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Tuesday, October 27, 2009

He Got Game - An Erotic Tale...

He Got Game - An Erotic Tale...

I gazed out my window at the Atlanta skyline, staring at nothing in particular, just wishing I were somewhere else other than here. I was still feeling the growls from my missed appointment with breakfast.

I was too busy running on the fast track of my career path that I no longer had time for luxuries, like food or love. All I knew was being the first one at work and last one to leave.

I couldn't wait any longer, it was time to get my fix. I put my laptop to sleep, gathered my purse and felt around for my Jimmy Choo's under the desk.

I strolled past my secretary's desk and called over my shoulder, "I'm taking an early lunch, Julia. Hold my calls."

"Of course, Ms. Tyler." Replied Julia, the steady tapping of computer keys never wavering.

I stepped into the elevator and pushed for the floor level. Giving myself a once over in the mirrored wall, I liked what I saw, to an extent.

Here I am, a 28 year old Black woman around the corner from becoming junior partner within the law firm of Smith, Davis & Ross. I've traveled all over the country and even to the corners of Asia and Europe.

I was becoming well respected in the upper crust of Atlanta society, dined with the mayor and his wife on numerous occasions. I attend the symphony and ballet as often as people go to the dollar cinemas on Buckhead Highway, but I still longed for something that was denied to me ever since I was a little girl. Thug passion.

Don't get me wrong...male suitors come in droves. Educated, refined, and wealthy men in all shades, sizes and demeanor fill my social calendar through the end of the quarter with $500 per plate dinners, urban fund-raisers, art gallery openings, countless other functions that just become increasingly boring by the minute. They are all nice men, definitely marriage material, but not what I want. Not until I scratch this itch of mine.

I strolled down the block to the corner deli, buying a simple veggie wrap, kettle chips and a sweet tea. With my lunch tucked safely away in my tote, I kept walking, on a mission. It was about that time.

*****

"Tameka. Stay away from them fast-ass boys, ya hear?" screamed my mother through the the ratty screen door, television blaring another countless episode of All My Children from the living room.

"Yes, ma'am." I called back as I took a seat on the porch and began to try to comb the tangles out of my Barbie's hair. She was my first doll and I took her everywhere with me. I would rub dirt on her so she would look more like me and people would know that she was my baby girl. But I couldn't do anything with her snarled head of hair that became less and less as I raked the plastic comb through it over and over again.

"Get offa me, punk!"

I looked up from my pitiful salon duties to the commotion occurring in the front yard next door. Anthony, who was in my fifth grade class, was trying to disengage himself from his overly plump cousin, Lonnie. Lonnie wouldn't let up, pushing all his weight on Anthony's neck, smiling in triumph as he mashed his cousin into the gravely earth. After about a minute, Anthony wriggled free and rewarded his cousin with a punch in the lower back.

"Ow, nigga. That hurt."

"That's what you get for effin wit me."

They kept shoving each other back and forth, a machismo rite of passage I guess, until Lonnie noticed they had an audience.

"What you staring at, ugly?"

I jumped at the remark and went back to combing Barbie's hair with a renewed interest, hoping they would go back to fooling around with each other. The last thing I needed was another confrontation with Lonnie. He was always up to no good, when he wasn't stuffing that fat face of his.

Before I knew it, Lonnie hopped over the four-foot fence that separated our houses and was within kissing distance of me, perish the thought. His breath reeked of Funions and his armpits weren't faring any better.

"I said," he warbled, snatching my doll from my hands, comb going with it. "What you staring at?"

"Give her back." I pleaded quietly; hoping my momma wouldn't hear and think I invited him over. I already got a switching this week for accepting a quarter from the grocery clerk down the street.

"Or what?" Lonnie held my Barbie by the hair just within reach of my outstretched fingers. Before I could reply, Lonnie dropped the doll into my waiting hands, grabbing the back of his head, wincing in agony. A small stone rolled from between his legs and stopped at the bottom stoop. We both turned and found Anthony grinning and tossing another one in his hand.

