Archive for erotica

Persephone’s Kiss

It started with a kiss. I was only fifteen, and my sister Persephone was two years older than me. She just popped into my room –I’d barely had time to close out of the porn I was looking at- and kissed me full on the lips, disappearing without a word of explanation. I knew a kiss didn’t necessarily mean anything; but I knew this one did.

I knew you weren’t supposed to feel that way about your own sister, and that it was wrong, but I did feel that way about her; and when she left me alone in my room, my dick was so hard it hurt.

That incident bothered me for two solid weeks. I blushed every time I looked at her. Sometimes it seemed like she was avoiding me; sometimes she seemed extra affectionate, touching my arm or ruffling my hair. I craned my neck for a look down her shirt at her small, freshly-sprouted, bra-enclosed breasts. When I jerked off, she was always in my mind’s eye.

Two solid weeks of horny, angst-ridden torture. And then it happened.

When Mom walked in on us, we were in my bedroom. There was a filthy porn video playing on the computer; two older guys fucking and mistreating a skinny, pale red-headed girl whose hands were cuffed together, and who’s mouth was stuffed to overflowing with a big fat cock while her pussy was getting fucked from behind by another oversized dick. It was pretty hot.

The whole thing had been her idea. Honestly. She had started pestering me about porn when I got home from school that day; whether I looked at it, whether I liked it, what kind I liked, whether I had any good stuff on my computer. She was persistent, she insisted, until I finally led her upstairs, blushing and sweating and ragingly self-conscious of the erection in my jeans, to my bedroom, where I hesitantly showed her some of the links on my computer.

She liked the links. She wanted to see more. She rubbed my shoulders, leaning forward and pressing her small boobs into the back of my head. I thought I might just come in my pants. My head was spinning; I literally felt dizzy with lust and excitement and disbelief.

More, she wanted to see more. And then my pants came off, and my shorts too, and I was standing next to my messy, unmade bed, wearing nothing but an AC/DC t-shirt, my boxer shorts gathered up around my ankles. Persephone was sitting on the edge of my bed, no shirt, her beige bra the only thing hiding her fried-egg sized boobs from me, her mouth wrapped around my hard, swollen cock.

It was the first time a girl had ever set lips upon my cock, and I thought I had just slipped into nirvana. Her mouth felt so good, so hot and wet on my dick. The sensations were exquisite, her head bobbing up and down, taking my whole length inside her mouth, her tongue swirling around, tracing the ridgelines of my cock; her hand pumping my shaft. The fact that it was my sister doing this to me barely even registered.

I wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.

“I’m going to come soon!” I warned her.

Her head popped off the end of my wet dick, leaving me quiveringly erect. “Don’t hold back!” she told me, and then she went back to work, sucking me harder than ever, and jerking off the base of my cock with one hand. I closed my eyes and surrendered to it, rocking back and forth on my heels, humping back against her mouth.

And then mom burst into my bedroom, screaming, cursing obscenities at me. She hit me with a broom, swearing at me like I was a mad dog. Persephone went sprawling onto the floor. I tried to run away, but tripped up on my boxers. Mom hit me with the broom again and again until I kicked the boxers all the way off and went running out of the room, naked from the waist down, my cock still hard and wet and sticking out in front of me like the prow of a sailing ship plunging through stormy weather.

Mom chased me through the house, hitting me with the broom whenever she could reach me, cursing me and calling me terrible names. Eventually I locked myself in the basement.

She pounded on the door for a while, but then seemed to give up, and all was quiet. I had to jerk off; there was no way I couldn’t, the pressure in my balls was too much, and my erection refused to go down. I thought about Persephone while I masturbated, picturing her boobs and the way her lips looked wrapped around my dick; I wondered what she looked like naked.

When I came, there was a lot of come, but it wasn’t a very good orgasm, and I didn’t have anything but my t-shirt to wipe up with. I slunk back upstairs, naked, and disgraced. Fortunately I made it up to my room without being intercepted.

I stayed in my room all night. I didn’t even come down for dinner, and nobody asked me to. I figured at best I’d be grounded for ever, I’d lose my computer privileges, there would be a nanny-cam installed in my room, a V-chip that shocked me every time I got an erection. At worst I’d be sent away to military academy, or some Christian reprogramming camp. But nothing was ever said. When I finally did come down, both Persephone and Mom ignored my presence. Mom gave me the silent treatment for about a week, but that was all. Maybe it was just too horrible for her to cope with. I don’t think she ever really trusted me again.

