Forced Quickies

by Rosa Alvarado

  "Fuck, incredible!" Steve said, falling backward, exhausted and sucked dry, surely the best he had ever had.

  "Thank you Heather, you were wonderful too," I had to add.

  "Did we just do something really bad?" Mary asked. "Because it didn't feel bad."

  "I loved it," I said.

  "Loved it would be a mild way of putting it," Steve said.

  "I loved it too," Heather said. "You have a great cock Dave."

  "Nothing like that monster of Steve's," I said.

  "Let's relax and have a few more drinks," Heather said. "Your cock is way above average, Steve is just a freak of nature!"

  We all got back in the pool, chatted and flirted for a while, talking about what had just taken place.. After all, we did just swap blowjobs with each others' husbands. A few more hours passed before Heather and Steve decided it was getting late and had to go home. Mary and I talked it over and had no regrets. Technically we didn't really have sex anyway, as some of our politicians would say. It was only oral sex, but we all agreed that maybe next time we'd take it a step further. We made a pact that we'd only skinny dip with them when they come over.

  Mary promised to show Heather how to devour Steve's big tool sometime soon as well.

  We also decided to honor Nude Day every year from this day forward, probably inviting more friends to celebrate with us next time.

  The End.

  My Dirty Little Pervert

  We're lying in bed, two feminine forms intertwined, but I feel more for her than I have for all my other friends. She's sweating from the warmth. I can smell her; she smells like horny. She's lying beside me, soft, warm, and naked; she is mine already although she doesn't know it yet. I have my hand around her slender waist and our breasts are almost touching with the soft rise and fall of our innocent, fragile bodies. Only, she doesn't make me feel fragile, like men do. She makes me want to fuck her so hard she screams. She makes me want to play with her soft and sensitive body so she quivers beneath my touch. There's a satisfaction I've always been given but now I'll take.

  She says my name and I realize I've been digging my nails into her love handles. I apologize but she says that it's okay. She smiles at me delicately, almost afraid of me. My hand moves down from her waist to her ass which I graze lightly and I feel her heart racing. She says my name again but I don't stop. I reach between her legs and she gasps.

  "what are you doing? Stop!" she cries, her voice is girly and innocent sounding. Her pussy is warm and wet, practically dripping.

  "Well, well, aren't you a naughty girl?" I tease her. Her hands reach down to stop me but I'm stronger than her.

  "Naughty girl, if you want me inside of you, you have to ask." I taunt her again. I want to fuck her so badly. It's my first time touching any pussy but my own. I play with her clit and smile as she resists meekly.

  Now I slide my fingers inside of her and, pressing her insides, lie her on her back with her legs spread for me. I tie her legs down and slap her pussy so she squeals. I put on my double strap on inside myself and get between her legs. I slide in and out of her, my hips rubbing against her soft fleshy thighs. I steal a kiss and her lips are so soft against mine I can't help but bite them. Her hands reach around my face and she continues to kiss me, her lower lips slightly swollen. She's giving in to me but I don't want her to, I want to take her innocence. I remove her weak hands from my face and hold them down to the bed and fuck her harder. I slide in and out as fast as I can. My tits are bouncing with the impact of each thrust. She's looking fearfully into my eyes and I smack her in the face with my tits. Then I let her suck on my hard, sensitive nipple and I rub my breast against her face. The one breast can cover her entire face and I laugh at how small and delicate she is.

  I move her to the end of the bed with her legs in the air so I can fuck her deeper, as deep as I can shove myself inside her but it isn't enough. She's not screaming loudly enough. I untie her and roll her onto her front and she lifts her ass for me. She begs me to fuck her. I slap her tiny tight ass so hard she falls back onto her front. I spread her legs and penetrate her again. I lift her ass up and play with her clit so she moans uncontrollably and breathes heavily. When I can feel she's about to come I spread her ass cheeks and spit on her ass hole. I stick my finger in her tight little hole, covered in my spit, and she screams. Her screams bring the biggest smile to my face.

