Now that's what I'm talking about.

Sexkitten was treated JUST RIGHT over the holidays:

"...I spent a lot of time naked... aked on B's couch with my legs spread, his face fastened at my snatch and my clit between his teeth. I held him tightly between my thighs, one hand pressing on the back back of his head. I couldn't get enough. I bucked and writhed at his face while he gobbled my shaved little pussy. And damn, talk about a persistent tongue."

Oh, it gets much better than that, too.

B., whomever you are, I gotta give you credit. That's a fantastic idea. You kept the power in your hands, and made her want you even more.

Fantastic.

...

I'm going to have to try this sometime.

--

I've switched to Gmail. Holy shit, I can't believe I've stayed with Hotmail this long. Organization, speed... it's got it all.

So, that's my new e-mail account.

the DOT kinky DOT bastard AT gmail DOT com

In case you're wondering... I'm trying to stay free of the spam bots, hence the funky spelling.

--The Bastard

Fiction - X.18 - Crack

You're on your hands and knees.

Ass up in the air.

Begging.

I slide under you. Lick. Lick. Lick.

...

Lick.

...

Lick.

You pant.

Your legs spread a little, then close.

Lick.

Your back arches.

Fingers reach up for your lips.

Pull.

Tongue licks, then probes.

I lick my lips.

Angle my face.

Push tongue in.

Again.

And again.

Hands rub your ass and legs.

Tongue gently strokes your lips.

Thrusts in again.

Face pulls off.

...

You're wet.

...

Really wet.

I kneel behind you.

Hand finds your ass.

...

You beg.

Say it.

Say it.

Hand raises and falls swiftly.

The crack of palm meeting flesh rebounds in the room.

Hand raises and falls again.

You moan.

You beg.

For more.

Another crack.

Your head snaps up.

While mine shoves in.

You clench.

I pulse.

You release.

I withdraw.

You beg.

I thrust.

You moan.

I drill.

Flesh meets flesh.

Tip pierces wet.

Hand cracks.

Again.

Fingers entangle in hair.

Head is pulled back.

Hips plunge faster.

Breathing gets louder.

Handprint begins to form.

Crack.

Fingers dig into hips.

Pace quickens.

Bodies pulse.

Moans intermingle.

Fingers and ass tingle.

Hair is pulled tighter.

Clenching increases.

I thrust forward.

You explode.

I explode.

Your head quivers

My body shakes.

...

I moan.

...

You whimper.

...

You beg for more.

My hand cracks.

--The Bastard

-- This is fiction, of the erotic variety. There's a sidebar, on the right, listing more of my stories. Enjoy.

Weekly round-up...

I've added a couple more blogs to my semi-daily reading list:

Kinky Bitch - Like a name like that isn't going to get automatically posted?

Wicked Wife - Yummy, indeed. She's currenly writing about a series of encounters with a guy from work. She's wicked, and I'm loving it.

Single Girl, Married Sex - She's single, but that's not stopping her. And you can't beat the color scheme, it makes me want to tinker with mine. Hmm...

--The Bastard

Walls

The topic of 'privacy' has come up this week, in a couple different forms. I've been thinking about it lately, and trying to figure out how much of me I should put in the 'blog.

People who correspond via e-mail, or have known me awhile have gotten bits and pieces of me, but there's a large wall around most of my life. I keep the walls up, because I don't want to wake up one day and realize that the "real world" and the "online world" have collided overnight, and I'm in some sort-of identity crisis.

I like the way things are, but by doing this blog, I've changed the game. People who I know not-at-all can take a peek inside my perverted and cloudy mind, and start to discern things; not to mention people who do know me. I don't know how comfortable I am with that.

I haven't shown this to anyone in the "real world" yet. (And how silly is it that I have to write "real world"? Should I just let the two collide and be done with it?) And I'm not planning on it, not yet. I have one friend that I might let take a peek. She's a smart gal, but something is still holding me back...

I guess I'm feeling nervous; it's not because of any one person (really) or any one thing, but these thoughts have been growing. I don't have anything to be ashamed of. Everything here is fiction - although at times based on reality: see the '90% perspiration, 10%inspiration' clause to the right - and I have yet to mention a single person in my life in any non-fiction entries. Or the fiction entries, for that matter.

In the back of my mind, I picture my friends sitting around their computer, surfing the net, and coming across this 'blog. Would they know it's me? Would they be able to figure out easily? Would they care?

The answers are Yes, Maybe, and Probably Not Too Much. Of course, whether or not they could keep their mouths shut is a different issue entirely. Some yes, some no. Realistically, the chances of them finding this are slim. I live too far out of town for them to come over, so they won't be using my computer. That seems to be the easiest way for things to go FUBAR.

And, I don't think they'd care so much, but if I ever end up in that ultra-sensitive profession I mention from time-to-time... well, that would be a serious problem. I'm not in the sex industry, or a dominatrix (or whatever the male version of that word is ) or a professional writer, or any of that...

I'm just a guy. Doing his thing.

This isn't something I'm going to figure out today. But it's on my mind.

--

In other news, Thanksgiving was nice and peaceful. What a very very very welcome change.

Hope you all enjoyed the holiday.

-- The Bastard

Fiction - X.16 - Pressure

She pulled me quickly into the bathroom.

"Hey, what're you.." I exclaimed softly.

"Shh!" She whispered, unbuckling my belt. "My parents are out there!"

I watched my pants fall to the floor quickly, as her fingers snuck into my boxers.

"You're nuts, you know. " I grinned. She smiled up at me, as she undid her jeans, and pushed them and her panties down to the cold bathroom floor. She grabbed my hand, and placed it between her legs. Closing my hand, she kept my first finger straight, and pressed it against her clit.

"Jesus," I chuckled. "I told you the wine was str-"

I was interrupted by her mouth pressing up against me, as she held my finger against her small bump. Her tongue pushed inside my mouth passionately as my finger instinctively rubbed up and down slowly.

Her lips pulsed energetically, as her tongue slide in and around my mouth. She leaned back against the wall, pulling me with her.

"Mmm..." She purred, as my finger slipped lower, feeling her moist lips. She kissed me again, harder, the other hand reaching up to my head. In the back of my mind, I realized I was being devoured.

At that point, I didn't really care.

I reached up, and grabbed her breast. My finger pushed into her shirt, but she pushed my hand away.

"No," She panted "My parents will know!"

I frowned. "Like they're not going to notice our pants all wrink-?" She cut me off again by pushing my finger inside her pussy.

"Oh.." I whispered, finger sliding in and out quickly. Her hips immediately rolled in response to my digit probing her inner depths.

She pressed her lips to my neck, biting gently. I let out a small "uh", as her mouth trailed up and down my taut skin, nibbling and sucking. Her hand kept thrusting my finger inside her, while her other hand rubbed my cock.

I tasted wine on her lips as she kissed me again, then turned around. She put her hands on the sink, and pushed her ass back towards me. She turned her head around, and stared.

"Fuck me." She ordered.

I stepped forward, pushed my boxers down, and stroked my shaft. I moved behind her, pressing my shaft down. She reached back, and pulled her lips apart. I pulled my hips back and thrust forward eagerly.

She grunted as I slid deep inside her with one stroke. I placed one hand on her hip, and she began thrusting forward and back. I grabbed her body, held it, and pushed my shaft inside her quickly.