The second time went better. It was about three weeks later, and things had pretty much returned to normal at our house. Persephone acted as if nothing at all had happened between us, and I guess I had written off the whole thing as an aberration, never to be repeated. I was taking my morning shower, getting ready for school, and, as usual for me, I had an erection.

Persephone slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She was already dressed for school. She put one finger to her lips: hush! Mom was downstairs, making us lunch.

I stepped out from under the stream of water, leaving the shower running. Persephone knelt down by the side of the tub. She flirtatiously peeled her one corner of her camisole down, showing me a small, perky boob, and then she quickly and efficiently went to work.

She opened her mouth, laid the head of my cock on her tongue, wrapped her hand around my dick and started pumping, hard and fast. It didn’t take very long. I hadn’t masturbated in like a day, and I was already pretty worked up. Her soft strong hand felt infinitely better than my own, the view and the sensation of my dick on her extended tongue were just too much. It couldn’t have been much more than a minute and I was coming, writhing in ecstasy, humping against her, pumping her mouth full of my sticky, white teenaged semen.

Persephone lapped it all up, kissed me lightly on the end of the dick, straightened up her camisole, and left me standing there, soaking wet and bewildered, my adolescent cock still halfway hard.

It was a few weeks later, at the movies along with Mom, that she let me touch her pussy. I don’t even remember what the movie was, some sort of romantic comedy I suppose; I wasn’t interested in it, but it was family movie night, so I had no choice in the matter. Mom sat in the middle of the row, then there was an empty seat with our jackets and the backpack that we smuggled snacks in with, and then it was Persephone, and then me.

The opening credits had just finished, and my eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dark. Persephone took my hand and placed it between her legs. She was wearing an ankle-length white cotton skirt that was now piled up in her lap. She guided my hand between her supple thighs, where my fingertips found the whisper-soft material of her cotton panties.

My wandering fingers traced up and down the front of her panties, and she squirmed. I felt her adjust, lift her butt up off the seat, and then her panties were down around her knees.

Her pussy was wet. Shockingly wet; hot and slippery. I had never touched a vagina before, and now my dick was so hard I thought I would come in my pants. My finger slid up inside her, and I felt her breathing change as her pussy enveloped me.

I finger-fucked her through the entire movie. Silently, she showed me how to find her clit. I think she came several times; it was hard to tell, but her breathing would change and her body would go rigid. At the end of the movie, she moved my hand away and straightened up her skirt. My hand was coated in her juices and my cock bulged out the front of my pants like a totem pole.

I could still smell her on my fingers that night when I masturbated, and when I came I shot off so hard that come splattered up my chest and onto my neck.

We carried on, very quietly and carefully, for the next two years. It was hard to get much time alone with her; Mom always seemed to be on my case, watching me, ready to jump on any sign of impropriety. The way it worked, Persephone mostly gave me quick blowjobs in stolen moments, and she got better and better at it until she could play me like a clarinet virtuoso.

A few times she let me finger her, and once, on vacation, she allowed me to watch her masturbate with a travel-sized shampoo bottle.

And then Persephone went away to college, where she had boyfriends, and then she moved to New York. She got a fiancé, and then a husband, and I hardly ever saw her anymore.

I never had a girlfriend in high school. I did a little better in college, where I finally lost my virginity, but none of the girls I was with had Persephone’s sexual confidence. I never felt a real spark.

Before I even graduated, I was offered a job with a hot new startup in Manhattan. I had my own office, albeit a tiny, closet-like one with no windows, where I sat and coded twelve to sixteen hours a day, subsisting on Diet Coke and Cheetos. I was getting paid more money than I could spend, and I had a nice apartment in a fancy neighborhood in Brooklyn that I barely ever saw and never got around to furnishing.

For the first time in my life I was mostly too tired and brain-fried to masturbate.

“You have a visitor.” It was Marcy, the project manager, my nominal boss. She was forty-something, blonde, frumpy and overweight, a corporate-speaking professional manager. And I’m really bad at telling, but I thought she’d been hitting on me.

My visitor was, in fact, Persephone. I hadn’t seen her since the wedding. We’d tried to get together when I first moved to New York, but things quickly got too hectic. Marcy showed her into my office. The little room was downright claustrophobic with all three of us inside.

“Marcy, I’d like you to meet my sister, Persephone.” They shook hands. “…if you could leave us alone for a few minutes…”

“Why don’t you take lunch?” Marcy suggested, closing the door behind her. Persephone and I were alone, alone together in the same room for the first time in years.

Persephone planted her butt on my desk. “Wanna get some food?” she asked.

