My room

My room
“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” Virginia Woolf

Monday, October 26, 2009

When to Drop a Plummeting Relationship Stock

When I first met Michelle, she was the friend of a friend, of a friend, the chubby girlfriend of one of those guys that I rather wished I didn’t know. Michelle was a college freshman that was habitually missing classes and papers because she was too busy keeping her boyfriend in line. In the short time that I knew her, she went from being a B student to academic probation. On the same day The Boyfriend left her for another girl, Michelle was pleading her case in front of the Dean.

Her boyfriend did not even qualify as a player; he was neither smooth nor good looking. He was just a punk kid who lied a lot, had no job, no high school diploma, and no future. Yet Michelle put up with his crap. When he cheated on her, she showed up at his job. When he lied, she followed him. And when she couldn’t find him, she would call me.


After Michelle found out that her now ex was is New York living off his new victim, I asked her why she put up with it. It was a question that kept me up at night.
She answered, “You don’t understand, he’s was so sweet to me when we were alone.” And then she asked, “Was she prettier than me?”
It’s a situation I noticed many times in my college days, guys and girls holding on to toxic relationships more out of habit than anything else. Even now, while I’m playing late night scrabble online, I sometimes find myself spending more time helping my opponent cope with relationship woes than trying to get a triple letter score.

I can also relate. If you’re anything like me, you got your relationship advice from fairy tales and Spanish soaps. I’ve calculated that if I had spent as much time on school as I did on bad relationships, I’d have two Master’s and a PhD. I should’ve been living it up and going out with friends, not staying at home wondering why what’s-his-name won’t call. And sadly, I’m not the only one.

In these uncertain times, when even a college degree doesn’t guarantee a job anymore, should we still hold on to relationships that only guarantee more heartache? When a stock plummets we sell out and cut our losses. Shouldn’t the same rules apply to relationships?

Whether you’re a team Jacob, team Edward or team Other, it’s also good to remember that you are also on team You, and that being single is never worse than being in a dead end relationship. Love comes in many forms, and college is probably the best place to find the kind of friendships that last a lifetime. You’re in college! Do as collegians do (and stay safe, of course).

And Michelle? I saw her once again in the mall. She’s dating a new guy, and she seems happy.

We pretended not to see each other. It’s better this way.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Consequences

On the morning of her first real job interview, Amy broke a heel.

She cursed under her breath as she worked to regain her balance. The last thing she needed was a sprained ankle, after all, but with her luck lately it was just as well. She leaned against her car and stared at the broken heel that now barely clung onto her shoe, completely ruined. It had been her favorite pair, the last pair she bought guilt-free a lifetime ago, and she’d only wore them twice before. She was very tempted to scream at the top of her lungs, if for no other reason than to keep from crying. There was no one around to hear her, no one to see, but she still considered crying a sign of weakness, and she refused to be reduced to tears.

Screaming was better.This was just another thing in a long line of misfortunes, and she was reaching her limit.


She stood in her parent’s driveway, feeling the dry summer wind move her hair. It was barely sunrise, and she could see signs of yellows and pinks color the horizon. It made her wonder about the last time she had seen the sunrise. There had been many nights when she had stayed up long enough to see the sun, though she didn’t remember any of them. She had been drunk and stoned, she was sure, and probably didn’t want to remember what she had done in her drunken stupor. Focus on today, she thought. She didn’t want to get caught thinking about the past.

Amy was notorious for breaking heels. It was enough for her mother to joke that she should get her shoes cast in iron to help them last longer. It didn’t matter how much she paid or what style they were. If they rose off the ground, she eventually broke them. It hadn’t mattered before. She remembered the days when she would just kick them off and laugh, and walk into the nearest store barefoot, and bought shoes twice as expensive as the ones she had just broken, knowing full well she would break these too. Back then she believed she could go on breaking shoes for all eternity. But these days it only reminded her of how far she had fallen.

And usually, a broken heel meant she was going to have a bad day.

She yawned widely, debating whether she should go back inside and change her shoes. She had barely slept the night before, and she knew that going back inside was a bad idea. She was already tired and nervous beyond belief, and she knew that if she went back inside she’d crawl into bed and never leave.

A couple of years ago she would’ve laughed at herself. She only missed sleep if there was alcohol involved, and she only worried about where her next hit was coming from. And as far as tossing and turning was concerned, she only did it with someone who gave as good as he could take. These days her life was a lot more chaste.

With a last pout, she opened her car and got in.

Amy drove, rolling her windows down the moment she started her car, a silver BMW that she was wholly proud of, because it had been one of the few smart investments she had made in college.


It had been a very hot summer, the type that, if you weren’t careful, had you seeing ghosts in the desert.
But she loved the warm desert air, and couldn’t get enough of it lately. New England weather had not suited her. The first few times she got to see it, she had enjoyed snow, but once the novelty wore off she quickly learned that New England winters were cold and harsh. She had covered herself from head to toe whenever she stepped outside, but that didn’t help much. The winter air seeped into her bones. She thought she’d be cold forever.

These days, she was grateful for the small things she could still appreciate. It had been humiliating enough having to move back home at the beginning of the summer. In the same month, she had become a college graduate and a homeless woman, and though her parents were being as supportive as they knew how, she could feel the disappointment rolling off them in waves.

