Autumn Lishky's Blog, page 4

Dirty little metropolis-DANNI & nick

Danni jittered in line, antsy like she’d been all day. Horny was a better description for it, but she could only hole up in her apartment for so long before she had to eat.

Her body wouldn’t back off enough to let her cook something more than heating it in the microwave, and she ran out of other options this morning, so she stood in line at the burger joint and wriggled from discomfort, her skirt swaying across her bare ass as a reminder that playing with herself simply wasn’t doing it.

Every man in this place caught her attention, but it wasn’t until the tall blonde behind her stepped in close that she knew her agitation might have been obvious to someone around her.

“You’re dancing like you’ve twisted your knickers in a knot.” His hot and sweet breath trailed down the back of Danni’s neck.

She bit back a whimper. “No knickers.”

A low groan dropped in her ear as the heat of him stepped closer. “You should be careful who you say that to.”

Danni didn’t really need to be. This was Mating Metropolis. People randomly paired up on the streets all the time. Or on the bus, at the office, in the library, the grocery store, and pretty much anywhere it was remotely possible.

“Why is that?” 

This man’s large hand found her swaying hips and pulled her gently back into him. God, he had a massively hard cock. “Some men would read into it.”

“Mmm.” Danni arched her buttocks against his length.

He grunted in her ear and slipped his touch down her moderately short skirt until he breached her skin.

Danni swallowed her moan, and the line they were in moved forward.

Three customers until she was at the front to order her burger and run home.

The man behind her walked her ahead and stopped her with his hand under her skirt, fingers drawing between her thighs. His thumb brushed her waxed lips, putting pressure over her clit.

Danni had to cover her mouth to silence the needy noise he drew from her.

Then, he rubbed her more firmly, deftly, and her legs spread for him. Wide enough that he found the well of her moisture to spread it along her sex.

“Fuck. Tell me your name.”

She shook her head.

“My name is Nick.” And he pushed his finger inside of her, his movements only scarcely hidden by her skirt. Nick nibbled on her shoulder and throat, and he stepped her forward again as the line moved.

A second finger slipped between her folds, and Danni canted her hips toward his touch, searching for the release that this stranger offered her.

His lips found her jaw as his thrusts found purchase, building pleasure that she couldn’t replicate with her own hand. “Say my name.”

Danni whimpered.

Nick smoothed his other hand up her body, grabbing a breast and fondling her nipple until she cried out behind her closed mouth.

“Say it.”

Hips dropping low, molten need bubbled inside of her, threatening her with release.

Hand cupping her sex, two fingers sank to the hilt inside of her, Nick pressed harder. “Say it if you want me to make you come.”

Danni huffed. No matter how she moved, he didn’t let her have what he’d promised her with his touch.

“Please. Nick, please.”

His groan vibrated against her skin as his fingers picked up speed and force, smacking into her clit until he had her completely undone.

Danni moaned loud, nearly collapsing against this man’s chest.

Nick moved her another few steps forward and removed his grip from under her skirt. Still, he held onto her as she regained her strength and sense.

Every gaze in the place pinged to her and away. Surely, this wasn’t the wildest thing they’d seen while in the metropolis. It wasn’t even the craziest she’d done since moving to the city.

Nick let her out of his grasp as she ordered her burger and gave the cashier her name as she winked at him. His smile made her insides turn to goo all over again.

A New Short Story | Her Best Friend’s Dad

Jane twisted and turned in front of her mirror, reveling in the way her dress clung to her curves and highlighted the best parts of her body. The one her mother deplored her for wearing, but she was eighteen today, and she finally got to make some of her own decisions.

Her bestie was out of town, and they had plans for the weekend, but that meant her father was home alone today.

That’s where Jane headed. And she had a three-year-long fantasy to fulfill.

Knocking and letting herself in as she usually did, Jane found Frank in the kitchen, taking his apron off and catching her gaze. His surprise wasn’t unpleasant.

“Lila isn’t home. She’s gone until Friday.”

Jane nodded, leaning against the counter and tugging on the small sweater she’d used to help sneak out of the house. “I know, but it’s my birthday, and I didn’t want to stay at home.”

Frank smiled. “Happy birthday, Jane. I just prepped a marinade for dinner and put a dessert in the freezer if you want to stay.”

“Thank you.” Using dinner as an excuse, she peeled the sweater off, drawing his gaze to the low-cut across her breasts. But he didn’t linger. That’s what Jane liked about him so much. He valued her brain over her body. He never objectified her, but somehow, he made her feel beautiful.

Busying himself, Frank turned away, but when his gaze found her again, Jane shifted purposely to draw it down her body. Mission accomplished. 

“Jane.”

She stepped forward, ignoring and appreciating his fatherly tone. “Can I help?”

Frank pulled vegetables and a cutting board for her, and Jane drew her fingertips along his back before she settled against the side of him, pressing her breasts into his arm as he handed her the knife. 

He cleared his throat and stepped away. “Dice the peppers and onions?”