“Um… I usually just order in. They don’t really like us to leave the office during the work day.”

“Mmmm” Persephone grinned, tossing her long black hair in a sultry gesture. She was even more beautiful as an adult than a teen: tall and curvy and sultry. “Even better. Can you guess what I want to eat?”

My cock, already half-hard, was instantly at full attention. I hadn’t gotten off in almost two weeks; all I did was code, eat, and sleep. And it had been over a year since I had been touched by anyone female. I had even started contemplating responding to Marcy’s advances, asking her out on a date or something, if I could ever get a day off.

“God I’ve missed you!” Persephone said, pulling her shirt off and unsnapping her bra. My blood pressure spiked. Holy shit, my office door wasn’t even locked. I started to stammer a protest, but it felt like I was trying to stop an avalanche. Persephone slid off the desk and knelt before me, unzipping my fly. I cupped her boobs in the palms of my hands. They were soft and warm, shaped like miniature pears, small and soft and firm with dark, erect, upturned nipples.

My cock was harder than hard, straining up and out, bobbing in front of Persephone’s face. “Did you miss me too?” She asked, smiling up at me. She stuck out her tongue and traced a line from my balls, along the quivering underside of my cock all the way up to the red and swollen crown. The tip of her tongue tickled my frenum.

It took everything I had to not come at that instant. By holding my breath, curling my toes, and clenching my butt, I was able to choke the orgasm down. One big fat, iridescent pearl of semen oozed out the tip of my cock, and balanced there like a huge drop of nectar. Persephone greedily lapped up my spilt come. She wrapped her hand around the base of my cock. The gold band on her ring finger gleamed coldly.

I knew it was wrong. I was a grown-up now. I knew that brothers and sisters shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing, that it was morally wrong, perverted, and downright illegal. I shouldn’t be letting her do this to me. But at the same time I knew I wouldn’t stop her. I wanted this. I wanted it more than anything.

She gripped my penis tight and swirled her tongue around the head, traversing every ridge and texture. I moaned out loud, rocking forward on the balls of my feet.

Persephone lifted her mouth off me for one second. “Don’t hold back.” she said, “I want to taste you.” and then she lowered her mouth back onto my cock. Her tongue swirled acrobatically around my glans, while the hand encircling the shaft glided steadily up and down.

There was no holding back, it wasn’t even a question. I was beyond any semblance of control now. I was coming, coming, a long, drawn-out orgasm that seemed to go on forever. It was like a tsunami breaking on the beach and rushing inland, overwhelming. I pumped what seemed like gallon after gallon of come into her mouth. She milked every last drop from my cock, then finally released my soft, sensitive penis with a *pop*.

“Thank you,” she said, standing up and buttoning her blouse. “You have no idea how bad I needed that.” She looked at me slyly. “Or maybe you did.”

All I could do was stutter.

“I need to get going now. Troy” (Troy was her husband. I’d flown out for their wedding three years before.) “will start to wonder where I’ve gotten to. I told him I was shopping with a girlfriend. Can I come back for lunch tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow no good,” I managed, “Lunch meeting. Thursday?”

“Then it’s a date, Baby Bro.” She kissed me on the lips and made her exit. I was left standing by my desk, my head spinning and my flaccid wet dick hanging out my trousers.

I masturbated that night, and the next, thinking about Persephone, but I didn’t let myself come. Too much work, not enough sleep and powerful feelings of lust for my beautiful, crazy, married sister chipped away at my sanity and my judgment like a sculptor hacking away at a block of ice.

“Your sister’s here again.” Marcy showed Persephone into my elevator-sized office. The little room felt intensely claustrophobic with the three of us inside. Persephone wore a short black skirt that showed off her long, skinny legs. She was holding a sweating fountain drink in one hand. Marcy’s boobs were threatening to burst out of her white blouse. She had enormous breasts, and I think she left a button or two undone just for my benefit. “Say, would you two like to go out for lunch with me? I’ll treat!”

“Uh, no thanks Marse. We’ve got a lot to discuss, a lot of catching up to do. Ah, family business.”

“Ok, whatever.” Marcy left us alone, and Persephone grinned and swirled the ice in her cup.

“I am going to eat you for lunch, Little Brother.” She pried the lid off her soda and filled her mouth with ice. I sat heavily down in my expensive swivel chair, squirming my pants down. My cock was hard and eager.

Persephone crawled toward me, her mouth full of little ice cubes. She swallowed my penis with one big gulp. The sensation of cold was shocking, but after a second I realized that it actually felt really good.

