup her ass. “God, you’ve got a cute butt.”
“I’ve gotta’ go!”
“Turn around.”
She turned. He pushed her books out of her hands and onto the table. Then shoved her backward until the table’s edge pressed into her ass. They kissed. She matched his passion, kissing him just as urgently.  His hands moved up over her small breasts, feeling them through her black dress. Her nipples hardened under his palms. She pulled him by his ass against her pelvis. Her breath and his shook. She pushed him away. Dazed.
“I can’t,” she breathed.
“You’re wet.”
Her eyes fluttered. She wanted to sit on the table’s edge, to open her legs for him. “I can’t,” she said again.

45 Minutes Later

“So what’s your senior presentation going to be about?”
“Feminism,” Shandra answered.
The small auditorium was almost full. Matthew’s mother, Gale, joined Shandra, her mother and her friend’s father. “Have you tried the cake? It’s delicious.” She balanced a plate with one hand, a drink in the other.
“Did you say Feminism?” Gale asked.
“Yes,” Shandra answered. “Women’s rights have always interested me.”
“She’s applied to pre-law,” her mother interjected.
“Good for you!” Gale drawled between bites of cake. She glanced at Matthew, just joining them. “Where’s your tie, hon?”
“My tie?”
“Weren’t you wearing a tie when you left?” Gale asked. “I thought you were wearing a tie.”
“Oh yeah…” Matthew felt his collar. “I needed a new one. I forgot…”

45 Minutes Before

Shandra rushed out to Matthew’s car. Matthew started the engine. She climbed in, closed the door.
“What’s wrong?” Shandra asked.
“Nothing,” Matthew answered. He glanced left and pulled out onto the road.
They drove. Then stopped at a red light.
“I want you too,” she said quietly.
“It’s been seven days since you started the pill,” Matthew responded, quietly.
Shandra didn’t answer.
“I’ve never cum in you…”
Shandra’s stomach felt feather-light. She pressed her ass into the seat, almost absent-mindedly. “Which way are you going to school?” she finally said.
“I know a shortcut.”
“No.” But Shandra’s voice had changed. Her “no” was quieter, maybe submissive. “I don’t want to be late.”

45 Minutes Later

“Are you ok, Shandra?” Sarah whispered.
“I’m fine,” Shandra whispered back.
“You’re squirming!”
“I have to pee.”
The small crowd applauded as Matthew’s younger sister finished her presentation. The high school senior smiled and the assistant principal took her place. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Steve Bower will give the next presentation.”
“Aren’t you next?” Sarah whispered.
“God, I wore too much?” Shandra whispered.
Sarah sniggered.
Shandra tried not to smile. “Are you going to Dave’s party tonight?”
“Totally,” Sarah answered.

45 Minutes Before

“Mat…”
“Unbutton your dress,” he said nervously as he drove.
She did: one button, then the next, then the next. Slowly. Her breath was shallow.
“Like this?” she asked in a whisper.
“Pull the top apart,” he said, seeing peripherally, but driving too.
Her breasts flickered in and out of darkness as they passed under streetlights. Her nipples were swollen and arched upwards with her deepening breaths. “What do you want me to do next?” she asked.
“Tell me what’s going to happen to you,” he said, his own breathing shallow.
Shandra knew what he was asking. This was her out. I’m going to be driven to school, she could say. I’m going to give you a blow job, she could say. “You’re going…” her heart raced. “…you’re going to fuck me without a condom. You’re going to cum in my womb.”

45 Minutes Later

Brief applause was followed the Assistant Principal taking his place at the podium.
“You’re red as a beet!” Sarah whispered to Shandra.
“I’m nervous.”
“I thought you said…”
“Never mind…”
“Ms. Shandra James will be next. Her topic tonight will be feminism.” The microphone failed. After two or three tries the Assistant Principal hushed everyone. “Go head and stretch,” he announced. “Richard is getting a new microphone.”
Sarah stood.
Shandra didn’t want to.
“Do you want some water?” Shandra’s mother asked, tapping her on the shoulder from her seat behind her.
“No thanks, Mom.”

45 Minutes Before

“Take your panties off.”
Shandra reached under the hem of her dress, pulling it up until it almost revealed her sex.  With a shimmy of her hips, first left, then right, she pushed her panties down and over her slender legs. They fell to her ankles. She leaned forward and pulled them over her feet. Her nipples pressed against the rough fabric of her dress. She sat up.
“Where should I put them?” she asked.
“I don’t care.”
She stuffed them under the seat.
“Spread your legs.”
She did; or as far as she could. She felt her sex open as she opened her legs, warm and moist. Her breathing came in shallow gasps.
Matthew had already loosed his tie. He tugged through his collar. “You know where the leash goes…” he said.
Shandra took the tie and wrapped the smaller end loosely around her neck. The car stopped in the empty playground parking lot overlooking the school. There were no lights, only one under the school building’s eave, shadowed by the leaves of late spring. They were in darkness.
He stepped out of the car, walked to his girlfriend’s side and opened the door. She gazed at him, eyes half lidded, legs open, bare breasts rising and falling. She placed the loose end of the tie in his hand and stepped out.
“You need to be taken for a walk?”
She nodded.
He gently pulled her out of the car. She clasped her hands behind her back.
“Hold it,” he said. He lifted the back of her dress and placed it in her hands at the small of her back. She was naked from the hips down. The slender swell of her hips and ass rounded smoothly into the darkness between her legs.
“Now walk,” he said, watching the young woman’s hips and ass sway in the half light. He was hard. Aching.
He stopped her at the fringe of trees, where the higher ground fell away – down thirty or forty feet to the back side of the school. Cars were parking at the front of the school. They could only see the light reflected from the trees at the school entrance. There was a one story sprawling brick building between them and the others. They could look down at its roof.
“Hah!” Shandra gasped. Matthew’s mouth closed over her breast. He sucked  her tit deeply into his mouth. She arched. She could feel her sex, arching upward between her legs,  behind her, readying.

45 Minutes Later

The Assistant Principal tapped the mic., then adjusted it, then tapped it again. The general conversation among the attendees decreased. “OK,” he said, “I think everything is working.”
The attendees quietly shuffled back to their seats.
“As I said before,” he continued, “our next speaker will be Shandra James. She will be graduating Magna Cum Laude and will be giving the valedictory speech at graduation. Her work at this school has been outstanding. She has been a model to other students and we will miss her. Will everyone now please welcome Ms. James.”
The attendees applauded.
“I need your sweater!” Shandra whispered urgently.
Sarah looked blankly. “My sweater?”
Shandra yanked it from the back of Sarah’s chair, meaning to wrap it around her waist.
Shandra felt her mother tap her on the shoulder. “When you’re presenting,” she heard her mother whispered loudly. “Nothing makes a good impression like good posture.  Stand straight!”