Being in what used to be her old bedroom didn’t help, she thought. It didn’t look like the same room anymore. After she moved out for college her mother had redecorated it and turned it into an upstairs office. Now it was as if she’d never lived there. Like she was the stranger.

Instead of her old bed, she was now sleeping on a leather couch that was starting to give her back problems.

She felt more like a stray cat rather than family.

She wondered how soon it would be before she finally got a job, pending a miracle happened. It was already late August and until a week ago she hadn’t heard as much as a whisper from all the places she had applied to. Aside from her diploma, she didn’t have any marketable skills or job experience. She never really had a job; anything would do at this point. The sooner she started earning money, the sooner she could get her own place and move out again. Her parents were being as understanding as they possibly could, but she knew that her being back home was… inconvenient.

She missed having her own space.

The longer she drove, the more nervous Amy got. She worked hard at not being alone with her thoughts. Too much thinking led to bad memories, and she had enough to fill an ocean. Amy had been the typical rich bitch back in high school. She cringed every time she remembered how horrible she had been, how many people she had hurt just because she thought she could.

In the first month of her freshman year alone, she had gotten a girl expelled after hiding drugs in her book bag, just so Amy could date the guy they had both been crushing over. She humiliated underclassmen daily and broke up relationships for sport. If anyone ever said that high school relationships never last, it was because they had witnessed Amy ruin even the happiest relationship in minutes flat. Any prank you could pull, any rumor you could spread, and mean spirited, bitchy thing you could say to humiliate a person, Amy had done it, and she had done it with pleasure, simply because she could.

She had learned her lesson in college though. She had always been the most beautiful and the richest girl in her small town, but in college girls like her came a dime a dozen. Guys didn’t worship her like they had back home, and she only knew how to stand out by the way she spent her money. So she made sure to throw the biggest and hottest parties, and catered to total strangers just so she could continue to be the center of attention. But once the booze and cash stopped flowing, once Amy realized how much trouble she was in, no one could be bothered.

She had tried to find a friend to lean on, to talk to someone about her problems, but whenever she attempted to have a conversation deeper than, “Do you want another drink?” it was as if she had started talking in Chinese, and no one could understand, or care.

It was a hard lesson she had been taught. In the end, every single one of her “friends” moved on and left her lying in the dust. Back then, she was sure she ruled the world. But now she knew the world was much bigger than she previously thought. She was insignificant.

Her trust, which should have lasted her three lifetimes, was almost completely gone within two years. By her senior year she was completely broke and had to serve tables part time just to pay for her graduation robes. What was worse, she worked at a restaurant that catered to women such as herself. She had been wholly humiliated, and she had no one to blame but herself.

These days, she tried to make amends the best way she could, but it was hard to atone for all the vindictive ways she had hurt others. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure she deserved anyone’s forgiveness. She had been cruel and spoiled, and at the time she knew full well that she was hurting others, but she didn’t care. Did she deserve to be forgiven for the cruelties she had willfully committed?

Amy took a deep breath and counted to ten, something she had gotten into the habit of doing lately. This job interview couldn’t have come at a better time. She didn’t even remember filling out the application, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she had simply forgotten. She was just grateful for the simple email that confirmed her appointment for today, and crossed her fingers. She had gotten so desperate lately that she had taken to staying up until past sunrise filling out applications and sending out resumes. She had reached a level of desperation so high that she kept forgetting meals and losing sleep.

She reached the city in record time, even more nervous now so that her hands shook on the steering wheel while she drove around the company building looking for a parking spot. It was one of those beautiful corporate buildings that you could see off the highway, the type her father loved to own. She drove around the corner and saw that the side of the building looked like it was being demolished. For a second she was afraid she was at the wrong place, but that was impossible. She grew up here, and thanks to her father she knew the names of all the big companies that owned the large sky scrapers.

She realized that the building wasn’t under construction. It looked more like there had been an accident. She wholeheartedly hoped that everyone was ok. She couldn’t count how many times she had gotten in some guy’s car, sometimes a complete stranger, knowing full well that he was either drunk or high. She had risked her life enough times to know she was lucky to be alive. The last thing she needed to know was that a more deserving person was dead instead of her.

After finding a parking spot, she stepped into the lobby with a deep breath, and almost stopped dead in her tracks. It was a space so large and luxurious that for a second she wondered if anyone had ever gotten lost in here.

The lobby was designed like a Roman temple, and she found herself staring at the moldings in the ceiling, wondering if such beauty could put a god to shame. If she had been smarter, she would have wanted to own such beauty, instead of having to atone for such an ugly past.
“You’re Amy,” she heard a voice say, distracting her. The voice belonged to a girl standing in front of her, an expectant look in her face. The comment surprised Amy. It wasn’t a question, and that struck her as an odd introduction, but she dismissed the thought.

Instead she just smiled at the girl and nodded.

The girl looked familiar. She had short dark hair, and looked much too young. Maybe she’s an intern, Amy thought.

The girl held out her hand. “I’m Sarah. I’m walking you up to your interview.”

Amy shook her hand and followed the girl to the elevators.

“Just finished school?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah, Central. East coast.”

“Must be great to be back home, huh?”