My body withdrew from her warmth, as I rubbed the tip up and down her lips teasingly.

She growled.

I chuckled and pumped back into her, repeatedly. Her heavy breathing got louder as her hands gripped the sink tight. Her head bowed down, trying to silent the sound of her breathing.

But she couldn't silence the wet sounds coming from in-between her legs. Her moist lips spread with each passing stroke, a delicious slurping noise erupting from her pussy. I gripped her hips hard and quietly pounded into her. I felt her body contract, pressing against my shaft as I semi-deliriously continued pumping into her.

She panted quietly, as the sound of footsteps was heard outside the door.

She pushed back against me, sliding her body back and forth, her body convulsing. I reached around, found her clit again, and pressed down on it firmly. Her hips tensed, then shuddered.

She pushed back against my waist hard, and gripped my cock like a vise. Her pussy rippled, wet flesh clamping around my cock, swallowing it hole. Her body jerked, as a small, guy-wrenching moan escaped her lips.

Her body tightened again, as I closed my eyes and exploded. She gasped as my hips pushed forward ferociously, the tip erupting inside her. My head rolled backwards, as pent-up emotion and liquid flew into her.

My body slid back and jerked forward again, the eruption continuing, as she rested against me. I felt her body tighten again, as an aftershock ran through her.

She moaned softly. I pulled out tenderly.

I heard footsteps again. We quickly threw our wrinkled clothes back on, faces flushed. I stood in front of her, as I zipped up pants.

I opened the door, her mother walking around the corner.

"Yeah, there is something weird with the water pressure." I spit out quickly.

Her mother paced towards us. "What's wrong with the water? Is that where you've been?"

"Yeah," her flushed daughter replied. "Something was wrong with the sink, but I think it's fixed now. He's good with his hands."

I grinned weakly at her mother. She stared at us for a second, then turned away, muttering something about talking to her husband about the "damn water again".

I relaxed against the door frame wearily and waited for the footsteps to recede. I turned to my red-faced girlfriend.

"Nothing seemed wrong with the pressure to me." She grinned, walking out of the bathroom.

I pushed her back in, and shut the door. My hands reached for her pants, and pushed them back to the floor. She grabbed my pants, unzipped it hurriedly, pushed my pants down to my knees, and turned around.

I slid in her quickly, her hold drenched with both our juices

"No..." She panted, as my hips began thrusting.

"Nothing wrong at all."

-- The Bastard

-- This is fiction, of the erotic variety. There's a sidebar, on the right, listing more of my stories. Enjoy.

Reminder

Because I am a selfish, attention-grabbing bastard, this is a not-so-subtle reminder that my stories at Literotica are still up, and votes are still being cast for the annual Lit Holiday Contest.

And you can vote by clicking on the circle next to the '5' at the end of the story. '5' is the highest vote you can cast, so by all means... Vote.

And c'mon... you all need something to read after you eat all that turkey(for those of you in the US)! Look at this as an opportunity to rest after you eat, or to ignore the game(if you're so inclined).

Either way, go make me happy and vote '5' for Reflections. The other one... *shrug* You can be honest with that one. :)

I've been working on my self-promotional skills. Let me know how I do.

Let it Snow Pt. 2

Reflections on Lives Passed

--
The Bastard

Fiction - X.15 - Interview

My arms were rigid, palms pressed against early-morning cold marble. Hot water cascaded across my skin as I stood there, head bowed with liquid drops rained off my chin. In a quiet harmony of falling water and rising steam I inhaled slowly, my body warming quickly.

As I took stock of the long day ahead, I heard the old wooden door creak open. I looked to my right through the curtain, as shadows began to shift. A blurry figure lifted one leg; then the other. Two hands, one by one, raised upwards quietly.

I felt a slight but weary stirring as the curtain parted and her nubile form glided into the shower.

"What are you.." I started to say. She grinned that little grin I know so well, put a finger against my lips and shook her head. She pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips against my neck. One hand rested on my waist, while the other reached up and pushed the shower head towards the wall.

As her mouth slid towards my ear my dripping back sunk against the wall. My legs went weak when I felt her lips gently sucked on the bottom of my ear.

I let out a barely audible groan. Her hand reached up and curled behind my neck, scratching gently. Her mouth moved off my ear and breathed on it slowly. The air escaping her mouth was tinged with a slight moan.

Her hand slid from my waist to in-between my legs. I felt fingernails tracing along my shaft as her lips returned to my lobe. My fingers reached behind her and squeezed her ass.

My breathing increased as she began sucking harder on my ear. "Oh..." I moaned when her fingers wrapped around my shaft. My head leaned against the wall as blood raced throughout my system. I panted noisily while her tongue continued lathering my lobe.

Fingers wrapped loosely around me, her wrist started moving back and forth. "Fuck... " I muttered breathlessly.

With a deliciously wet slurping noise, her tongue came off my ear and attacked my lips. I responded eagerly, tongue sliding out of my mouth, only to find her finger pushed against my face. She smiled and pushed her finger against my tongue. I reluctantly let it slide back into my mouth. The look on my face must have been humorous because her smile widened, as she pushed my jaw up, closing my mouth.

Her wrist still stroking me, she leaned up and licked my lips. I kept my mouth closed, half-watching her, half-enjoying the feeling of her hand on me. Her lips, only inches from mine, pursed and pressed against mine, kissing me softly. She pulled away, turned her head slightly and kissed me again, catching my lower lips in her mouth.

She stroked my cheek with her fingers, and purred quietly into my mouth. My attention wavering back and forth, her mouth released my lip. Her tongue snaked out and licked my lips again. My hand began caressing her ass, as her mouth slid from my lips to my chin.

Her mouth slowly kissed down my neck, then straight down my chest. She reached my waist, and sunk to her knees.

My head rolled back against the wall again, as I felt her blow on my shaft. A loud moan rolled off my lips, echoing against the marble walls, when her tongue licked up one side of my shaft.

I breathlessly watched the steam twirl aimlessly, while her tongue continued licking me. Her tongue licked slowly around my tip, as my entire body twitched aimlessly. My breathing quickly became much more erratic when I felt her lips wrap around the tip.

I ran my hands through her hair, body shaking slightly. I looked down to see my stomach pushing outwards quickly, then swiftly reversed back into my abdomen. Her mouth sucked softly on the end of my cock, her fingers still wrapped around the shaft.

I watched as her mouth opened and began devouring me; Her mouth slowly sunk down my shaft, stopping somewhere before she reached the base. Her lips slid back up to the tip, then pushed back down farther.

My fingers tangled quickly in her wet hair, my breathing and moaning quickly becoming one. I felt her lips begin sliding up and down my shaft, wrist gripped around the base.

"Ohh." I cried out softly, my eyes half-open. I banged my head against the wall several times as her mouth began moving faster. She pulled her mouth off me, then quickly sucked me back in again.

One of my legs lifted up, resting on the ledge, as I grabbed the curtain-bar for leverage. I winced and moaned, as her mouth began moving faster. I could feel my body pulsing, as she continued sucking me off.

I looked down at her, my jaw half-open; her eyes met mine, as I shuddered again, my body reaching the boiling point. She gripped my shaft with her hand, and started jerking me off quickly.

"Uh... Uh... Uh... " I moaned loudly, my head shaking quickly. She stood up, hand still pumping and moved her lips to my ear.

She then spoke for the first time that morning.