“Got it, Mr. Green.” Bouncing on her toes, Jane swayed her hips, the loose fabric of her skirt brushing her bare ass and thighs. A slow burn started low in her middle when she peeked at Frank and caught him watching her.

He sliced pieces of eggplant and carrot. Everything went in a bowl to toss with oil and spice before Frank spread it on a tray and slid it in the oven to roast.

Without more prep work, he cleaned his hands and dried them. 

Jane drew his gaze again with the subtle movements of her body—a trick she developed with the boys at school.

Frank’s hands squeezed hard around the dishtowel as he admonished her again, more warning in his voice this time.

“Did I mention that I’m eighteen today?” Those blue eyes flashed at her, keeping her gaze as she closed the distance between them. Tension swelled between them. She pressed her hand along his tie, reveling in the hardness of his body beyond it. “Do you know what I want for my birthday?”

Hooking her finger in his belt made him suck in a hard breath on her name.

“Something I’ve been dreaming about for years.” She confessed with a whisper against his chin. He’d let her get so close, and she’d unbuckled and pulled his belt loose. His only resistance was passive, so she slid her hand down to cup his hard length and knew that he wanted her.

Finally, Jane tipped her face up and leaned, and Frank closed the last inch between them, pressing his mouth down over hers. His big hands came around her waist, and he boosted her onto the nearby counter.

Jane weaved her fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair and soaked in the feel of him as he slipped between her knees. Her soft moan seemed to undo him, hips circling into hers, hands seeking skin.

She wanted him so badly for so long. Saved her virginity for him. And she was ready.

Hands creeping between them, Jane opened his slacks and grabbed ahold of him before he could pull away from her. Before he could let good sense seep in.

Frank broke their kiss as she stroked him. His hands squeezed the tops of her thighs, but his gaze wasn’t taken by her heaving breasts or panting mouth. He searched her for something, to see if she really wanted this.

“Please, Frank.”

He took a slow breath, fighting the pleasure from her hand to ask her. “Are you sure, Jane? You’re my daughter’s best friend.”

“Yes.” If he tested her, he’d see just how wet she was for him. “And I promise not to follow you around like a puppy after.”

He shook his head like that wasn’t what mattered.

“Please.”

A heave of his shoulders lowered his mouth to hers again, something softer and less needy, but it teased every bit of her.

And finally, he grabbed ahold of her, lifting her skirt and peeling her dress up her body.

God, yes.

Exposing her body gave her more confidence, he left her in only the slim, white panties. Let him finally have his look. One he never tried to take before. 

Read the rest of this story:

Jane has had a crush on her best friend’s dad for years. Today, she turns eighteen.

Her best friend is also out of town, so Jane ambushes her bestie’s dad when he’s home alone.

Will she get the taste she always wanted or will he send her away before she can unwrap her gift?

Dive into this short, playful erotica story now & get some deals from GET THAT BOOK!

A New Short Story | Workplace Taboos: Holly

Wear the yellow dress. No underwear. No bra.

Holly’s skin warmed at Walt, her boss’s, demands. She’d have to move around his appointments before he arrived. It was her routine on days like today.

The bright and silky fabric cupped her bare breasts and swished around her hips and ass in a tantalizing way. Or maybe that was her body remembering the last time she’d worn this dress for her boss. Moisture gathered between her thighs when she slid her bag over one arm and her heels onto her feet.

A trolley would saunter by in three minutes, and Holly could easily hop on at her corner and off at the coffee shop one block down from her office. The jostling shifted the fabric of her dress in such a way that it took a few extra seconds to gather her wits after she disembarked. A deep breath pushed her onward, ordering a round of coffee and treats that she could snack on when possible.

The offices were empty when Holly arrived; she left messages to reschedule Walt’s appointments before setting up the coffee in his decanter and cleared the extra paperwork from his desk in time for his wide form to cut the light from the common area. Then, those amber eyes took up the orange light of his desk lamp as he stepped in and closed the door.

“Good morning, Holly.”

“Morning, Walt.”

His nostrils flared as he took her in, as she bent to pour him a cup of coffee to give him the slender peek of her cleavage. Walt’s arousal pressed against the front of his expensive slacks.

Holly bit her lip in anticipation as she offered him the mug.

His rough hand lifted past the porcelain to trace her jaw and pop her lip free of her teeth to tease her before taking the coffee from her grip. Walt sipped it as he stepped around her.

“I need you to push my morning meetings.”

“Already done, sir.”

“Oh, is it sir now? It was Walt a minute ago.”

Holly wanted to sink her hands in his salt and pepper hair and drag him to her with the heat in his gaze. The way it touched her bare legs and heavy breasts and shape of her mouth. “It’s whatever you’d like.”

Walt took a slow draw from his mug before he set it down with the carafe and took agonizingly long steps toward her, chest hovering close to her back. “Damn straight it is.”

She shook, waiting, then his hot hands seared the tops of her thighs as he pressed into her, breath spreading fire over the side of her neck. Trapped behind layers, the hard length of him settled between her cheeks. Everything inside of her screamed to push back into him, but she didn’t have permission.