Amy shrugged. “I guess.”

“Oh come on, something tells me you were the queen in high school.”

Amy felt uncomfortable with the comment. Did this girl know her? She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t about to ask. She didn’t want to lose this job for something she did more than five years ago. Besides, the girl looked like she was still in high school herself.

Amy didn’t know what to think, so she answered the best way she could.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that, but high school is long over. I have to face the real world now.”

Sarah gave her a strange look, and after a long time, Amy heard her say quietly, “You’re telling me.”

The elevator walls were made completely of glass. Once the doors closed and they began to move, Amy was struck with such an overwhelming sense of vertigo that she braced herself on the glass and closed her eyes. The glass felt cool against her skin, and though she didn’t want to think of the outside that moved on the other side of it, it felt good to hold on to something stationary.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Sarah asked.

Amy looked into her eyes. Sarah’s eyes were a flat black color that could give a person
nightmares. The pupils were much larger than normal, and they made Amy think of a cat that was ready to pounce. She wanted to look away, but found that she could, so she shook her head silently instead.

“What is that hissing sound,” someone whispered behind her.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Sarah said with a small sigh. “Back in high school, you and your friends thought it would be hilarious to leave me stranded in the desert after a concert.”

Amy remembered immediately. The night of the concert was something she forced herself not to think about. It was the night of her high school graduation, a day she felt she could rule the world. She and her friends were headed to a secret concert in the desert, and in a moment of intrusion, her mother had forced her to bring the quiet junior with her. She hadn’t even bothered to ask her name, and made sure to ditch her the moment they stepped out of the car.

The next day she had hopped on the next plane out of the desert and hadn’t looked back since. She never thought about Sarah again.

Every fiber of her being vibrated with shame. “It was a stupid prank, I’m so sorry.”

“Kind of late for that, don’t you think?”

Amy didn’t know what to say. “Did you get home ok?” She asked.

“No I didn’t. This guy offered me a ride. He saw me crying, and he was so sweet. I was sure I had seen him at school before, but he,” Sarah’s eyes turned into hard stone. “There are no words for what he did to me.”

Amy was speechless.

“It’s getting louder,” Someone else said. From some part far way, she could hear the hissing they were talking about, but she didn’t dare look. She couldn’t turn her eyes away from Sarah.

“My parents couldn’t even recognize me”, Sarah continued. “They had to use dental records to identify my body. It’s my mother’s last memory of me. It still haunts her dreams.”

“I’m sorry,” Amy said again, knowing it didn’t matter. But Sarah only nodded. “You soon will be.”

Her mouth felt like sandpaper. “What do you mean?”

Sarah smiled. “Listen.”

Amy snapped out of her trance. She realized that everyone else had started to panic. They were clawing at the door, pounding on it, shouting for help. The hissing sound was louder now.

The elevator had not stopped on the way up. Instead, they were at the top floor, not moving an inch.

Amy looked around. Something was obviously wrong. The hissing was so loud she could barely hear herself think. She looked out the window, hoping someone had noticed that they were stuck, but she noticed something else. The accident wasn’t outside any more. Not like it had been cleaned up, but like it had never existed. Amy tried to think hard. She was sure that she was looking at the same side of the building because she could see her car parked down the street. But the accident had completely disappeared.

Amy felt like she was having a heart attack. In a second she realized that the interview was a fake, that the accident wasn’t outside because it hadn’t happened yet. She was lured here, to her death. She was the accident.

She turned to Sarah, who hadn’t vanished like Amy half expected. Sarah just stood there, smiling sadly.

“There are innocent people in here, Sarah.” She pleaded.

Sarah only shrugged. “Is anyone ever really innocent?”

Amy closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, pressing her face to the glass. This was it, she knew it.

These are the consequences we all must face. Her stomach felt like she was on a rollercoaster, and she knew from the screams that they were coming down, fast.

At least she’d die pretty, she thought ruefully, bracing herself.

She was dead before the elevator hit the concrete below.

Tie Me, Please

(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)

Matt is the kind of guy that makes you lose your train of thought just by being in the same room with you, and it’s incredibly inconvenient. Every time I realize that I’ve lapse into a daydream about him, I bite my nails and count to ten, like a smoker trying to quit.

It’s like guys like him are made in a lab specifically to turn the savviest would-be scientist into a horny preteen, which means I have absolutely no chance. I cross my legs and bite my nails, trying ease the constant pressure that seems to always pile on my clit these days.

It’s not even like English Lit is that riveting. I’ve never heard of any one getting hot while reading Hawthorne and Thoreau, so I can’t even use that as an excuse. Nope, Matt gets me hot, no doubt about it, and every day after class I have to run to my dorm and get off before I explode.

I glance at Matt from behind my hair. He has dark hair and blue eyes, and the kind of slight body that is a far cry from the foot ball player physique I’m usually attracted to. Since high school I’ve gotten used to dating guys who are bigger and taller than me. I need a guy that can give as good as he can get, and it’s usually the football type that can pick me up and fuck me against the wall just the way I like.


But Matt has this lanky look that makes me want to make an exception.
I want to do more than just fuck him. Sex is easy to find on a college campus. What I want is to strip him down and feel the heat of his skin, and ride him as he watches me with those deep blue eyes.