"Cum." She whispered, tongue reaching out and licking my ear.

My hips jerked forward, as I gripped the curtain-bar frantically. I felt my cock explode, as she continued pumping me hard. I leaned forward, resting my head on her shoulder, as I moaned into her flesh.

"Oh... ohh..." I let out, my body shuddering again as I was wracked with waves. "Uhhhh..." I groaned, wrapping my arms around her.

She continued stroking, slowly down as my seed finished shooting out onto her. I held her, as my breathing slowly started to return to normal.

She pulled me gently forward, and grabbed the shower head, aiming it at her body. I stood behind her, as she cleaned herself. My voice was ragged when I spoke again.

"Why... What... Christ." I panted. "What did I do to deserve that?" I spat out.

She turned her head, and kissed my arm, currently wrapped around her collarbone.

"It's 'good luck' for today.'

"Oh yeah. The interview."

"Yes, the interview!" She exclaimed, smacking my arm lightly.

I was quiet for a moment.

"Don't you have an interview next week for that new position on-campus?" I asked curiously.

She turned around and grinned.

-- The Bastard

--This is fiction, of the erotic variety. There's a sidebar, on the right, listing more of my stories. Enjoy.

They never learn.

UKB Presents a Brief One-Act, Two-Scene Play in Stupidity.

Starring Me(The Bastard) and Her(Obnoxious bitch who I don't like very much. At. All.)

Act I, Scene I.

Last Night:

Me - "You've been pretty snippy all night."

Her - "Have not."

Me - "Have, too."

Her - "Have not."

Me - "... I'm not getting dragged into a 'have not/'have too' conversation."

Her - *Makes comment referencing my personal life, quickly crossing a line that shouldn't've been crossed*

Me - "Okay. You're going to be at the game, tomorrow, yes?"

Her - "Yes."

Me - "I'm just telling you, right now... Your ass will have my handprint on it by tomorrow night."

Her - "Will not!"

Me- *sighs, makes mental note*

Act I, Scene II

Tonight:

Her - "How the fuck am I going to explain to [her boyfriend] all the bruises on my ass?"

Me - "I couldn't possibly care less."

Her - "This is all your fault."

Me - "Well, that's what you get for being snippy."

Her - "Was not!"

Me - "You sure you want to go down -that- road with me?"

She was quiet after that.

--
The Bastard

Process Stories... pt. III

I'm intrigued by what ABC has done with Lost. It's an intriguing show, and there's been some great character development, which is difficult considering the size of the cast. The writers have managed to balance out the character development with the plot development. They've managed to tease a number of hints about the characters, and tease a great many mysteries about the island.

But, they've also managed to do it in such a way, that there are times -we- know things about the characters, that they don't know, and there are times that the characters know things that -we- don't know. It's what makes it interesting, at least for me.

And they've balanced it in such a way, that doesn't confuse me. It intrigues me.

And I've run straight into the confusion/intrigue issue with my story at Lit, Reflections.

It's been gratifying to receive some nice comments (and nicer e-mail) about how moved people were by the story. That's made the negative comments easier to swallow. The main (negative) comment I've gotten is based on some reader confusion.

The story itself exists on two levels. There's the introduction and the ending sequence, which are one story, and then the whole middle section, which is another. In the middle section, I move back and forth between "real time" and memories, with nothing more than a "--", which I use here on the blog occasionally.

I like my fiction to challenge me. I don't like being bored. I don't like being able to figure something out, and I like being surprised. If I start to figure things out - in either books, television, or any other media for that matter - I start to zone, and eventually move on to something else.

I like to be intrigued; Reflections, I thought, wasn't going to be confusing, but it appears it was to a handful of people. I can't decide how I could've made it more obvious, without making it more obvious, if you catch my drift?

It's not something I'm going to figure out today, but it's something I have to keep working on. Especially as that's the type of story, long-term, that I want to be writing. Only, with a dash more eroticism.

Anyways.

'Nother story goes up Saturday night or Sunday morning.

--
The Bastard

Fiction - X.12 - Red

Her eyes flare defiantly.

"I will not." She snaps.

"Really." My steely voice bounced off the black walls.

"Yes, and.." Her voice caught as I took one step closer.

"What're you.." Her eyes widened, as my hand slid up to her neck.

"You were saying?" My voice continued.

"I don't..." Hey eyes fluttered. My fingers stroked under her ears.

"Ohh." She murmured, head rolling back. Her eyes opened up quickly.

"No no no no..." She snarled, pushing me away.

I chuckled, and got back in front of her.

"Take off your shirt." I commanded quietly.

She shook her red hair and stared at me, refusing me with her eyes.

"You know better." My voice hinted dangerously.

Her lips trembled, as she reached down, and grabbed the bottom of her shirt. She pulled up on it, fingers clenched on her white blouse. She released the top, as her clenched fists returned to her sides.

"So." My eyes narrowed. "That's how it's going to be?"

Her chin lifted up, staring at me.

My arms reached out, as her hands pulled down on her shirt. To her dismay, my hands grabbed directly under the collar, and pulled in opposite directions.

Her jaw dropped as the sound of buttons bouncing on the hard wood floor echoed in her ears.

"Oh god," She moaned, as I pulled her shirt off her limp body. She stood there, wearing a black satin strapless bra.

I reached behind her head, and pulled her hair back. My throat let out a small growling noise, as I ran one finger up her neck to her chin, and then tapped her lips several times.

She stood there, immobile. My lips brushed by her ears.

"I know you're wet." I said calmly.

She said nothing, as her cheeks started to turn as red as her hair. Her breathing was short and quick.

"Now..." My quiet voice got her attention.

"Take off your bra."

Her body tensed. Her breathing quickened, then slowed down. I felt her head relax, as her hands slide behind her, and unclasped her bra. It stayed in her hand for a moment, as her breasts came free.

Her shoulders sunk, and she dropped it to the floor.

I moved my head down, cupped one breast, and pointed it to my lips. Our eyes met in a clash of wills, as my lips slowly sucked her nipple into my mouth. My tongue licked around it, then rubbed it several times.

She closed her eyes, moaned, and gave in.

"I hate you." She whispered, her fingers in my hair.

"No, you don't." I smirked, pulling off my mouth, as both hands began fondling her breasts.

She was quiet for a moment.

"No, I don't." She gave in, her hands reaching down to my waist.

"Say it." I ordered, my hands grabbing her breasts hard.

"Oh, god..." She winced, face deeply flushed, red curls bouncing off her sweaty cheeks.

"Say it." I twisted her breasts .

"I can't..." She moaned.

"You know you want to."

"I just.... damn you." She cursed.

She moved her head, and looked at me, eyes boiling over with passion.

"Fuck me." She said, her eyes wanting.

"Please." She begged again, as she reached down and unzipped her dark navy pants, pushing them to the floor.

--The Bastard.

-- This is fiction, of the erotic variety. There's a sidebar, on the right, listing more of my stories. Enjoy.

Techno-Babble

I fixed the dead link under my stories. There was also an issue of extra HTML code in Whore, which bothered me to no end. I know how it got there, but not why. Long story. Anyways, I cleaned out the code. If anyone finds any other coding problems with my stories, please give me a hollar, and let me know. I use Mozilla Firefox as my browser, and I didn't see anything, until I opened up the entry in the blogger editor. Those of you still using IE might see something I don't...

Speaking of which....