  I've done it, I've taken all her dignity and transformed her into my toy. I pull my strap on out of her pussy and with the hand that's fucking her ass, I push her back and forth against it. With my other hand I choke her delicate neck. Then I let her breathe and stick my fingers in her mouth so she chokes on them and her spit drips everywhere.

  She begs me to fill her and although I know she means her pussy I stick more fingers in her ass until I' m filling her ass with my fist and leaving her pussy empty as she rubs against my toy cock. She's screaming; I play with the inside of her mouth with one hand and the inside of her ass with the other. I want to see her pitiful teary-eyed face so I pull her hair to get her to sit against the wall and I shove my cock inside her mouth. I fuck her face as she chokes and cries. She plays with my clit and sucks desperately. I look at her cute little body all used and violated. I stare into her foolishly loving and trusting eyes as I fuck her face against the wall. She makes me come so hard I shake and my juices drip down her face.

  I kiss her beautiful, sweaty body all over and praise her so she blushes. Her blushes inspire me again and I slap her face. "You're a bad girl, a very naughty, dirty girl!" I yell at her and turn her around. I spank her but I don't let her fall. I hold her and spank her again and again until her ass is red and there is a raised hand print on it.

  "Why am I punishing you, slut?" I ask her angrily, my hand threatening to spank her again if she doesn't answer.

  "Because I'm a bad girl. Please, I beg forgiveness." She cries.

  "You're a dirty pervert, you know that?" I smile at her and she cries. Now I play with her clit with one hand and finger her little pussy with the other until she comes for me and I spank her a final time.

  "You're my dirty little pervert now." I whisper in her ear.

  "Thank you, master," she whispers, still throbbing with pleasure.

  The End.

  The Shadow People

  Savannah opened her eyes and stretched languidly under her weighted comforter. The sun pierced through the slightly parted curtains and left a thick haze over her sleepy mind. Rolling over to her alarm clock, she was abruptly stopped by the shocking sight of the strange man lying beside her. He rested atop her blankets, trapping her under their encumbrance, with a lazy arm thrown across his eyes. Signs of stubble were appearing on his rigid chin, his russet hair grown out to his shoulders in tight curls. Long legs and thick muscular arms took up the majority of the space on the small twin bed, and Savannah suddenly felt cramped in her tiny place beside him.

  Tentatively, she reached out one pianist finger to poke him in the shoulder. After a moment of stillness, she repeated the action. The big bulk beside her started shaking gently with amused laughter, and unexpectedly rolled over, tucking her tiny body under his much larger one. She squealed in mock fear and giggled loudly underneath his heavy weight, squirming in a false attempt to throw him off. His laughter became louder until it seemed to fill every crack and crevice in the room. Suddenly, his hands were upon her. Strong hands with long fingers, gripping her ribcage and causing her to go breathless with giggles. His hands ventured lower, thumbs pressing to the crease where her legs met with the triangle nestled between her thighs. Savannah squealed and bucked beneath him, forcing them both to fall off the bed, landing unceremoniously on the floor in a tangle of blankets and limbs.

  "Savvy," he gasps between snorts. "You really need to get that looked at. It's unnatural to be so damned ticklish." Savannah cannot respond to his teasing, and she tries to gulp air in to her lungs. After a while their laughter dies down, and they lie together in complete silence. Savannah marvels
at the peace she feels, lying with this man and just being perfectly still. He has always been the closest thing to family for Savannah, as she never knew her parents. Her foster mom was absolutely horrific, the type who adopted seven children so that the state would send her money for her tequila Fridays. Mrs. Ashford was always raving on about demons and night walkers, telling stories with such vivid details that Savannah spent many nights awake with terror. Last night was no different, her mind replaying the things it conjured up during Ashford's drunken stupor. Flashes of dark creatures with twisted limbs creep into her mind, and Savannah shakes her head in an attempt to clear it. It's unfair that even now, when she is safe and content in his arms, she still lives in fear of the monsters under the bed.

  "Thank you for staying with me last night. I know you must be getting tired of me by now." Savannah whispers in to his shoulder, hiding her face in shame. She feels his lips on her head, laying a kiss in her tangle of flaxen hair.