It’s just my luck that he sits right next to me in class. I’m barely hanging on to a C, and I have no idea what’s going to be on the midterm next week, all because I’m always thinking about Matt. The teacher, an ancient relic who should’ve retired in the 60’s, insists on assigned seating in all his classes, although half the students have already dropped out and the class is nearly empty. I have the sneaking suspicion that he does this because he can’t remember our names, though it doesn’t seem to be helping. Every time I go to his office for help he looks at me like he’s never seen me before, and I have to remind him who I am. But the seating arrangement is non-negotiable. This means, of course, that with Matt’s last name starting with an O, and mine with an N, we are destined to sit together until the end of the semester.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so hot.

Whenever I’m coherent enough to make conversation, we talk about the material before class and compare notes, and fill each other in when the other is absent. We have become what some may call Classroom Friends, two people united to achieve a common goal for three months and then never speak to each other again after that.

“Hey Amy, you’re biting your nails again,” Matt whispers in my ear when class is over, making me jump a little. He has a deeper voice than anyone would guess, and it always throws me off. His question makes me groan a little.

Of course I bite my nails, I think. It’s the only thing that keeps me from jumping your bones in front of the entire class. I’m sure the teacher would object to that. But of course I don’t say that. I don’t think Matt is aware that I want him, and speaking my thoughts out loud isn’t the exact way to start. Instead I scramble for an answer as we walk out of the classroom, trying to keep from looking into his face for the sake of coherency. “Just a little worried I guess.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Take your pick. Global warming, getting a job after graduation, Thirsty Thursdays.”

“Why Thirsty Thursdays?”

“I never know whether to go and risk getting groped by an overweight biker or sneaking alcohol into the dorms.”

“And getting a job? You’re not graduating for another two years.”

“Like that matters. A degree these days is not worth the paper it’s printed on.”

He laughs, flashing me his killer smile in the process, and I melt a little inside.

“Wow, you worry a lot. How do you sleep?”

“Standing up in my closet with a textbook clutched in my hands.”

“That’s funny. Why a text book?”

“I learn through osmosis.”

“I should try that. I didn’t know college girls were so stressed.”

“Are you kidding? I’m considering dropping out and becoming a dominatrix.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. So much for not speaking my thoughts out loud. I mentally kick myself and look at him, hoping he missed that. But there’s no chance of that. He’s already stopped walking and is looking at me strangely, with a raised eyebrow. Thankfully no one else heard. We’re both standing in the stairwell alone and out of earshot, so no one else caught my blunder.

“That’ll be interesting to see.”

I roll my eyes and try to be nonchalant about it, but I can’t miss the smoldering look he’s giving me.

“Sorry Matt, my leather corset is in the shop.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t just say something like that and walk away. I’d pay to have you as my dominatrix.”

My jaw drops. I can’t believe what he’s saying. Can it really be this easy?

“You wouldn’t be able to handle it,” I say.

“Why not?”

“Because you seem like the kind of guy that hasn’t done anything wilder than oral.”

He grimaces. “Ok, true, but I doubt there’s anything you’d do that would send me running.”

“That’s what you think.”

He smiles at the challenge in my tone, and puts his hands out to me, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Tie me, please.”

“You’re on.”

**

A dorm room, I realize, is no place for romance. Between the beige, concrete walls and the twin sized bed, it’s a room more suited for writing angry letters to the government than a night of hot kinky sex, but that afternoon I try to make the best of it.

Thankfully my roommate graduated early, so I have the entire room to myself with no risk that someone will walk in. The last thing I need is an interruption while I’m busy violating every inch of Matt’s body.

I strip the mattress and put down only a blue fitted sheet, and then I pull the bed to the middle of the room. Then I run around and hide clothes and those little things that are on the floor in my closet.

When I’m done I go take a shower. I’m nervous and jittery, so the hot water will definitely help me unwind.

“Hot date tonight?” My dorm mate Julia asks when I walk into the bathroom. She’s the only person there, washing her hands.

“How can you tell?” I ask.

“The look of absolute fear in your eyes.”

I try to take a deep breath as I undress behind the stalls.

“It’s not really a date. It’s this guy from my class. He’s super delicious and I don’t think I can go through with it.”

“Oh I’m sure it’ll be fine. What are you doing?”

“I’m tying him to my bed and fucking his brains out.”

For a few seconds I don’t hear anything, and then the shower curtain opens and Julia is watching me as I scrub my skin. There is no point in being modest. There is enough girl on girl action in this dorm to make even the most uptight virgin loosen up and try something new.

Julia likes to be fingered standing up, with two fingers in her cunt and one in her ass. If you’re nice enough to suck her clit and make her come, she’ll return the favor any way you like. I bought a purple strap on cock especially for my nights with her, so that she can fuck me while I suck on those amazing pink nipples she has.

Julia also gets me hot. She has a bad girl side that would get most girls arrested, but she always manages to wiggle herself out of trouble. It doesn’t help that she has a wicked smile and an incredible set of tits that she always has on display. I don’t think that she even owns a sweater, which is good college morale, considering a lot of men on this campus would sink into a deep depression if Julia’s tits weren’t constantly present. The one thing most people don’t know is that Julia is one-hundred percent gay. Most people wouldn’t guess. Their idea of a lesbian is spiky hair and combat boots. And while Julia is gay, she is all woman.