--

You should sit down. I have some bad news for you.

It's okay. Really. Let me hold your hand.

Internet Explorer is... no, just stop. This is going to be hard.

Listen.

Internet Explorer is The Biggest Piece of Crap.

Ever.

I know. I know... I KNOW. It's what we're all used to. But it's time for a change.

Please don't cry. You knew this day had to come someday, right?

No? Oh, well. It's time for spring-cleaning, kiddo.

...Yes, I know it's autumn. Yes, I have windows in my apartment. Yes, I...

Don't change the subject.

Go here.

Download.

Learn about tabbed browsing. It's got the Google search bar built in. It's smaller, runs faster, and has many options available to configure your browser as you see fit. It even blocks pop-ups.

Live a better life, because Microsoft, who owns IE, doesn't care

Oh, and your computer will be about a kazillion times safer.

Really.

You can thank me by... um....

Oh.

*leans back, as zipper is undone*

That works, too.

--

Updated my 'blog list. Found a couple new ones worth mentioning. I should give a quick shout-out to Alexa at A New York Escorts Conference. Not only have I found some of these through her, but some people have found their way here, because of her.

I would buy her shoes, if I could.

Maybe.

--

Slippery Sweet Sex - She has an appetite for sex that is just delightful. Good for her. And she had great sex last weekend, too.

I Burn for you - She has several boy-toys she gets together with; they like to play with bisexual women. And she loves Sting. Smart girl, on account of both of the previous sentences.

Dilemnas of a Virgin Slut - Yeah, that title threw me for a loop, too. But, there's something compelling about a female virgin who wants to get laid. I'm curious how long it'll take before the dilemna is resolved.

Yeah, I was looking for a double entendre, but I came up empty. I'll try harder next time.

Secret Swing - In her own words: "Simply put, I am a swinger. I love sex and anything to do with it. I consider myself a lesbian with “bisexual” moments and experiences. " Yeah, I think I like her.

--

I should also point out that my two stories at Literotica are entered in the annual Christmas contest. If you haven't read them, haven't voted, or done neither, then allow me to entertain you:

Let it Snow, Pt. II - A nice little tale, about a man conflicted. Oh, and he has hot sex, too.

Reflections on Lives Passed - I like this story much better, for reasons I'll be posting in a day or so. So far, 70-80% of the readers have "gotten it", according to my e-mail and feedback.

As befitting my semi-discarded Catholic upbringing, I will occasionally remind you of these stories, in the hopes that you all vote '5' for each of the stories *coughIwanttowincough* in a manner that may make you feel guilty that you haven't voted yet(voting is after the end of the stories).

There's a run-on sentence for ya.

--
The Bastard

Story Guide

I've added a sidebar on the right, listing all my stories online; that includes a link to my stories at Literotica. So, anyone looking for anything to read...

S.
--

Open minds

I've stayed away from politics here, because everyone else is discussing it. It says something that most of the 'blogs I read all lean towards the left. You don't really find a lot of Conservative Sex Blogs, y'know?

"Tonight, me and the wife kissed in the kitchen. We never do that, we only kiss in the bedroom. On Tuesdays. Under a full moon. In November. Of Even years"

Don't get your panties in a bunch, I was joking. As Triumph would say, I keeeeed, I keeeeeeid...

I used to be a non-practicing, non-voting, non-caring Republican. I switched to the almighty Registered Independent class after Bush won. I'm a moderate fellow - well, a kinky moderate fellow, but I didn't like Bush.

He bothers me. He's smarmy. Which is annoying, because the only person allowed to be smarmy is me. That's because I'm an arrogant, brilliant fuck. He's just arrogant.

So, like most of my friends, I rooted for Kerry, not because I liked Kerry, but because I didn't like Bush. I couldn't vote because of paperwork, related to me moving last fall. It bothered me, but I wasn't too concerned, because NY was going Democrat, guaranteed. At least 65/35. It actually turned into 60/40, which is worrisome, for reasons I won't get into now.

So, this link has been making the rounds. "Fuck the South"? Okay, I guess it's kinda funny, if not inflammatory. A bit of retribution and misdirected anger from the blue states, apparently.

Then Alexa linked to it, and talked about it on her blog. Hoo boy. Check out THOSE comments.

Yeah, and now you know why I don't do the politics thing. For the record, I think Bush is probably a good man, but not a good president. And I thought Clinton was a decent president, but not a particularly good(moral, really) man. Before that, I could care less, really.

I'm reminded of a great West Wing episode. A female senator dies, and her husband finishes out the rest of her term. He goes to a meeting with Toby about the census, and ends up changing his mind on the issue. After the meeting, Toby remarks that it was nice to meet someone in Washington with no agenda, who came in with an open mind.

It's not just the congressmen in Washington who don't have open minds anymore. Post-election, the country is more divided than before; no matter who won, it was going to be this way.

It's kinda sad. I'm hoping that everyone just mellows out, and relaxes, and that things return to normal. That may be a pipe-dream, but that's okay.

And that's all the politics from me.

I turned off the comments for this article. Anyone who has thoughts to share on this can e-mail me at the link on the right or at unrelenting_optimator@hotmail.com

Peace.

S.
--

Fiction - X.9 - Slow

The lightning cracked again. I could see the nearby buildings light up through the window. Heavy drops of rain continued to fall, as the sound of thunder echoed moments later.

Underneath me, her leg shifted slightly, knocking over an empty glass. As I heaved forward slightly, I remembered pouring that glass of wine over her naked body. My tongue lapped at it as it drippled in-between her legs.

I thrusted forward again, tasting her sex and the wine on my lips. Mmm.

I held her arms above her head, as she writhed, wrists attempting to twist free. As I pushed back in her again, she moaned. I dropped my face to her chest, pressing my mouth to the side of her breast. I caught the flesh between my lips and teeth, and sucked in.

I slid out slowly, and pushed back in, grinding my hips against hers.

She inhaled sharply, her legs rubbing against mine. I pulled my head up slowly, pulling on her tit. I sucked harder on her tit as her mouth opened, and her body clenched. There was something delightful about the agony my mouth was inflicting.

I released her breast while a series of short breaths emanating from her mouth. I pulled out leisurely, and shifted my hips, angling myself at a different angle. As I slid back in, my shaft rubbing against her lips, I leaned down, and gently bit her nipple between my teeth.

Her arms flexed again, trying to break free. I withdrew slowly, her hips gyrating slightly, as another flash of lightning illuminated the room.

Her head shook back and forth, as my teeth tightened on her nipple. I gradually began grinding them from side-to-side. Her body tensed, as slight jolts of pain ran through her. I pushed back in, slowly filling her back up.

I tightened again on her nipple, her back arching towards me, then let go. A series of loud breaths escaped her.

"Please," She whispered, as I withdrew again, and slid back in. My hips moved back once more, my shaft piercing her wet lips, sliding deep inside.

My moist lips pressed against her neck, kissing carefully; a trail of wet kisses led up to her ear, where my mouth closed on her earlobe. My tongue lathered it gently before my teeth began biting gently.

She twisted underneath me again. Her arms pushed upwards defiantly, but my hand snapped them back against the floor. Her legs curled around mine, pussy clamping down as she tried to keep me inside her.

My hips withdrew again, meeting some resistance from her tight hole, and then pressed back in.
Her head began tossing once more, as my mouth continued ravishing her lobe.