She played me like an instrument until all the ice was melted away, running her fingers up and down my cock, playing gently with my balls, all the while bobbing her mouth up and down on my dick, tongue swirling, making noises like a demented ice machine. She could sense my excitement, and every time I started to get close, she backed off. She sucked me for a full half-hour, until my swollen cock felt like it was going to burst and I was literally begging her to let me get off.

“Come for me then, come for me now Baby Brother. Give it to me!” Persephone opened her mouth, balancing the head of my cock on her tongue, and pumped my shaft hard and fast. I exploded, squirting my come straight into her mouth. Gobs and gobs of it.

She swallowed it all, looking exactly like a large and very self-satisfied cat.

“Perse?” I asked.

“What’s up Bro?”

“Could I go down on you? Could I lick your pussy?”

She gave me a sharp look. “Is that something you really want to do?”

“Oh God, yes!” I blurted out, “I’ve wanted that for ages and ages.”

Persephone smiled. “Me too. Ok, you can do that. But not today.”

“That’s ok, I’ve used up my lunch break today anyway… Monday?”

“Monday then.” She kissed me full on the lips. I could taste my own come on her tongue. I was already hard again.

Over the weekend, she kept sending filthy texts to my phone: how delicious my cock was, how wet her pussy was, how badly she wanted me. I had to work all day Saturday and Sunday, and my dick stayed obstinately hard under my desk, making it extremely difficult to code effectively.

On Monday, just before noon, Marcy poked her head into my office. “Your lunch date’s here,” she leered.

Persephone was wearing an ankle-length white cotton paisley dress. She gave me a smile that was either shy or predatory. “I hope you’re hungry, Bro.”

She lifted up her dress. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She had a small, neatly trimmed triangle of pubic hair. She sat down on my swivel chair, spreading her legs. Her petite little pussy pouted open hungrily.

“Do you have any idea,” she asked, “How long I’ve wanted you to do this?”

I had some idea. I’d wanted to do this since I was fifteen.

She was very wet. Her pussy was hot and slick, and tasted nice; clean and sweet and tangy, like some exotic honey. Her clit was tiny and pink, hard as a pebble.

She started moaning as soon as my tongue parted her lips. I lapped at her, slowly at first, then faster and harder, devouring her. The more I ate her, the wetter she got and the more noise she made. My cock felt like a tree trunk inside my pants.

“Fuck, fuck! Stop, I’m going to come!” I looked up from between her thighs. My face was coated in her juice. “Jerk off onto me!” She was fingering her clit. “I want to feel your come on my cunt!”

I hurriedly pulled out my cock, pointed it at her juicy, spread-open cunt, and masturbated for all I was worth. It didn’t take much, I was already incredibly turned on. Her body shook and her fingers were a blur as I shouted out loud and squirted jet after jet of hot sticky semen all over her pussy.

We stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard. Then Persephone stood up, letting her dress fall back down, covering her nudity. She kissed me once, long and hard.

“Thank you Bro,” she said, “That was fantastic. I’ll see you Wednesday for lunch, ok?”

I didn’t see her on Wednesday. I didn’t see her again for a long time.

Shortly after I got to the office on Wednesday morning, my morning routine was interrupted by a pair of NYPD detectives and a gaggle of uniformed police. They handcuffed me and read me my rights and led me out of the building while everybody stared. I was taken down to the street, past a flying squadron of photographers and shouting reporters and curious bystanders and into the back of a patrol car.

I spent the two most miserable weeks of my life sitting around in jail. The food left much to be desired, though the carrot cake was certainly delicious, and when my fellow inmates found out what I was in for, I got a lot of semi-sardonic, semi-admiring high-fives. I became a minor celebrity at Riker’s Island. A few of the guards even grinned and winked at me.

They charged me with third-degree incest. My portrait was plastered all over the inside of the New York Post. My lawyer looked at me like I was a rancid chunk of meat. She copped me a bargain: a four year suspended sentence and ten months of probation. I had to wear an electronic ankle bracelet. I received an official letter from my Mother’s attorney, notifying me that I had been disowned, and asking me not to make contact with any family members. Persephone wasn’t charged with anything. What she said to her husband, I don’t know.

Nobody spoke to me when I returned to work. I went into my office and shut the door behind me. It was then that I knew for sure I was fired: I was locked out of everything. I couldn’t even check my email or get onto the internet. I amused myself for a while playing Minesweeper.