45 Minutes Before

“Bend over.”
They were under the shade of the trees. It was night. No one could see them. The light of a back room had been switched on. Shandra shook. She bent over, legs straight, presenting, her hands still clasped behind her back. “I’m still just a high school girl,” she whispered.
She felt him tie the free end of the tie loosely around her wrists. Her dress hung around the narrow of her waist, her hips and the place between her legs naked and unprotected.
“How old are you?” Matthew asked. She heard him unzip his pants.
“Eighteen,” she breathed.
“You don’t think you’re old enough?” He ran his hand over her ass, just grazing the wetness at the joining of her legs. “Let’s find out.”
She groaned. “But I’m not sure…” she groaned, playing the game.
“There’s only one way to find out…”
“Mmmm!” She moaned. He was pinching her tit where it hung under her. The fingers of his other hand grazed her clit. She arched and presented her ass, following his fingers upward with each glide over her clit, groaning as he pinched and pulled on her nipples.
“So far so good,” he murmured breathlessly.
“Ummm…. now what?” she breathed.
“Open your mouth.”
“That’s it…” She heard him groan and he ran his hand over her ass. “So ready to be mounted. Now you look like a woman…”

45 Minutes Later

“What is a woman?” she asked, beginning her speech. “The definition of womanhood has changed throughout history and has too often been defined by men. They are their father’s commodity and their husband’s property. They are the mother of God and harlot condemned by God. Women are our iconography and our pornography. They are the girls men covet and the crones they revile.”
“Feminism began as women’s right to define themselves. Feminism is the expression of women’s desire to be heard, to be respected, to be equal…”

45 Minutes Before

She could still taste his cock on her lips, in her mouth.
“Let’s find out if you’re a woman.” He moved behind her.
“I don’t ayiiii……” she gasped. He was penetrating her, smoothly. Her mouth opened. She felt skin! At first just the soft warmth of his smooth round head placed against her slick lips – so unlike a condom! Her brows knitted and she widened her stance. “Uhn!” The opening into her body swallowed the head of his cock. She could -feel- him. She could -feel- the ridge behind the head of his cock as he sank into her. Her head shot back. “Oh fuck!” There had been no condom package torn open. There had been no waiting for him to put a condom on his cock. He could penetrate her any time he wanted. Anywhere. “Huhn!” She tried to keep her balance. He held her wrists. The girth of him slid fully into her wet belly. “Uhn…” God! So deep!
She heard him groan. Then felt both hands on her hips.
He drew back, skin against skin, then thrust. She bit her lip and cried out. God, he felt so good, the heat of him inside her. She cried out again with another thrust. This was real sex. There was a bare cock deeply inside her! – for the first time! His own groans joined her cries. Then he was thrusting hard and fast, overcome by the small young woman who offered herself to him.
“Yeah?” he asked, out of breath.
His thrusts abruptly changed – he stayed deep inside her with short, hard thrusts.
“Oh….” She moaned. “Please don’t!”
“Why ?” Matthew groaned, playing the game.
“Please! You’re gonna’ make…” she struggled to free her hands. “I can’t stop…”
“What’s the matter?” he growled.
She struggled, hips pivoting around the length inside her.
“Look at you,” he groaned. “Class valedictorian.”
“Please…” She lifted her hips, pushed, and arched but couldn’t dislodge the cock penetrating her. “I can’t… can’t stop it…”
She tried to turn.
“No, you don’t,” he growled. “Look straight ahead. This has got nothing to do with you.”
“Nothing to…?”
“I said: Look straight ahead!” He pulled her hair back.
“Uhhh! You’re… you’re  making me…”
“Hush.”
She felt her muscles clench around her boyfriend’s cock. Yes. Like this. Someone was in one of the rooms that faced the hillside – the hillside where she was being fucked. The light went off again. The muscles in her belly clenched again as the cock thrust in and out of it. She heard some laughter from the parking lot on the building’s other side. She tried to breathe evenly. She couldn’t. She gasped. She thought she could hear the voice of her friend and laughter.  Again, her pussy clenched the cock fucking her from behind.
The closest sound was his skin against hers, skin against skin, the sounds of her own youthful wetness. She watched shadows grow longer, then shorter as more cars pulled in. She tried to breathe again. But she was being fucked. Her body was being fucked from behind.
“Uuuhhhhnnn…” Her eyes rolled. The muscles in her sex, penetrated again and again, moved smoothly from a last clenching gasp to a smooth pulsing: her body’s answer to a man’s cock – contracting around it again and again.  A woman’s answer. She couldn’t stop it. She had nothing to do with it.  “Uh… uh… uh… uh…..uh…uuhhhnnnn…” Yes!

45 Minutes Later

“Let us control our bodies. Let us seek our own position in life. Let us no longer think of ourselves as helpless. Let the ideal of modern feminism be the woman free to define herself – free from the imposition of men -and- women. Let us be free to be both professionals and nonprofessionals – mother and home keeper without guilt. Let us be free to define ourselves as both desiring and objects of desire. Let us be free to make our own choices…”

45 Minute Before

Matthew pulled on the tie that bound her wrists. She grunted as his cock pressed deeper into her belly. He was going to cum in her! A  man was going to cum in her womb. Hers! “Please…” she breathed, her belly shaking with a last spasm. “I’ve never… never had cum inside me…”
“Oh God!” she heard Matthew moan.
“I’m not sure…” she mewled, urging him on.
“Fuck, woman…”
“I’m not sure… I’m not sure  you should…”
“What do you think you’re for?” he panted. “Huh?”
“I’m a woman…”
“Exactly,” he interrupted, groaned and pressed himself hard inside her.
Her eyes grew wide and gasped.
He was pulsing inside her! She could feel it! Cum! A cock in orgasm, naked, inside her. A man’s cum! – spilling deep inside her belly. She moaned, a long, guttural moan as she held still, instinctively arching and opening to receive her lover’s effluence, for the first time. It felt so natural. She swore she could feel the warm fluid flow into her.
Matthew exhaled loudly. She stood. He gently placed a hand on her womb, another on her breast, kissing her neck, nibbling her ear. She rested her head on his shoulder, her hands still bound at the small of her back, his naked cock still twitching inside her, in her belly, depositing a last drop inside her. This was her favorite part of sex. The gratitude. His hands moved gratefully over her hips, belly and breasts. She pressed her ass back, against him, equally grateful.

45 Minutes Later

“I knew you when you were just a 2nd grader! And to think you presented tonight!”
“Thank you,” Shandra smiled.
“And here you are,” said Sarah’s father, “a bright young woman.”
“Thanks,” Shandra answered politely, wishing she could be somewhere else.
“It’s like the first day of the rest of your life.”
“Shandra!” It was Sarah. Thank God. “Do you want to go to the party tonight? Steven said we could ride with him. Stacy and Ron are going with Janice.”

45 Minutes Before

Matthew released her hands and untied the tie from her neck. She rubbed her wrists, turned to kiss him. He pushed down her dress. It slid over her naked hips and fluttered to her knees. “We have to go!” she whispered. Her belly felt warm.
“Jesus, that felt good.” Matthew returned her kiss.
“C’mon,” she urged him. “We have to go!” Matthew’s tie slipped to the ground as he forced his still hard sex into his pants. He didn’t notice and neither did she.
“This way!” he said. He pulled her down the walkway that led from the playground at the top of the hill, to the school’s back entryway.
Her panties. They were in the car! But she didn’t care. It was almost time! They went into the school the back way. It was unlocked! They could hear voices around the corner of the long hallway that led from one classroom to another. He stopped her, pressed her back against the wall. “Fuck,” he mumbled as he kissed her, palming her breast and squeezing her ass. “I want you. Again.”
She gasped and kissed him back just as fiercely. “I’m so wet,” she moaned.
“Tonight,” he groaned,
“God, I feel like you filled me,” she whispered. “You’re still inside me. It’s like you’re still fucking me. When I’m up there, think about how you’re in my belly.” She slipped away from his groping and rounded the corner. There was Sarah! The friends saw each other.
Then Shandra felt wetness on her thigh – both of her thighs.

