The kiss started harsh, his need to brand and claim uppermost in his mind. She melted against him, meeting every forceful thrust of his tongue with a parry of her own. He groaned into the kiss and fisted his hands in her hair. The kiss grew gentle, a meeting of souls he lost himself into, and when the need for air finally forced him to release her, he couldn't help but blurt out his feelings.
"I think I love you."
Amelie pulled away and frowned and that bubble of happiness he'd been engulfed in popped. Of course she wouldn't feel the same. No one could love a freak like him. What was he thinking? Her tentative touch on his cock made him jump, and he glanced down in disbelief. There, hanging between his legs was his cock—his flaccid cock.
He looked at a still-frowning Amelie in disbelief and then back down on his cock, expecting it to bounce back at any moment. Nothing, not even a twitch.
"I think I broke you," Amelie whispered, and Dean laughed.
He couldn't help it. She looked so damn worried and adorable standing there. Her little teeth worried her bottom lip, and the familiar tingles started. Not the overwhelming immediate bounce that had been the curse of his existence up till now, but a slow pooling of need, that had him harden and rise in a perfectly normal pattern.
He guided her hand to his stiffening cock and kissed her again, whilst he slipped her robe off her shoulders.
"On the contrary, my sweet Amelie. I think you've fixed me, but just to be sure I think we'll have to practice lots."
And so they did.
The man with the bouncing cock did not bounce ever again, but made love to the woman of his dreams for ever more.
The End
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A TRUE SCOTSMAN
Raven McAllan
Copyright © 2013
Charlie McCuell pulled up the hood of his duffel coat and adjusted his dark glasses. Stood at the bottom of Castle Rock, with the wind blowing up his kilt he felt he lived up to his nickname in more ways than one. In fact at that moment Mr. McCool didn't hack it at all. He was Mr. McFreezing. His cock was Mr. McShriveled and his balls frozen.
A certain footballer might be called golden balls, but at that moment Charlie bet that even he'd be frozen balls, were it him standing here.
In fact I feel I live up to my name, a right Charlie. Sunglasses at midnight, in February for fuck's sake. I'd be better off with a hot water bottle strapped over my dick.
However Charlie was nothing if not professional. He cupped his balls—over his kilt, there was no way he wanted to be had up for indecent exposure—and wondered how on earth the early Scots managed to procreate. He knew they said you needed to keep your sperm cool, but this wasn't cool, it was Baltic.
"Okay Charlie, we're ready when you are." The familiar voice crackled in his ear. "Take your time. It's a once only chance you know."
"Yeah, yeah, of course I do. Don't worry your pretty little ass. Just get ready for me."
The snort of laughter from the unseen speaker became an instant cock raiser. It wasn't just mirth, it was dark, dirty, sex and seduction all rolled into one.
"Oh honey I always am."
Those few words were enough to get him moving. He shrugged out of the duffle coat and handed it to the parka and insulated hat-clad guy standing next to him, who smirked and wrapped it on top of everything else he wore.
"Ta Chas, I need it."
Charlie rolled his eyes and pulled his fleece and shirt off together. The wind gave him goose bumps all over. With a sigh of resignation, he fastened his hair off his shoulders. Now he didn't even have that as a wind stopper.
"There better be something warm waiting for me," he muttered as he watched Alfie add the fleece to his layers. The bloody man even had a ski suit on as well. Nothing like overkill. "I hope you need to pee and can't get it out in time."
Alfie punched him on the shoulder. Well at least it dispersed the goose bumps for a second.
"Nae chance man. I'm a weegie, we're always prepared."
"Huh it shows. You can take the ned out of Glasgow but you can't take…"
"Yeah, yeah heard it all," Alfie smirked. The bellow through the microphone made both of them jump. He stretched out one hand and caught the sunglasses Charlie threw at him. "Oh my. Armani, get you."
"No you don't get him, I do. And whilst you're buggering around—well you better not actually be—get your asses in gear now. Charlie, get on with it. Alfie get up here like yesterday." They both jumped.
"That's my bloody ear drum gone. Sheesh a voice like a fog horn, there's no need for these headphones." Alfie grumbled, as Charlie punched his shoulder. "Ouch."
As by then Alfie had so many layers over him, Charlie disputed the fact he'd feel anything.
"I heard that." The voice in his ear spoke again, but this time he could discern no softness, it was all business. "Okay, muted lights on. And ready, three, two, one." As a soft, almost unnoticed light bathed him in its gentle sheen, Charlie stretched and grabbed the rope that hung down the crag. "Rolling and go." The voice sounded tinny now, and it reminded Charlie of the terrible sound system at a very famous sporting venue not a million miles from where he stood. "Don't fall. I have plans for the next session."
So did Charlie.
"Good plans, hot plans, my plans." Now it teased him.
The tones were sex-filled. Charlie's cock throbbed and tented his kilt. He pondered whether those plans meshed with his as he gained his position and let the rope fall. It wasn't needed now, he was on his own. If, as he hoped, he needed a rope later, it wouldn't be like that one.
"Ouch ye bugger, that hit me."
"Good, though I'm amazed y'felt it."