Marcy poked her head in and asked me to step into her office. I sat down in front of her desk, where she eyed me coolly, like some grand inquisitor. Her office was bigger than mine, with real walls, and a stout wooden door.

“Are you really that attracted to her?” After a long, uncomfortable silence, Marcy had stood up and locked the door, and now she was standing directly behind me. She rested her hands on my shoulders. “I mean she is your sister, that’s kind of weird. But she’s not really even all that hot. Don’t get me wrong, I’d do her to, but she’s just skin and bones. She barely even has tits. Not worth losing your job over. I like a woman with some meat on her bones, don’t you?”

Marcy was rubbing my shoulders. It felt nice. Marcy’s breasts kept brushing against the back of my head.

“Could the whole office hear us?”

“Oh yes,” Marcy said. She had stopped rubbing my shoulders. “We all thought it was pretty amusing…”

“Somebody wasn’t amused. Somebody called the cops and got me arrested.”

“Turn around,” she whispered huskily.

I swiveled around to face her. She was already unbuttoning her white blouse. Underneath, still constrained by her bra, her breasts were enormous.

When she set them free, they hung down like giant, over-filled water balloons. She had a big, round belly that was somehow not at all unattractive. When she got down on her knees, I could see her red panties down the gap in the back of her black slacks.

Marcy fished out my penis, my treacherously hard penis, and fondled it greedily. “Mmm, this looks delicious. I can see why she liked having you for lunch so much!” She slathered her tongue up and down my shaft, making my dick stand up even taller. She licked and nuzzled my balls, her tongue probing down between my butt cheeks, making me squirm.

She smiled up at me, a wide, slightly crooked smile. “Fuck my face,” she said, “Go ahead. Don’t be gentle. But don’t come yet either. I’ve got plans for you.”

And then she swallowed me whole, taking me all the way down her throat, until her nose was pressed into my pubic hair.

It felt amazing. I stood up, keeping my cock buried in her mouth, and took her by the hair, wrapping my fingers around her blonde locks. I started rocking my hips back and forth, fucking her mouth like a pussy, gently at first, then as she stayed with me and didn’t object, harder and harder until I was slamming her face down onto my crotch.

Marcy made little grunting and slobbering noises as I fucked her mouth, and her huge tits swung violently. I wanted to shoot my come straight down her throat. I could feel my balls tightening as I neared my peak.

Her mouth popped off my dick, leaving me dripping wet and achingly hard.

“Not bad, huh? I bet your sister doesn’t suck dick that good.”

She peeled off her black cotton slacks like a snake shedding its skin. A burgundy g-string looked either sexy or faintly bizarre on the broad expanse of her hips, a tiny red triangle of lonely silky satiny fabric amid acres of soft flesh. The red contrasted sharply with her shockingly pale skin. Somehow it was more sexy than ridiculous.

She pulled the g-string aside, showing me her pussy. Closely cropped soft-looking blonde hair. The inner workings of her cunt were hidden, between her copious thighs was a deep furry crease, like a river gorge in a high mountain pass. I could smell her excitement, thick and sultry.

Marcy bent over her desk, skimpy panties down around her knees, her huge tits pressed into the keyboard. She presented her rear end to me, wiggling it invitingly.

I slid my spit-slick cock in between the great soft pillows of her buttocks. The crease between the cheeks of her ass was warm and deep. She pressed back against me, hard.

My cock slid between her ass cheeks, up and down, occasionally peeking out, usually totally hidden by her flesh. It felt fantastic. She was soft and hot. She kept encouraging me: Harder! Faster! Her own fingers were busy between her legs.

It didn’t take long at all. I felt the come boiling up in my balls, and I completely surrendered to the bliss, humping Marcy’s wide, jiggling ass cheeks with abandon until I shouted out loud and squirted my come all across the small of her back.

My soft cock was still wedged between her butt cheeks, and I was left sweaty and panting and light-headed. This was not the Marcy that I had imagined that I knew: frumpy, bureaucratic, and (technically) old enough to be my mother. Her fingers were still working squishily between her thighs.

“Now clean up your mess,” she told me, “Lick it off.”

And I did. Starting with the large puddle at the base of her spine, and continuing down the crack of her ass until I had licked up every drop of my spent semen. I didn’t really mind the taste at all, and the situation, my tongue buried so intimately in her posterior as she whacked off harder and harder, was intensely erotic. By the time she came, with a shudder and a gasp, my dick was halfway hard all over again.

