If some charm reader had said to me that, six months out of college, I'd meet my soul mate and fall hopelessly in love, I'd have smiled and thought it the usual generic 'dark-haired stranger' drivel. Interesting, in a hopeful sort of way, but not really that likely. If they'd added that, specifically, said soul mate would be raven-haired (not just 'dark'), and a girl with killer looks, and that amazing, mind-blowing sex was mine for the asking whenever and as often as I wanted, day or night, I would have thought they were seriously deranged. Well, who knew?
Look at her. My God, she's amazing. She's my lover and my life. We rub each other the wrong way all the time. Like salt and vinegar. Yet somehow we go together. So different, but sort of complimentary. Her strength, my sensitivity. Her courage, my caution. Her art, my science. Her dark, my light. We fight as much as we fuck. Which means, by the way, that we fight quite a lot.
"Hey, what's going on in that clever little red head of yours?"
"Want to guess?"
"Playing hard to get are we, bitch?"
"You get three."
"Alright. You were hoping I was bringing you a can too? You want to shag me? You want me to shag you? Any of those?"
"Three out of three actually. Come here gorgeous!"
The End.
Cunt Be Tamed
In the bedroom that stayed dark save for dozens of flickering candles situated on a dresser, Miley stood before the full-length mirror, the familiar flames of excitement coursing through her body. She had been horny all day, but now had a long private moment to satisfy her desires the way she knew how.
She stripped her tanktop over her head with practiced grace, revealing her breasts clad in a bra of such wipsy material she may as well have been naked. Her perfectly pink nipples seemed to glow through the soft fabric.
Miley smiled in the self-satisfaction her tits were so firm, years away from sagging, even with their size that made guys and girls drool with lust. Knowing she could turn on so many people turned her on like nothing else.
She reached to unclasp her bra, loudly sighing at the soft material grazing her tits as it slid away. She moaned at their roundness reflected in the mirror and stepped forward.
"Nice tits," Miley whispered aloud, the thrill of the near-forbidden word making her mouth smirk again and pussy lips tingle with warmth. Her matching wispy panties were going to be so wet by the time she took them off- but first things first. She laid her hands on the wall that supported the mirror and moved closer still until her nipples grazed the cool glass. She gave a soft gasp at the sensation, mouth widening orgasmically. "Unh..." She looked to her chest, her reflection making it appear another girl was with her and sharing her ecstasy. Well, she knew of a friend or two she could try that with sometime (and damn if that idea didn't make her wet), but for now she smoothly rubbed her tits against the mirror.
Miley looked her reflection in the eye with a sultry expression, addressing it like it really was a lesbian lover. "You like this, don't you?" she whispered haughtily. "You like rubbing big tits, you dirty slut? You like watching your nipples stiffen and ache?" As if spurred on by the words, Miley's nipples hardened into pink peaks, and she stepped away from the mirror to admire them. "Mmm," she circled her fingers over the nubs, purring with erotic delight.
Oh, to feel every sensation on her luscious tits...she cupped one in her hands, admiring the firmness and heft. Experimentally, she lifted the breast up while leaning her head down, tongue just able to flick over the peak. An unusual feeling, but very satisfying. Miley looked her reflection in the eye again and kept sucking and flicking her tongue on the pink nub of flesh that never softened.
"Such a whore," she purred, and to give the other nipple some attention as well, rolled it between her fingers to keep it hard. A piercing would look good there one of these days...
"Ooh!" Miley released her breasts as the heated sensation in her quim grew stronger. Quickly she pulled away her skirt to confirm any suspicion about dampness on her panties. The moisture had made the silk even more transparent than usual, exposing a pussy perfectly pink and naked, save for a faint patch of dark auburn hair. As fiery as her sexual desires.
Miley let her panties drop to the floor to give her pussy freedom. The center of all her sensations. She wanted to touch it, stroke it, tease it, fuck it, ache and soak her body with its hot juices. Every orgasm was another naughty piece of heaven.