Walt’s nose traced along her pulse, up behind her ear. “I like the tropical scent of your shampoo.”

He rewarded her with the shift of his grip, hand lowering between her thighs to cup her over the skirt. His fingers’ tiny movements made her whimper.

“I dreamed about you again last night. You were mouthy and insolent, so I bent you over my knee and spanked you until your cheeks were red, and I fucked you over the side of my desk until you lost feeling in your toes. What do you think of that?”

Holly offered him a weak little moan as she turned her face toward his. “I think you should show me.”

Sucking in a long suffering breath, he growled and pressed his nose to her cheek. “I will, if you come before I say.”

Walt set to work on her, rubbing her with more intent. Pleasure zapped her, strong and low in her belly, spreading through her thighs and abdomen, tightening her ribs around her heart and lungs.

Circles and taps and digging into her core without giving her what she really wanted—penetration.

Another whimper had her hips shifting to seek relief, some kind of release, even though she wasn’t supposed to. But Holly didn’t mind a little spanking. Not the way Walt delivered one.

Wetness spread between her thighs, staining the front of her dress. The silky fabric slid along her sex with so many promises. Moaning deep, her hips bucked, asking for what she wanted.

“So eager to have my hands on you. Do you like that?” Walt concentrated on her clit, pressing hard so that Holly shuddered.

“Yes. I like it.” She did. Way too much. So much that Holly jerked, chasing the impending end. It would be her first amongst many today.

Holly wriggled until she could barely stand it anymore.

“You move like you plan to disobey me. Are you trying to come, Holly?”

Her hips moved on their own. “No.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Walt’s teeth pressed into the soft underside of her jaw.

She whimpered again. “I want it.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Please let me come. I want to come.”

Pinching her clit drew a cry from her lips.

“Careful now. People are bustling to their desks. You don’t want Heather to hear, do you?”

Holly bit her lip, groaning and grinding. “Please.”

Walt took his hand away to her protest, but he lifted the hem of her skirt to splay his fingers against her bare pussy, sliding his fingers between her lips to spread her juices. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes. Yes, please.”

A few more strokes had her biting back another cry.

Walt nudged her legs apart a few more inches before pinning her hips to the edge of his desk once more, but it opened her enough for him to shove two fingers just inside her entrance. Not full penetration, but enough to push her so close to that edge.

“Beg me.”

Holly did, chanting please again and again, head falling back against his shoulder as he reached up to clasp her full breast through her dress, plucking at her nipple until she ground against his probing hand.

Tense heat and the razor’s edge crept higher, closer, and soon, it wouldn’t matter that Walt denied her, her body would take what it wanted.

“God, please. I can’t…”

Everything tightened, pulsing against her will to hold on.

“Not yet, you tempting little morsel.” Walt wanted to spank her as much as she wanted it. 

So he forced her to disobey, and Holly came into his hands with a soft wail.

Walt grinned against her throat before he retreated.

Read the rest of Holly’s story here.

Moving to Mating Metropolis means giving into sexual whims with neighbors, co-workers, and strangers. It means forgoing long-held taboos.
​
Holly’s office job isn’t quite like everyone else’s. She gets paid for her favorite kinks.

Used as a final bargaining chip in contract negotiations, Holly relishes in making a man’s fantasies come true, especially her boss’s.

But what will she do when their client asks for more than she’s ever agreed to before?

​Dive into this short, playful erotica story now.

A New Short Story | Humiliate Her

Magenta pulled at the ropes binding her wrists together. Rough fiber pinched at her skin and rubbed it raw.

She sucked back the running in her nose—from crying as Malcolm tied her up and the other men leered at her. But they left her in the bedroom. Locked her in, not that she could go far with the rope around her ankles. Magenta found a corner between the bedside table and the wall, toes wiggling in the squares of sunlight.

After long stretches of silence and abrupt bursts of boisterous cheers. Her nerves twitched her muscles, pulling a shriek from her when her husband kicked the door open. The looks on the line of men behind him scared her.

She’d humiliated him without meaning to, but she had nonetheless. And part of her apology was her own taste of humiliation. Magenta had agreed to this, but did she know what she’d been getting into?

They advanced slowly as she sobbed. The fear clinging to her with the crawling anticipation of pain.

Half a dozen sets of hands grabbed and lifted her from the floor, pulling at her clothes as they tossed her on the bed.

Malcolm gave a slow, methodical speech about what she’d done to him—emasculated him. He tore open her leggings at the crotch, making her hips jerk off the bed. His fingers rubbed against her panties.

Magenta wriggled back, useless. The other men were too close. Leering.

You like it.

He ripped her shift off her, tearing it nearly in two, and grabbed and squeezed her breasts. Squirming under his grasp, she tried to pull her arms around herself but was quickly grabbed by two other men, pinning her hands above her head.

Legs kicking, she wished she’d never agreed to this.

