Tagged: sex

“A Snake is Not a Rodent.”

  • by jencreate an extraordinary hybrid
  • your love was just a game
  • he wasn’t exactly suffering
  • sprang vigorously out of bed
  • I’m going to remember tonight forever

Tune in next time part 76                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

“A snake is not a rodent,” I explained. “And you can keep it.”

The woman blinked her vacant eyes.

“Civilization!” Svetlana cried from the driver’s seat. She pulled the van into a parking lot and tossed the keys to the prisoner. Looking at me she said, “If we hurry we can catch the next train.”

She pulled me out of the van and we sprinted into the train station. We only had enough money for one ticket to the city, so Svetlana tested her contortionist skills to the limit by fitting herself inside my clothes with me. When she did this with Heinrich, they had used a harness. I had no such contraption, which meant my limber passenger had to find… other handholds.

By the time we reached our sleeping compartment, sleep was the furthest thing from our minds. We stripped and wrestled each other into bed, then spent several hours relieving our frustrations, if you know what I mean.

I’m going to remember tonight forever,” Svetlana whispered just before she sprang vigorously out of bed. “It is the night I became pregnant!”

“Wait, what?” I said. “You said you were on the pill!”

“I lied. But it was for a good cause.” She pointed to my penis and said, “And anyway he wasn’t exactly suffering.”

“That’s hardly the point!”

“I know your love was just a game, but it’s a game I have now won. Combining your seed with my own genetics will create an extraordinary hybrid! Half contortionist, half whatever you are.”

I was in shock. Could she possibly know my secret?

Without another word she dressed in my clothes, leaving me with only her skimpy leotard, and fled the compartment.

 

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It Was a Muggy August Night

  • k-avatarshe’s not your typical Russian.
  • fishing on the banks of a river in Delaware
  • flitted from the gloom into the light
  • use Pavlovian conditioning for sex
  • large enough for a man to pass through

It was a muggy August night much like tonight when I was fishing on the banks of a river in Delaware and she flitted from the gloom into the light of my lantern, showing me a smile like a croc and a tunnel in the riverbank large enough for a man to pass through, which led to her den, where she taught me how to use Pavlovian conditioning for sex, and that’s why I disagree with anyone who says she’s not your typical Russian.

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Überslut666

  • by jenmummified in a sitting position
  • broadcasting their raw footage
  • I’d vote to set her adrift
  • “online BFF”
  • lunged forward upon his face

Überslut666 was my “online BFF” for, like, three whole months, but then yesterday I tuned into her cam feed and saw her having sex with my “online boyfriend,” just broadcasting their raw footage for everyone to see, and, like, she lunged forward upon his face and everything, and it was soooo embarrassing, and if it were up to me I’d vote to set her adrift on an ice floe and let her turn into an ice mummy, only her berg would be so small she’d be mummified in a sitting position!

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Alimony, Acrimony

  • k-avatarTiffany didn’t deserve any more money
  • has not he the true build of a cuckold?
  • stopping of its own accord
  • rolled about in uncouth positions
  • I don’t know the solar systems, but

Alimony, acrimony. Can’t be coincidental those words are so alike.

I’m going to call my lawyer first thing Monday and get it knocked way back, maybe back to zero. Tiffany didn’t deserve any more money, especially not any more of mine. If she was buying pornographic orreries then she had clearly run out of legitimate expenses.

Yet, I’m captivated by the clockwork prurience on her nightstand. I wound it when I came in, and watched as the “planets” rolled about in uncouth positions. The mechanism ran down, stopping of its own accord, and I’m staring a while longer. Venus in particular holds my attention, appropriately enough.

I know I should be leaving Tiffany alone, but she started it. She said to her new lover, Antoine, “Has not he the true build of a cuckold?” If she’s going to make those kinds of comments, then she should send them via an email account I don’t know the password for. It’s like she’s rubbing my face in it. Antoine doesn’t have the foggiest idea what a cuckold is, and Tiff knows that.

I snap a picture of the orrery and send it to my new lover, Adrienne. I’ll show it to my lawyer in person, keeping the evidence of my break-in from bloodying his electronic hands. Adrienne already knows I’m here. She’s waiting in the car. Her reply is characteristically earthy.

I don’t know the solar systems, but it looks like something interesting is happening to Uranus.”

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Aureliano is Really Quite Masculine

  • by jenalthough his solid chin is clear of any hair
  • with a canine-skin collar
  • “Big Apple” cufflinks
  • dark blue eyes and a beautiful belly
  • overruled by Judge Maurice

Aureliano is really quite masculine, although his solid chin is clear of any hair, his chest as well. He has dark blue eyes, and a beautiful bellybutton rests in the center of his rock-hard abs. Dancing at my bachelorette party with a canine-skin collar around his thick, manly neck, and absolutely nothing else on but Chippendales style faux-cuffs decorated with “Big Apple” cufflinks, he is the very definition of virility.