I inhaled slowly, the smell of citrus filling me; The candles were still lit, far away from our pulsing bodies on the floor. I slid my tongue down her neck, as my hips began steadily pumping into her.

Underneath me, she continued writhing; straight blond hair covering half her face and beautiful candle-lit, wine-covered flesh began thrashing under me. Her body was heating up quickly, while my body remained steady.

And slow.

My body persisted in it's continual assault, as her pussy squeezed and tightened on me; I was relentless in my probing. Like clock-work, I slid in and out.

My hands reached up, and each grabbed one of her wrists. I crossed her arms over her head, pushing her chest up closer to mine. An evil grin appeared on my face as she moaned.

"Ohh." She let out. Her legs tightened again, as her hands desperately tried to free themselves from my grasp.

And still... My cock pushed into her. A slow piston, throbbing deep inside her. Her moans became more insistent and louder. I was unrelenting.

I leaned down and licked her neck, tasting the wine. She turned her head, trying to suck on my flesh, but I would have none of it. The rain outside increased it's frequency, pounding down as the wind tore through the air with a vengeance

I sucked on her lower lip as I pushed back in her once more. Her body trembled, my mouth sucking her lip into my mouth.

"Aghh.." she cried, through her open mouth. She pushed upwards... again... trying to free herself; the result was the same. I continued pulsing in and out of her drenched hole. Her bdoy spasmed slightly, as I released her lip.

"Ughh... uhhh..." she cried out. She looked at me, pleadingly wanting more. But I was resolute, so I pushed inside again, slowly sliding back out. A stroke of lightning cracked as her body jolted.

"Fuck. Goddamn.." She cursed, her body going taut. Her pussy rippled on my cock as I pulled out. Unhurriedly, I slid back in as she erupted.

I looked down, and watched her head tilt back, neck lifting upwards. I kept sliding in and out, as her body shuddered through an orgasm. I released her arms suddenly, as the came flying to my back, nails pressing into my flesh as her body was wracked by an intense wave of pleasure.

"Uhh... uhhh... uhhh.." She half-whispered, half-moaned, panting steadily.

My hips sunk into her, and pulled out. They pushed my shaft inside her warmth once more, then returned to air. Her body writhed, small gasps and moans flying from her lips. She twisted and turned, pawing at me. And still, I slowly continued pushing in and out, her body flushed and sweaty.

S.

Process Stories... Pt. II

Okay.

So, the stories at Literotica are up. If you're someone from Lit who's stopping by to check out my ramblings on the stories, you're in the right spot. Hi, how ya doin'. After this piece, if you scan down, you'll find more short stories. Hope you like.

Part I of Process Stories vs. Stories Processed is here. In that entry, I talked vaguely about the two stories, and I'm going to jump into some more detail here.

Just because I can.

The first story I referred to, "Let it Snow, Pt II" can be found here.

The second story, the one that gave me 'agita', "Reflections on Lives Passed", can be found here.

In case you haven't, you should probably go read them, before going on. I don't want to spoil anything for you.

No, really. It's okay. I'll wait.

I'm patient.

Kinda.

Not really.

...

Okay, moving on.

--

So, I've already started getting feedback on the stories. It's all been pretty positive, except for the guy who said that if it took me "a year to write three pages [I] should quit." That was charming, and made me laugh in a "it's actually 30+ pages, but whatever" kinda way.

These two stories, along with the piece I wrote earlier this week, Quiet Moments: Autumn are all linked by their theme: Choices.

More specifically, the build-up and consequences of said choices.

--
Let it Snow Pt. II

This story was intended to be a cliffhanger, but I've gotten some... um.. vehement e-mail about waiting a year for the next(and last) part. I know, I know... you all want to know who he calls, right? Well, if it makes you feel better, I know who he calls, and what he says. But I'm not telling.

I wrote the first part two years ago; it was my first story, and I posted it last year. This year, I posted Pt. II, and I decided to wait another year for Pt. III, only because I like consistency. That's really all it came down to. It's neither malicious intent, nor lethargy.

It's also interesting, because when Pt. III is done, a year from now, I can read all three parts, and see where my writing was, versus where it is now(then).

I'm also looking at the third part a little oddly, because I think I know how it ends. The problem with endings - and that's a whole 'nother entry in and of itself - is that sometimes the characters decide they want to go somewhere else. The story organically creates a different ending than the one I had in mind. More about this in the next part.

I need time for the third part, so that I can find the right ending. Endings are important; they're one of the first things I ponder when I'm writing any story. A crappy ending will always be remembered as a crappy ending, regardless of the first 75% of the story.

So, while I'm looking at all the other stories I've got on the back-burner, I can't see knocking out Pt. III by X-mas '04, but I'll keep it in mind. Don't hold your breath, though. :)

In regards to the theme of Choices, LiS pt. II was about making a choice. Right here, right now, who's he going to choose? There was also the matter of trust. And that, honestly, is where you find pieces of me, scattered throughout the story. No, I haven't had anything like that happen to me, but I'm not good with the trust, and that really shows, I'd imagine.

--
Reflections on Lives Passed

The second story, "Reflections on Lives Passed" originally had an introduction at the beginning; I ended up withdrawing that section, because I felt the story worked on it's own. Plus, I realized I could use it here:

"This story originally started off as a Christmas present for a friend of mine. He and his girlfriend had recently ended a relationship, a la "If you love someone, set them free." It was mutual, and yet obviously heart-breaking. He's had some other problems, so I thought I'd cross the 4th Wall, and try to make a buddy feel better."

So I came up with RoLP, and had a specific ending in mine. Once I got to the last scene, though, I realized I had flip-flopped. I *wanted* the ending to be "Well, sometimes shit happens, but life still gets better", whereas it turned into "Make the right choice, or live with the regret forever".

See, this is where the story took on a life of it's own. Whereas I had spent a year on LiS pt. II, putting it together in my head, this story came together in a matter of hours and days. Typing it took only a few hours. So, this one came together much quicker, and without the rough outline and character sketches I had for LiS.

The ending, that was rough. I _wanted_ to be able to say "Hey, Schwartz, this one's for you." And instead I found myself pounding my head against the wall. I guess I wanted a real Christmas Carol, but didn't get one.

Well, I'll add it to my mental list of "stories I want to write".

The story stands on it's own, well enough. It didn't end where I wanted it, but I like Elizabeth's phone call. And I like how he tortures his son earlier in the story. That's so how I treat my friends. :) It's part "If you love someone, set them free", part Schwartz, part "5 people you meet in heaven", and it ended up with a little bit of me. Not much, just a little.

Once again, Choice rears it's ugly head. Whereas LiS leads up to the choice, RoLP shows the outcome of different choices. There's a bit of 'alternate reality' going on, which is how the dreams and framing sequences are used. He says at the beginning, "no more dreams", because he's dreaming what happened if he had chosen the other path; that's causing him pain because he's dreaming of a _better life_.

He's dreaming "The Path Not Taken", which was the original title of the piece. I wanted something different, so I came up with RoLP. I wanted something "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"-esque.

--
Quiet Moments: Autumn

And then there's Quiet Moments: Autumn, which is here on my 'blog. I fear QM:A has destroyed some of my "Kinky Bastard" street cred. At least, that's based on some of the comments and feedback I've gotten on that piece.