More hands halted her kicks, untied her ankles, and spread her thighs wide for Malcolm. Magenta’s whimper made her husband grin down at her. His fingers probed the tear in her leggings, pressing her panties in deeper and rubbing her core until her hips shifted without her consent. A taste of pleasure rolled through her before he crawled up her body, straddling her waist and chest.

The others released her, and her arms were pinned between his knees. The weight of him had her mouth parted, panting.

His thumb pressed along her lower lip, dipping in to spread salt over her tongue. 

“That’s a good girl. No teeth.”

Malcolm’s other hand yanked at his jeans, spreading his zipper and freeing his hard cock. It bobbed above her, and his thumb pushed deeper into her mouth to the back of her tongue, making her gag, which only made him grin wider.

“Better get used to that. I’m a lot bigger than my thumb.” Withdrawing the digit, he pressed her mouth open, leaned forward, and angled the head of his cock between her lips.

Magenta’s tongue darted out to taste him and retreated.

“Oh don’t be shy now. You’ve been flapping that tongue enough that I know how well you can use it.”

Thrusting into her mouth, Malcolm’s hand twisted in the back of her hair to hold her in place. The head of his cock tapped the back of her throat, gagging her, but her struggle only provoked him to push deeper.

“Learn how to swallow, babe. Breathe between the thrusts.” And they grew harder and more accentuated.

Fighting for air, her fingers dug into his butt in vain attempts of slowing him down.

Panicking reflexes made it hard to adjust, but she found a rhythm and blinked back the tears to look up at him. Malcolm grunted and groaned as her tongue cupped his shaft, swallowing his head to keep from choking.

His moans grew as his men captured her knees again, spreading them wide enough that her panties dig against her core. An errant thumb caressed the tight fabric, making her hips jerk. The men held her tighter, and the thumb pressed harder, splaying Magenta’s folds. Another thumb caught her hooded clit, jolting a soft cry around her husband’s cock.

Malcolm taunted her with his smile. “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll work you up good. Going to make you stretchy and pliable. You’ll be at this a while after all.”

A tug of her panties had finger tips probing her, rubbing her entrance until wet spread from her center.

Magenta’s whimpers and muffled moans urged her husband on before he withdrew his cock, slimy with her spit.

The other hands retreated, and he settled himself between her thighs again. His blunt fingers dug under the straps of her panties and tore them aside to bare her folds.

Magenta gulped at the air, gasping as Malcolm’s mouth closed around her left nipple, his grip squeezing and pulling at her right. The sharp pangs of pleasure and pain had her wiggling and whining, ready to push him away.

Hands descended on her again, holding her down as he fondled her. 

Gloating, he lifted over her as she squirmed, and he took little pause to line himself up before he worked his way inside of her. Malcolm jolted against the ends of her, and everyone grinned at her cry.

There were so many of them. Watching her. Holding her down. Waiting their turn.

Read the rest of Magenta’s story here.

Magenta humiliated her husband in front of his co-workers and friends. She hadn’t done it on purpose.

Agreed to be humiliated in return, Magenta waits, hands and feet tied together, as her husband gathers more men than she’s ever been with to their bedroom for the show.

Will she survive entertaining so many men? More importantly, how long can she hide how much she enjoys being defiled this way?

Dive into this short, dark erotica story now.

Fertility Facility II: The Handler

That ginger’s paper dress fell to expose the perkiest little titties, her face slack with pleasure as her body moved. Fuck, she was brilliant to watch.

Cillian wanted her, cock already hard as he waited, as that beauty ground against the applicator.

As soon as she slumped, he pulled the small bed up to the latch behind the mirror, but he paused to see if she fluttered awake before jumping in.

A full minute passed, and Cillian opened to her murmurs and twitching muscles. Lifting her in his arms sent her sweet, honey scent through him. Once she sat solid on her cushion, he ran his hands over her skin, down her waist and hips and thighs.

Torturing him with his desire for her.

He looked for her name—Betty—and checked her dose and removed her applicator to finish administering it. The tip slid nicely between her glistening lips, all the way to the handle, and Betty moaned, shifting lightly. Her hips moved with his thrusts, dark mouth parted as Cillian emptied the rest of the serum into her.

Her soft, whimpering sigh had him pulling his cock out, and he swiped his head through her wet folds. Fuck, sliding into her tempted his restraint. She was tight and reactive as he buried himself to the hilt.

A low pumping had him grinding his pelvis against hers, and Betty rewarded him with another moan. She was so responsive, and it built the momentum of Cillian’ thrusts.

Hands sliding along the insides of her thighs, over her hips, up her waist, he explored her creamy skin, finding the spattering of pale freckles across her chest tantalizing. Her tiny, pearled nipples called to him, so he bent to suck one into his mouth, angling her hips higher.

Betty gave a soft cry and gripped hard on his cock. The change tingled hot pleasure across the base of his spine, and he let himself come in her. He wanted to claim her first and as many times as possible before he brought her to the other men. Still, he wasn’t sure he’d let her go once inside.

