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!