L. Maretta's Blog, page 6

What You Need, Part II

Frustrated didn’t even begin to describe how I was feeling. I was trying to run web updates for work for the last three days and I had been hoping to have them finished the night before. Nothing was cooperating. I got out of bed early that morning so I could get my work finished and enjoy the rest of my weekend but had been at it for over an hour with nothing accomplished.

Grrrrr.

So when it seemed that my lady was starting an argument with me simply because I needed to be left alone for a bit I steeled myself for the explosion that was about to happen.

“Do you know what you need?”

I knew that voice. That was the voice she used when she was asking me to take out the trash for the third time or when I forgot something. I exhaled slowly and said, “What?”

I was waiting for something along the lines of, “You need to stop being an asshole!” The words that flew from her mouth were not at all what I expected.

“My mouth around your cock!”

 

 

Wait.

 

What?

 

 

Apparently someone had woken up in a better mood than I. I felt my cock and lip twitch simultaneously.

“Is that right?” I said.

Moments later I found myself getting the best head of my life. She was always good at it but for some reason this one was just a bit more enjoyable. Maybe because she was right, it was exactly what I needed at that moment.

Her hot little mouth worked me over and I had to force myself to hold off long enough to really make the pleasure last, but when she lifted her hand, wet from touching herself, to my lips I had no chance. I sucked the juice from her fingers while I exploded in her mouth and she swallowed everything I gave her. Fuck.

I held her in my lap and showered her with kisses to show my appreciation, assuring her that I was in fact feeling much better. I wasn’t, however, going to let her go unsatisfied.

She squealed adorably when I flung her on the bed and then lifted her hips as I yanked her panties down. I glanced down at her pussy, pink, swollen, and glistening, and dove right in.

Moans of approval rang in my ears as I licked her, bottom to top, and then circled her clit. Damn, she tasted amazing. My tongue continued to move over her in a circuit of long licks and then small circles. When I pulled her clit between my lips and gently sucked she lifted her hips to writhe against my face. Oh, I loved when she did that.

I slid one hand down her thigh and grasped her behind her knee, lifting her leg and spreading her wider. The other hand I moved to tease at the entrance of her delicious cunt and then slid a finger wetly and slowly in and out. Her moans grew louder and I peeked up at her from between her legs. Her left hand was massaging her left breast, her fingers pulling and pinching her nipple, her right hand tightly fisted in her own hair. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted in a perfect “O”. She looked like a woman who was about to lose her mind and loving every minute of it. Smiling, I continued on my quest to drive her insane.

Sucking on her clit with more force now, I added another finger, fucking her with my hand, increasing the pace as her hips continued to buck and writhe. I twisted my fingers inside her, curling them towards my mouth in search of that hidden spot within. Her back arched off the bed and she screamed.

There it is.

Her orgasm flooded my mouth, her cream coating my tongue and I lapped up everything until she quieted and stilled. She lay fluid against the bed, spent and sated, her eyes glazed over and breasts rising and falling as she panted. She looked as though she could fall back to sleep but I wasn’t finished with her yet. My cock was hard again and I needed to fuck her. I gave her just a moment to recover, planting kisses on her sticky thighs and mound and then rose to my knees.

She didn’t resist when I turned her limp body on its side. I straddled her right leg, lifted her left and slammed right into her. She whimpered weakly but the small smile on her face told me she wanted to be fucked just as much as I wanted to fuck her.

I held her leg against my chest, kissing and sucking her skin while I pounded her, sliding my cock in and out of her tight cunt. My hand roamed freely up and down her body, caressing breasts, down to her belly, and then back up again.

She grasped me with both hands, her fingers digging into my ass, kneading and pulling, urging me to fuck her faster and harder. A quiet, “Oh, fuck,” escaped her lips and I could feel her tightening around my cock. I thrust deeper, harder, gritting my teeth until her body buckled. She came again and then I followed, shooting deep inside her with a groan.

Placing a kiss on her knee, I lowered her leg gently and then collapsed on the bed beside her. She rolled towards me, burying her face in my chest and sighed while I stroked her hair. I kept my eyes closed and just inhaled the scent of her and me and sex. Her steady breathing told me she had fallen back to sleep and I thought to extract myself so that I could go back to finishing my work. Fuck it, I thought. I kissed my love’s pretty, sleeping face and pulled her even closer to me. Work could wait.

What You Need, Part I

I woke to the sounds of fingers slamming angrily on a keyboard and my first thought was he’s pissed.

I opened my eyes to see the alarm clock glowing in the dim room and I sighed. It was early, too early for a Saturday morning. I rolled toward the direction of the laptop that was being abused and said, “What’s wrong?”