Marcy gripped my semi-hard dick fondly, with an almost sisterly gesture. “I’m a virgin,” she told me, “Bonafide. So you’re not getting any of that. But next time we get together I’ll give you a righteous titty fuck!” She leered at me as she squeezed her bust back inside that industrial-strength brassiere.

That didn’t sound like a bad deal to me, not at all. I thought about what Marcy had said about Persephone, about how she’d do her. That was an interesting image too.

The impersonal, corporate mask slipped back over her face as she clambered back into her white blouse and black trousers. “You know you’re fired, of course,” Marcy said to me, “I did manage to get you a very generous severance package. You have until noon to clean up your office and get out of the building, but if I were you, I’d just go now.” She paused before sending me back to my tiny little office, “I’ll be in touch.”

It didn’t take me long to pack up my stuff. It all fit inside a slim briefcase. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, boring into my back as I walked out of the building for the very last time. I wondered what they were all thinking. Was anyone sympathetic, or was I just a pervert?

Marcy was right. I did get a very generous severance package out of them: a year’s salary, and health insurance. I got a new job pretty much right away, with a Japanese firm that allowed me to work from home. It was a lot less money than I’d been making before, but quite frankly I didn’t give a shit, and I wasn’t expected to work sixteen hours a day, seven days a week. They even encouraged the occasional vacation.

I got a new, smaller apartment, in a less fashionable neighborhood in Brooklyn. I mostly stayed inside, dashing out once or twice a week for groceries. I took a long series of deep breaths, and started to regain my equilibrium. My phone rang a lot, but I never picked it up.

There was a small, litter-strewn park across the street from my new place. Marcy started hanging out on a park bench directly opposite my one window. She always had a pair of field glasses with her, sometimes a camera with a big telephoto lens. Now and then she’d read a book, or play with her iPad. She was there most days, from late afternoon to sundown.

The tap at my door was so soft I thought I had imagined it. Then the knocking came again, slightly bolder, more insistent. I shut out of the project I’d been working on, pulled on a pair of pants, and trepidatiously opened the door.

Persephone was standing out there in the stairwell, looking taller and skinnier than ever in a little white sundress with sunflowers printed all over it.

She kissed me hard as soon as she stepped across the threshold, pressing herself against me, and pulling me close to her. “I’m sorry it’s been such a mess,” she breathed into my ear. Her small breasts were pressed hard against my chest. “I had to say you forced yourself on me… I had to say you made me do it… God, I’ve missed you!”

Persephone was rubbing my cock through the front of my pants. My dick strained out toward her.

“I want you Baby Brother,” she whispered, still massaging my cock, “I want you so badly.”

We fell onto my bed together, her little flowered sun dress naturally riding up.

She was, as I had suspected, not wearing anything under her summer dress. My hand slid up between her thighs, and her pussy was slick and wet. She kissed me desperately as I fingered her. Her pussy responded excitedly, blooming and engulfing my probing finger. She rocked her hips back and forth as I finger-fucked her.

“I want you,” I said, “I want to be inside of you. I want to fuck you.”

My fingers were coated in her wetness. I extracted my pent-up cock from my pants. Her dress was in a pile around her waist.

“I can’t,” she said, “no, not today. I’ll eat you. I’ll suck your dick so good. Next time, next time you can fuck me. ”

My pants came off. My dick stuck rigidly out, like a piece of jagged rebar, hard as tempered steel. A long string of pre-come leaked out the engorged end, like a gossamer thread of spider web. She licked it off greedily.

“Please…” I begged.

“Next time,” Persephone said, “Next time, I promise. Let me eat you right now.” Her mouth was hot and wet on my cock, and I had to force myself not to come right away. Her tongue moved languidly, slathering all over my dick.

I grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted her off my crotch, slapped her across the face with my wet dick once, twice, again and again. I shoved her roughly off the bed, and she squealed in dismay.

She landed face-down. I straddled her, shoving her face hard against the rough wood floor. I lifted up her white summer dress, exposing her firm white buttocks. I slapped her ass hard, leaving livid red fingerprints on her pale cheeks.

I wrapped one hand around her long, slender throat. I could feel her life pulsing beneath my grip.

My other hand parted her ass cheeks, exposing her tiny, tender, vulnerable-looking crinkled pink anus.

“Tell me not to,” I said, “Tell me to stop.” My cock slid up and down between the half-moons of her ass, nuzzling at her wet pussy and her asshole.

“Please,” she whispered, “Please…”

I spit on her asshole, and she groaned gutturally. Her pussy was leaking come down the insides of her thighs, gasping hungrily open.