Hey, I'm trying to stretch my creative muscles, okay? :)

QM:A is another look at choices, but whereas LiS leads upto a guy making a choice, and RoPL shows the long-term outcome of both choices, QM:A takes a different stance.

Who cares about tomorrow, when you've got tonight? As I live upstate, I watch the leaves turn, and then fall off the trees in about 6 weeks. It already feels like winter, and yet Halloween was two weeks ago. I love autumn, so it bothers me I don't get much of it, which ties in quite nicely with QM:A :

Enjoy the moment.

--

I'll be back with the last part of Process Stories vs. Stories Processed in a day or so. I want to say a little bit more about choices, and talk about finding the balance between reader intrigue/confustion, and how it that relates to Lost on ABC.

I've got a couple short stories ready to go, too for posting here, which I know some of you will like. That's because they're naughty, filthy stories. And you're all naughty, filthy people.

Me, I'm a saint. Can't ya tell?

S.
--

Process Stories vs Stories Processed, pt. I

When I was in 5th grade, a social studies test with a grade of 101 was returned to me. I was displeased, becasue I had missed one question, and gotten all the extra credit. The highest possible grade was a 103 or 104.

Yes, at the age of 10, I was bothered because I only got 101, instead of 104.

While that memory has stayed with me, I never actually picked up on something. Cue forward 15 years later, and one of my favorite college professors drops a bombshell. He informs me I'm a perfectionist. I laugh, heartily, pointing out some of the grades from my long-past freshman year.

He informs me, that to a perfectionist views anything less than a perfect grade as an abject failure. At that precise moment, the memory of the "101" came flying back to me. Ah, things start to make sense.

It would've been nice, when I think back, to have this knowledge available during say... any other point in my life. But I didn't, and I dealt with it. The problem I ran into, after college, is that I found myself trapped by my need to Do Everything Absolutely Right All The Time. It became a prison, and I didn't know how to break out.

Fortunately, that conversation with Doc helped out, and I've worked through it. I still have my moments, plenty of them, but I try not view things at such an extreme.

At least, I try.

So, I've had my head buried in these two stories for the last week for Literotica. They were both difficult, in their own way. One is a sequel - continuation - really of a story I wrote two years ago, my first story, but didn't actually send in to Lit, until last year. It's a fun little frolic and romp, with Oscar-potential written all over it.

nnnnn... not so much. But it's a nice dream. That story was a pain, because I've had it in the back of my head for a year, and when all is said and done, it's 30+ pages long. It was NOT supposed to take nights and nights of writing and re-writing, and I don't know if I necessarily like it.

The other story... well, the other has caused me some serious agita.

I had written it, originally, as a gift for a friend. A buddy of mine, who had to make a decision, and he's not handling it well. Plus, he got hit with some shit in his personal life, and I thought a nice story would cheer him.

Well, the story turned out to be something else. It's interesting, because at the 75% mark, I still had the original ending in mind, and then when I got to the final section, I knew it wasn't going to end where I wanted it. I found a way to make it work, but still... it's been a bit of a bitch.

And that story took maybe a couple hours to pound out?

And yet, it's bothered me the most.

They should be posted on Lit within the next few days. I'll give you a heads-up when they land.

More to come.

S.
--

Time, time..

Never enough time in the day, especially while I'm job-hunting and writing 5 different stories/entries/items at once. And the job-hunting is not going well, so there's a certain amount of frustration building.

Some of you are probably thinking that means the next couple stories are going to be about me ravaging women.

Hmm. Maybe.

I'm hoping to have my two stories finished for Lit tonight, and put them in tomorrow, at which point, I can get back to finishing the ones I've got started here. All these ideas in my head, and not enough time to put them down.

There's a Steven King book, Tommywalkers, I think, where one of the characters creates a machine that takes her ideas directly from her brain, and types them out for her, ala telekinesis or some other psychic powers. If only, I had one of those. I could write pages and pages a day, without even trying.

Nice to have such realistic dreams, eh? I suppose that's why they call them fantasies.

And the two stories... well, they're quite different from each other. I'll have a post about those, once they go up on the site.

And, I've been searching for deliciously naughty photos online, in what little spare time I have. If anyone knows of any sites, hit me up.

I loves me the photos.

S.
--

Quiet Moments: Autumn

Something different, sent via cell phone.

--
It’s almost too cold to be outside. There's a chill in the air, just barely noticeable. That random thought was alleviated by the steaming mug of hot chocolate she placed in my hand as the screen door slammed shut behind her.

"Thanks." I said.

"You're welcome." She replied with a smile. She sat down on the swing, and laid her head in my lap.

I watched the leaves swirl aimlessly as I took a sip. I licked my lips and squinted as a gust of wind blew through my hair.

"Did you put something in this?" I asked, tasting both chocolate and liquor.

"Mmm hmm." she chortled relaxingly. She curled up slightly, turning away from the street. Her hand reached up for my forearm and gently stroked my skin. Her head nestled in my lap, I reached down and ran my fingers through her hair; She sighed softly and curled up tighter against me. I felt the cool autumn air blow lazily again over the porch as we relaxed on the swing. She lifted her head to sip the drink, fingers still resting on my arm.

There’s a quiet somberness that falls over me during this time of year. A feeling of relaxed anticipation, when the wind blows around you, all-knowing and yet unrevealing. Or maybe it’s the smell of crisp leaves burning under clear skies, while people start to wear warm clothes, and dig out their winter clothing.

I played with her hair as her body rested. I thought that maybe Autumn is a reminder: A brief warning that winter is swiftly approaching.

I remembered that feeling from earlier. That chill in the air, that warned of impending cold mornings and shovels and white blinding flurries and cancellations and crappy roads and windshield wipers not working and detours and red cheeks and-

She shivered slightly and adjusted her head resting on my lap and leg. I looked down and smiled. I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? An orange streetlight flickered, as the stars continued popping into sight through the clear, brisk air.

The wind stopped blowing suddenly, and I wondered briefly if maybe it wasn't a reminder from Mother Nature. A reminder to enjoy where and when you are and not to worry about tomorrow. I leaned back, pondering that thought when I realized that she had fallen asleep in my lap. I poked her gently only to get a disturbed grunt in return. I stretched and poked her again.

"Lets go sunshine," I spoke quietly, smiling at her fatigued body.

"Noooo..." she moaned. I slipped out from under her and grabbed her arms pulling her off the bench. She tiredly walked towards the door kicking it open.

"You know," she said, "I really like this time of year."

Behind me I felt the wind pause, almost straining to hear my answer. I looked down at her as my heart warmed.

"Yes," I responded, "Yes, It really is."

I leaned down and kissed her slowly. Her hand reached to the back of my neck, fingers stroking my skin. I pulled away a minute later, turned off the inside lights and walked her up the stairs.

Moments later, clothes were hastily but lovingly discarded; The breeze began to blow once more as I happily chose to enjoy tonight, and made myself content to worry about everything else...

Later.

S.
--

Fiction - X.11 - Broken

I know what you want, I can see it in your eyes.

You've wanted it since the first time we met, haven't you? You want me to break you. You want me to tie you up, and make you scream.

I can feel your body tremble under my touch. You're scared, I can tell.

Oh sweetie, it's only going to get worse, I promise. I am far, far more dangerous than you ever could've imagined.

You struggle at the straps, as comprehension dawns on you. But it's too late. "All tied up, and nowhere to go, right"?