Cillian wanted to feel her shatter under him, around him, because of him. A soft powder scented the crook of her neck and her hair smelled like sweet cream. If only she could hold onto him, sink her hands into his hair, kiss him back. He panted against her mouth, nipping and teasing her lips with his, but he couldn’t get the satisfaction without her present with him. It was the curse of his job.

Even though most of the time, he didn’t care.

With Betty, though…

He bent to whisper her name in her ear, to have her hear how badly she’d unraveled him.

Tiny moans needled him, and Cillian reached between them to stroke her clit, sharpened his angle, and worked to make her come.

Betty’s breath quickened, her body rolling under his as she shattered around his cock.

“Fuck.” Cillian pumped another deposit into her and laid across her slick skin, hands roaming and squeezing soft flesh.

The salty taste of her skin and quiver of her inner thighs had him start for one more before he gave up keeping her to himself. 

Lifted up for better leverage, he watched himself plunge into her sweet sex. The sight of her glistening sex and the echoes of her pleasure quaking around him ended him sooner than he wanted.

Cillian unsheathed himself from her core and yanked up his sweats before he wheeled Betty to stage two of her insemination process.

Announcing Wooing the Alpha, a fourteen-part erotica series

It’s 2021, and I’d like to announce an upcoming serial release for the year. Wooing the Alpha: a series of fourteen sexy shorts.

So, here’s the first cover and blurb and a sexy little excerpt.

Back Blurb:

Thirteen Clans. Thirteen Males. One prize.

Winter Jarl is the most notorious female warrior of her species. Her father is chief, and he’s dying, so he’s cashed in on a promise she made long ago: he’s setting her up with an alpha from each of the thirteen clans before she takes over his position.

Sentenced to a year of isolation, she will spend twenty-eight-days alone with each man. By the end of it, Winter must choose one to stand beside her. 

The challenge? She must be in love to produce an heir. 

Cycle One: Chasing Winter

When Winter’s oath comes due, she isn’t ready to give up her freedom, her body, or her future. Too bad her nature won’t be doing her any favors.

Thunder is young and inexperienced and the first to encounter Winter Jarl’s deadly sexuality. But he’s got a bucket list of positions he wants to take her in, and he’s willing to face her wrath just to check each one off.

***

Meet Winter:

Winter carried the box to her new bed, redressed before she made her way upstairs, probably before she arrived at the manse. Her father’s departure slammed the dread back across her shoulders, and for once, she wasn’t afraid of their slumping forward in defeat.

Her fingers trembled as she cut through the tape with her thumbnail. The puff of sweet powder came with the pulling back of a flap—the scent distinctly her mother’s. Winter closed her eyes to it, dropped back into her youth and the comfort of her mother’s breast.

Inside the box, the contents surprised her. A few jars and bowls, a couple of scripted sets of instructions with them, for her cleansing rituals. Cleaning implements in various shapes and sizes, including one that was not-so-vaguely penial shaped. She would have to cleanse herself everywhere.

Ointments and slaves and salts and candles and sage: all of her mother’s favorite tinctures and herbs to keep our home safe and free of negativity—not an easy task having Winter within the walls.

A letter tucked into the back corner under some of the herbs and incense and candles and crystals. Winter wasn’t ready for the surprise message. Not yet. Instead, she unpacked the rest of the contents and laid them out on the altar by the north window, the one that overlooked the village.

Step one, a bath. Everything was spelled out and numbered for her. A bottle with salts and herbs, a vial of oil, and one of the more phallic loofas. 

The claw-foot tub filled with steamy water as Winter dropped in the additives and thumbed the sponge. It wasn’t as rough as she’d expected, even though the instructions noted as much, especially after she coated it with the minty-hinted oil. If she hadn’t had the message, the directions were obvious. It was why she didn’t fill the tub as high as she would normally. Plenty of other soaks would offer her the luxury, but too much movement with too much water would mean a mess she didn’t want to clean up after.

Winter squeezed the soft but firm curve of the loofa, trying to remember the last time she’d sought any kind of true release—from a male or herself. It had been a while.

Shedding her jeans and loose t-shirt, Winter’s feet slipped into the heat. It erased the trepidation deep in her bones as she slid her hips down. The hot water shot fervor through her center, cupping her in a way that reminded her of the long-suppressed desires.

Her back met the cold porcelain, and she let the salts soak into her tight and tired muscles.

Dropping down, the herbs floated between her breasts as her knees breached the cold air. The contrast spouted goosebumps along her thighs and hardened her nipples. Winter let her hands glide over her wet skin, smooth under her callused fingers. 

The line of water ebbed and dripped along her curves as she moved, grasping the stiff sponge from the tub’s edge. With the sun dipping low on the horizon, shadows creeped into the bathroom without the lights. Next time, she might light some candles, but the darkness amplified the intimacy of this ritual.

A clear handle and tip, it delighted Winter as it curved between the apex of her legs, where her hips bent. A spiral of pleasure arched her back and shoved her hips up so that the shaft slid along her sex. The oil smeared across her folds, promising an easy entrance even as the water soaked the sponge. Heat swelled the tip as it pushed against her entrance; lifting her toes to the edge of the tub, Winter spread her knees and guided the shaft inside herself, gasping at how real it felt.