45 Minutes Later

Shandra pulled Matthew behind her.
“I’m going with Matthew,” she said, almost too curtly to Sarah.
They went the long way.
They walked around the building, found the gravel pathway back up to the playground.
Shandra’s stomach was tied in knots.
She raced up the pathway. Matthew followed, watching her slender hips sway. She had been fucked. He liked that about her. Some women always looked like they had just been fucked.
“What’s going on?” he asked when they reached the top of the path.
She faced him, then loosened the sweater that she had tied around her waist. She put it on the hood of Matthew’s car. Then she quietly turned her back to him, raised her hands and leaned on the car, arching her back.
Her black dress was soaked at the center of her ass, the center of her round hips, at her pussy. She glanced back at him. Her black dress was white with his cum. Matthew stepped behind her, slowly lifting her dress. She arched, offering herself.
“So,” he said quietly, “you gave a speech on feminism…”
“Like this,” she interrupted. “With the taste of your cock in my mouth, with my belly full of you orgasm, your cock dripping down my thighs, like I was yours… finally. It makes me feel like a woman too, to have taste and smell of her man’s cock in her mouth and belly and legs – God am I hot!”  Her breath wavering and she stretched and arched for him.
He lifted the soaked dress over her ass. Her thighs were streaked with cum. She was a woman. She had been fucked.
He unzipped. “I don’t get you.”
She smiled. “Men are so clueless.”
“There’s one more place you need a cock, woman,” he answered.
“Huhnnn!!!” she cried out. He slipped easily, wetly and nakedly inside her, to fill one more place with cum.

:Will Crimson
November 21 2009

Abducted

Officer Joe Murphy glanced at his partner, Frank.
Another case just like the last – five incidents in five weeks.
The glow of the desk lamp cast a pale green light on the peeling paint of the station walls. A fluorescent light sputtered above them.
“All right,” said Joe.  “Let’s start over.”
“Yes, Sir, Officer.” The young woman answered.
“And I’m sorry but I gotta’ ask, Hon,” Joe shifted.  The old chair creaked under his lanky weight.  “Were you wearin’ anything provocative?”
“No Sir!” The little blonde proudly shook her head.  “Ain’t never.  I was just walkin’ home from cheerleader practice.”
“So,” Frank chimed in.  “You were in you’re cheerleading outfit?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Joe sighed.
Frank glanced at him.  “What?  She was in a cheerleading outfit. Perfectly normal.”
Joe glanced at Frank, then rubbed his forehead.  “All right, Hon,” Joe continued, “let’s go over this again.  You left practice and instead of walkin’ straight home you decided to take a shortcut back of George Tober’s field?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And David Carnelli was the last one to see you?” Joe glanced up at the tall boy – the school’s forward tackle.
“That’s right, Sir,” the girl answered.  “Just David, and that’s not includin’ Ryan, Jud, Taggart, Lou and Freddy.”
Joe rubbed his forehead. He turned to the boy. The boy’s hands were fidgeting in his jean pockets. “And the last you saw her was in the field?”
“Yes, Sir,” the boy answered.
“Because you had to buy milk for your grandmother?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And how’s Grandma, Dave?” Frank interjected.
“She’s in fine shape, Mr.  Parcell.”
Frank winked at him. “You’re an upstandin’ boy, David.”
“Frank!” Joe snapped.
“I’m just bein’ neighborly, Joe.”
Joe rubbed his temple then sorted through his notes. “Mrs.  Carnelli says she didn’t see you until… 8:30 P.M.  That was an hour after the store closed…”
“I saw you in Church last Sunday,” Frank interrupted.  “You like the sermon?”
“Yes, Sir,” the boy answered.
“Frank!” Joe slammed his notes.
“What?”
“Can I ask the boy a question?”
“What do you wanna’ ask him, Joe?  He’s a good boy.  He goes to church and he buys his grandmother milk.  What’s more to know?  He’s a good, Christian boy.”
Joe rubbed his temples and turned back to the girl.  “All right, Hon, what happened when you went into the field?”
“I saw the light!” the girl chirped.
“The light?”
“It was hoverin’ over my head.  It was big as a house, Officer, and all lit up like a Christmas tree.”
“Then what?”
“Then… well… this door in the middle just sort of opened and I saw the light.”
“You saw the light?” Joe asked again.
“Yeah…” the girl leaned forward.  “I couldn’t move, you know?  Seein’ it?  I just froze.  And that light washed over me like a realization, you know?  Like happened to the Saints.  I fell to my knees just like that.  It was like I was being called.”
“Then the light lifted you?”
“Like a leaf on wind,” the girl answered.  “I was carried straight to the mother ship.”
“Then what?”
The girl glanced as though she’d be overheard.  “The first thing happened they put somethin’ in my mouth.”
“In your mouth?”
“It was smooth,” she said.  “And filled my mouth so I couldn’t talk.”
“Did you try to talk?” Frank interrupted.
“Yes, Sir,” the girl answered.  “I did.”
“You wanted to tell them to stop, didn’t you, Sugar.”
“Frank!” Joe glared at him.
“Yes, Sir,” answered the girl, “but I couldn’t speak or nothing.  That long smooth…” The girl blushed.  “I almost choked on it.”
Joe shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  “Then what.”
“It started pumping this goo into my mouth and there was nothing I could do for it but swallow.  Soon as one was done, another would go in my mouth.”
“Then what?”
“Just kept pumpin’ goo, Sir.  Like it was a drug.  Some of it spilled right down,” she traced her finger’s tip between her breasts, “here.”
“Then what?” he asked, voice strained.
“It was like in an exam room,” answered the girl.  “It was all shiny and metal inside the mother ship.  And there were probes.”
“Probes,” Joe asked..
“Yes, Sir, Officer, probes.  Just like the one in my mouth.  They would just come outta’ nowhere.”
“Anything else,” Frank interjected.
“Men, Sir,” the girl answered.
Frank was suddenly interested. “Men?”
“Little and green,” the girl answered.  “They just kept touchin’ my all over – feathery light, little touches and sometimes it was like they had suction cups on their finger tips.  They made me do things.  They shackled my hands on the exam table.  They made me open my legs.”
“There, see?” said Frank.
“I get it Joe,” said Frank, losing interest again.  “Little green men.  I get it.  So… you still had your cheerleader outfit on?”
“Yes Sir,” the girl answered.  “That didn’t stop’em one bit.  They just kept opening my legs and I kept wantin’ to ask them: Why?  Why are you doin’ this to me?  But then they put little suction thingies on my…” The girl blushed.  “Titties.” Then she whispered.  “And they put another one, you know, down there.”
“Down there?” Joe asked.
“You know,” the girl squirmed.  “Between my legs  Where I go pee, pee.  That and my titties.  I started feelin’ funny all over.  It’s like they were runnin’ tests on me.  Like they needed to probe every part of me.”
“Every part?”
The girl leaned forward.  “Every…” She lowered her voice.  “…part.” Then she glanced behind her and cupped her hand next to her mouth.  “They…” She scrunched her nose and whispered, “…penetrated me.”
“In every part…?” Joe asked.
“And…” The girl nodded. “…in my mouth.”
“What did the probes look like?”
“They were all silver, long, a little curved and thick with rounded tips.  And once they got in me, the probes just kept moving back and forth inside me – in my mouth, in my behind, and in that tickly place that’s… it’s too uncouth to mention (a place I ain’t ever touched).”
“Then what happened?” Joe kept writing.
“Then this awful funny feelin’ come over me, like I was gonna’ die.  I just started moanin’ and groanin’ and gruntin’, what with the little suction devices on my titties and the tickly place between my legs and all those probes moving in and out of me and my legs spread open, hands trapped and stretched to my sides.  And I didn’t know what they wanted or why they were doin’ this to me…” She leaned forward. “I think they was tryin’ to breed me, like they was ‘alien scientists’.”
“Awful feeling?”
“I thought I died.  All a sudden, you know, my body took over, convulsing like I was in death spasms. Ain’t nothin’ ever felt so good.  It was a Near… Death… Experience.  I ain’t never gonna’ fear death again. I thought I died.  I though I’d gone to heaven. Then all those probes started fillin’ me right up, like they’d been waitin’.  They all just started pumpin’ me full of the same goo that was in my mouth.”
“Then they let you go?” Joe asked.
“Then I woke up in the field and they was gone,” answered the girl.  “And all those juices were leakin’ out of me – out of every part of me.”
“And you’re pregnant?”
“Two weeks now.”
“Thanks,” Joe sighed.
“Anything else?”
“Nope,” said Joe, “you can go home.”
Frank stood and leaned over the table.  “Sweetheart, we’re gonna’ get to the bottom of this, so help me God.  Bless you, child.  God bless.  You’re a brave girl.”
Joe rose from the table and Frank followed.
They walked into the long hallway with its yellowed linoleum floor.  Joe threw his notes into the trashcan.
“What are you doing?” Frank stepped in front of him.  “What in the name of God are you doing?”
“You didn’t actually believe all that?” Joe wagged a thumb behind him.
“Joe,” said Frank.  “Those are God-fearing kids out there.”
“Frank!” Joe gazed at the ceiling.  “She’s eighteen years old!”
“She’s just a child in God’s eyes.”
“Frank!” Joe walked in a short circle and banged his forehead with the palm of his hand.  “You think that maybe this abstinence program isn’t working?  This is the fifth girl…”
“Young woman…”
“And cheerleader…”
“God bless…”
“That’s knocked up!”
“Joe!” Frank shook his head.  “I… am… shocked…”
“C’mon Frank!”
“I don’t EVER want to hear talk like that.  That’s crazy talk.  You understand, Joe? Crazy talk. This is Christian, god-fearing country and you, Frank, YOU, of all people, are duty bound to honor and PROTECT.”
“Sure, Frank.”
“God as my witness, Joe,” Frank grit his teeth and ground his fist into the palm of his hand.  “The day a get those little green cock-suckers in the sites of my Kimber 8400 Tactical.  Joe, there’s gonna’ be hell to pay.”
“Weren’t you and your partner anally probed?”
“That’s right,” Frank answered.  “That’s right.  Hell is gonna’ be paid.”
“Your partner quit, right.  Post traumatic stress disorder?”
“Can’t talk about it, Joe.  Just can’t.”