An explanation of something or other not working properly and a few expletives was the reply I got and I sighed again before turning my face into the pillow. I wanted to tell him to just leave it and get back in bed but I knew that would be useless. He wouldn’t stop whatever it was he was doing until he had it fixed. That was him: relentless. Honestly, nothing could tear him away from a challenge except –

Hmmm…

I gave myself a few more seconds to wake up and then I left the comfort of our bed, padding past him in the recliner in the corner of our room to the adjoining master bath. I checked myself in the mirror, fluffing my hair so that it was a bit more “sexy tousled” and less “tangled bed head”, splashed some cold water on my face and then went back to face the beast.

“Want anything?” I asked. He didn’t even look up but kept his scowled face on the computer when he declined.

“Coffee?” He only gestured to the mug that was already sitting on the nightstand and kept tapping away.

“Do you know what you need?” I said in a stern voice, the one I used when I really was annoyed with him.

He finally looked up and his brows were scrunched together like they usually were when he was preparing for an argument.

“What?” he clipped.

“My mouth around your cock!” I spat. That one was difficult to get out without cracking a smile.

His face showed confusion for just a second and then as he understood my ruse his mouth twitched and his brow eased.

“Is that right?” he said.

I didn’t answer but instead closed his laptop and placed it gently next to his cup of coffee. I stood before him once again and with one eyebrow raised I pulled the tee I had slept in over my head and let him gaze upon my body that was now covered only by the small scrap of blue fabric I called underwear. The cool room had my nipples hardening instantly and I saw him adjust in the recliner as a bulge formed in his sweatpants.

I straddled his legs and kissed him deeply, my breasts pressing against his bare chest. While I sucked on his tongue, a little precursor to what I was going to do to his dick, I pressed down in his lap to grind a little against his erection. I felt my panties get wet as I writhed and teased myself but this wasn’t about me. I pulled away and then kissed down his neck, over his chest, and to his left nipple where I flicked my tongue and grazed my teeth over it. I repeated the same action to his right.

His groans, god they turned me on, and my cunt was throbbing but I wouldn’t lose focus. I was on a mission to distract my man.

My lips moved down his stomach and he lifted his hips as I tugged his pants down. I eyed his hard cock like a tiger eyes his prey and then groaned in satisfaction when I licked the precome from him with just the tip of my tongue. Delicious.

“Baby, please,” he said.

Wrapping my right hand tightly around the base, I teased him a bit more. My lips covered the head of his cock and I swirled my tongue around him. His moans grew louder. Finally, when I could tell he couldn’t take the torture any longer, I took him all the way in, sucking him all the way in to my hot, wet mouth. He growled.

One of his hands fisted in my hair as I bobbed up and down, sucking his cock the way I knew he loved. My hand followed my mouth, tight around him, twisting around his slippery shaft.

“Fuck yes, baby,” he breathed. Music to my ears.

My pussy would no longer be ignored; she needed attention too, so while I continued to give the best blowjob I could, I moved my left hand between my legs and slid a few fingers through my aching cunt. I moaned and his fingers tightened in my hair as he felt the vibration.

I moved up and down his cock faster, my lips tight and my tongue soft and wet. He began lifting his hips ever so slightly and I encouraged him by moaning louder. I loved when he fucked my mouth. Sucking even harder now, I withdrew my hand from between my legs and lifted it, offering my wet fingers to him. He wrapped his hand around my wrist and sucked my middle and index finger into his mouth, licking my juice from them and then came.

We both groaned as he pulsed into my mouth, his hot, salty come coating my tongue and oozing down my throat. I swallowed greedily and didn’t stop sucking until he was finished.

Breathing heavily and laughing, he pulled me from my knees and into his lap.

“Feel better?” I asked as he held me to him and kissed the top of my head.

“Much,” he said. “Though there is one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“You didn’t get to come.”

He tossed me from his lap and onto the bed. I squealed. It was my turn.

The Shower

The initial water that sprayed from the shower head was icy and with a yelp that echoed off the tiled walls she stepped out of the stream and adjusted the knobs. When the water warmed she turned her back and tilted her head, allowing the stress of her day to run down the drain. She stretched her neck from side to side and let the hot water work the kinks out of her tired muscles. Just as she was about to grab the soap she heard someone enter the bathroom.

Through the foggy glass of the shower door she could make out the frame of her lover. Swiping a hand to clear away the condensation, she smiled and then beckoned him to join her. She watched as he undressed and dropped his jeans and t-shirt to the floor with a grin.

The couple greeted each other beneath the warm water, kissing softly at first and then with a little more passion. Their mouths opened and tongues caressed, teeth nibbled. She felt his erection grow and press into her belly and she sighed as his lips moved across her cheek and down to her collarbone.

Pouring liquid soap into his hands, he began by washing her shoulders, his fingers gliding easily over her wet skin, kneading before he moved them to her breasts. Her nipples hardened as he teased her, first circling his fingers around them and then switching to cup and massage her. Moans grew louder when he slid his right hand down her stomach and between her legs.