Water cupped her throat as her hips shifted up to take half of its length. The mint tingled, waking every nerve. A moan gasped through her lips as she pushed the loofa deeper. Herbs reacted with the mint, and each thrust mixed them more fully, saturating the cock and making it weighty. Everything amplified as Winter found a rhythm, slamming it to the hilt and dragging the bulbous handle across her clit.

Her breasts tightened, nipples aching as water caressed and receded across them.

The touch of her own hand brought desires she didn’t typically acknowledge—how much better it would be to have a male’s hands take hold of her, how badly she wanted to dig her nails into a pair of shoulders as she held on, and how she couldn’t replicate the natural thrust of hips.

A spark still shattered through her as she pinched the nub between a finger and thumb. It arched her back, sending another splash of water up her body, soaking the sponge as she drove it into herself.

Winter tried to imagine a male hovering above her, but failed to conjure one with any defining characteristics, not even a copy of one she’d slept with in the past. Her mind twisted to the last one—a dark tome of a man with wide shoulders and a low grumbling voice. A gentle giant, careful and soft with her as he tossed her around. Winter couldn’t remember his name, but the way he’d filled her was easily mimicked by the loofa in her hand.

Toes curling on the tub’s lip, her legs shook and spread, core squeezing water from the spongey cock, still slick from the oil and her juices. The angle sharpened, and her hand slipped up to cup her sex, rubbing it at odds with her other rhythm.

A new moan gargled from her mouth, slipping through the water in bubbles. Trembling tapped her knees against the porcelain, and she held on as long as she could before succumbing to pounding against her cervix. Crashing, she wavered, plunking back into the warm water, leaving the comforting weight inside. Thighs squeezed together, and she came up for breath.

Renewed heat shot through her, grabbing the breath gasping from her lungs.

The mating heat that so many wolves talked about had always lacked for her, even amongst her frustrations that sent her seeking out partners. Her hips shifted, moving the sponge and sending phantoms of her spent orgasm through her. Burning flames ignited low in her guts.

Was this what the need to mate felt like? Something deeper than she’d ever felt before, a need to attach herself to someone, to lose herself, to succumb to pleasure and pain and vulnerability.

Winter shook herself free from the thought, dislodging the loofa and letting it plop and swell in the bottom of the tub.

Christmas Comics

I’ve been enjoying comics lately. Here are a few for Christmas. Enjoy!

(c) Starlust (c) erofus.com (c) HDHentaiComics.com (c) melkormancin.com

Fertility Facility: The Dose

Betty’s fingers curled into the edge of the table, crinkling the paper under her bare ass. A draft whooshed up her hospital gown, tightening her skin with goose bumps. She hated this part. The one where the doctor tells her there was nothing he could do. Fertility treatments could only offer so much.

The door opened, and Doctor Emily Wismer walked through, her white coat lining the designer suit beneath. A Hollywood smile greeted her. “No need to look so nervous. Your exam went well, your tests look good, and you have options. Let’s talk about them.”

Pamphlets and too much information was thrown at her. Most importantly, she had hope. 

The decision wasn’t so easy though. 

Her best option was the fertility farm, where they’d dope her up with medication and hand her over to be impregnated. She wouldn’t know by who because of the drugs, but was that a blessing or a curse?

Betty wouldn’t be alone, and Emily—as she insisted being called—spared her no details on what to expect from the experience. All of the men employed had excellent genetics and were curated as sperm donors. But essentially, she’d be paying to sleep through a gang bang.

Why did that slicken her thighs?

There were three stages. First, she took the doping dose that would make her incredibly fertile. Second, she would be transported to a room with up to twenty other women and be fucked by the men employed until she showed signs of waking up. Then, she’d wake up in a more private room with a handful of others—the prime specimens as Emily put it—until the drugs wore off or she wore out. Most women only had to do this once for it to work.

But Betty had only been with two men her whole life—her high school sweetheart and her husband. And Charlie was the one to suggest this place. Did he know?

Emily patted her knee and left her to talk it over with him on the phone. God, talk about the most awkward conversation of her life. But he knew. And he could get over it to give her a baby. It would be nice if he could be there with her through it.

He wasn’t allowed. Damn.

But when Doctor Emily came back, Betty agreed to the plan and was escorted to another room to take her dose. It was a small, half circle of a room with a bench and a wall of mirrors. A selection of aids accompanied the phallic applicator set in the middle of the bench. Emily showed her how to adjust it and explained that she had keep going until she passed out. Betty would be taken care of from there.

Nerves shook her as Betty nodded. The door closed, and she was alone with this decision.

Was someone watching her on the other side of the mirror?

Did it matter? With the way she’d be handed around today?

The gown gave her a little privacy as she sat on the bench, cheeks pressing against the applicator. A jolt of anticipation gathered more wetness in her core.