I took a big handful of her hair in my fist and jammed her face hard against the floor, boring my cock into her ass, forcing it through the tight ring of muscle, grinding relentlessly into her. She strained and gasped, a drawn-out, strangled animal noise, but I didn’t stop. I worked my hips, auguring my dick deeper and deeper into her ass, until the full weight of my body was lying on her back and her buttocks were pressed against my hips. I could feel her trembling beneath me.

I fucked her ass hard and fast, taking my pleasure in it. She was tight, her muscles gripped my pistoning dick, clinging at me, milking me. She made a noise like a cat being tortured as I fucked her. I wasn’t sure if that noise was pain, pleasure, or anger. It only took a few minutes, and then I came, squirting my come up her rectum. My orgasm seemed to go on and on. It felt amazing.

At long last, I collapsed on top of her, breathing hard into the back of her neck. Her asshole pulsated, squeezing my softening dick.

I reached underneath her, worming my hand under our combined weight, until I found her pussy. She was soaking wet. I let my fingers slide up inside her cunt, and then travel up to the excited little button of her clit. I petted her there, slowly, gently, until she came with a silent shudder.

After I had extracted my soft penis from her asshole, she got up and wiped her eyes and straightened out her dress. I felt hot and clumsy and awkward. The left side of Persephone’s face was all red and abraded. Her lower lip was swollen and a little bloody. It looked like she was going to have a black eye.

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Persephone said, “I really didn’t think you were that type.”

“Can I fuck your pussy next time?” I asked.

“Next time you see me,” she said, “You can fuck my pussy.”

She put on her shoes and left.

I had about a dozen emails from my supervisor in Yokohama, and I had missed an online production meeting. I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a Diet Coke, popping it open. I wandered over to the window and took a long, cold pull from the can. I was still naked, and my soft dick hung down, sticky and moist and dribbling. My balls felt heavy and tender and my hands were shaking slightly.

Marcy was sitting at her station across from my apartment building, splayed out on the bench like a paler, less wrinkly Jabba the Hutt. She was wearing a little black miniskirt, and she had her cell phone in one hand, her expensive-looking camera balanced on her lap. She looked up at my window, and our eyes met.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and drank the rest of my pop, waiting for the knock at my door.

END

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Letter to the Editor

Karl the Plumber rang my doorbell at 11:15.

It wasn’t even noon yet, and I was already half-stewed. I should have been drinking absinthe, but I couldn’t afford the stuff, so I was making do with green Kool-Aid and cheap gin.

I knew it was Karl the Plumber because he was overdue for a visit; and because he’s the only one who ever rings my bell other than the UPS guy and the Jehovah’s Witnesses; and when Karl rings the bell, he leans on the buzzer, making one long, aggressive tone.

He looked rough, unshaven, as if he hadn’t slept in a long time, and he reeked of cigarette smoke.

I handed him my thumb drive, and he plugged it into his laptop, scanning quickly through the accumulated files.

“Good stuff,” he grunted, unplugging the USB memory stick and dumping it into the right hand pocket of his black jacket. He pulled out a billfold and carefully counted out five-twenty dollar bills, laying them out neatly on top of my kitchen table, right next to the bottle of gin and the half-empty pitcher of Kool-Aid.

“Is that all?” I asked, “You got anything else for me?”

“What do you think?” he asked, unzipping his trousers and fishing his penis out.

I gulped down the last of my drink.

He was still flaccid. His cock reminded me of a tequila worm, big and fat and soft and wrinkly; uncircumcised, the pink head peered malevolently out from beneath its fleshy hood. His testicles hung down, fat and heavy and hairy. He stood next to me as I sat, and slapped me across the face with his dick until he was hard.

I took him in my mouth. He tasted musty, sweaty, male. I wanted to swallow him whole, but he took me by the hair and pulled me away.

It’s not that he possesses an especially big cock. It’s the attitude that’s intimidating, that always takes my breath away. My pussy was juicy and slick with anticipation.

“Where do you want it?” Karl asked.

“In my cunt,” I whispered, starting to pull my t-shirt off over my head.

“Don’t,” he told me, “Stay dressed.”

Karl the Plumber took a step back and started taking his clothes off, neatly, orderly, draping his jacket over the back of a chair, folding his shirt and pants and stacking them on the seat. He always carries a gun, and it gives me the creeps. It is a small, ugly, black thing that he keeps in a holster, tucked deep into his armpit. That too came off, and was hung off the back of the chair.

At last Karl was naked, and his dick stuck straight out like an exclamation point.