One index finger found her clit while he wrapped his other arm around her waist. She relaxed and allowed him to hold her up as he added a second finger and her slick sex was worked over. When he pressed both of his fingers into her pussy she gasped and stumbled, though he steadied her until her back was against the cool tile. She moved her hips slightly, grinding against his palm while he fucked her with his hand, methodically pumping his fingers in and out. She came with a groan while looking into his eyes.

Her lover withdrew his hand and kissed her sweetly once again before turning her around and placing her hands against the tile. He took hold of his cock and guided it into her slowly, entering her slowly, inch by inch, savoring her warmth. Already spent from the first orgasm, her head lolled forward as he took her, his hard length sliding all the way in and then all the way out.

Just as she felt her body begin to shiver, he removed the shower head from behind him and aimed it at her back. The water cascaded down her body and he began to fuck her harder, his groans now echoing with hers.   She faintly registered a clicking sound and then the water was hitting her back harder, the stream more concentrated and pressurized.

Her clit was found once again by her lover and she removed one of her hands from the wall to join him in massaging the already sensitive nub. Just as her legs began to shake, the stream of steady water was aimed directly between the cheeks of her backside. She came again, her screams resounding off the tiles, and her lover followed, his cock pulsing as he groaned one last time.

When they finished their shower, she was led to their bed where he cradled her against his chest. He hummed softly to her and stroked her hair until they both fell peacefully asleep.

Good for What Ails You

I don’t know about you, but I have found that 2014 has started out a bit taxing to say the very least. Work has been particularly stressful, busy schedules have gotten in the way of doing things and spending time with the people that I love, and other unforeseen shit has had me worrying and cranky.

You’ve been in one of those funks, haven’t you? And you try pinpointing the problems, confront them mentally, and tell yourself to just snap out of it. Internalizing doesn’t always work though, does it?

So you go for external remedies. A glass of wine or perhaps something stronger may do the trick. Sometimes a hot bath will soothe away the stress. A long run or an intense work out to alleviate the pent up frustration may help. There is even the possibility that a good, long belly laugh will have you feeling better.

Yes, all of those are excellent attempts at de-stressing. There is one however, that is fool proof.

You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you?

Yep.

A good, long, healthy, earth-shattering, mind blowing, toe curling orgasm.

 

 

 

 

You know the kind.

 

The ones that leave you feeling like your limbs have detached and then reattached themselves to your body and turn you to a jelly-like substance. The ones that shock your whole nervous system so that you feel absolutely numb. The ones that are so intense that you almost have an out-of-body experience while incoherent cries of pure pleasure- words you didn’t even know you had in your vocabulary- flow from you with each wave of euphoria.

I know.

Sigh.

Nothing beats those glorious “Os”. It’s like all the stress you’re carrying manifests in that tight ball that resides in the pit of your belly seconds before you come. Then at that exact moment, when the “snap” happens, the stress is unleashed, replaced by a feeling so welcome and perfect you wish you could bottle it up and keep it on tap. If only, right?

Even though it only lasts a few seconds, or maybe a minute if you’re lucky, there is something magical about an orgasm. You’re suddenly sated, relaxed, and almost giddy, the source of your stress forgotten for the time being.

So what are you waiting for? Go get your O!

Is All Sex Good Sex?

Pizza is like sex, even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.

You’ve read that quote, right?

I hate that quote because it’s a fucking lie.

Not the pizza part. I’ll eat reheated, frozen food section, store bought pizza and will still enjoy it, at least a little bit.

I mean the sex part. That quote says that all sex, no matter what kind, is still good.

Not. Fucking. True.

Let me tell you a little story.  Are you sitting comfortably?  Then I’ll begin.

When I was in my twenties I worked at a restaurant with a guy named Greg. He and I would flirt a lot, have a few drinks together after our shift. One night a bunch of us from work hung out at my apartment and it eventually ended up being just Greg and me left alone. He casually brought up the fact that he learned shiatsu when he lived in Japan for a year. That led to me getting a massage.

Let me tell you, Greg was FANTASTIC at giving a massage.

Yeah, we ended up in my bed.

Let me tell you, giving a massage was the ONLY thing Greg was good at.

He knew nothing of other types of foreplay; according to him you play with a woman’s nipples for about 4.5 seconds and then you move south to the Promised Land. Even though he wasn’t really doing it for me I held on to the hope that it would get better and I let him keep going.

It did not get better. It got worse.

He jackrabbited me!!!

 

Unless this has happened to you, you will never understand the horror of this phenomenon. It’s awkward, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s painful and not in the good way. I can only imagine what my face looked like as Greg pounded away, oblivious to the fact that I was mortified.

When I think about it now, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything to poor clueless Greg and make him stop, possibly even give him some direction. I was still young I guess, hadn’t found my sexual voice yet.

Anyhow, that event left me quite traumatized and sore and to this day I still cannot look at Greg (he found me on Facebook a few years ago) without shuddering. Long-eared bunnies also give me flashbacks.