"Children behave. You'll be having a ‘my cock is bigger than your cock’ next."
Charlie grinned. He'd seen Alfie's cock and there was no contest. Alfie didn't stand a chance. Charlie knew he won, hands—or cock—down, and up.
He started to climb. Even if the tiny light hadn't been there to help him—well, Charlie acknowledged he wasn't its primary reason for being—in truth the rock held no terrors. What waited at the top could strike the fear of goodness knows what into him, but the climb? No way. He could have climbed it in his sleep. Well he had done, many times from the comfort of his own bed, when no lover rested beside him. Which, contrary to what most people thought, was the norm rather than the exception. He hoped his run of a hot bottle not a hot body under the covers was about to end … maybe…
"Move it McCuell, shake that perfect ass and show your legs. Keep your confusion covered."
"Not much chance of that," he spoke into the tiny microphone as he searched for the hand-holes he knew were there. "I'm a true Scotsman, climbing this rock face in a kilt. Never fear though. I'm bare arsed but it's so bloody cold that you'd be hard pressed to see anything." He swung his legs over a rough outcrop and winced as a shard of granite scored a thin line up his leg. "And if anyone is stupid enough to be out and about, with or without a telescope, it'll be front page of The Scotsman in the morning. A new version of spot the ball."
"Oh, I'm sure we can hunt everything out." The voice went silent, and Charlie moved upwards a few yards. "I have very clever hands … and they're warm."
His weren't. A particularly vicious gust of wind blew his kilt up and over his head and he swore as he became unsighted for a second. A wolf whistle from Alfie below made him grin. He couldn't be that shriveled, then. His foot slipped and he shouted a warning as some stones were dislodged.
"What happened?" The voice in his ear sounded anxious, and in spite of his precarious position it sent a tingle of awareness through him, like tiny pinpricks of pleasure, and a hint of what he hoped might await him at the end of his climb. There was a hint of love and concern in the careful tone. "What's up?"
"Nothing yet, but I'm ever hopeful. I dislodged a stone. If it hit Alfie it may've knocked some sense int
o him."
This time the laughter from the other person was tinged with relief. "If it hit Alfie it serves him right, he's supposed to be up here now. You? Just get your ass and the rest of you up here in one piece."
Charlie intended to. He wasn't attempting this climb, in darkness in winter and in a kilt for nothing.
The moon, which up until then had been shy and elusive, appeared from behind a cloud and the crag became bathed in its soft light. The wind died down and Charlie couldn't help but admire the view of the city, now well beneath him. The chimneys and tower blocks morphed into castle and spires that jostled with the churches that fit in between them like complacent grandmas waiting to be noticed.
He hoped as hell it was a good omen.
The closer he climbed to the top the more his skin crawled. Not with fear of the climb, there was no fear in it. It was fear of the welcome, fear of the greeting. And sure as hell fear of what happened next.
"Ten yards. Spotlight on in three. Three…" Charlie turned the voice off. As the harsh, bright spotlight circled him, he blinked before blocking it out. He was skilled enough to see past it. This was the crucial part. The next minutes would define the way his life would go and who with.
With a final stretch, Charlie reached for the ridge that ended his climb. It overlapped somewhat, and was probably the only real danger. He had to swing up and over. His gloves might be thin, flesh colored, and with a grip, but nothing worked as well as the real thing. As the spotlight swung away from him to show the general area he used his teeth to rip them off and let them fall.
"They look like unwanted condoms as they drift away." The voice in his ear sounded amused, but Charlie picked up the yearning. "I hope you've got some more?"
"Plenty. What do you think a sporran's for? Okay here's the first finale." He shook his head, and the loose braid he'd put into his long hair before he started his climb loosened, and the dark strands tumbled over his shoulders. The sigh in his ear had his cock on full alert.
"Oh my, that has me wet and wanting."
And you've got me the same way. I wonder if pre-cum freezes? Cos it's bloody cold enough. "Get me a dram to warm up and I'll warm you up. And you'll maybe be wet, but you sure as hell won't be wanting."
He could hear the laugher without the need of the mic.
Charlie used his arms to lift himself over the edge of the cliff. His eyes were level with a pair of fur-lined boots just out of the line of the flashlight. He grinned. So he'd not need to go a-hunting then, that had to be good.
He turned and winked in the direction he'd been told to earlier.
"Oh yes, pure sex. That so works."
I sure hope so.
It had better work. He had no intention climbing again tonight. The only thing he intended to scramble over was the owner of the boots. With or without permission.
He stood up, held his arms out wide and turned in one theatrical sweep to look over the city.
"This," he said, in a deep and he hoped seductive voice. "Is my city. Mine. Others welcome, by invitation only. Here's your invitation."
"Perfect." Apart from the voice in his ear, he could hear the faint sound of clapping. He took a mock bow. "They'll lap it up. It's a winner. That's a wrap, folks."
What he wanted—no needed—was to be wrapped up, to lap something up and be the winner. Once he could feel his extremities—all of them.
"Where's a jacket? I'm fucking freezing."
