Archive for erotica

PYOP-2

2

You are standing behind Lara, out on the back porch. The back yard is overgrown with tall grass and weeds: the physicists and future Nobel laureates who live at Schrödinger’s Cat House have more important things to do than mow the lawn. Things like modifying Axis and Allis for invaders from Mars and time travel rules.

It is sort of chilly out here. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust, for you to see what Lara is pointing at.

Professor Sullivan is out back, leaning against the trunk of a big old maple tree. His shirt and jacket are still on, but his trousers are around his ankles. Mike Gauss, the football jock, is kneeling in front of him, stark naked, pale in the dim starlight.

As you watch, Mike lavishes his tongue up and down Professor Sullivan’s erection, cupping his balls, and finally opening his mouth wide and swallowing his cock. Sullivan’s hands are on Mike’s head, gripping his short brown curls, forcing his head all the way down into the professor’s crotch. All the way over where you are, on the porch, the sighs and slurps and gurgles are fully audible.

“That is so hot!” you whisper in Lara’s ear, and she nods emphatic agreement. She is standing so close to you that you can feel her body heat. Your fingers meet and intertwine. You find yourself suddenly switched fully on, turned up to eleven. You wonder just what exactly Lara has got going on underneath those baggy blue jeans and that oversized t-shirt with the caption “Mmmm… Pi”

Mike’s head is bobbing up and down like an animated GIF. Lara squeezes your hand. Her wide hips press up against your own, and you become intensely aware of the beating of your heart. You can feel your pulse in your clitoris, and you squeeze your thighs, mashing your juicy labia together, further exciting your horny clit.

Suddenly Professor Sullivan pulls his cock out of Mike’s mouth. He has a long and skinny penis; Mike’s equipment looks to be smaller but more aesthetic. Sullivan starts slapping Mike across the face with his wet dick; back and forth, back and forth.

“I wonder what his locker room buddies would say if they could see him now!” you muse out loud. The hot moistness between your legs is quickly becoming intolerable, and the fact that Lara Cunningham is pressed up against you is not helping matters.

“I wouldn’t mind watching him and his locker room buddies going at it” Lara says. Her hand has somehow slipped up inside your skirt and is softly stroking your bum underneath your green-and-red striped panties. It feels nice, and you press yourself harder against her. “I bet they get into all kinds of antics in there they don’t tell us about…”

Out under the big maple, there is some argument going on. Professor Sullivan doesn’t want to; Mike insists. Finally Mike wins out, and Sullivan digs a condom out of his jacket pocket, tears open the package, and rolls the latex sleeve down his long, skinny dick.

You raise your arms over your head, and Lara, on cue, lifts your grey cami up and off, tossing it aside. The night air is cool and makes your already sensitive nipples stand up like high beams. She kisses you, hard and aggressive, like a boy would kiss, only with softer lips.

Now the professor is down on his knees, licking Mike from behind, stroking his thick cock. You watch enviously, but distractedly, because Lara is in the process of removing your skirt and panties. It feels wild to be naked like this, under the stars, as Lara touches and kisses you up and down your body.

Professor Sullivan gets up, looking faintly ridiculous naked from the waist down, still wearing his ugly brown suit jacket, and slides his condom-sheathed cock between Mike’s taut butt cheeks. You get down on your knees at Lara’s direction. You can smell her excitement through her jeans, feel the heat of her pussy near your face.

There is a loud moan as Sullivan penetrates Mike’s ass. Both guys are crooning, groaning, grunting. They’d better keep it quiet, you think, if they don’t want to wake up the whole neighborhood with their fucking.

You are fingering your own pussy now. Your boobs are hanging down, swaying with every motion. You are shockingly wet between your legs, your thighs are sticky with your own juice.

Professor Sullivan is pounding Mike from behind. You idly wonder what that long, skinny dick would feel like in your own ass. Mike seems to be taking it admirably well, back arched like a cat, humping back against the professor.

“I think Mike’s going to get an ‘A’ this semester,” Lara whispers in your ear. Mike may be a jock, but he is no meathead; you are pretty sure he is quite capable of earning an ‘A’ without taking it up the butt from the professor. But you don’t say anything, because Lara has begun tracing her fingers up and down your slippery, excited pussy, and the feeling is exquisite.

When her wandering fingertip finds your anus, you jump. She doesn’t ask permission, but permission is freely given. Her burrowing finger feels strange and erotic back there, invading you from behind.

You are rubbing your own clit right now, riding a wave of pleasure. Lara’s tongue finds your anus, licking, darting inside and all around. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this wet before in your entire life. Her finger (or is it fingers now?) returns to your hyper-excited asshole, plunging inside, aggressively entering and stretching you. The feeling is out of this world.