Speaking of naughty...she grinned at her reflection once more. "See anything you like?" she drawled and stepped to the glass again, taking a deep breath before pressing her mound against it. "Oh, yes!" she cried out, the coolness of the glass still making her pussy hot. And given that once again it looked like she wasn't alone... Miley began humping her reflection in delirious desire. "Yes, you love my pussy grinding on you, don't you? You love how hot and wet it is...mmm, fuck...I'm gonna fuck you til you come screaming!"
Miley grunted with effort as she kept slamming her bare cunt against the mirror, the wetness it left lubricating her movements. She gasped and her voice became breathy. "Oooh, yes, my little pussy's so hot..." Her breathing quickened as she felt her clit tighten and throb. Miley kept up tribbing her mirror image and when orgasm struck, she rolled her head and released a keening wail as she felt her pussy explode. Juices seeped onto the mirror and down her toned thighs.
"Unh!" Miley held tight to the mirror to keep from collapsing under her suddenly-weakened legs. After a long moment of heavy breathing, she stepped back to see the results, cunt cream smeared on the glass and her body.
"Mmm, fuck..." Still aching at her core, it was time for round two. Miley massaged her firm tits with one hand while the other traveled down to her pussy; she moaned as she spread her wet lips to reveal her engorged clit. Even the lightest of strokes sent shocks through her body again. "Yeah..." She closed her eyes and rocked her hips outwards to press the fingers back and forth inside her.
Breathy sighs filled the air as Miley continued the more gentle ministrations on her pussy. The dull throbbing was an erotic contrast to her quickening heartbeat. Her slippery fingers touched every sensitive nerve, and it wasn't long before she could feel her cunt begging for release again. "Make me come," she whispered aloud, and the hand on her tits moved to slip two fingers inside her while she rolled at her clit, giving it soft pinches before she felt another climax. "Unh!..." Miley scissored her fingers and rolled her eyes to watch her body shake and tits jiggle with her orgasm.
Finally with a shuddering sigh, she pulled her fingers away when the climax ended, amazed at how wet they were. She licked her fingertips, savoring the soft, warm, and oddly sweet tang of her own quim. Just like eating pussy. Miley gave a rueful smile that she wasn't limber enough to do that on herself. Another future task to employ a friend for. "Slut," she hissed, resisting the urge to touch herself again until the feelings subsided completely. She wanted this ultimate climax to build.
Miley stepped to the dresser and pulled out what had become her favorite accessory, not that she could exactly endorse it in public: a smooth, red vibrator. About seven inches long and three around, it had no special textures or bells and whistles, just something simple she could pick up with pocket change in disguise at the backroom of a store in a small town, the kind where shopkeepers don't even blink. Simple, but did the trick. And then some.
Once more in front of the mirror, Miley sighed and let the anticipation and desire overwhelm her. Without turning it on, she started by gliding the toy in and out of her generous cleavage. "Yeah, fuck my tits," Miley near-pleaded, shivering at the warming surface of the vibe. She moved her body to watch her firm breasts sway and once again become aroused from the action. The vibe's tip rubbed over her still-hard nipples before being enveloped by her mouth.
Messily, Miley lapped her tongue and made satisfied slurps as she sucked the tip, admiring how her cheeks hollowed and lips made the perfect suction. Mmm, you cock-sucking whore. The thought sent a fresh jolt of arousal to her cunt. Not just cock-sucking...pussy-fucking.
She popped the vibrator from her mouth, knowing her saliva and sex juices would be plenty of lubrication. She arched her hips out again and spread her lower lips. Oh, yeah. Miley turned the toy on to medium speed- slow just wasn't a good enough starter for her- and placed it on her swollen clit. She cried out at the instant sensation and struggled to stay on her feet while watching her reflection.
Her breasts shook and thigh muscles clenched as the toy worked its magic, and Miley could feel more juices seeping from her pussy; she could hardly remember herself being this wet before. Her clit throbbed in satisfaction, but her pussy wanted more and more.