Betty shifted her hips and lifted herself to press the head of it through her folds. The slow descent stretched her, burning pleasure deep inside. As her ass hit the bench, her hips ground down against it, a sudden need blitzing her nerves.

With each move of her hips, she swore the applicator pushed further inside, filling her completely, and the shy feelings fled with it.

Nipples pebbled hard, scraping against the rough gown, spiraling pleasure, and thrusting her harder against the dildo that seemed to fuck her back.

“God, yes.”

The dose took over her, sending her in a frenzy. 

Her gown fell free as the shaft plunged deep. Betty lifted her feet to the bench beside her and bobbed on applicator, her hands automatically reaching to fondle her breasts and pluck at her nipples.

She was going to come.

Pleasure rippled free, rebounding in the cry torn from her throat.

But she didn’t pass out, so she dropped her feet and rode the thing harder, thighs shaking as hard as her core. Whatever drugs pumped into her kept the sharp pleasure from turning painful or overwhelming.

Before she knew it, she slammed herself against the bench, riding it to a new orgasm that sent black vibrating around the edges of her vision.

A small panic set in, but Betty didn’t stop. Pleasure built and rebounded, even though she barely moved over the applicator anymore. The small shifts were enough to keep it pumping the drug into her. That was why she couldn’t stop.

She didn’t want to stop.

It felt too good.

It felt way too good.

And that was her only thought as she dropped into darkness. 

Dirty Little Serials: Ian and Dreena 2

Ian followed Dreena’s every moment around the party. She easily listened in on conversations and shared smiles with strangers, but her gaze shifted back to him.

It made his blood boil with need.

A few men asked her to dance, and she spun around the room with a grace she seemed to lack when he was near. It accentuated her small curves and the long stretch of her throat. Her ethereal mermaid form flashed over her as she moved. Ian wanted to see that version of her.

Dreena made great eye candy for every male in the room. The animals in the room steered clear enough with the scent of him still inside her. But the others approached her. Ian knew she didn’t talk well, so her silent stares made a good number of them move on. And whenever one reached for her, she unattached herself smoothly.

Did she do that for his benefit or her own?

When she slipped out to the back porch, Ian made his move, stalking through the room like a master and avoiding clear calls for his attention.

The sky grew dark, the sea foam brought the scent of her with a tang, but she’d disappeared from sight. Stars popped along the far edge of the horizon.

He followed the wooden planks around the corner where Dreena swayed with her back to the house, eyes on the sun’s disappearance.

Those round, dark eyes found him, and a frown deepened the line of her mouth.

Ian smiled, remembering the shape of her mouth as she came under him, and he leaned beside her. “Too much talking for you in there?”

She shook her head and watched the last wisps of light disappear like some kind of ritual.

As soon as her attention returned to him, his hand slid between her legs, sliding her dress up, slipping his fingers into her folds. A sweet gasp parted her lips, and her nails found his flesh.

“You’re going to come back to my room tonight.”

Turning into her, he tapped the well of moisture. Spreading her thighs started a shake in her stance.

“But not if you’re unwilling to give into me now.”

Clenched teeth, she growled, but he felt her give into him, hips dropping into his grip.

“Oh, you like it when I take control.” He leaned in, pressing her back against him. His fingers hooked for a deeper fucking. Dreena rewarded him with a sweet moan that made his hard cock jerk. “Just wait.”

Breath sharp, she peered back at him, head lolling against his shoulder.

“I’m going to devour you.”

Her knees gave, and her whimper clawed at his resolve. He’d wait until he had her to himself to fuck her again. But this, he needed this first. 

Dreena shuddered and clamped around his relentless grip.

“That’s right. Give me what I want.”

Her soft cries echoed the movement of her hips, amping up in intensity and speed until she came into his hand. Gods-fucking-damn was she beautiful like that.

Ian didn’t halt his small thrusts as she wriggled against him, burbling with emotion. “Oh, did you want me to stop?”

He let his breath drop in her ear, and she shuddered again.

“No. Yes. No.” Her nails dug into his forearm as his palm slapped against her clit.

A sharp cry signaled her second orgasm, and he milked that one, too, before propping her against the railing again. “Good girl. Go clean yourself up, make your goodbyes, and meet me at the car. You’re mine tonight.”

Ian left her there, glaring death at him as he retreated. Fiery yet submissive. What a wonderful treat.

A New Short Story | Workplace Taboos: Tabitha

Tabitha crossed her legs again, the bumpy ride on the public transport almost too much for her that morning. Deprived and tortured by dreams of various affairs, changing lover and location with each roll across her mattress.

Left wet, tired, and needy, every chore to get to work seemed to agitate her: the way her body sought out pleasure from simple tasks like brushing her teeth and slipping on a silk blouse. Running to make the bus made her nipples hard and dampened her panties.

Another re-cross and the bump in her seat vibrated against her cheeks, spiraling up the front of her.

By the time Tabitha made it to the office, her high-walled cubicle—only one of six in the large room and backed into the corner behind two others, she couldn’t think of anything except releasing herself from the morning’s torment.