How many fingers has she got going on in there now? Lara is finger-fucking your asshole hard and deep, and you can just barely stand it; the feeling is weird and uncomfortable and just this side of painful, and it is driving you hard onto a massive orgasm.

You are rubbing your clit in time with her fingers sodomizing your tender asshole, you can hear her panting and grunting with the effort. Your poor pummeled anus feels like a lotus blossom, the center of the universe. Your face is pressed hard into the wide wood slats of the porch. Your orgasm goes off like a hydrogen bomb, wracking your body, curling your toes, making you cry out with the pure intensity of the pleasure. Lara fucks your ass throughout, only stopping when you collapse, a sweaty, flushed, quivering mass of flesh on the back porch floor.

She grins at you like a big, self-satisfied cat. Out back, Mike and Professor Sullivan have gotten off and are cuddling gently under the tree.

“May I do you now?” you ask shakily.

“Some other time Babe,” Lara says, “I’ve got a paper to write.”

She leaves you alone, and you get hurriedly dressed, retrieving your scattered clothes from across the porch before Mike and the Professor come back inside. Your anus is tender and buzzing, your pussy is sopping wet, and there is a big goofy smile on your face that just won’t go away.

END

Leave a Comment

PYOP-3

3

Leaving your little grey cami on for the time being, you pull off your skirt and panties, tossing them aside, and lean up against the tree, legs spread apart, presenting your posterior invitingly for him. Professor Sullivan rolls the condom down his long, skinny dick, and comes up behind you, nuzzling your neck, and teasing the outside of your pussy with the end of his dick.

He rubs his latex-covered cock up and down the length of your slit until you are the one who is moaning with desire. He spreads your cheeks apart, exposing your moist ass to the cool night air.

“Are you ready for it?” he breathes in your ear.

“Yes!” you exclaim, antsy with lust and impatient anticipation.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he slides his cock up your drooling pussy, until he is all the way inside and his wiry pubes are pressed up against your bare ass.

He fucks you and you fuck back against him, finding a rhythm, savoring the excruciating pleasure under the dome of unblinking stars. It starts slowly, then accelerates, faster, wilder, until both of you are out of control, fucking like pagans on Beltane eve.

His finger finds your asshole and slips up inside your tight anus, pushing buttons and driving you past the brink. As his cock fucks your pussy and his finger invades your ass, you come, snarling and writhing, fucking back against him with everything you’ve got, crying out into the night air.

You feel him feel him thrust hard one last time, and then you feel his cock pulsate inside the condom, and with a drawn-out raspy gasp, he comes inside you, pressed tight up against your rear end, squeezing your breasts tight and panting in your ear.

He is out of breath. He fumbles his pants back on, still wheezing.

“Ok, alright. That was fantastic!” he says as he tucks his shirt in, “Did you get to come too?”

The spent condom lies discarded in the tall grass, leaking semen. One of you should probably pick it up and throw it away. Your pussy is deliciously juicy and tender, and you are still pleasantly high on the post-sex endorphins.

“Now don’t think that just because we’ve had sex you automatically get an A… Though I suppose after this I could hardly give you worse than a B+!”

Professor Sullivan, you think, is kind of a jerk. Kind of a douche bag, really. Perhaps you should get back to your dorm and buckle down on that paper. Now that the itch has been scratched.

END

Leave a Comment

PYOP-4

4

I know you’re horny, but don’t be an idiot. He’s old and skeevy, and you have no idea how many horny undergrads he’s fucked. Wrap the rascal.

*Go to 3

Comments (3)

PYOP-5

5.

Professor Sullivan is wearing brown corduroy pants and the kind of brown jacket with patches on the elbows that professors always seem to wear in movies. He has unruly, curly hair, bushy eyebrows, and a mustache. He seems pleasantly surprised that you decided to sit down next to him.

He seems pleased when you tell him (more-or-truthfully) that you enjoy his lectures; he seems even more pleased when you tell him (less-truthfully) that you loved his book The Space Between Spaces: A Survey of Subatomic Particles Elucidated for the Intelligent Layman.

He reaches over and touches your forearm, and the unexpected contact makes you jump. He tells you that he has noticed you in class before, and that you are a very bright, possibly even brilliant, and despite yourself you blush. He takes a sip from his drink, and tells you that you are also very beautiful.

Lara Cunningham looks up from across the room where she is helping the Delmsey twins solve a complicated problem in knot theory involving transferring a piece of twine from one set of fingers to another, and gives you a highly significant look.

Professor Sullivan stretches lazily, and suggests that you step out back with him to smoke a cigarette. When you tell him that you don’t smoke, he asks if you’d like to go out back and gaze up at the stars together. Lara gives you another look, a smile that you cannot read.

Do you:

Join Professor Sullivan in the back yard? *Go to 17

Excuse yourself politely and go home, where there is a paper waiting to be written? *Go to 21

Extract yourself from the conversation and find someone else to chat with? *Go to 8

Leave a Comment

PYOP-6

6

It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.