This is why I can tell her anything, because most of the things I’ve done have been with her. Even then, Julia isn’t easily fazed. She’s a bad girl to boot, and isn’t afraid to show it. She’s also a great person to have in your corner.

“Seriously? You’re going to tie him?” She asks, giving me that wicked smile again.

“Yeah.”

“Good girl. I remember the first guy I tied up.”

“Was it willing?”

She shrugs. “Mostly. He was this really loud frat guy type that kept saying ‘you’ve just never had a real man!’” She says in a mocking tone. “So before he knew what I was doing I tied him to the bed and dripped hot wax on his chest. He was a screamer.”

I shake my head. “Poor guy.”

“We’ll he never bothered me again."

I turn back to the shower. “I’m pretty sure Matt isn’t like that.”

“Need any pointers?”

“I think I’m all set.”

“Want me to join you?”

I consider that one. The idea of Julia and Matt in the same room, naked for me, makes me weak to my knees. I can have Matt fuck me from behind, I think, and I can eat Julia’s pussy at the same time.

The mental image is enough to convince me, but I want Matt to myself at least this once, I want to taste him first, and then I’ll share. “Maybe next time,” I tell Julia, giving her a full soapy kiss, not caring that I’m getting suds on her shirt. She tastes like Strawberries and wine, and I groan, full of pleasure.

“Come in here with me,” I ask.

She smiles sheepishly and raises an eyebrow. “Oh come on, Amy. Anyone could come in.”

“Who gives a fuck?”

With that she starts to undress. I can’t wait, so the moment she’s in her underwear I pull her in with me, soaking her bra.

“You’re a bitch,” She chuckles, but kisses me again. Her lower lip is full and sweet. I take my time sucking on it while I peel off her wet bra and throw it outside of the shower. Her tits are wet and slippery, and I rub them against my own, feeling her hard nipples against my skin. She has this incredibly soft skin that I can’t get enough of. I hold her against me, running my hands down her back and on her ass, spreading my fingers on them.

We shower together. I stand still while Julia spreads soapy suds all over my body, slicking her hands down my stomach and between my legs. She slips a delicate finger between my legs and kisses me. The feeling of her touching me is amazing her, and I open my legs wider, wanting more. She wraps her fingers around my clit and tugs at it gently, back and forth. It makes me come so fast that I almost fall to my knees, but Julia holds me up.

“Man, I really needed that,” I tell her as I get on my knees, getting ready to return the favor.

“You know how much I love that,” she says to me, caressing my hair. I find my way to her clit with my tongue as I slide two fingers in her willing cunt. Her clit is like a ripe raspberry and I suck on it willingly as I slide another finger in her tight asshole. She wraps her fingers in my hair and leans into my mouth, giving me more access to her clit as I feel her come hard in my mouth.

“You’re so good at that,” she gasps.

“You too,” I say slapping her on the ass. “That’s why we’re so good together.”

**

Matt is fifteen minutes early, which is good because I was ready half an hour ago. Thought my shower with Julia helped take the edge off, I’m hot and wound again, thinking about Matt and all the things I want to do with him.

He doesn’t disappoint. As I open the door he looks hotter than ever, with freshly washed jeans and a buttoned down shirt that makes him look amazing. Anyone looking at him would think he was picking me up to go see a movie or playing pool.

“Wow,” he says, as I let him in, staring at the way I’m dressed. I lied, my leather corset is not in the shop, I have it on paired with the high heeled boots and it fits me like a glove. And on my ass I’m wearing a simple black thong. I’m not a dominatrix, far from it, but I plan to live out every fantasy I’ve had of Matt since September, starting with this one.

I close the door and gently push him against the wall. This is something I really want, I think, and lean in slowly to kiss him. His kiss is sweet and slow, the type of kiss that makes you warm to your toes. I kiss him back slowly too, enjoying the heat of his mouth. If nothing else, I will have this kiss to remember.

I pull back after a while, not really wanting to break the kiss, and look at him. “Changed your mind?” I ask.

He shakes his head and smiles. “Not even a little. Do your worst.”

“Ok. The rules are simple. I’m Mistress Aurora and you are my filthy worm. If at any time you feel uncomfortable or are in pain at any point, you will immediately say the words ‘may-pole’. Is that clear?”

“Clear.”

I nod. “Take off your clothes.”

I lean back on the bed and watch him peel off his clothes self-consciously. “Socks too.”

“But-”

“What did I say?”

He nods and removes the socks too. He’s completely naked standing at my door, and I can see that he’s already starting to get hard despite his reservations. I try to hide my reaction, but the sight of his juicy cock makes my mouth water. Though he’s not a big guy, he’s still completely muscled with a six pack abs. It’s like someone took a pencil and drew the curves of his body, and I can see every single one of them. It doesn’t disappoint, and neither does his cock. For a second I want to forget the games and get on my knees. I’ll give him the best blow job of his life, I think. I’ll suck his thick cock any way he wants and have him begging for more. But I manage to stop myself from kneeling on the floor in front of him. If I give in now he’ll be gone in minutes, and I want to enjoy him for a little while longer.