But she’d have to wait.

Her standing date at the coffee pot in a half hour didn’t leave her enough time to get what needed done and recuperate, so she shunted her coat, pulling fabric against her breasts and that burn hardened them again.

A frustrated sigh sent her in a small circle around her cubicle before she sat to check her emails with little success until she met Sarah in the floor’s break room. Her hug squeezed new life into that sensitive yearning that had just started to subside.

“Showing off the goods today.” Sarah’s brows waggled before her gaze blatantly ogled Tabitha’s breasts. “Trying to get yourself a date to the company party this weekend?”

“Hardly,” Tabitha said. “Just one of those mornings.”

“We’ve all had them. I heard that Walt two stories up was walking around with a giant hard-on last Monday, just boing—” She mimed a giant johnson in front of her polka-dotted skirt, grinding her hips and swinging it around like she meant to knock down Tabitha with it. “—for damn near the entire day until his secretary took care of him.”

Before moving to Mating Metropolis, what Sarah suggested, what most of the staff, and fuck it, the city had taken part of, would have been taboo, but everyone here was horny most of the time. Tabitha hadn’t slept with anyone at the job yet. Rubbed one out a time or two before she packed a small box in her desk with some aids, like the dildo that easily latched onto her chair and would be hidden by her skirt once she returned to her cubicle.

She’d also snuck off in semi-public with a few men from her neighborhood and a few others across town on some errands. A few times, she discovered others fulfilling their own needs in half-hidden corners. And once, an orgy in the park at night.

The barrage of memories shifted Tabitha’s stance, sending the slender piece of fabric riding higher in her cracks.

“Could you imagine?” Sarah asked. “Everyone knowing while you’re in there banging your boss? I mean not ours. She prefers men, but like do they hold a lottery or a roulette or does someone volunteer? Do you think that’s in her contract?”

“Did you read your contract? I’m pretty sure they’re the same.” Tabitha tried to derail her co-workers train of thought. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who came to the office horny today.

Sarah cringed at the mention of contracts, suitably distracted by a current client who complained about their terms and conditions like they hadn’t read them when they agreed. After another five-minute rant about suck-face, Sarah sighed, refilled her coffee, and sarcastically trudged back to her office.

Tabitha did the same, adrenaline building low in her chest and anticipation trailing a tingling line down her center.

Her computer monitor hummed on, and she brought up the forms needing filled and filed before she could start on her projects’ daily lists. Tabitha also pulled the plain file box from the back of her desk’s cabinet that held her sex toys, a much smaller version than the collection she had at home. These all silent or quiet and easy to hide when need be.

The vibrators shifted out the way as she reached for the Average John, a rubber dildo with a suction cup harness base that stuck solidly to her grooved plastic office chair. She pulled him from his plastic case, shoved the box under her desk with her toes, and shimmied off her panties. A draft caressed her between her thighs as she fastened Average John, the cold against her wet sex teasing the ache deep inside.

Locking the wheels of her chair, she pulled it close to her desk, straddled the seat, spread her lips with one hand, and slid against the head of her prosthetic cock.

Teeth pinched her bottom lip as she slipped herself down a few inches, up and down two thirds, coating the rubber with her juices, and a final thrust slid the dildo all the way home. A gasp dropped her lip free, grinding her hips down against the rubber balls for an added spike in pleasure. The burn soothed and redoubled.

Tabitha adjusted her skirt to hide her bare hips and the veiny rubber stuffed inside her. Her breast weighed heavy and tight against her blouse, back arching to accommodate small thrusts. Enjoying the mere feel of being filled, stretched, pushed at the very depths of, she slowly worked her legs around front, leaning back to release two buttons and the pressure against her nipples. The opening allowed for easy access, brushing her fingers over them and bringing them to attention.

Stretching her arms overhead, another flash of pleasure shuttered through her, rolling her hips over the cock and balls.

A glance at the open door to her cubicle made every sensitive movement amplify, shoving Tabitha forward to look like she was at least pretending to work. Feet hooked around the chair legs, tits sitting on the desk, she searched for some light music to disguise her light thumping as she found a rhythm that mimicked dancing. A small bounced that crammed the thick head against her cervix.

She had to be careful or the suspension on the chair would creak, pleasing but frustrating.

At this rate, it would take her until lunch to come.

 

Read the rest of Tabitha’s story here.

 

Welcome to Mating Metropolis where citizens have complete freedom to explore sexual taboos without judgement.

Moving to Mating Metropolis means giving into sexual whims with neighbors, co-workers, and strangers. It means forgoing long-held taboos.

Tabitha’s given in to a few of her horny impulses, but she’s never crossed that line at work. A thin line. An invisible one.

But when she wakes up with a desire she can’t suppress on her own, even with the aids she keeps hidden in her cubicle, Tabitha breaks her own rules and gets caught by a co-worker.

How deep will she fall into this workplace taboo? More importantly, how many times can Tabitha succumb to bodily pleasure?

Dive into this short, playful erotica story now.