“What the heck,” I say to myself, “I’m not married yet!”

I throw caution and my clothes to the wind and smile enticingly at Aureliano. He smiles back, but our tryst is overruled by Judge Maurice, which is what Aureliano calls his penis, which refuses to cooperate, if you know what I mean.

I tip him well anyway, to ensure he doesn’t mention this to my fiancé Dirk tomorrow when Aureliano stands beside him as best man at our wedding.

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The Assignment Had Me Worried

  • elements of forbidden sex and lurid mutilations
    k-avatar
  • no idea how much blood
  • full of glassy accusation
  • sometimes I get overzealous
  • never written a vampire story before

The assignment had me worried about my GPA. I had never written a vampire story before, so I had no idea how much blood there really was supposed to be, or how blatantly to handle the elements of forbidden sex and lurid mutilations. But when I asked Professor Kerensky for some guidance, he glared at me and said, “These are the very things you are to learn by doing this assignment,” his voice full of diesel fuel and his eyes full of glassy accusation. So I kicked him in the shin. When it comes to my GPA, sometimes I get overzealous.

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I Couldn’t Help Laughing at Chet

  • by jenhe was a full-grown man
  • tiny clothes that actually fit
  • drew a revolver from his belt
  • you rang the eskimo
  • here at your request

I couldn’t help laughing at Chet. He was a full-grown man wearing a cowboy costume, tiny clothes that actually fit his adolescent brother better than they did him. Chet drew a revolver from his belt (a toy, I hoped) and aimed it at me. “You rang the eskimo‘s private number, LuAnne. You’re the one who ordered up a gigolo. You’re the one who specifically requested chaps and a stetson. I’m here at your request, and I’ll thank you to stop laughing at me.”

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Rodrigo Chuckled Softly

  • by jenI’m very sensitive to smell
  • in a tizzy about the specter of sweaty boobs
  • Summer’s Eve can go douche itself
  • for nearly a week
  • killed in a skiing accident

Rodrigo chuckled softly and tugged on the waistband of Siobhan’s panties. “Summer’s Eve can go douche itself, babe. I’m very sensitive to smell and I’ve never noticed a problem.”

“I’d rather be killed in a skiing accident than have an embarrassing odor,” Siobhan simpered.

For nearly a week she’d been fretting about feminine hygiene. This was almost as bad as the time they went to the beach and she worked herself up in a tizzy about the specter of sweaty boobs. Rodrigo wished she could see herself as the beautiful woman she was, and not pay any attention to the predatory marketing efforts of the world’s “beauty” conglomerates.

Rodrigo winked and tugged Siobhan’s panties lower. “Give me an hour and we’ll get you good and stinky. Deal?”

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Joseph Made a Habit

  • k-avatarsneering at cultures
  • commodity as fetish
  • aped the follies and vices
  • “Shell? Milk? Moon? Jasmine? Crystal? Snowflake?
  • coupled with cruelty

Joseph made a habit of sneering at cultures lacking decadence, peoples who simply aped the follies and vices of wild animals pursuing crude gratification. So when traveling to Svenborgia, he naturally booked his ticket on the official national airline. And naturally, he flew first class.

“Shell? Milk? Moon? Jasmine? Crystal? Snowflake?” importuned the stewardess. Her almond eyes and alabaster complexion marked her as deep-lineage Svenborgian. Ah, theirs was a truly magnificent decadence: commodity as fetish.

“Alabaster,” replied Joseph with a wink. The stewardess laid aside her tray and led him to the lavatory, where they kissed with sang-froid and coupled with cruelty.

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I Hated Working At The Strip Club

  • by jeneye contact during a fingerbang
  • those nicknames were always for in-family use only
  • The adventure of the Devil’s Thumb
  • the most hackneyed of subjects
  • hoping for a glimpse of the glamorous chorus girls
  • seemed to be by no means diminished
  • zoo for endangered species

I hated working at the strip club. I know that’s just about the most hackneyed of subjects imaginable. Sorry. I never would have started dancing there if I hadn’t needed the money so bad. The front row was always full of guys drooling like poachers at a zoo for endangered species. How much nicer if they’d act like society gentlemen merely hoping for a glimpse of the glamorous chorus girls they’d heard so much about. There were never any gentlemen at the Devil’s Thumb, though, just drunks and frat bros who expected you to maintain eye contact during a fingerbang in the private room for a lousy tip.

The adventure of the Devil’s Thumb was in never knowing when the place would get raided, but the clientele’s libidos seemed to be by no means diminished by threat of arrest.

One night I was on the pole and I heard someone shout, “Hey Boo Boo, check out the tits on Skeeter!” and I knew I was in for it. Those nicknames were always for in-family use only, which meant that a couple of my cousins had just figured out where I was working, and in no time my whole family would know. Damn you, Boo Boo!

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