He cleared off the kitchen table by the simple expedient of turning it over, tipping it ninety degrees so that gin and Kool-Aid and twenty dollar bills spilled across my kitchen floor. My glass bounced off the linoleum, but did not break. He returned the table to its more conventional orientation, and picked me up and bent me over the table top so that my breasts were squished flat through my shirt, and my face was pressed hard against the wood-grained formica.

He yanked down my sweat pants and slapped my bare ass hard, so hard that I yelped despite myself. That made him chuckle, and he did it again, just out of spite.

He pried my butt cheeks apart and spit on my exposed asshole, and then I knew what was coming, for sure. I clenched my teeth and tried to relax and get ready for it, but he was already cramming his erection up my ass.

I whimpered out loud, something between a ‘Yes’ and a ‘No’. It didn’t matter really; I was onboard this freight train now, for better or for worse, and the knobby head of his penis was shouldering its way roughly through the tight ring of my anus. It hurt, it hurt a lot, even through the insulating layer of alcohol, and I had to force myself to breathe.

Karl the Plumber fucked my ass hard and deep, showing me no mercy, no shade of tenderness, no consideration at all. I might have been a fleshlight in some anonymous, generic hotel room as far as he was concerned; just some soft, warm object to jerk off into. Karl grasped my face with his big, meaty hand, covering my mouth and nose so I couldn’t get air into my lungs. He gripped me so hard my teeth cut into my own cheeks and I tasted blood in my mouth. He jammed himself deeper and deeper into my poor, maltreated posterior, harder and harder, grunting with each thrust. My pussy was drooling wet; my clitoris was excited and erect, and absolutely bursting with frustration. The weight of his body was pressing me into the table, and each time he lurched forward I got a jolt of electric pleasure in my clit.

I felt him come in my asshole, his big dick twitching back there as he pumped into me, his bony hips pressed hard against my buttocks. He held me like that, frozen in ecstasy, for a long long moment, and then he was done.

He pulled his cock suddenly out of my ass and released my face, letting me fall gasping to the floor. I lay there in a pool of alcohol and green sugar-water, wheezing and coughing violently, my grey sweat pants around my ankles. I even threw up a little bit, and spit blood onto the linoleum.

Karl got dressed quickly and efficiently, and left me like that, prone and twitching, pants around my ankles. He went to the bathroom to take a piss, and I heard him flush. Then he was gone.

Eventually I got up, cleaned up the mess, and poured myself another drink with shaking hands. I lay down on the couch and ate a grilled cheese sandwich and half-watched Mexican soap operas with the sound turned off, people going through the flamboyant motions of life, love, and scandal, as Karl’s semen slowly leaked out my asshole.

I had bruises on my ass, bruises on my face, and my anus was sore and tender. I fell asleep there, in a little puddle of his liquefied come, with the television on.

I didn’t get off then, but I did later.

I masturbated that night to an incredibly intense orgasm, fingers crammed up my pussy and gliding over my clit, replaying the whole scene that morning over and over in my mind in vivid Technicolor, slowing down and zooming in on the juicy details. It was the kind of orgasm that wracked my entire body, seemed to go on and on forever, cresting and then building cresting again, and when it was done my thighs were weak and empty and my fingers were coated in my own sticky come.

I compose and collect and revise, I cut and paste and borrow and steal and revise again, slowly filling up the thumb drive, and I wait and wait, and I wonder when Karl the Plumber will visit me again.

END

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Midterm Maelstrom (a Pick-Your-Own-Poison Adventure)-1

1

It is Tuesday night, and that crucially important midterm paper is due at ten o’clock on Thursday morning, a deadline that Professor Sullivan has been emphasizing for weeks now, and in no uncertain terms. A hard, sharp, non-negotiable deadline. You have sort of started writing the paper; ‘started’ in the fuzziest sense of quantum mechanics.

You haven’t been properly laid all semester, and when your cell phone rings, your clitoris positively twitches with anticipation. Maybe it is Tomas calling. Tomas, your high school boyfriend, who is now a continent away, studying volcanology at the University of Washington. His sex life is equally non-existent. He is in the same horny and frustrated boat that you are. Perhaps he could be coaxed into another hot and steamy phone-sex session. Maybe he could even be convinced to do some webcam action with you. Your pussy salivates slickly into your panties at the thought.

But no, it is just your friend Sacchidananda calling to see if you want to go with her and her boyfriend Paul to a party over at Schrödinger’s Cat House.

Do you go out with them?

*if YES: go to 8

*if NO: go to 21

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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

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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

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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

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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

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