  "I will never tire of you, don't be so derisible. You know I love you sprog." He squeezes her in his arms to hold her closer, as if chasing away her thoughts. Savannah hates it when he calls her sprog, a nickname she acquired for being the youngest of the seven children. Ten years later and he still calls her the kid. It annoys her, but at the same time makes her feel happy, due to the familiarity of it. Perhaps she will miss it once he's gone.

  "Chase, what do you think happiness feels like?"

  For a long time he does not answer. Then he rolls them over on the floor and tucks her into the fold of his body, sheltering her from the crisp morning air. He squeezes again, keeping silent all the while. Finally, as Savannah begins to drift off to sleep once more, he whispers in her ear. "I think it feels like this."

  "Then why are you so eager to leave me?" She says the words before she can stop them, and immediately wishes that she had the power to take them back. It is unfair of her to wish this hell on him, selfish of her to ask him to stay. But that is what she has just done.

  "I'm not leaving you, Savvy. I'll be waiting, and as soon as you're eighteen, I'll come back for you. I promise." He nuzzles the curvature of her neck, breathing her her familiar scent and marvelling at the smoothness of her skin. "I won't ever leave you," he swears. "Don't you trust me?" He can feel her tense in his arms, but he will never understand her aversion to trusting people. And not just people, but him.

  The nightmares have taken over her life now, real blending with the make believe in her waking hours, and trust isn't an emotion she readily feels. Especially not for Chase, not after what her mind's eye has seen. But how could she tell him that? After all, he has only ever showed kindness to her. How could she explain her fear towards him, when it doesn't even make sense to herself?

  "I trust you," she lies, the words singing her tongue on the way out. "I won't leave you either." Savannah says this as an afterthought, not really understanding why it felt so important to say.

  Chase laughs. "Course you won't." But there is something in his voice, something that wasn't there before. However, before Savannah can ask him about it, there is a loud bang right outside the door, followed shortly by Mrs. Ashford's wailing. Suddenly, the door swings open with such force it nearly comes off its hinges.

  "Jasny zachrance!" She bursts in to the room, blood caking her face and hair, fingernails covered in grime. "Run!" She grabs Savannah by her tangled hair and lifts her from the floor, ignoring her thrashing in pain. "Musi bezet, zustante v bezpeci!" Savannah can see Chase rising from the floor, anger and panic evident in his eyes. She herself does not feel angry, or even afraid. She is only confused. Mrs. Ashford rambling in an unknown language is nothing new to the foster children, even physical violence is a common occurrence, especially for Savannah, who often encouraged the old drunks wrath. But where has all this blood come from?

  Mrs. Ashford has taken Savannah to the window now, and throws her against it. "Stupid girl," she spits. "Run!" Savannah blindly turns to the window and pushes it open, she lifts herself on to the sill and begin to wiggle through. She is almost completely out when a loud crash causes her to look back. Mrs. Ashford lies on the ground, her mouth opened impossibly wide in a soundless scream, blood flowing past her lips. She is dead. Savannah has never seen someone die before. She looks up to see Chase struggling with a man dressed all in black. No, not a man, a creature. With skin so dark it looks like the ocean water at night, and silver tattoos like the moonlight reflecting off the surface. "Prestan!" He shouts. His teeth resemble those of a sharks, long and pointed, stained yellow and red. As if her commanded them, a half dozen more creatures run past him in to the room, headed straight for Savannah. Chase screams and tackled the shouting man to the floor, bringing his knee down on the creatures snarling face with impressive force. Someone hits him in the head from behind, and Chase falls to the floor. The creature springs upon him, sinking his teeth in to Chase's shoulder with a sickening sound.

  Savannah tears her eyes away from the horrifying scene in time to see three of the beasts simultaneously reaching out towards her. She shrieks, loud and high in pitch, and throws her body desperately out the window. One of the things manages to grab a fistful of hair, and for a terrifyingly painful moment Savannah is suspended in the air. Arrows of pain shoot through her skull, a scream lodged in her throat. The creatures are shouting to one another, voices like gravel that crawl on the surface of her flesh. She reaches up and grips the hand holding her, digging her finger nails in to the rubbery skin there as hard as she possibly can. She hits the ground hard, rolling her ankle as she does so, but she cannot stop. She knows what happens next, she has seen it before. Only this time, these are not creatures of her imagination. These are not the things she sees in her dreams at night, after one of Ashford's bedtime stories.