So no, I cannot agree with whoever said the pizza thing. Sex can be bad. Very, very bad.

Have you had a bad sexual experience? I’d love to hear about it!

The Art of Phone Sex

Phone sex is an art, isn’t it?

You have to know what to say and when to say it, otherwise it can be nerve-racking and that kills the whole mood.   Defeats the purpose of trying, doesn’t it?

So what do you say?

Tell him what you’re doing

I’m touching my…

Tell him how you feel

I’m so wet…

Tell him that you imagine it’s his hands running all over your body.  It’ll drive him wild.

Of course it’s not only what you say but how you say it.

Any word can sound sexy if you say it properly.

Yes.

Mmmm.

Fuck.

Soft whispers, low seductive voice.

Until you come.  Then be loud.

Phone sex can be just as hot as real sex if you do it properly.  You just have to know how to express yourself.

Lucky for me, I’m a writer.  Expressing myself is what I do.

Fetishes

   I see the word fetish thrown around quite a bit.  I’ve even been accused of having a shoe fetish.   I have an attraction to sexy heels but do I consider it a fetish?  No.  A fetish is something you have a strong sexual desire for.  I love my shoes but I do not want to have sex with them.

Wearing them during sex?

Legs held up by my heels while he pounds away.  Pointy stilettos digging into his shoulders while he-

Yeah, you get the idea.

But seeing a pair of pretty shoes does not get me all hot and bothered.  Excited?  Yes.  Horny?  No.

Ever Google fetishes?

Holy shit.

I came across Mechanophilia.  Okay, I thought, sex in cars.  I can see it.  Car sex is hot.

Oh no.

Mechanophilia is not sex IN cars.  It’s sex WITH cars.

Are we talking tailpipes here?  Gear shifts?   I cannot comprehend.  Unless it’s a talking car like Kit from Knight Rider and it can moan and-

No.  Not even then.

I’m not judging.  If that’s your thing then more power to you.  I just find these kinds of fetishes to be inconvenient.

Spectrophilia.  Sex with ghosts?  Finding a ghost is one thing but getting it to consent to sex?  You might be waiting an awfully long time.

Beetle Juice or Slimer sex?  Ick.

Maybe they make their lover wear a bed sheet during sex?  Do they get turned on when someone says “BOO!”?  Such things I wonder.

If there is a name for it someone has it and how do these poor people function?  That’s a lot of work to achieve sexual satisfaction.

Me?  I guess I’m a simple girl.

I enjoy some light bondage and spanking.  A little hair pulling is always nice.  Dirty talk is hot when done properly.

All these extras are just icing on the cake though.  I don’t need them to get off.

Just the right man and the right moves.

Any fetishes out there you want to share?

Writing Challenge Part V: Oleander Plume’s Mystery

We finish up our challenge with Oleander’s story, The Alibi.  Oleander has all the attributes that make up the best kind of woman: she’s sexy, she’s witty, and she has a mind dirtier than most sailors after six months at sea.  She has a slew of panty melting stories over on her blog.  Click the link at the end!

I glanced over the crime scene photos, and almost lost my lunch. Normally, I’m not a squeamish guy, but these made me cringe.

“What’s in his mouth?”

Tom grimaced before answering. “His penis.”

“Sweet Jesus on the cross.” I closed the manila folder, then poured another two fingers of whiskey for the both of us. “This is a crime of passion. And you say there are no suspects?”

“As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one suspect, Jack’s wife Tina, but she has an iron clad alibi. I don’t care what the cops say, that bitch had something to do with this. Maybe she hired somebody.”

I shook my head. “No way. This was no hired hit. He’d have a bullet in his back, not fifty stab wounds. And he definitely wouldn’t be sucking on his own dick.” I crossed myself. “All apologies, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“My brother wasn’t a saint, and he pissed a lot of people off, but he didn’t deserve to go out this way. He’s been dead for six months, and my family wants justice. Will you take the case?”

“I’ll do what I can, Tom.” I picked up the snapshot of Tina Murphy. “You really think this little gal murdered your brother?”

“I’m sure of it. She might look like an angel, but inside she’s the devil’s bride.”

The woman in the photo was slender, with pale blonde hair and a softly pointed chin. No rack to speak of, but she had nice legs. I flipped through Tom’s notes.

“So, she has witnesses that saw her at the grocery store, the car wash and the movie theater at the exact time Jack was being murdered? Not much evidence at the crime scene, either.”

Tom drained his glass, then sighed. “Please, I”m begging you, just poke around a bit, she’s guilty, I know it. My mother is really sick, I want closure before she passes away.”

I shook Tom’s hand. “I’ll do my best.”