"Unhhh...fuck, yeah..." Now everything was throbbing, and she shut her eyes to concentrate on the sensation. Couldn't hold back, had to do it now...with a deep breath she slid the vibe to push right inside her, all her natural juices making it slip in with ease. Wanton grunts left her as the thickness filled her still ever-so-tight cunt.
"Aaaaah...fuck me, yes, yes!" Miley clenched her muscles over the shaft so she was completely filled, and her free hand rubbed over her deeply pink pussy lips and desperately aching clit. The vibrations inside tingled all the way up-up-up her perfect body for an unmatched erotic thrill...
Well, almost unmatched. Miley shuddered as she began moving the vibrator in and out of her with the motions of a thrusting cock. "Mmm...oh..." Her imagination worked overtime and she murmured her desires aloud. "Mmm, yeah, fuck me right there with that big, hot cock...you love fucking my little wet pussy, don't you? Making it cum over and over while you spurt all that hot jizz inside it? Mmm, I'm cumming soon for you, yes..." Her moans were punctuated by wet sounds as the toy thrust in and out. Fuck, she needed to cum now.
With a flick of her wrist, she turned the vibrator's speed to its maximum setting.
"Aaaah!" With a loud cry, her eyes flew open and she sunk to her knees to watch her reflection as her orgasm ran rampant through her body. Her hips thrust forward with every jolt and she watched her creamy cum seep out to coat the thick red toy. Jaw slack, Miley grunted with the last few efforts she had in her, and her hand dropped away from the vibrator with a final "Unh!" The toy didn't stay lodged in her pussy for long, the slickness of her juices made it slip to the floor with a muted thunk, still buzzing away.
"Ohhh..." Miley sighed and cupped a hand over her mound one final time, not for stimulation but just to feel. There was the familiar throbbing of pure satisfaction, one she'd be feeling throughout the night.
"Fuck yeah, nobody hotter than me," she said in a husky whisper, hooded her eyes, and licked her lips at her reflection with a wanton smile.
The End.
Raven's Choice
The music thudded and pulsed through the private party. Female escorts provided for the evening mingled with executives and local politicians who networked and chatted in the bar area, or who clustered round the raised stage, waving paper money and begging for the dancer's attention.
Raven was so used to this, but delighted in the knowledge that it was her lithe body, curling, twisting and looping round the pole that was having the most impact that night. To the urgent beat of Natalia Oreiro's "No Soporto" she did everything but mount the men closest to the stage. She was a wanton slut teasing the men and promising a night of decadent coupling, and they responded by throwing their manhoods at her in increasingly bigger denominations.
Although by day a professional, working in an office, sober and professional, at night she turned her skin inside out and danced and displayed her way into men's fantasies and lustful dreams. But like her more sober life, this too was just a game she played. Even as she posed provocatively as a slave to these men, she knew it was her body and her sex that had them in her chains, and the knowledge amused and frustrated her.
When she did private lap dances she would tease her clients almost to the point of them creaming themselves, delighting in the bulges they would beg her to touch with soft fingers, or rub with her thong displayed bottom.
But when she was ready to slake her sexual thirst, she would saunter past the macho executives, the alpha males who worked out as hard as they carved deals, with their expensive suits and gold watches. She ignored the self centred self assured men who saw her body as a right, or a reward for their attention. Instead, she would choose a more diffident man, someone who stayed in the back ground, who didn't try because he assumed he wouldn't win.
The look on that chosen man's face would amuse her too; puzzlement, a touch of fear mixed with hope, and eventually a barely concealed lust that tonight they were the one would be playing with the exquisite creature.
And in turn, she would encourage their dark side to join the games.
"Shy boys always have a dark side." she would tell her friends. "They have so many frustrations and wounds they need to express, but they are usually so nice about it too."
So, grateful for her attention, yet persuaded by her urging, they would ensure that as they spanked, cropped, bound and used her, that she would also have her pleasure, her needs fulfilled with pain and pleasure both.
For even as she played the femme fatale, even as she targeted a man and reduced his self will to empty dust in her claws, even as she slaked her sexual hunger on some anonymous cock buried in her body, she would also feel the need for a form of penance, for a masochistic absolution.