:Will Crimson
November 20 2009

Leda & the Swan
A Daydream & Distraction

I lived in a little house. My name is Leda.
I wear just a shift to sleep at night.
I leave the window of my one room house open so that I can look at the pond’s waters at night – the moon’s reflecting and the stars.
One night I woke to a great swan in my window.
The moonlight shown through his white wings and glistened from the S of his neck.
“Leda,” he said, deeply and powerfully.
I pulled the thin cotton sheet closely around my slender frame.
“You speak?” I asked.
He made no answer but I saw the wind tease the luminescent curtains.

§

The next night was dark.
I awoke and I felt his presence.
“Leda,” he said again, and his voice was like rustling leaves, but darker – the rustling that comes before a storm.
Fear alighted in my stomach.
“Don’t rape me.” I could only whisper.
“Leda,” he answered softly, richly.
“Don’t rape me,” I whispered again, frightened.
“Leda,” he answered. “You are beautiful.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“My children,” he answered, “My beautiful children.”
I did not understand his answer.

§

The next night I lit a candle and sat at the window table.
I waited.
The flame of the candle spoke stories to me: how a lighted flame draws closer to the earth the moment it is lit; and how we are like the flame. I lay my head down on the desk, my soft brown hair covered my eyes and I slept.
The light went out, or the candle’s flame was snuffed, and I awoke with a start.
Once again, the great swan was in my window, the S of his neck gave light and took shadow so beautifully, I wanted to reach and touch.
“You may,” he said, knowing my thoughts. And then I knew he was a god. Which one, I didn’t know.
“You are very warm,” I said as I touched his neck. “What do you want?”
“My children,” he said. “Will have wings, like swans, and the beauty of their mother.”
And then I gasped. I saw the swan’s phallus, which was nothing like a swan’s phallus, but like a man’s, or a god’s – large and thicker than my own wrist. I could not speak. I could not breath. My heart raced. I stared and the great swan, with ancient and knowing eyes, slowly turned and leapt into the dark air.

Michael Parkes Almost Fallen Angels

§

Michelangelo

The next night I could not sleep.
I knew what he wanted. I knew what he meant to do and yet I knew he waited for my permission.
I turned in my bed, the sheets twisted.
The memory of the swan’s phallus tormented me. Thicker than my own wrist! How could I possibly? I feared it. Yet my memory was also drawn to it, making my breath shallow and my heart flutter. The sheets twisted between my legs. I gasped when the thinnest part slipped between the divide of my sex. I moaned and pulled on it. Then I twisted the sheets into a thickening cord and and moved my hips forward and back across it. I felt it against me, rounding my parted thighs, a cord of sheets as thick as the phallus. I was afraid of its girth.
But I also could not stop my belly from somehow seeking to feel that girth inside me.
I moaned and pushed myself against the knotted cord. A strange pleasure overcame me. Though my mouth was open, I could make no sound. The muscles of my belly clenched at emptiness and released, clenched and released.
The swan did not come that night.

§

And the swan did not return the next night.
I awoke with my knees parted, my shift bunched around my waist by my own restlessness.

Edi Brancoli Leda & The Swan

§

“Leda.”
His voice woke me on the third night.
I had been sleeping but quickly sat upright. The great swan stood in my window. The sinuous and beautiful silhouette stepped from the windowsill onto the small table at the foot of my bed. His phallus stood thickly, almost longer than both my hands end to end. He turned his head and peered at me with black eye.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
My heart drummed. My exhalations were sharp and I shook. I felt tiny.
“I’m just a girl,” I said, voice shaking. “You’re a god.”
I could not take my eyes from his phallus.

Camilla Brodersen

The great swan’s head turned. “I am a mere god.” The swan’s great wings stretched and he stepped onto the bed. “But you, Leda, are the source of life. I can engender life in you: beautiful, mortal and god-like, and their beauty will be your beauty.”
I opened my thighs.
The great bird moved between my legs and he took my throat, my whole neck, in his bill. He laid me gently down onto my back. His white wings stretched like a white canopy above us both. I felt the downy, warm weight of him against my breasts and nipples. I thighs widened and I drew my knees upward, yielding myself to a god.
My neck arched, though he still held me by the neck, and my back arched. I cried out, a sharp gasp as the broad bulb of his phallus pushed, opened, and entered me. I panted and moaned, opening my legs wider as my belly stretched around his girth and slowly and inexorably. Then the full length of him was inside me and with a woman’s knowing, I knew the god’s name. His length knew me and pressed deeply where I would engender. He moved and when I finally cried, the muscles of my center gripping him, I felt his own powerful ecstasy warmly fill me.

Igor Zeinalov www.zeinalov.com Leda & the Swan

§

Leonardo Da Vinci

After that, he came to me again, sometimes as I knelt at my garden. From behind me, I would first hear and feel the wind of his wings. Then the great swan would take my neck in his bill and gently press my check or forehead to the garden’s pungent soil, and I would moan as his phallus filled me from behind and engender more children.
My first child was beautiful, as were all those who followed.
They were babies, like any other, but for their tender white wings that grew and stretched as they nursed at my breasts.
The others knew that my lover was a god.
The men will tell you lies. Someday they will write that Leda was raped by the swan because they cannot believe that the greatest of the gods would ask a girl for her permission. The men will lie. I tell you, the swan loved me:  stern, acrid, large, undissuadable–but he  loved me, and did not hurt me any more than was necessary to pour into me the stuff of sons and daughters.