The next few weeks were spent interviewing cops, witnesses and various family members, but the one person I was the most interested in questioning kept eluding me. Tina Murphy was harder to catch than smoke, she could have made a living as a secret agent. But after going over the file a hundred times, I was as convinced as Tom that she was the killer. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the woman. Every attempt I made to get in contact with her came up short. After another long day in the trenches, I paid a visit to my favorite watering hole. The place was packed with sports fans, and I had to take a seat at a table, which turned my mood even more foul. Until I saw her.

Flaming red hair has the same effect on me that a stop sign does, and I almost spilled my drink when I saw hers. Long and wavy, with shorter bits that fell into her eyes, I couldn’t help but imagine how that fiery mane would look spread out over my pillow. She motioned to the empty chair that was across from mine.

“Do you mind? It’s so crowded here tonight.”

“No, please do.”

She perched herself on the seat, then leaned over to tuck her large handbag under the table, offering me a nice view in the process. Call me shallow, but I’m a sucker for a nice pair.

“Never saw you around her before.” Witty banter like this is why I’m still single at 35.

She smiled at me. “I’ve never paid this particular establishment a visit before.” Her eyes darted around the place, then settled back on me. Even in the dim light I could see they were a deep blue and rimmed with makeup that was expertly applied, but overdone. “Seems nice.”

“Mickey’s? It’s a hell hole, but I know the owner.”

“Don’t insult my place of employment, Mason Reed.” Sully set a fresh drink in front of me, red lips puffed into a sneer.

“It’s only a hell hole when you’re not here, Sully my love.”

“Mm, hmm.” She eyed the redhead suspiciously. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

I watched Sully scamper away with her round tush shaking. We have history, Sully and I, ancient history. Which is too bad, because she’s quite a hell cat between the sheets. I turned my attention back to the woman sitting across from me.

“A redhead who drinks whiskey is always welcome at my table. What’s your name?”

She blinked and hesitated slightly before answering, hallmark of a liar. “Lisa.”

“Mason.” I stuck out my hand and she grasped it with a stronger grip than I expected.

“I know, I heard you tell the waitress. First name basis with the hired help, huh?”

“Mickey’s is my home away from home. Hell, if they let me put a cot in the back, I’d never leave.” I took a sip of my whiskey. “So, what brings you here?”

“I was just out and about, and felt thirsty.”

Another lie. Nobody just shows up at Mickey’s unless they’ve either lost a bet or lost their way, the place is a dump. The only reason why I hung out there was because it was within walking distance of my apartment. Sully bounced over and set a drink down, shot me a death glare, then flittered away before I could retort. The redhead picked it up and inspected the glass before she took a drink.

“Your brand?”

She shivered. “Definitely not top shelf, is it?”

“Not here.” I clinked my glass against hers, then knocked back the contents, enjoying the whiskey’s slow burn as it made its descent.

“So, Mason, what do you do for a living?”

I braced myself for the barrage of questioning that always follows when I tell someone my career choice. “I’m a private detective.”

“How exciting!” Her voice and her facial expression didn’t quite match up. “Are you working on a case right now? Is it murder?”

“Yes, I’m working on a case, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“Can’t you just give me a little hint? I love a good mystery.”

She reached down and fished a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. When she sat upright again, I noticed the part in her hair had shifted about two inches to the left, and a narrow blond tendril was poking out over her ear.

“All I can tell you is, I’m looking for a woman.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Eyes that were a little too blue to be natural. “A woman? That’s strange.”

“Yeah, but she’s impossible to find. I’ve been staring at her photo for days, and she’s really gotten in my head.” I leaned back in my chair and smiled.

“In fact, I’m starting to see her everywhere.”

Cue Twilight Zone music!

You can read Oleander’s more risque stories here  www.oleanderplume.blogspot.com

Writing Challenge Part IV: Mark T. Conard goes Smutty… Again

Poor Mark.  He had to write not one but two erotic stories!  Lesser men would have said one was enough, but not him.   He wrote another sexy scene, this time in response to a scenario I provided. 

“Something Different”

Mark T. Conard

 

            Marcia sat on a white leather sofa in a strange living room, a glass of red wine in her hand. At 35, she had auburn hair down below her ears, and she wore a black knee-length skirt and a gray blouse buttoned high—her work clothes.

            The living room belonged to Anthony, who’d excused himself to use the bathroom. It was their first date, not counting meeting for coffee one afternoon. They’d kept eyeing one another at the gym, and finally she asked him out. He was an academic, taught some obscure subject at Columbia, and seemed to be on the quiet side.

She hadn’t been out with a man since her divorce eight months ago, and hadn’t had sex, or an orgasm, for more than a year. Her ex, Dan, had been her college sweetheart, and was the only man she’d been with since her early twenties. Dan was on the quiet, passive side, too, so she was starting to think that was her type.

Sitting on the sofa, she took a drink of wine, thinking—frankly—that she’d like to get the sex over with and get home to do an hour’s worth of work before going to bed. She had to be in court in the morning to defend a Wall Street trader against the Securities and Exchange Commission.