So when the whip comes sizzling down on your breasts, it's not so much a surprise, as a welcome relief. Tendrils of pain shoot through your chest, as you let out a wordless scream. Inside, you think to yourself, can it get any worse?

After five more strokes of the whip, you start to think so. It hurts, doesn't it? On top of the pain, it's the way I so easily take you and use you, for whatever reason I see fit.

I'm a bastard. And although you won't admit it(yet) you wouldn't have it any other way.

The whip gets tossed to the side, as ice cubes begin dripping onto your sore breasts. They act as a soothing agent, and jar your body back into shape. Soon, I see the defiance return to your eyes.

It makes me wonder if I should've used the blindfold this time. But I want you to see what's coming first. I want the anticipation to build. No surprises, no, not this time.

So, when I grin, and drag my nails from your shoulders down over your breasts, scratching your flesh, is it any wonder that you beg "No.. no... Nooooo." And scream?

Probably not.

For a brief moment, hearing you scream, I wonder if I've gone too far.

My conscience and I have a quick chuckle over that thought, and move on.

Ah, candles. Have we ever used these before? I don't think so. I can only imagine what's going through your mind. "No. He wouldn't. No, not those. Why is he smiling like that? Why won't he just.. No.. please, don't. Don't tip them. No. No. No. Don't-"

And then she screams again. It's interesting, from a purely academic view, to watch a set of ravaged tits, cooled by ice, and now burnt by wax, become so easily inflamed. Spots of pink and red stand out like mis-shapen polka dots.

A kodak moment, if I ever saw one, really.

And then to my surprise, I hear you speak.

"Anything..." you pant "Anything you want, I'll do it. Please."

And like that, you're broken. It gets easier each time for you. The defiance wavers much quicker each time I ravage your body. Straps are untied, and arms are freed, as I release you.

And then I wait. Will you know what to do? Have I trained you properly? You've never been broken this fast before.

You get down on your knees, unzip my pants and engulf my cock in your mouth.

Mm. Good girl.

-- The Bastard

-- This is fiction, of the erotic variety. There's a sidebar, on the right, listing more of my stories. Enjoy.

Hatred

I was with the guys, getting ready to go out - and the results of -that- experience are currently wreaking havoc in my blood stream - when one of the roommates found Mtv. Um, great. Fantastic.

So, Alicia Keyes walks out. Her face is glazed over with happiness. Or maybe botox. Who can tell, nowadays. And then she starts talking...

...about Ray Charles.

Now, I'm not too pleased. But, I'm open-minded, so I listen to her talk about Ray's contributions. And considering that he's contributed about 10 times as many albums, and 50 times as much music as she'll _EVER_ contribute to music throughout her entire lifetime, I suppose it's only fair that she be allowed to speak for him.

Yeah. RIGHT.

I don't listen to most popular music. I sample stuff online a lot, talk to friends, and keep an eye out for stuff I catch on tv(soundtracks being a good way to hear a variety of music). As a result, I haven't watched MTv in a kazillion years, but as far as I remember, they love the young and the new. Which is fine, except 75-80% of the music being produced is by people who are neither your NOR new, and usually sounds much better.

But to have some drugged-out R&B singer happily speaking for 15 seconds about one of the great musical geniuses of the last 50 years?

BLASPHEMY.

When I was a kid, I caught this show, which I really didn't understand. This guy was talking to some other guy, who noone else could see. And the first guy, he looked like someone else. Sort-of.

The show was Quantum Leap. Remember that series? At the end of this particular episode, Al, dances slowly with his (now) ex-wife, while "Georgia on my mind" plays in the background.

By Ray Charles.

It is a simple, poignant moment that has stayed with me over the years. The way he croons and sings, and the piano and... ah. It's gorgeous.

MTv, you little shits, next time you get someone like James Brown or Stevie Wonder. When you speak of the Great Musicians, you don't use a fad-pop-star-of-the-moment. You use a Legend.

I always wanted to see Ray live, just to hear him sing that song.

I have hatred for MTv.

That is all.

S.
--

Fiction - X.6 - Need

I hear the nails tapping against the counter, and have to suppress the urge not to continue working on the weekly order. A glance in your direction tells me all I need to know.

You're a librarian. You've got this conservative-but-not-too-conservative look going, and that's okay. But the attitude... yeah, you're a bitch alright.

What a surprise.

"Can I help you?" I ask pleasantly.

"Yes, you can." You snip.

I close my eyes, and make the effort to smile as obnoxiously as possible. This was going to be a treat.

"And... how... exactly, can I help you?" I queried mockingly.

She sniffed.

"I'm looking for a book."

"Well, lucky you." I smiled slyly. "You're in a used bookstore. Any book in particular, or are you looking for a recommendation?"

She blushed furiously.

"I... I'm looking for a book by the title of 'Detective Laurels'."

"Detective Laurels." I repeated.

"Yes. "

"Do you know the author?"

Her head shook from side to side.

"Wonderful!" I snarked, walking around the counter. I brazenly passed her, heading towards the 'Mystery' section. She quietly followed.

I stood in front of the shelves for a moment, reached up, and pulled off our only copy of "Detective Laurels", by A.B. Schwartz.

"This what you're looking for?" I smirked.

She tilted her head up, eyes flashing. "Yes, thank you." she replied. She swiftly turned around, and headed back up to the counter. As I followed, my head tilted to the side, watching her behind.

Nice ass, I thought. She turned around suddenly, her arrogance returned.

"Do you mind?" she snapped.

I can't honestly say if it was the fact that it was late, or the fact that she was a bitch, or the fact that I just wasn't in the mood. But I snapped.

"Actually, I do mind." I walked closer to her. "I mind your attitude, and the way you've acted in my store. I mind the fact that you think you can treat people like shit. And I mind the fact that you're trying to treat me like shit."

I got in her face, pinning her against the counter. I looked down at her, and found myself staring at a flushed face again. I looked lower, and saw her cleavage moving up and down rapidly.

"Not every day someone calls your bluff, is it?" I asked.

She shook her head wordlessly, wide eyes staring at me.

I watched her body for a second, and felt the light bulb go on over my head.

"You're turned on." I laughed. "You've got to be... you're turned on. You're just another woman with an attitude that doesn't want to be chased, but wants to be taken. "

Her face must've been burning now, her confusion evident. So, when I grabbed her tits, the look of shock came as no surprise.

"Please." I smirked. "You and I both know this is what you want." I twisted her breasts quickly, flesh and cloth caught in my fingers.

She shrieked, and clawed at me, trying to get me to stop, but my hands were tugging off her jacket before she could stop me. I managed to pin her hands behind her with one hand, while I lifted her skirt upwards, in defiance of her wishes. My fingers found shiny silk panties, to my delight.

"Oh," I chuckled, "what have we here?" I pressed the underwear against her hips, rubbing them back and forth. She struggled valiantly, pushing her chest forward, her silk slip revealing more than she intended.

I moved her arms and twisted her around, so that her chest faced the counter. I unzipped my pants, and let my shaft poke out. With my free hand, I roughly pushed her underwear down to her knees.

I smacked her ass hard. Her entire body tensed as she let out a small shriek. I smacked it again, watching her white flesh start to turn red. I felt her arms relax in my grip as my hand came crashing down again on one cheek.

I slid my hand in-between her legs, and rubbed the palm of my hand against her lips. In the midst of an adrenaline rush, I found time to smirk, and comment on the condition of her labia.