Mark Blanton Jupiter & Leda

:Will Crimson
November 20 2009

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Next: Married Sex

A Good Girl
A Quickie by RedBud  ♏

Leila’s stomach tingled. Why couldn’t she say no?
She loved men. She loved how they smelled. She loved how they walked, their hips and their angular, muscular bodies. Not all men, mind you, but beautiful men. She felt his cock, his beautiful penis pressing against her ass through his pants and her skirt. He was pulling down her panties. She let him. Oh, she loved how men were turned on by her. She loved seeing them hard and seeing their desire for her.
She loved penises. Not all penises, mind you, but beautiful penises. The long and skinny ones, the bent ones, the squat but fat ones. Yes, she had preferences, but penises had personalities. Why did she love men so much?

She lifted first one foot, then the other, as he pulled off her thin white cotton panties. Then his hands moved upward, under her shirt, and pinched her nipples. She moaned. He was pushing his cock into her rear, making clear what he meant to do. Oh, yes, she loved the feeling of him grinding his hips against hers – the sheer, raw abandonment of pretense, of the civilized, for the simple fact that she was a female and he was male. Men needed to fuck, and oh!, but they needed to fuck ‘her’. She pushed back against him, arching her back. They just couldn’t help it.
“What?” she gasped.
“Who’s that?”

“Oh shit,” she breathed, “it’s my parents!”
“I thought they were gone for the night!”
“Shit!” she manically picked up her panties and his shirt, coat, shoes, everything! The light from the car’s headlights lit up the bedroom wall behind them. She heard the front door rattle, then open. They were both coming in! The car was still running.

“Quick!” she hissed urgently. Without saying a word, she shoved her beautiful man into the shallow clothes closet, stepped in against him, her back to him, squeezing him against the back wall of the closet, and turned, quietly but quickly pulling closed the louvered folding doors. His clothes, everything, were still in her hands.
The door to the bedroom opened. Leila could see them through the louvers of the closet doors.
“Did you leave it in here?” her mother asked.
“I don’t know,” her father answered, annoyed.

“Did you look in your coats.”
“Yes.”
“In all your pants?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” her father answered impatiently. “I paid for something over the phone, that”s the last time I had it.”
Now they were both in the bedroom.
“Where’s Leila?” her father asked.

“Maybe she hasn’t come home yet,”said  her mother.
“But her car’s outside.”
“Maybe she went back out with a friend.”
“She should at least have left a note.”
“Honey,” her mother answered, “she’s going to be in college this fall.”
“We’re alone in the house?”
Her mother bent over, looking under the bed. Her father stepped behind her, his hands on her hips, his pelvis against her butt.

Oh NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! – Leila bit her lip. I don’t want to see this!
“Not now.” Her mother stood. “I don’t want to be late.” She went around to the other side of the bed and bent over again. Leila’s lover was moving behind her, quietly, slowly lifting her skirt. No! Up. Up. Her skirt caught above her ass, caught between them. No! He was slowly, quietly, letting his cock out. She could feel it lodged between the cheeks of her ass. The feel of skin and the heat of his cock was like a jolt of electricity. No! What was she doing?
“Here it is!” said her mother. “It fell off the nightstand.”

Then they were both on their hands and knees, picking up the money, photos and god knows what. Leila’s mouth opened wide. She stifled a cry. Her lover’s cock was between her thighs. He was pushing up and against her opening. And what was to stop him? The wet and swollen lips of her sex? They were all but inviting his cock, ready to kiss the head of him and they did. They kissed and opened slowly, lovingly around the flared head of his cock. She rolled her eyes and bit her lip again. No! But she arched her back. She could have squeezed her thighs together. The lips of her pussy closed lovingly round the flange of her lover’s cock, sealing the head of him inside her, all but sucking him in. He pushed and the rest of his him slowly sunk into her. It was all she could do to keep silent. The feeling!

O, the feeling of a man sliding up inside her, the skin, the heat of his body, that width and hard length impaling her soft insides. It felt so good! She loved the hard feeling of a man’s body around her and against her and inside her, all at the same moment – the feeling of being completely possessed. O God, the feeling of him between her legs and the stiffness of him so far inside her… she couldn’t breath.

“O, look at this,” said her mother. “Your pictures fell out.”
“I forgot about these.”
“Look at Leila,” her mother crooned. “That’s when she was in kindergarten.”
“What a sweety.”
“The face of an angel.”

Leila’s lover pinched her nipples, both of them, and pulled on her piercings. She pushed her nipples into his hands and leaned her head against his shoulder. His cock slowly, quietly, drew back and then pushed back up, up, oh… up until she could feel his soft bulbous tip tickling the barrier to her womb. He was licking the nape of her neck. O God, she wanted to groan and moan and writhe on his impalement. Her own moisture was dripping down her thighs. The bastard. His right hand went to her clit. It was erect and bulging from its little hood. Oh… he was pinching it softly between his fingers.

“Look at this one,” said her father. “This was when she was in seventh grade.”
“Look at how long her hair was!”
“A little brunette, just like you and a string bean. Remember what a tomboy she was?”
“She still is,” her mother sighed. “I never see her with a boyfriend. It worries me a little.”

O, he was pushing his cock so deep in her, holding it there, rolling her clit between his fingers. She prayed they wouldn’t open the closet door. She prayed they wouldn’t see what was in lodged in their daughter’s belly. She was still holding her lover’s shoes, and clothes and her own panties. What could she do? She was helpless. She gasped. She felt a first spasm where his cock pressed at her cervix. Christ! She needed to be quiet.

Her lover reached down, took her panties from her hand. What was he doing? His hand came up, and her panties. His finger pressed her lips open and she sucked on it, penetrated in her mouth as well as her sex. God, she loved men. He was putting her panties in her mouth! She tasted herself and even the cum of her lover from an earlier tryst. She bit down on her panties. His fingers moved back to her clit, gently pinching, rubbing and squeezing the helplessly exposed nerve and then, oh, and then, oh god, he was gently pulling and thrumming her clit piercing. Her eyes rolled again and she arched her ass against him, surrendering to the inevitable.

“Look at this. Her senior year high school photo,” her Daddy crooned.
“She cut her hair too short.”
“It’s cute like that. Very smart.”
“And she’s still thin as a rail,” her mother answered. “She won’t eat anything I cook her!”

O, but her belly was ‘sooo’ full. If she could have made a sound, she would have been grunting and moaning with the fullness of his beautiful cock. She would have been licking the sheets or the floor as he filled her belly thrust after thrust with his beautiful penis.
“Can you believe she’ll be graduating in a week?” her mother sighed.
“She should have left us a note.”
“She’s eighteen.”
“Do you remember the things I did to you when you were eighteen?” her Daddy growled.

“She’s got a better head on her shoulders than I ever did,” her mother answered, smiling archly. O no! What was her Mom doing? She was still on her knees. She was leaning on the bed with an elbow and she was pulling up her skirt behind her. “I do remember. When I was her age, ‘you’ were all I could think about, but Leila’s a smart girl. She’s already a pre-med student. I can’t believe it. She doesn’t drink. She doesn’t do drugs.  She doesn’t smoke. She gets straight A’s.  She doesn’t have one bad habit. We must have done something right when we raised her.”

They were both facing her. Thank god. She could only see their faces. She should close her eyes. She couldn’t. Her Daddy moved behind her Mom. “Huh!” she saw her mother shoved forward against the edge of the bed, her back arch, her mouth open, her mother’s eyes roll, half lidded, before her Daddy held her against himself by her shoulders. Her Mom let out a long moan. “Uhnnn, yes. Hurry. You feel so good… do it!”
And then her Dad was thrusting quick and hard. “Is this all you could think about?” he asked.