  Savannah's stomach rolls at the thought of Mrs. Ashford, lying dead in a pool of her own blood. Blood that was much thicker than she would have imagined. Chase's screams follow her out of the yard, seem to echo off every house in the abandoned neighbourhood. Where is everyone? Why is no one coming to save them?

  Vomit threatens its way up her throat and Savannah struggles to keep it at bay. She knows she must run, but the undeniable need to turn back for him is causing her feet to stick to the ground. She also knows, however, that every second of indecision may cost her her life. In the dream, they come from the mouth of the alley to her left. Closing her eyes against the oncoming tears, Savannah turns away and runs with all her strength, runs for her life. ~~

  "Sire, we have found it." The Shadow Creature walks towards him with an unsuppressed gleam in its white eyes. The movements are awkward, as the creature is bent disproportionately at the waist and has limbs that jut out at impossible angles. He never did like the Shadow People, but their powers were undeniable indeed, and their numbers great. They would prove to be of much use when the time for war finally arrived. And if what this creatures says is true, that time will soon be here.

  "Where is it?" He demands, patience worn out. He is so close to his goal, he can taste victory on the tip of his tongue.

  "Kept in the basement, sire. Chains you see. It tried to flee." The creature snickers, laughing at its own cleverness.

  He leaves for the basement, barely holding on to his sanity, but stops to address the creature once more. "What, exactly, is it Pecks? I have always wondered, but now..." He does not say that he is afraid, that would be untrue. And unwise, to show weakness in the face of a shadow creature. But in all honesty, he is hesitant to go down to the basement without knowing. He has been searching for such a long time for The Torch, now that it has been found, he is indeterminate.

  The creature laughs some more, blood gurgling in its throat. "A surprise, master." He chuckles. "A most wonderful surprise." ~~

  Savannah awakes to an amount of pain she has surely never felt before, and to the feeling of being prodded. She tries opening her eyes, but one of them seems to be swollen shut. She cannot remember how she got here. The last thing she does remember was running for
her life, making her way in to the city, when suddenly all of the shadows on the street became alive. They jumped at her, shapeless monsters, faceless beings, scratching and clawing. And burning. Every surface of her body felt alight in flame. She longs to claw the flesh from her bones, simply to get the fire off of her. But her hands, she realizes with a start, are chained above her head. She is hanging from a ceiling. What an odd thing, she thinks to herself, I have always wondered what this would feel like. Then the panic sinks in, and whatever thoughts she had, rational or no, are wiped clear from her mind. She can see them, the Shadow People from Mrs. Ashford's stories, the creatures that kept her awake at night for years. In the flesh, surrounding her.

  Screams of terror rip from her body as she wriggles uselessly in her confinement. One of the creatures grabs her chin and forces her to look at it. Him, she thinks it is a him. At first, distinguishing a gender for these creatures seemed like a good idea to her, maybe it would humanize them more and make them seem less terrifying in her own mind. Now, though, seeing the look it, he, is giving her, she realises that nothing she does will make her less scared.

  The creature bends forward, moving its head without moving the rest of its body, and licks the side of her face. He runs his purple tongue over her jaw line and up to her closed lips, laughing from his throat all the while. Another beast has hands on her thighs, inching slowly up underneath her nightgown. Nausea bubbles in her stomach, her head begins to spin. All she can feel is terror, and pain.

  A shout from the doorway causes the creatures to scatter. Savannah looks up to see a man standing in the borders of the door, taking up almost all the space. His shape is large, impossibly so. He looks to be seven feet tall, and built with so many muscles they even it out. He takes a tentative step towards her, then another, and finally steps in to the light.

  A gasp escapes her before she can stop it, and she moves her eyes away from him. He is the most handsome man she has ever seen, straight jaw and strong features, with eyes that left an impression even after a mere second. Somehow, his black hair pulled back in to a long pony tail only seems to make him look that much more masculine. And intimidating.