The boots came nearer. The wayward thought independently moving boots made him choke. It was the person that wore the boots that mattered. Nice as they were his kink wasn't sex in boots…
"Here you are." The voice no longer came just through his microphone. He let his eyes travel upwards. From the heavy leather fleece-lined biker boots with a hint of stripy sock showing over the top, to feast on the long, elegant, jean clad legs that seemed to go on forever. They disappeared under what looked like the fleeces of three yaks and a dozen sheep, and Charlie's imagination went into overdrive. If there was that much on top, what was underneath?
"Want to find out?" The owner of the boots, legs, body, and layers, hunkered down next to him and blew warm breath on his ear. Charlie took the jacket and blanket handed to him.
"Now you mention it, I've got a nice warm bed not far from here. The perfect place for a cock up. In the best possible way." He paused. "So…?"
The silence was broken by the faint sounds of the crew clearing wires, lights, cameras and sundry other stuff away. Far below them the sound of a siren sounded, muted and unimportant. No one bothered them; they could have been a hundred miles away.
Soft lips feathered tiny nipping kisses across his chest before smooth hands wrapped the jacket over him. "I thought you'd never ask. Are you sure?"
Stupid question. He'd been sure since the first time he'd clapped eyes on the shapely ass, outlined by tight blue jeans. The rest of the body was equally as hot, and within seconds Charlie was sure in his own mind. This person was the one for him. Persuading the love of his life to agree with him? Well that was another thing altogether. It didn't matter that his famous 'Mr. McCool' persona went out of the window. Or that his dick behaved as if it had a mind of its own and hadn't been out to play for years every time he got within thirty yards of his soon—he hoped—to be lover, partner, and soul mate. Surely he couldn't be the only one who felt there was a connection? Maybe not anymore.
"As long as it's for real. You want me, only me. As long as I'm not a convenient fuck, or a wham bam thank you man." His tone was serious. He could hear the concern in his words, the underlying fear, and the plea for reassurance. Needy or what? That's a good way to convince your lover you're the one.
"I never thought you were." There was horror in his lover-to-be's tone. "Never ever. I've wanted your cock in me forever, but I had to get tonight over. If we'd made love before you did that climb I'd have lost it. The last thing you needed was hysterical ohh and ahh, and ouch, be careful every two minutes. It was bad enough as it was without histrionics. I threw up twice, and bawled the crew out so often they're taking bets on everything from where we'll live to when we'll make it official."
"And when will we? Now?"
"Oh, definitely."
Charlie let himself be drawn into a long, tongue-meshing kiss, and melted. His skin tingled with tiny darts of excitement, and his balls throbbed—not with the cold this time. He lifted his head with reluctance and looked at his watch.
"It's official. Three oh five am. Who won?" he shouted.
"Ach, I did. It was no difficult, though. I knew it'd take you no more than ten minutes once you got up there." Alfie shouted. "Now away and do the dirty."
"Oh, I intend to." Charlie gathered his love into his arms and walked to his car. "Five minutes home. God. Let's hope we can wait that long. I can't wait to get you naked."
His thigh was squeezed and nipped, and for one brief second he panicked, until he realized it was a love touch. "Ditto. Though I've got a head start in stripping you. However, I decided…" There was a pause and he experienced the exquisite sensation of his cock being stroked from tip to base. His lover nestled in toward him and whispered in his ear. "I thought if you were commando, I'd better be as well."
Now that is love.
The End
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ONLY WHEN ALLOWED
Michaela Rhua
Copyright © 2013
The fire built in his balls.
Damn it! He was going to come. It was like a speed train, once it set off it could not be stopped. Her groans as he sucked her nipples only encouraged his orgasm all the more. He tried to sheath himself quickly, but it was too late. All it took was for her to flip over and get on all fours, ready to be fucked doggy style. The sight of her ass wriggling at him with her pussy lips peeking at him from below sent him over the edge. His orgasm hit, hot cum shot out of his cock and straight onto her
ass cheeks, which caused him to shoot out more hot liquid.
"Ewww!" Her disgusted voice sounded like many before her. All who were turned off by his inability to last the distance.
Jenny's pale hand reached to the tissues on the side of her bed. Grabbing a few, she scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom, wiping her ass with the tissues as she went.
Hell! It had happened again. Alex buried his head in his hands for a moment, wallowing in his despair.
Noises from the bathroom brought him to his senses. He pulled some tissues from the box and wiped his cock clean. As he began to dress himself, he heard the shower turn on. Jenny was washing away all evidence of him from her body.
Alex stood staring at the bathroom door wondering if he should wait for Jenny to finish her shower or should he just call out and let her know he was going home.
Instead, he chose the coward's way out, slipping silently out of her apartment. After all, it was not as though he would be seeing her again like this. Just like the others in the past she would not be trying this again. It would be awkward meeting her in the corridors of his office block or in the same coffee shop where they had first started to chat at lunchtimes. Fortunately, they did not work on the same floor so they would not have to face each other all day.
Outside the snow began to fall softly. Flakes drifted slowly to the ground. Alex pushed his hands further into his coat pockets and decided to walk home instead of hailing a taxi. He needed the cold air to calm his body down and cool his frustration.
Her Type of Guy Page 2