But her mother couldn’t answer, she was sucking on her father’s fingers, her eyebrows knitted in the beautiful agony of penetration.  O God! Her lover was thrumming her clit ring, pushing, and pushing up into her, holding himself hard inside her – pushing against her womb. She rose onto the balls of her feet, desperately trying to be quiet, pushing her pierced divide against him. No! She held her breath. She tensed and tried to stop the pleasure. Her Daddy had both his hands on her mother’s hips now. Her Mom was licking the sheet, both her elbows up, palms flat at her waist, pressing down on the mattress. And then she heard her mother cumming. O my God! It sounded just like her. Short little inhalations as her muscles clamped down on her lover’s cock. And Leila… No! She closed her eyes and tried to stop. She was stiff. She tensed her abdomen and belly until they were knots of muscle.  No! But she couldn’t stop it.

What could she do? She couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t stop him tugging on her nipples rung and thrumming her clit ring. His cock was sooo deep inside her. And the magical thing about orgasms, the thing that she loved about orgasms, was what she dreaded now. No matter how tightly she clenched her stomach muscles. No matter how rigidly she held her spine. No matter how agonizingly stiffly she clenched the muscles of her thighs, she could do nothing, and had no control, over the most pleasurable nexus of her body – ‘that’ belonged to her lover. That spasm between her legs, deep in her belly, was answering lovingly, smoothly, increasingly to her lover’s calls, to his thrumming fingers and his expectant cock pressing against her insides – in places she would probably never touch herself. That moment of surrender, that tipping point when the straining core of her belly finally answered her lover’s ministrations, caused her to arch her slender body like a bow as she slipped helplessly toward her first spasm.

The whole of her body was jolted as she contracted around her lover’s cock. She didn’t make a sound. She tasted the blood of her own lip. She saw sparks as her vision dimmed. Each contraction drained her, forced her complete surrender. Even as her orgasm was fading, her body continued to tighten and release the cock penetrating it with little sparks and uneven shudders.

Her Dad was standing, zipping his pants. Her Mom pulled up her panties, or so she thought, and lowered her skirt, her top half resting on the mattress. When she pushed herself upright, standing, she smoothed down her black skirt and lightly pressed her belly. “Mmmm…. It feels good in there.” She turned and kissed her Dad. “Let’s just go. I don’t need to clean. You can just think about all that cum in me when we’re at the party.” She smiled mischeviously. Her Dad groaned.

“Do you think she went somewhere with Jeremy,” her Dad asked.
“Jeremy,” her mother mused. “Her college counselor? Don’t you think he’s a little old for her?”
“He’s not that much older than I was,” her Dad grumbled.
“Don’t you worry, she’s a good girl.”

Leila’s parents passed by the closet as they left the bedroom. Jeremy’s cum was spurting inside her. O, it felt so good. There was nothing she  could do. O yes, she loved feeling a man’s cum filling her, the feel of it jetting into her belly, spurt after spurt. She let him force her pussy tightly against his pelvis, let him force his cum deeply into her belly. The front door closed. Her seventh grade picture slipped off the bed.
A last warm spurt of cum emptied into her core.
She was such a bad girl.
She was such a bad, bad girl.

I have never been a good test-taker.

Ever.

To this day, the thought of a standardized, fill-in-the-bubble test makes me frantically look for an alternative.

I would rather write a dissertation and stitch-bind it all by hand rather than take my No. 2 pencil and fill in those dots.

I think chiseling my paper into a stone tablet, Moses style, would be nicer than being assessed based on my ability to fill in a bubble.

So, it should be no surprise that my body needed some extra coaxing when it came to recent blood tests we needed to get before I was cleared for insemination.

It seems as if my platelets share my instinct to hide from testing. Rather than run out of the room in a cold sweat, they chose to all band together, nicely sticking to one another. Clearly, this was not ideal, causing my tests to come back as if I had a bleeding (yes! bleeding) disorder. Even though I never have experienced spontaneous or uncontrollable bleeding, the fertility clinic was concerned, which thus begun the recent trips to the hematology/oncology center at GBMC for testing. 

We had a great doctor who was convinced from the moment that she saw me that I was not going to begin hemorrhaging all over her office, nor was I going to be a big-bruised monster from bad platelets. She said that I was fine, but just to make sure she needed to get 7 vials of blood drawn to check my levels. Today was my follow-up appointment and of course, all was fine.

Weeks of worrying that I had cancer, lupus, a bleeding problem that would cause me to hemorrhage in delivery, were all eased because they drew my blood in a blue top vial which resulted in the proper count being collected. 

The doctor was very happy to give me the news, and we shared the always awkward “do we hug? we are excited, but do we embrace?” moment as I was walking out of her office. I chose to pretend she wasn’t looking longingly at me for a squeeze, and merely smiled and giggled as she told me to come visit her when I am pregnant.

So… now my blood is safe, my body likes my platelets and I am good to go! The only thing that stands between Lauren and I and a baby is this damned psychosocial consult… more on that later… it is a work in progress.

Things are lining up for a baby.

Off to cook a tasty, fertility-friendly dinner!!

 - Rene

Snuck From Behind
Nightmare & Vision #36

Alone in my room, ass stuck high in the air, knees spread wide on the bed, I stroked the dildo in my sopping pussy, just how I liked it. I muffled my voice in the pillows to keep the noise down. Each vein of the fake cock slid deliciously along my clutching passage as I pushed it deep and dragged it out. Close to cumming, I teased myself by slowing down whenever the telltale fluttering in my belly started. Soon I was trembling and almost beside myself. This time I wasn’t going to stop. I didn’t slow down as I felt it coming. I arched my back and groaned low as I readied, fingers poised on the vibrator dial… Then, to my great annoyance, the stupid thing popped out! I cursed out loud and quickly groped for it between my legs aching to get it back where I needed it so badly.

As I reached for the dildo, two hands grabbed my hips. Before I realized anything else, a fat cockhead pressed against my slit and plowed into me with one fierce thrust. It was hotter, fatter, and longer than my dildo, and it shoved in all the way in one hard motion, stopping as a muscled, hairy belly smacked into my upturned ass. I grunted explosively and tried to rise up on my elbows, but the hands roughly pulled me forward off the cock, upsetting my balance, then yanked me back, impaling me again with a slap.

The unseen intruder immediately set to fucking me, fast and rough. I couldn’t catch my breath to fight or protest. And I’d taken myself so close to orgasm, teased myself for so long, that my body wouldn’t listen to me. After less than a minute of deep, relentless slamming, I did scream – in climax. My pussy squeezed and shuddered around the stranger’s meat, and through the crashing waves of pleasure I felt the cock swell further and explode within me, streaking my confused ecstasy with stripes of fear. My body convulsed as I tried to simultaneously get away from and fuck myself further onto the spurting shaft. Whatever my net effort, the strong hands kept my hips pulled firmly back, the cock fully embedded as it emptied its load into me.

I was too stunned to react when the deflating pole slid out and the hands released me. Gravity alone slowly drew my hips to the bed, my spread legs lax. I didn’t register the carefully placed dildo sliding into me until I was already fully impaled on it. Panting, and whining, I tried to lift my hips up and let it fall out, but a restraining hand on the small of my back kept me down. I couldn’t even muster the energy to close my legs. My head was too heavy with exhaustion, fear, and shame to let me look back.