Anthony walked back into the room and sat next to her. Bespectacled, he had short brown hair and wore well-cut navy trousers and a white button-down shirt. She found him handsome.

“Get you some more wine?” he said.

“No, I’m fine.”

She set her glass on the end table, leaned over and kissed him. His mouth opened to hers, and she ran her tongue over his. His arms encircled her, and he pulled her against his chest. They kissed for a few minutes, and she felt herself getting wet, so she reached down, unzipped his pants, and took out his cock. She heard his breath catch, as she bent down and started licking him, running her tongue up and down his shaft.

He stiffened in her hand and under her tongue, so she started to hike up her skirt, when he grabbed her hand.

“What’re you doing?” he said.

She felt herself frown. “What do you mean? We’re going to screw.”

“Yeah, but what’s with the routine? You act like you’re ticking items off a list as you go.”

“If you don’t want to fuck, we certainly don’t have to.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want to. It’s just that this routine is probably the same thing you went through with your husband. It’s probably been the same moves in the same order for years.”

She felt her face color and her anger rise at his analysis—and yet he was right. It had been the same routine for a decade or more.

“Look,” he said, “if that routine works for you, then fine. But my guess is it hasn’t. Am I right?”

She nodded. The sex had only ever been barely satisfying, if that.

“Then let’s try something different,” he said.

            “Like what?”

            He picked up his wine glass from the end table, drained it, and set it back down. He put away his dick, closed his fly, and stood up.

            “Come with me,” he said, offering his hand.

            She took the hand, rose from the sofa, and he led her down a hallway to the bedroom. Once inside, he grabbed her and kissed her hard, tugging at her hair. His other hand shot down her side, feeling her curves, and ran over her breast, pinching her nipple. His aggressiveness was unfamiliar, and it surprised her.  

            He unbuttoned her blouse, pulled it off, and tossed it to the floor.

            Her breath came short. “I’m used to being in charge,” she said.

            “Then this is going to be something different. If I do something you don’t like, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

            He pulled down her bra straps, and exposed her nipples, then leaned down and started sucking and biting them. His teeth hurt, and this was also unfamiliar, but the pain didn’t last. It turned into pleasure, and she wanted more.

            Still standing in the middle of the room, he removed her bra, and ran his hands and mouth over her bare torso, kissing, licking, pinching and biting. His tempo made it clear he was in no hurry. He seemed to want to explore every inch of her, and she was ready to let him.

            He removed her skirt and tights and her underwear, leaving her naked. He took off his own shirt, and moved her over to the bed. He stripped back the covers, and she laid on her back on the white sheet.

            He climbed onto the bed next to her. She closed her eyes, and she felt him move over and position his head between her legs. His warm breath caressed her sex. The heat stirred and excited her, and she anticipated his next move, wanting him to do something. But he waited, still breathing his hot breath on her. The seconds ticked, and her desire grew.

            Then, when she thought she couldn’t wait any more, his tongue flicked across her labia, sending a shockwave through her, and her body tensed.

            “Jesus!” she said.

            His tongue flicked again, and then a third time, and her entire body shivered.

            He pressed his mouth against her pussy, and she felt him take hold of one of her lips. He began sucking it, drawing it between his teeth, and she grabbed the sheet in her fists, afraid it would hurt, but it didn’t. The feeling again rode the line between pain and pleasure. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, and the pressure built inside her, like a balloon being filled with too much air, starting deep in her pelvis and radiating out.

            “Please fuck me,” she said, just able to get the words out. “I want your cock.”

            He didn’t respond, and she felt him now search and find her swollen clit.

            “No, I couldn’t take that,” she said. “It’s too sensitive.”

            She felt him narrow his lips around it, and just as he had with her labia, he drew it into his mouth and between his teeth, and he slid a finger inside her. He sucked her clit in and out of his mouth until it began to throb, while running the finger, and then two fingers, and finally three fingers in and out of her. She felt herself flooding the bed, and felt the balloon stretching further and further, and the balloon was her whole body, ready to burst, and her back arched, and her hips bucked, but he held her in place, and his mouth and his hand manipulated her like he was the artist and she the raw material for his work.

Finally the balloon burst and she cried out, and her body trembled, and tears ran from her eyes, as he kept sucking her clit, and kept fucking her with his fingers. She twisted on the bed, the feeling remained so intense. She’d never felt such release. His movements slowed and then stopped.

The pressure gone, only the pleasure remaining, she wiped away tears with her shaking hand.

            “Thank you,” she said.

No Mark, thank you!

Once again, be sure to check out Mark’s work over at Amazon!