“Get on your knees.” He looks afraid but complies, staring at me as he gets on his knees. I point a leg out to him and smile.

“Lick my boot.”

His jaw drops.

“I don’t think-”

“Did I say you could speak?”

He shakes his head.

“Lick my boot, filthy worm,” I repeat, a little afraid that he’ll change his mind and run out the door. But after a few seconds he complies, licking the full extent of my boot from toe to knee.

“Good boy. But I have to punish you for arguing with me.”

He looks up at me, waiting for my command.

“Stand up.”

He stands, and I stand up with him, walking around his back side.

“Bend over.”

He does, and I spank him hard across his butt cheek. I hear him groan so I spank him even harder so that I can feel my own hand sting.

“Did I say you could whimper?”

“No,” he responds.

I spank him again.

“No, what?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Good boy.” I spank him again for good measure, and the meat of his ass. His cheek is slightly pink, and the sight of it excites me so much that I pinch it. He stays quiet, knowing I will spank him even harder if he speaks, so as a reward I run my tongue slowly up his cheeks.

His ass smells like soap and heat, and it reminds me so much of my earlier shower with Julia that I linger there a little while longer, kissing and licking his ass cheeks between small slaps.

Then I get a naughty idea and start licking closer toward his crack.

Guys like Matt, I think, probably never have sex like this in a lifetime. And I want to make sure that he does, I want him to remember me always, starting with this.

With him still bending over, I grab a chair and place it behind him. Then I slick my hands with warm edible oil I’ve been saving for a special occasion.

From behind, I wrap my slick hands around his hard cock. He’s completely hard now, and I start working on him slowly, pleasing him but not enough that he might come. Then I slide my tongue towards his ass again, probing deeper until I’m probing at the pucker of his anus. The action makes him shiver, and he angles his ass in my direction, silently begging for more.

“That’s enough, worm. Now get on the bed.”

He walks over to the bed, looking slightly dazed, sits on the edge and looks at me. I take four scarves out and tell him to lie down. When he does, I start tying him to the bed, not too tight so he can still move.

When he’s secured, I climb on the bed and cover the base of his dick with kisses, flicking my tongue against his balls lightly, enjoying the scent of his sex. He groans, trying to point his dick in my direction in the hopes that I’ll put him out of his misery, but that’s not my plan.

Instead I run my kisses up his chest, leaving him He’s begging me to fuck him with his eyes, too afraid to talk, knowing I will silence him with a scarf.

I hover above him on the bed, dipping my fingers in my cunt, making him watch.

“This is how I like it,” I tell him as I rub my clit between two fingers slowly and deliberately, using the fingers that are covered in my juices.

“And this is how I taste,” I tell him, kneeling above his face so he can sample my pussy.
He laps at my clit obediently. It feels so good that I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling, feeling the warmth spread across my body.

When I’m close, I slide down his body to his dick, still standing in full attention. It slips easily inside my slit, budging my tight muscles aside. I ride him, alternating between hard and soft strokes because he feels amazing inside me. His dick is so hard that it feels like warm stone, and every time I slide him back inside me, the head of his cock taps my back wall, driving me crazy.

It’s too much. I had planned on playing with him, on teasing him to insanity all night and making him wait to come, but I don’t have the self control. I want him now, I’ve wanted him for months, and stopping now seems impossible.

“Tell me you want it,” I say to him, breaking character.

“I want it, oh I want it so much.”

I come for the second time today, it’s a hard and slow orgasm, one that is still vibrating thorough me when he comes inside of me like warm champagne.

I am completely drained of energy. We are both gasping for breath, and I can tell that Matt came just as hard as I did.

“That was amazing,” He says.

I push my hair away from my face and look down at him.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not done with you yet.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Oh really.”

“Really. What are you doing tomorrow night? I have this friend named Julia…”

Writer's Block

(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)

She’s sitting on my desk when I look up, wearing one of her skirts again, the type that always flash the bottom curve of her ass whenever she walks, making me hard.

“Want to talk about it?” She asks, her nipples showing through her shirt, and I can feel my dick twitch despite myself.

“I have to finish this report, but I can’t seem to get it right,” I tell her, rubbing my temples. “I’m just frustrated.”

“Maybe you need a break.” She says, uncrossing her legs, flashing me her underwear so that I can see her lips beneath them.


Before I know what’s happening she turns me around and kneels in front of me, undoing my belt in the process.
Her plump lips, warm and wet and lovely, wrap around the base of my cock so tightly that it sends waves of electricity down my spine.

She gives the kind of head that would make any man fall in love.

I pull her by the shoulders to kiss her, to pick her up and lay her down on the desk, never losing contact with her lips. I open her legs for a full view, tracing my thumb down her slit through her underwear before I bury my face in it, surrounding myself in her flesh, in her scent, in her sweet taste.

I take her clit into my mouth hungrily, making circles around it with my tongue.

“Fuck me, Mike,” She half moans.

I shove my dick so far up her cunt that I almost come in that one movement. It’s a rough ride, just the way she likes it. When she comes she squeezes every drop out of me until I am completely hers.

“Want more?” She asks.

“Yes. The report can wait until tomorrow.”