"Nice to see you're enjoying this, slut." I chuckled. "You're so wet, I could almost..."

"Whoops" I grunted, as I push my middle finger inside her. Her head bowed forward, shoulders lowered, as I worked my finger in half-way, juices soaking my digit easily.

"Oh... so... sorry." I laughed again, pulling my arm back, then pushing it in harder, driving my finger in deeper.

"You know," I commented, "You really shouldn't've been such a bitch to me." I pulled my finger out, and drove it back in. My hand began steadily pounding away at her, her hips pushing backwards, betraying whatever denial she had left in her. I warily released her arms, watching carefully to see if she would make a run for it; she chose to use her arms to prop her up, and push her ass back towards me.

Smart girl.

I pulled my hand out, and added a second finger, ramming it in quickly. She cursed, "Fuck", and immediately began moving her hips faster.

I grabbed her hair, wrenching her head back painfully, and turned it, making her look to the left, where a window out onto the street would allow anyone to watch, if they looked carefully through the display.

"See that, slut?" I asked as my hand began forcing itself inside her faster. My other hand came down on her ass several times.

"Yes, yes." she replied quickly, sweat dripping down your face

"All it takes is one person... just one person to see this... and then they'll know, won't they."

Her ass shuddered again under my hand.

"They'll know you're a slut." My fingers pounded into her, as she moaned out loud.

I pulled my fingers out, pushed my dick downwards, and pulled her hips back. Finding her hole wasn't hard, I just followed the heat. And when I slid in, her back arched as she leaned down and rubbed a nipple under her slip.

"Please.. " she whispered. "Please."

I pushed in slightly, pulled my hips back, inhaled quickly, and rammed my cock in as hard as I could.

"That what you want... slut?" I sneered.

I pulled out slowly, against her insistent wishes, and slammed my cock in again. A slow withdrawl, followed by a quick pounding, made her body shake.

And she begged for more. It only made me screw her harder, teasing her pussy as I withdrew from her. She squeezed hard, trying to force me to fuck her fast, but I wasn't having it.

This slut was mine to use as I see fit.

With each intrusion of my cock inside her pussy, she moaned louder, begging harder. But release would come when I allowed it, no sooner. I pulled out patiently, as she attempted to push her hips back towards me, sucking my dick back in.

I refused. My left hand dug into her hips, bringing a yelp of pain out, while my right came crashing down on her ass, several times. I could see red marks forming on her cheeks, but I didn't give a shit.

I pounded my dick into her again, and again, picking up speed. Each time, I pushed my hips forward with the simple goal of driving my dick as far in as possible, regardless of her feelings o the subject. I fucked her.

And I fucked her hard.

Her body started shaking, to my amusement.

"Slut." I called out.

"You're such a slut."

I looked to my left, and saw a face with glasses peering in through the window. I grinned and waved. The female smiled, and waved back, watching intently.

I moved my hips faster, as her moans became more frequent. Harder and faster was my goal, and listening to her beg for my cock just drove me forward.

I began smacking her ass with each thrust. My arm would've gotten tired, but the thrill of taking her was too much; my system was overflowing with power. I began cursing at her, calling her names.

"Slut. Whore. Fucking slut!" I called out, looking over at the glasses in the window. Yeah, she was still there.

She cursed in response, as her ass started to shake.

Her head shot back, as I pushed my dick inside her forcefully, and she opened her mouth, and screamed, "Fuck!" at the top of her lungs.

I laughed.

And kept fucking away.

Her body exploded, pussy clamping down so swift and sudden that I almost came right there and then. She tried desperately to keep me in her wet hole, but I continued pumping away at her, until her body collapsed on the counter, and I reluctantly slid out.

She sat down, her back to the counter, and pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, breathing loudly. I sat down next to her and grinned.

"We had an audience," I chuckled. She looked over at the window, where several spectators applauded. It looked like mostly women.

"Jesus, god," she moaned. "That was... ugh." She let her head rest on my shoulder.

"I needed that," She whispered, smiling sincerely for the first time since she walked through the door.

"Well," I paused, "That's what you get for being a bitch."

She laughed.

-- The Bastard

-- This is fiction, of the erotic variety. There's a sidebar, on the right, listing more of my stories. Enjoy.

L.1 - Dirty

It's amazing how the simplest of photos can get me going. I see something, and all of a sudden a story(or memory.. heh) pops into my head. I came across this one photo of a wannabe British pop star, and immediately thought of a close friend of mine in England.

And immediately thought of the dirty, dirty things she and I could do to that poor girl.

So, I wrote her a letter about it.

I love being me.

S.

--

Dear ------- :

I found this picture of this wanna-be rock star, and thought of you.

I saw her (She's British) and immediately thought of the things you and I could do to her. Pick her up in a club, get her some drinks, take her back to your place, and throw her on your bed. Maybe we could tie her down, and gently play with her breasts for a while. Use our hands, then our lips and teeth and tongue. You could let your fingers slide down under those bottoms, and start playing with what we find down there.

And then I could suck your fingers dry. Or should we make her do it?

Doesn't matter.

I wonder how long until she started writhing under your touch? Or should my fingers join yours, and start rubbing her little spot down there, while your fingers slide in and out?

Mm.. How long until she moans? How loud will she get when our fingers are torturing her, and my mouth is sucking greedily on her chest?

Maybe I'd unzip my pants and slide it along her mouth, and make her beg for us to let her explode. But we wouldn't let her.. we'd just keep torturing her; Fingers and lips and and tongues, and hands and.... whatever else we decide to use.

And then, we make her watch, as I take you. And ravage you. And make YOU explode.

Yum.

S.

Off

I'm off to watch the election and drink beer. While I don't expect any clear victor tonight, it's hopeful we'll have a clue what's going on by tomorrow morning. Unless there's a landslide, which is doubtful given the splintered nation I currently call home.

No matter who wins (and Dear God, It's Me XXXXXXX,... please don't let it be Bush) they're going to have a difficult time putting the country back together.

Anyways, catch you tomorrow.

S.
--

Fangs

In between hangovers, drinking, and work, I managed to catch portions of several vampire movies this weekend.

I have always loved a good vampire yarn. Vamps are inherently seductive, or at least portrayed that way. The whole biting-of-the-neck thing... mm. There's nothing like watching the camera zoom in on a pair of teeth about to bite into a pulsing neck.

That being said, "Queen of the Damned" was pathetic. I've read a couple Anne Rice novels, and have been unsatisfied with the direction she's taken her characters. One of my principal problems with writing is the structure: I have to have an ending of some sort. A -satisfactory- ending. I read a trilogy of books by Rice that started off in an interesting fashion, but then turned into something completely different during the 2nd book, and then went even further in a different direction in the 3rd.

Well, there was this one scene in the first book that I used to use for... ah...personal reflection, if you catch my drift. Damn, that scene was hot.

Anyways.

QotD was pretty bad.

The recent Rob Lowe mini-series, Salem's Lot is a re-make of a Stepehn King book. Much, MUCH better. There was something very fucking creepy about the vamps in that movie. If I had seen that when I was 6 or 7, I would've pissed my pants in fear.

And then there's The Lost Boys, starring Corey and Corey. That movie was fantastic. Corny as hell, but the soundtrack rocked, and Kiefer as a bad guy? Rock on.

S.
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