Writing Challenge Part III: Cynthia E. Hansen Gets Grisly

If you follow me on Twitter you know that Cindy and I are like peas and carrots.  She is the Porgy to my Bess.  To say I love this woman is a total understatement.  Not only is she the kindest, funniest, most loyal woman I know, she’s a hell of a writer.  Now, I do have to say I think Cindy had one up on Olly, Mark, and me.  She’s been writing stories that are a mix of erotica and suspense for a while now.   If you haven’t read them yet you must!  Here’s her submission to the challenge, scenario provided once again by our expert in suspense, Mark.

“Missing”

 

 There was a knock on the door. Jeremy bolted up. Confused, he looked around, quickly taking in his surroundings. It took him a few moments to realize he was on the sofa and not in his bed. He didn’t remember how he’d come to be here. He turned the volume lower on the television set. His head was pounding relentlessly and he rubbed at his temples in an attempt to dull the throbbing.

BOOM!

It sounded as though someone kicked the door in.

He jumped up simultaneously shouting, “What the fuck?”

He strode determinedly to the door and yanked it open, ready to confront whomever had the audacity to annoy him. There was no one there. He looked up and down the street and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He was about to close the door when he spotted a small box on the doorstep. He looked both ways again as he held the door open, and lifted the box up. It was light, weighed nearly nothing. No postmark. No address label.

He brought it into the kitchen and placed it on top of the breakfast bar before turning to open the junk drawer, where he found a pair of scissors, and used them to cut the tape securing the package. He opened the flaps and peered inside. He nearly fell back when he saw the contents. It took him a few seconds for it to register.

It was an ear, a human ear. He grimaced as he tilted the box, trying to get a better look without touching it. It looked almost fake. Like one of those gory Halloween props with blobs of fake blood around the edges. Bending back the cardboard flaps, he held the box over the sink, in hopes the bright light coming through the window would help him see it better.

When he took a second look a strong feeling of nausea overcame him. He could taste the bile on the back of his tongue. The pounding in his temples increased and for the first time since finding the box he began to panic. Sweat immediately beaded on his brow. He’d seen the earring before. It was one of the butterfly earrings he gave Kayla for her birthday. The wings adorned with emeralds; her birthstone. She never took them off.

Suddenly he felt sick. Placing the box on the countertop he leaned over the sink and vomited. There in the box, was what appeared to be his wife’s ear. It sat on top of a yellow piece of paper looking ashen and lifeless.

He knew he had to pull the paper out but he didn’t want to touch the ear. He put the box down and called 911, explaining what had occurred to the operator, who instructed him to put the box on the table and wait for the police to arrive.

He complied and took a step back, his eyes never leaving the box.

The police arrived within ten minutes and he turned away from the box for the first time since receiving it and walked over to open the door.

He was met with a barrage of questions, all of which he answered the same way, ‘I don’t know’.

The lead detective had the ear removed from the box and placed into an evidence bag. He then pulled out the note in his gloved hand, opened it slowly and read it out loud.

‘You made me do this Jeremy.’

“Who do you think wrote this?” He held the note up so Jeremy could have a look at the handwriting.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course not.” When Jeremy reached out for it, the detective pulled his hand back. “Evidence…Jeremy.”

Jeremy didn’t like the tone the detective used.

“When did you last see your wife?” Detective Anderson asked.

“Um…um. This morning. When she left to go to work.” He sounded shocked.

“What time was that?”

“Um. It was like 6:15.  That’s when she usually left.” Jeremy nodded.

“Did you notice anything strange about her mood, her actions?”

“No. No. Of course not.”

“Did you notice if anyone was outside when she left?”

“No. I, um…I stayed in bed.”

“Where does your wife work?”

“Union Center Bank, downtown. Clancy Street.”

The detective turned and looked at his partner, who issued orders to the two uniformed officers standing behind him.

“What do you do for a living Mr. Reynolds?”

“I write. I write books. I’m an author.”

“Books? Anything I would know.”

“No, no. I’m writing my first book.”

“What is it about?”

“It’s about a seri…Hey, what the hell does any of this have to do with my wife and the…the fucking ear?”

“Nothing. Just curious.”

“Find my wife detective. Just find her.” Jeremy said emphatically.

“I’ll need a picture of your wife. The more recent the better.”

Jeremy nodded and walked into the bedroom returning with an 8 x 10 inch framed picture of Kayla and him on their wedding day.

“This is the most recent I’ve got.”

“When was this taken?”

“Seven months ago.”

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?”

“No, no of course not. Kayla was a wonderful…she’s a beautiful person, kind and sweet…no. No one would hurt her. I can’t see it…couldn’t see it.”

“Yeah. Well…stay home Mr. Reynolds. We’ll have a unit come and set up a trace on your phone, in case someone calls for a ransom. Officer Johnson will stay here with you.”

“Ransom? Do you think someone kidnapped her?”

“Well, it’s doubtful she cut off her own ear.”

Jeremy raised his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep the vomit inside.

The detective slowly shook his head and walked out the door.