Stripper

(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)

I am hypnotized by the curve of her hips as she dances, the same spot where her underwear meets skin. It seems like a great place to hide a kiss, where no one would ever find the outline of my lips printed there.

I try to exhale slowly, feeling my face grow hot at the thought. Until today, I had never seen another woman naked, and I’m shocked stiff at my intense arousal. Lola has a ballerina’s body and beautiful skin. I can’t seem to look away, instead I want to worship her, to give her everything I am and be her willing slave.

“You’re Beautiful,” I tell her, my words slightly blurred by scotch, the wonderful drink that gave Lola the courage to strip for me.

She smiles at me like she can read my thoughts, and leans in to kiss me. Her tongue is like silk, and her kiss is so passionate I lose all my other senses.


She leans toward my ear, her warm breath on the nape of my neck.

“Tell me,” she whispers.
“Can I touch you?” I ask hesitantly, but even before the words are out of my mouth she places my hands on her firm breasts. Her nipples are rock hard under my touch. She continues dancing to the music, holding my hands to her body so that they slide across her skin as she moves.

My hands slide down her chest down her stomach to her hips. I’m tempted to plant my kiss there, but I’m too afraid, and instead cup her perfect ass.
“You’re beautiful,” I say again.

“You are too,” She says. “Why don’t you dance with me?” She asks, tugging my shirt slightly, and before I can think twice, I raise my arms and oblige.

Home Alone

(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)

The party had been a waste, I think as I walk into my room, not bothering to turn the lights on. It’s only eleven and I’m home, horny and alone, and I wonder what I can do to salvage the night.

I start to strip in the dark considering my options, leaving just my fishnets on when I see him, my next door neighbor whose window is right across from mine, giving me an almost perfect view of his bedroom.


And tonight he’s watching porn.
Bingo.

He’s in bed with his hand down his jeans, stroking his erection to the girl on the screen, a large breasted blonde with a heart shaped face, and for a second I wish I could have one of those pink nipples between my lips. A flash of heat runs through me at the thought, but no, tonight I’d rather have him.

I pull up a chair and sit down facing him and tear a hole right in the middle of my stockings. Anyone looking could see me like this, exposed and open to the world, but I really don’t care. I’m just playing along to him.

I circle my clit, tugging and teasing it, matching his rhythm, imagining what it would be like to ride him as I dip my fingers in my juicy slit.

He keeps his erection in his pants, but I can tell by how fast he’s going that he’s close. I can see the beads of sweat on his chest, begging me to lick them off.

Then he sees me. I come with his eyes locked into mine. He frees his erection, glistening with his orgasm, and I watch him until we’re both done.

I smile a thank you and walk to bed. Maybe I’ll introduce myself in the morning.

Under the Wisteria

(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)

I found your old letters today, tucked between old books and photographs. The discovery made me laugh, and I wondered how you would feel seeing them again, the letters you wrote when we first fell in love.

“I dream of that first time, under the wisteria”, I read, suddenly tumbling back to that hot afternoon in your parent's backyard. We were lying on the grass, too hot to move after riding our bikes, when you suddenly picked me up and threw me in the pool, clothes and all.

“You were so pissed, but it was part of my plan.” Yes, I remember. You got me so mad I was shocked stiff when you kissed me, and by the time I knew what was happening, I was yours. It didn't take long before we were both naked, before I climbed on your stiff cock right there in the pool and fucked you senseless.


Good thing your parents weren’t home.
It was my first time and yours, that summer before college when everything seemed possible, and we were ready to conquer the world. We took every chance we could to be together, tongue fucking and dick sucking under the wisteria whenever we were alone. I loved the taste of your warm champagne, and you always got me begging for it, sucking on my nipples until all I could see were stars.

The memories of those days get me wet as I put the old letters on the kitchen table. I will read them to you tonight. And then, we will make new make new memories together.

Do It to Me

(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)

“Do it to me,” Alice asks, interrupting my thoughts. She knows that I can’t say no to her, although I’d never really want to, because saying no to her would be worse than saying no to myself. She knows this well and uses it to her advantage. There was a time when all Alice had to do was smile, and I would be on my knees kissing the ground she walked on, waiting to do her bidding.

It’s definitely the hair, I think, looking at the soft waves of her dark red hair fall across her back. Not that her perfect ass is lacking, but it’s that dark red hair paired with her almond shaped eyes that have me hypnotized.

Now, as she lies on my bed after a shower, completely naked, clean and sweet with her ass in the air, I realize that nothing has really changed. She is still my Alice, and her body is the wonderland I worship, even after all these years.

I still get hard at the sight of her.


I kneel on the foot of the bed and look into her eyes. She has a mischievous glint there,and I run my hands up her legs, feeling her soft skin, kissing my way up her thigh.
Her legs open involuntarily, giving me a full view of her hidden sex. I cup both her butt cheeks and spread them apart so that I can make circles around the small opening of her anus with my tongue.

She flinches reflexively, and as her punishment I dip my tongue deeper in her hole, making her groan.

She’s getting wet, and I can imagine her swollen clit calling out to me, begging for me to suck it. But this is what she wants, so while I continue to dip my tongue into her asshole, I wrap two fingers around her clit, tugging at it, teasing it softly. She comes within seconds, bucking and twitching, trying to escape my touch because the sensation is too much for her.