For all that she embraced her slut side, yet part of her wanted to be punished, to be chastised, to pay for her sinful pleasures.
She was as good as she could be with her appetites...she was honest, truthful, brutal in her openness about her needs and desires as a nymphomaniac. She never promised what she could not deliver, and so, when her hunger for punishment was at its sharpest, she sought out the pain of redemption.
Whatever her "confessor" for that moment decided, she would accept and suffer for his sake, and for her soul's healing. Any and all pain was embraced, as long as it was sincere in its turn. Her moans, her cries, her tears were then a both a sign of her desire for wholeness, and a gift to the one who healed her as he hurt her.
And tonight? Tonight her lust for absolution was particularly deep.
Later at that party, after her dancing was over, she went looking for her next father confessor. She wore a tight little dress that on any other woman would have screamed whore..but on her served as the bow to an expensive present. She prowled the rooms looking for her saviour, not knowing yet who it was, but trusting her instinct to find him when she saw him.
Graciously evading the pick up lines of the men who bored her with their interest, she watched the edges of the room, the margins where the dark things hide, and saw him.
He was tucked into a corner, but as a watcher, not a hider. Older, slim, bald, wearing glasses and dressed casually but smartly. His body language was relaxed, yet carried a nervous energy, as if he would suddenly decide he had seen enough, get up and walk out. No one sat near him, yet he filled his space with just being.
She felt her interest piqued, and sauntered over, watching him notice and track her with his eyes. She saw his soft smile as she walked towards him, and felt herself being assessed, judged, and yet accepted.
"May I?" she asked boldly, indicating a space that was further into the corner. Her first rule was always to take the initiative, to see how far she could seize control.
"He smiled, stood up and beckoned her into the place she had indicated."
She liked his height, 6 foot, matching her 5 ft 8, lifted that night with 4 inch heels which in turn made her exquisite legs that much more devastating.
He waved a waiter over and ordered drinks for them both, a cocktail for her, a scotch for him,and then turned to her.
"Your dancing was really the most impressive performance I have ever seen."
His English accent was educated, clear, but not with a particular accent. His voice invited you to listen, and to respond, gentle, but with an edge waiting to command where necessary.
"Thank you," Raven smiled her winning smile, "though I don
't remember seeing you paying me for the pleasure."
Just a little bitch to test his mettle, to see if he was worth her supplication.
He smiled as if at a private joke.
"And I'm amazed that you remember one less honey bee clustered around your flower. To be honest, though, I was only watching from afar, I've never been fond of rugby scrums. However, I would be more than happy to show my appreciation in more concrete ways later if you wish."
As a chat up line it wasn't bad, and he wasn't cocky. Maybe this man was the type she was looking for.
"Well, " And Raven leaned forward and almost whispered into his ear, "I am certainly very open to the idea of being appreciated in any way you choose tonight"
He turned his face to her, his lips only inches away from hers and almost laughed.
"And you really think it's that easy? Granted, you are an exceedingly attractive young woman, and by far the sexiest here tonight. But I don't think you are quite ready to leave with me just yet."
Raven sat back, slightly startled. This wasn't right, he was changing the rules. Even as she offered herself, she normally still had a hand on the leash, and yet he had pretty much put her back in her place.
She was starting to like him, he was more of a challenge than she had expected.
"Let me tell you something about yourself. And then, after you have heard me out, you can decide whether you still want to leave with me. The choice will be yours, but what happens afterwards will be determined by me. Do we have a deal?"
Raven arched a perfect eyebrow and smiled back.
"Certainly sir. I will listen, and then decide if I want you to take charge of me tonight"
And even as she said it, her sex tingled a little at the thought of what he might say, or propose. There was something restrained, something dark and intense about him, as if, like her, he wore a public persona as a wolf wears fleece, to walk more freely among the unaware.
At that point, the waiter arrived, and deftly placed coasters and drinks in front of them, and slipped away as silently as he had arrived.
Arousing Family Page 62