The bed shifted as a body moved off – I hadn’t noticed him climb on while I was masturbating. I heard the door open, then a pause. Something brushed against the bit of dildo still outside me. Stars flashed in front of my eyes as the vibrator sprang to life. I didn’t hear the door close…

“How did you like Mamie’s pie?”
“Delicious,” he answered.
“She always makes the best pies. Ruined my figure.”
“So,” he asked. “How’d it go?”
“Haven’t gone into check,” the old farmer answered.
“Well, you’ve never let me down before.”
“Oh no,” said the farmer, “I ain’t never had a problem with him. He always knows what to do with ‘em.”
“He ever like some better than others?”

“Sometimes,” answered the farmer, “but it ain’t like you can always tell. Some cases you can. He does favor the young ones.”
“She fought put up a hell of a fight last night, didn’t she?”
“Yes, Sir,” answered the farmer as they walked back through the stalls. “Some do. Somethin’ else how feisty those young ones can be.”
“Ever have real trouble with ‘em?”
“No, not afterward,” said the farmer rounding another stall. “They settle right down after the first time. Yup, there she is.”

The younger man looked into the stall. She was face down, asleep on the floor of the stall, strewn with hay. One leg was straight, the other was up and crooked at the knee. Her opening was red and the narrow space between her slightly parted lips were wet and white with semen. Some was dried on her thighs and some covered the round of her narrow hips and buttocks, some on her back. The teenager’s hands were still bound at the small of her back, just covering her identifying tattoo, itself streaked with semen. She was breathing evenly, softly.

“She’s gonna’ need a good cleanin’.”
“Must’a kept her up all night by the looks of it.”
“Must ‘a been what we heard last night,” added the farmer. “Sounded like she was carryin’ on a bit. He must’a put quite a load in her.”
The bull sauntered in view. His balls swung between his legs and his cock was full.

“I’ll get him outta’ there,” said the farmer. “Suppose you’re wantin’ to get her home and clean her up before the show.”
“Nah,” said the young man. “Looks like he got a little more to put in her. It’s gonna’ be another couple years before we bring her back. Let her enjoy it. Then after this she gets treatment, Al. Got some fine oils and soaps. She’ll be rubbed down, scrubbed up and just as pretty as ever.”
“She’s a beauty…” said the farmer.
“We treat her right.”

The girl stirred as the bull moved over. Even her soft brown hair, prizewinning hair, had semen in it. She jumped, waking, when she felt the bull’s tongue at the small of her back. She groaned and immediately her back arched. The bull moved over her. She readjusted and moved both her knees apart and to her side. Then she lifted her weight onto her knees, lifting her buttocks upward, offering her opening. Her cheek was pressed against the straw floor. She turned and saw the young man and the farmer. Her eyes were half lidded. Her mouth opened and she groaned as the bull’s heavy, long cock slid into her narrow opening, then deeply into her flat, prizewinning belly. Semen squirrted out of her already filled belly.

“Last year for competition?” asked the farmer.
“Yup,” said the young man, “time to put that belly to work.”
She grunted with each thrust.
“Almost looks too big to fit in her,” said the young man.
“You won’t have to bring her back,” said the farmer. “Ain’t a customer returned after this bull was done with’em, if you know what I mean. She’ll be bearing in a few months.”
“She settled right down didn’t she?”
“Yes, Sir,” said the farmer. “They always do.” They watched the girl’s eyes roll, her back arch, and her narrow hips convulse. The bull’s cock twitched inside her…

:Will Crimson
November 16 2009

Previous: The Clinic
Next: Cast Out

The Clinic
A Daydream & Distraction

They stood in line. The girl watched others leaving the clinic. Some of the girl’s faces were flushed. Others  held their hands against their bellies. “See? I told you it wouldn’t hurt,” she heard some of their companions say. The girls themselves seemed uncertain. Some of them were asked if they needed to sit before they left the clinic. The girl was nervous. She glanced at her older sister and wished she could be anywhere but here. “I hate shots…” she mumbled.

“It takes a second,” her sister answered.

The line was moving quickly. Nurses handed them papers to sign. She checked the box stating her age and that this was her first shot. Out of this room, across a small hallway, and in another room she heard girl’s voices: sometimes sharp quick gasps, sometimes groans, sometimes long slow exhalations, sometimes panting before someone held their breath. The hair on the back of her neck rose.

“Don’t worry,” said her sister. Sometimes you feel a little prick.
Now she wished the line didn’t move so quickly. They were in the hallway, then they were walking into the room. There were desks all around the room. Under each desk was a wastebasket full of used syringes. Nurses wore rubber gloves. She was distracted by a young man. “Are you together?” he asked her and her sister.
“No,” her sister smiled, “not this time. I’m just keeping my little sister company.”

The young man pointed her to a newly empty desk. A nurse was waiting, already unwrapping a  syringe. It was huge, thick and curved, maybe eight or nine inches long with a smooth and rounded end. “Why is it so long?” she asked nervously.
The nurse smiled. “It always looks worse than it feels. We just want to make sure that it goes deeply enough to work before it spills out.” She heard small cries. She felt like she was beginning to hyperventilate.
“Pull down your jeans, sweetie,” said the nurse.
She unbuckled her belt, swiveled her hips left, then right.
“That’s far enough, sweetie,” said the nurse. They were hardly below her bottom. “Turn around. Yep. Good. Lean right against the edge of the desk. Now bend over with your elbows on the table. That’s it. Are you comfortable, hon?”

“Yes,” she muttered. Across from her, another girl had just leaned over a desk.  She saw the nurse behind the other girl lift up a syringe, tap it and push the plunger just a little. A milky white, thick, fluid dribbled form the tip of the syringe, slickening it. The syringe was full. The girl had worn a corduroy mini-skirt that she didn’t even have to pull up. Her panties were around her thighs. The nurse lowered the syringe behind the girl. Though she couldn’t see the syringe, she watched the nurse push and saw the girl’s eyes widen in surprise, her mouth open, and heard her groan.
She felt the warm tip of the syringe placed against her own opening. The girl across from her was panting. Then she gasped! Just a quick prick. She felt the syringe open and enter her. She gasped and panted as the nurse deftly, with practiced ease, slowly but steadily pushed the full length into her. She groaned. She couldn’t help it! When would it be all the way in? She panted. Why was it so big around? She wanted to open her legs but her jeans kept her legs together.

She arched instead. As if that is what the nurse had been waiting for, she felt a final shove as the tip of syringe pressed upward against a deep barrier. She grunted. She didn’t move.
The girl across from her exhaled and her eyes rolled as the nurse behind her pulled out the large syringe. It was empty.
The girl stood slowly, eyes half lidded, and pulled her panties up under her mini skirt.

Inside her own belly, something was being filled. She panted. It wasn’t her belly. It was something else being filled, lower down. The nurse was pushing the syringe hard into her as she slowly emptied its contents. She arched compliantly. She could feel a warmth filling her abdomen. When would she be done? Something felt funny. Hurry! – she almost cried out. “Something feels funn…” she started to say, as her opening tightened around the syringe. Then she felt her muscles spasm around the syringe. The room spun and she couldn’t stop her back arching sharply with each strange spasm even has the nurse strongly held the syringe inside her, preventing her hips from moving too far . “It’s OK, hon,” she heard the nurse say. “Perfectly natural. You can’t stop it. It happens to a lot of girls. I’m… almost… done.”

She couldn’t answer. Her brows were knit. Her mouth was silently open. She felt the syringe being pulled out.“Ohhhh…” she groaned as the tip of it slipped out of her opening.
She felt the nurse gently wipe her opening with a tissue. “You’re all done.”
She felt her sister’s hands on her shoulders. She stood, shakily. She thought she could still feel the syringe emptying inside her. She felt a pleasurable, fading muscle spasm. She shakily pulled up her panties and jeans. “Was that supposed to happen?” she asked the nurse.