But I’m not done yet. When I’m sure her orgasms have subsided I work my way up her back. I’m still completely dressed, but I still manage to pull my stiff cock out and start fucking her from behind, loving the way her ass feels like a cushion. I wrap myself around her, placing one hand on her clit again, and another around her stiff nipples.

This is where I belong, I think as I ride her slowly, grinding slow circles into her opening when I’m completely inside her.

“Come inside me,” She demands, and I do barely needing her permission, but grateful for it regardless, knowing I will always do what she says.

Baby It's You

(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)

I’ve never seen Hector without a hard on.

In the few months we’ve dated, his dick is always standing in full attention even before his pants come off.

I asked him why once. He simply smiled and replied, “Oh, baby, it’s you. I always get hard thinking of you.”


I think of this as he sits next to me, wondering if it’s really true.

“Something on your mind?” He asks with a playful smile on his lips.

Hot sex, I think, but just shake my head taking another drink of water, cursing my dirty luck that I have to study for me Senior Thesis sitting next to a guy who should never be fully clothed.

“Liar,” he says, calling my bluff as he sneaks a hand up my thigh.

I can’t stop him. I don’t even want to. I just sit there as I feel him nudge my underwear aside. The feeling makes me gasp and I’m glad the library is nearly empty; otherwise I couldn’t never live down the embarrassment.

I give in, opening my legs to him and running my hand up his crotch to find his bulging erection waiting for me there.

“See, it’s always you.”

He nudges me onto his lap. I can’t resist. We’re all alone, after all, hidden in the research section, and as I feel his throbbing erection slide smoothly inside me, I couldn’t have cared less.

I just want to fuck him.

I ride him that way, fully clothed with his hands on my clit, facing away from him so that our only connection is perfectly fitted between my legs. The fact that we can get caught any minute gets me so hot that I come within seconds.

When he’s done, I tell him, “Let’s hope no one caught that on tape.”

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

The Other

(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)
How can I begin to explain?

It happened slowly, and yet it happened so fast, like being hit by lightning while you’re standing outside enjoying the rain, and you’re never, ever the same.

I woke up to another nameless day at dawn. If you had asked me, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what day of the week or what month it was. All my days are the same, filled with never ending routines that I perform in a detached haze, half asleep and half awake.

It was while making breakfast that I finally woke up. While I watched the bacon sizzle in the pan I suddenly remembered that you hated bacon, too much fat you said, and just like that, I woke up out of my cloud and realized that this is not the life that I wanted. That this quiet surban life you worked so hard for was slowly killing me inside. And I knew I had to get away.

You didn’t notice my quiet desperation, of course. How could you? You, with your sweet disposition and sensible ties, you believe I’m the happy housewife, and I don’t have the heart to tell you otherwise, that I always hated the routines, the way my life is nothing but a schedule and I merely exist in it.

So I waited until you left, then I called The Other, The Other whose name I can never say out loud, although his ghost haunts me every day.

He answers my call on the first ring.

“Tell me,” he says, knowing full well that it’s me even before I speak.

I don’t have to explain. Instead I tell him to come save me, dressing to greet him. I put on the black heels you hate. The ones I never get to wear anymore because they make me look taller than you, and I paired them with a red dress no housewife should ever wear. I decided that for today I will not be your wife; instead I will be me. And without a word I stepped into his car. The same car he’s been driving since high school, during the days when I would pick flowers and whisper his name.

The familiar scent of leather feels like home, and as I lean back against the seat it’s like I’m sixteen again, with his hand between my legs. He fingers me as I watch the houses of our quiet neighborhood roll by, teasing me to insanity so that I’m ready and wet when we reach the motel.

And before you get to work, before you set foot in your office with the view, I was already in his arms.
His fingers burn my skin, leaving scorch marks in their wake. I lean into it, feeling the heat and the pleasure from his touch ignite my senses. My dress is quickly discarded, and we are both naked and tangled even before the motel door is closed.

Oh to feel alive again, I think as I feel his weight settle on top of me. He fucks me hard and deliberate, all the while whispering in my ear to leave you, telling me to let you go, and as I taste his familiar lips I wonder why I ever chose the safe over the untamed, why I walked away from someone that is such a part of me.

And I want to be his again.

So I bargain with myself as the phone rings. Between sucking his dick and tongue fucking, I remember to call and let you know that I am not home, that there will be no dinner tonight and maybe I’ll tell you that I’m fucking someone else. I tempt the fates: if at two rings you pick up, I will keep my mouth shut and be the perfect wife to you. If you pick up after three, I will tell you the truth and let the chips fall where they may, but if you don’t pick up at all I will leave you like the bitch in heat that I am and let you hate me.

But you beat me at my own game and pick up after half a ring, saying sweet hellos and I miss yous.

I swallow my guilt as I answer your questions.

Yes, my sister feels better.

Yes, I will be home tomorrow.

Yes I love you, because I do love you, but as I hang up and feel him cup my breasts, I realize I need him too.

I will spend tonight with The Other. I will arch my back to welcome him, lying back on a no name bed and smell the sulfur of his skin. I will be a slave to his desires.

And then I will go back to being your wife in the morning.