After the detective and the cops left, Jeremy walked into his room. He needed to sit down and figure this out. His first thought at seeing the ear, besides feeling sick to his stomach, was Jason. Jason.

He needed to talk to Jason. Trip him up. Jason hated Kayla. Jason was convinced that Kayla was solely responsible for Jeremy’s withdrawal from their relationship. There was no one else in the whole world who could hurt Kayla. No one.

He picked up his cell and dialed Jason.

“Hey, you slack fucker. Where you been? Oh, that’s right…up Kayla’s fucking ass.” He snickered.

“Jay, man. I got a box today. It had a human ear inside. Kayla’s ear, and Kayla is missing. Cops think she was kidnapped.”

The boisterous laughter that resounded on the other end of the line jolted Jeremy.

“Kidnapped? Wow, that’s fucking rich man.  Kidnapped.  Napping…is more like it.” The comment didn’t hit its mark.

“Jay, don’t fuck with me. Please. Don’t. If you did anything…”

“Little brother, you need to watch your tone.”

“No Jay, man… I really need to know. I need to ask you something. I need you to tell me if you hurt her man.”

“Hurt her…hurt her? Me? You fucking idiot.” Jason sneered. The tone of his remarks hurt Jeremy.

“Jay, there’s no reason to talk to me like that. I’m not a fucking idiot. I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Then quit being a fucking idiot.”

“Jay, come on man, help me out here.” Jeremy paused for a second, “I gotta know. I got a feeling the cops think I’ve got something to do with her mur…her missing.” His tone was cajoling. He wanted Jason to talk, and confronting him just made him angry.

“Missing? Brother of mine, you are fucking killing me here.” He said. The laughter in his voice angered Jeremy.

“Jay…I love her.” Jeremy pled. He knew he sounded pathetic, but he was hoping that Jason would hear how upset he was and take pity on him.

“Yeah, you love her.” He paused, “you put that cunt above all else…even me.”

“Jay, you’re my brother. No one can take your place.”

“Damn right, no one.” He laughed heartedly, “especially now.”

“What did you do Jay? What did you do? Goddamn it Jay, where is Kayla.” His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, the plastic of the phone moaned in his grip.

There was a long silence. Way too long. Jeremy needed to find out where Kayla was. He needed to bring her home, and he NEEDED to get the cops off him, without giving up his brother.

“Jeremy…” Jason said, the exasperation in his voice clear. “She’s in the crawl space, right under your feet…you fucking asshole.”

A loud wail resonated throughout the small house. The uniform officer knocked on the bedroom door.

“Mr. Reynolds? You okay in there?” The voice said on the other side of the door. “Reynolds?” His last question a demand.

“Nooooooooo.” An eerie cry escaped his throat, echoing off the walls.

 

 

 

Jeremy slowly opened his eyes, his brain felt like it was full of cotton. Everything was muddled. He didn’t recognize his surroundings. The room was sterile; all white cement block walls. The smell of rubbing alcohol assailed his nostrils. He shook his head, in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.

“Mr. Reynolds?” The sound of the woman’s voice behind him started him.

He tried to turnaround to see who was there but he was unable to move his arms. He kicked his feet to find that they, too, were bound.

“What the fuck?” He pulled at his restraints, unable to lessen their hold. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in some time.

“Mr. Reynolds. Please calm down.” It was a command, not a request. A woman dressed in a white uniform stepped to the side of his bed. He turned his head and was able to see her stern face. “Calm down.” She demanded. “Your restraints are there for your protection as well as ours.”

She walked over and methodically poured water from a small pitcher into a cup, stuck a straw in and held it under his mouth. He greedily sucked, feeling the cool liquid run down his parched throat.

“Where am I, what is going on…why am I here?” His voice sounded craggy, not his own.

“Mr. Reynolds, you are in Bradley Falls Psychiatric Hospital. You were brought in because you had suffered a mental breakdown.” She turned her head and looked directly in his eyes and he felt a chill run up his spine. “You are restrained because your wife…Kayla, I believe, was found partially buried in the small crawl space underneath your home.” She turned and put the cup back on the table. “You, Mr. Reynolds, murdered your wife.” She said with a satisfactory smirk.

“NO, NO…that was Jay.”

“Jay?”

“Jason. Jason Reynolds. My brother. He always hated Kayla. He practically confessed to me that he hurt her.”

“Mr. Reynolds.” She walked to the foot of the bed and leaned over it. Her stone-like expression didn’t give anything away. “Jason Reynolds, your twin brother, died when you were both eleven.” She shook her head. “So, as you can see, he couldn’t be responsible for killing Kayla. You killed Kayla Mr. Reynolds.” She turned her back on him. “Then you cut her ear off post-mortem.” She turned her back to him and walked to the door, “I have other patients Mr. Reynolds. I’m sure we will be seeing a lot of one another.”

Creeeeeeepyyyyyyy!  Liked it?  Read her other books, available on Amazon!!