*Go to 1

Comments (1)

PYOP-7

7

“Have you started your midterm paper yet?”

You hadn’t even realized that Mike knew you were there. He is slouched in the easy chair with his eyes half-closed and a bottle of beer clutched in one hand. He has been idly leafing through a stack of magazines: American Journal of Physics, Sports Illustrated, Journal of Applied Physics, Playboy.

“Started?” you say, “Well I guess technically I’ve started…”

“Yeah, I figured.” He yawns cavernously, tossing a physics journal onto the shag carpet on top of the centerfold. “I haven’t either. Figured I’d just bust it out the night of.” He swallows the dregs of his beer. There is another one close at hand. With a practiced twist, he pops it open one-handed. “I’m pretty certain Sullivan doesn’t read papers anyway, just scans them for keywords and phrases and grades based on word count.” He takes a big swallow of cheap, mass-produced beer. “Sullivan’s sort of a douche. Have you read his book?” Mike rolls his eyes.

On impulse, you sit down on his lap. It is broad, firm, and comfortable. It is a lap that was made for sitting on. One of his ridiculously thick, Popeye arms automatically comes up around your waist, hugging you. It feels nice.

“You know what I wanted to do with my life?” he asks, semi-rhetorically.

“Play football.” You say.

“Yeah, play football professionally.” You can feel his dick underneath you, through your skirt, through his jeans. It feels pretty nice. You wiggle your butt, more-or-less subtly, and you can feel his cock respond. “But if that didn’t pan out, and I always knew the odds were pretty long, I wanted to be a writer. I want to write fiction, maybe write a novel about sports. My old man was like, ‘No way Mister, you’re getting a degree in the hard sciences.’ So here I am, doing physics. I don’t even really like physics.”

Meanwhile, Mike’s big, meaty hand has found its way up between your knees, up underneath your skirt. Underneath you, his cock seems to be made of tungsten-carbide steel. You wiggle your butt again, deliberately stimulating him, and you feel his breathing change. His hand is stroking, softly stroking the front of your panties under your skirt. It feels very nice.

“Hey,” he says throatily, “Do you suppose I could go down on you?”

“What…? Here? Now?”

“Sure.” Mike is still petting you through your (now seriously moist) panties, and it feels delicious. “Who’s going to care? Them?” The Delmsey twins are sitting in a far corner of the room, facing each other, completely absorbed in a complicated game of Cat’s Cradle which you are pretty sure is an expression of knot theory.

“Them?” His hand moves up and down, stroking you through the thin fabric. Your pussy is drooling, your clit is screaming. On the couch, Lara Cunningham and Professor Sullivan are all over each other, sloppily making out.

“Anyone? I’d love to taste you.” His cock is about ready to burst the fly of his jeans under your butt. There is a roar from downstairs: the Martians, to no-one’s surprise, have been dominating World War II, but now the Vikings, allied with the Comanche, are making a surprise comeback.

Do You:

Let him eat you out, right there in the common room? *Go to 20

Suggest that you retire to someplace more private? *Go to 13

Leave a Comment

PYOP-8

8

Much like the house’s feline namesake, the party is both dead and alive. At a large, plywood table down in the basement, the math department is taking on the physics department in a rowdy, highly-modified, caffeine and cannabis augmented, time-travel version of Axis and Allies.

The rest of the house is dark and relatively quiet. A few people are hanging around on couches and comfortable chairs, nursing drinks and chatting amiably.  Sacchidananda and Paul conveniently disappear, leaving you socially stranded. You look around for someone to talk to.

There is Professor Sullivan, forty- or fifty- something, looking comfortably rumpled and drinking whiskey out of a large glass. It is for his lecture class that you are writing that all-important midterm paper. Or, more accurately at the moment, not writing it.

There is Mike Gauss, a nineteen-year old ex-football player who is both very smart and a total meathead, and who is only here because his dad insisted he stay in school after he got cut from the varsity football team, and physics is the subject that comes easiest to him.

There are the Delmsey twins; quiet, weird, and almost spectral, engaged in some intense private conversation.

There is Lara Cunningham, a freckly redhead with small angular boobs and a wide butt who, it is rumored, gets her good grades by boinking professors both male and female. You know Lara, and she is no dumb bunny; but she is also kind of lazy and projects an image that is kind of slutty. So maybe it’s true.

Do you:

Screw this and go home? *Go to 21

Hang out with Professor Sullivan? *Go to 5

Go talk to Mike? *Go to 7

Sit down with the weird Delmsey twins? *Go to 9

Make conversation with Lara Cunningham? *Go to 11

Go looking for Sacchidananda and Paul? *Go to 15

Leave a Comment

« Newer Posts · Older Posts »
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 129 other followers