“There can be some side-effects,” the nurse answered, tossing the empty syringe and tissue into the waste-basket.
“You might have another episode. You’ll notice wetness and other side effects for the next day or so.”
“Thanks,” said her older sister.
They left with other girls, some with their hands on their abdomens, all looking a little dazed. She saw the girl who had been across from her lean against the exit door. She groaned. She took hold of the door handle and she…

: Will Crimson
Nov 16 2009

PREVIOUS: ScareCrow
NEXT: Breeding Livestock

ScareCrow
A Daydream & Distraction

Click on the image or look below for the text version…

She struggled to stretch though she was bound to the stick driven deeply into the plowed field. She breathed deeply, her bare breasts rose in the moonlight and fell. Her nipples were like dark shadows, hard and extended. The village witch had smeared a sticky, minty concoction into her sex. She was wet. Her breath was short and her slender hips swiveled. She groaned. The minty potion vexed her and seemed to promise an orgasm if only she could twist and arch enough. But her hands were bound at the wrists, arms stretched to either side. Her knees were drawn up and open, her ankles bound part way up the stick. The smell of her own rich arousal, her opening, mixed with the minty potion.

They came, distracted by her scent. Her promise.

The great crows alighted in the field next to her, some on the furrows, some between. Their dark bodies were muscular and their great wings folded uneasily into their backs. Their muscular abdomens were the only things that weren’t covered by black feathers – only a fine down. The largest approached her, almost like a man in everything but his eyes and long black beak. Fear raced through her chest. She wanted to scream but the witch’s elixir had done its work. She groaned.

She saw the heavy black phallus arch upward from between the crow’s thighs. Her own thighs were open, her belly helplessly open, a decoy the giant crow could not resist. She threw her head back and her mouth opened silently. The crow’s dark wings closed around her; and the dark phallus promised her the pleasure she desperately feared.

The villagers would sleep well that night. Their daughters were safe. They did not hear the sharp and convulsing cries of their scarecrow. They would tend to her in the morning, her ankles and the soil below her soaked with all that flowed out of womb – and the little that didn’t. Their daughters were safe.

:Will Crimson
Nov 15, 2009

Next: The Clinic

kündigt sich nun leider doch/endlich mit brachialer Gewalt an. Damit es dann nicht nur im Bauch sondern auch und besonders im Herzen wehtut, kommt die Mens nun hier am Wochenende unter all den Regenbogenfamilien mit ihren entzückenden Kindern oder Babybäuchen.

Damit hat es der eierlose Zyklus dann doch auf 18 Tage geschafft.

Als I-Tüpfelchen habe ich dann heute im Inseminationsseminar gehört, dass der ganze Quatsch mit künstlicher Befruchtung nicht sein muss, lesbische Frauen werden ganz einfach mit der Bechermethode schwanger. Nur ein bisschen Temperatur messen, ein paar LH-Stix und das klappt auf alle Fälle. Alles andere ist unnötig sofern das Kind willkommen ist und man mit sich selbst, der eigenen Geburt und Kindheit im Reinen ist.

Danke! Den Scheiss hätte ich mir schenken können. Aber der Nachmittag mit Mens und Bauchweh passt dann auf alle Fälle dazu.

After discovering this blog that’s basically doing what I had in mind, I’m once again inspired to write about this journey.

Quick catch-up:

• Our best friends (we are both using the same donor sperm) got pregnant last month!! The did  two IUIs (a great story I’ll blog about at some point) and J already has a little tummy bump that you can feel. So far her first trimester has been lots of nausea and lots of sleeping.
• We did a kind of last minute at-home insemination last month. J&K found out they were pregnant but still had one vial of sperm left. JD happened to be ovulating when they found out the good news and so we bought their vial from them and gave it a go. Chances were very slim because it was just one try turkey-baster style with frozen sperm (much weaker than the fresh stuff). That combo gives you your lowest chances of pregnancy. We did it anyway and got our first taste of what it’s like to go through the excitement of inseminating then the waiting, waiting, waiting of finding out and then the disappointment of a negative test stick. Hopefully, that will be our last disappointment.
• On Wednesday, Nov 11, 2009, we realized JD was ovulating a few days early. So after some stressful debating on what to do and a few phone calls to the UNM fertility clinic, we went ahead and made an appointment for that afternoon. It takes over an hour to get down there which meant we had about five minutes to get out the door. We made it to the clinic right on time and friendly Nurse Tammie inserted the syringe and catheter into JD’s cervix and then I got to push down the syringe and voila, JD was inseminated.
  

  She definitely looks excited to be a mom. This was right before the insemination.

   

  

  Still excited to be a mom! This was right after the insemination.

Unser Wochenende kann man einerseits turbulent, anderseits gemütlich nennen.

Aber von vorn.

Wie geplant hatten wir für meine Frau den Spender für Samstag abend zu uns gebeten. Nachdem ich den ganzen Freitag mit fiesen Schmerzen in den Eierstöcken gesegnet war, habe ich am Freitag abend dann mal flugs einen Ovustest gemacht, der nach dem Schall vom Donnerstag völlig überraschend eine mehr als deutlich Linie zeigte. Für diese Schmerzen aber mehr als passend. Ich kenne doch meinen Körper, da ist was. Samstag war die Linie nicht nur deutlich, sie war auch mehr als positiv. Also haben wir uns die Portion unseres Spenders am Abend schwesterlich geteilt und eine jede von uns lag den Rest des Abends auf dem Sofa mit Beinen hoch. Am Sonntag nachmittag dann das gleiche Spiel nochmal. Wir hatten ihn wegen nochmal zur Tat gebeten wegen seiner momentan nicht gerade opulenten Spermamengen. Damit bei uns beiden auch was ankommt.

Nun gehe ich doch wie gaplant heute nachmittag nochmal zum Ultraschall und lass meine Gyn reingucken. Entweder sieht sie heute dann hoffentlich Follis kurz vorm Sprung oder zumindest einen Gelbkörper vom gehüpften Folli.

Kriegen wir beide all Eure Daumen?

520471     หลักการผสมเทียม     Principles of Artificial Insemination

วิวัฒนาการของการผสมเทียม การเก็บน้ำเชื้อ การตรวจคุณภาพ การเก็บรักษาน้ำเชื้อ ข้อพึงปฏิบัติในการผสมเทียม

(Evolution of artificial insemination, semen collection, semen preservation, handling of semen and artificial insemination methodology.)

(520471 มหาวิทยาลัยเกษตรศาสตร์)

… haben wir eben hinter uns gebracht. Warum? Weil ich immer noch Schmerzen im rechten Eierstock habe. Ich war mir fast sicher, dass eines nicht gesprungen ist und genauso ist es auch. Wir haben noch ein schönes Folli rechts mit 22,4mm was bedeutet, dass wir NOCH eine Chance haben diesen Zyklus. Wir haben schon Kontakt zum Spender aufgenommen und warten nun auf Antwort, ob wir heute nochmal nachlegen können. Die letzte Insemination von Samstag ist definitiv zu lange her, da ich vermute, dass das letzte Eichen nicht vor heute Nacht springen wird. Unser FA ist ja wirklich ein Schatz und hat mich nun kommenden Donnerstag zum BT für die ersten beiden Follis bestellt, ich soll aber in jedem Falle das Utrogest weiternehmen und dann Montag noch einen BT machen lassen, für das 3. Folli… Nun gut, es bleibt also spannend… Hier noch das Bildchen von vorhin:

EDIT: Soeben hat sich der Spender gemeldet und hat auch heute Abend Zeit *freu*