"Leave her alone." He hefted the stone once more. "That's my lady."

"You's a punk," said Lonnie.

"Well, you a sissy!" retorted Anthony, glancing my way for approval.

"And YOU a dicksucka," spat Lonnie causing all three of us to slap hands over our mouths, looking around for the offending ears of grownups. Cussing in front of adults meant a spanking and being around someone who cussed was just as bad.

"Oooooh, I'm telling." Anthony ran around the unkempt hedges to the back of his house with Lonnie hot on his heels, trying to keep his pants from falling down. I grinned; Anthony became my knight in shining armor and my first boyfriend, even though he still threw clumps of dirt at me on the way home from school every day. I've wanted a thug ever since...

*****

The park was only four blocks from the office, but the warm Atlanta sun quickly pushed the beads of sweat onto my forehead. My Versace suit was fine for the air-conditioned confines of the office hallway, but no place for a downtown stroll. I contemplated removing the jacket, but left it on to keep up appearances until I got where I was going.

I heard them before I saw them. First it was the reverberations of a car stereo, pounding out the latest misogynistic track from whichever hip-hop artist was hot at the time. The vocals were unintelligible due to the raised pitch of the bass, but the words really weren't meant to be heard anyway. This was the warning to outsiders to keep their distance. Most of the downtown workforce heeded the advice, avoiding the park, leaving most of the benches unoccupied even on the nicest of spring days. I was also an outsider, but curiosity and temptation overpowered my judgment.

The grinding of rubber on granite, the aggressive shouting, sounds of clanging metal became my signal beacon. I headed for my usual spot, which was thankfully empty, and after finally removing my restraining jacket, took a seat. From here I got a view of the court lengthwise, but was far enough away to keep my presence minimal.

It was the middle of the day, but the court was full. Shirtless HOT Chocolate Daddies of all shades filled my view, banging against each other, working up a sweat, chasing a ball and each other up and down the 94 by 50 foot arena.

This is what I watched the clock for. This was my getaway. Most of the men in my social circle join a gym or work out at home. They watch their carbs, avoid fast food at all costs, and groom themselves more than the rules of masculinity should allow.

Here on the courts, it is chiseled down to the lowest common denominator, on display for all to see.

I've found myself drawn here for the past year, whenever the weather was warm and time permitted. It was a vice I couldn't shake. For some people, it's the glass pipe or the brown bottle. For me, it was thugs.

Now, my definition of a thug may differ from most peoples. They think they see thugs on the evening news or primetime on Cops, but they are confused with hoodlums.

These men that I adore are constantly suspect, because of their appearance and demeanor. These are the kinds of men that cause car doors to automatically lock at stoplights, purses clutch a little closer to one's self when they wander by. They have a walk and talk all their own, always changing a step ahead of the status quo. They may not work down the hall from me, but more likely in the mail room somewhere.

Besides, the only hoods I associate with were on "Oz" which I would TiVO weekly just for a glimpse of Kenny "Bricks" Wangler played by the sexy J.D. Williams. I'd spent so many nights fingering myself to teeth grinding orgasms thinking about a conjugal visit with Prisoner #97W566, that I developed acute carpal tunnel. Only after he got killed in season 4, did I work up the nerve to buy myself a vibrator, which I aptly named Kenny.

I recently moved on to D'Angelo's video, "Untitled" where he bares his soul and so much more, I can't even wait until he reaches the bridge anymore before I'm shaking with release.

Back to the present time, I scoured the court looking for familiar bodies. Since I was never brave enough to approach any of them or dumb enough to stretch lycra over my form to the breaking point like my "competition" in hopes they'd come to me, I even had nicknames for the regulars.

I saw "The Runt" first. He is the smallest guy on the court, has the most amount of mouth and the least amount of game. He was always jawing about what he was gonna do, what he did last week, and the ever repetitive story about his ankle breaking move on Dwight Howard, the Atlanta born phenomenon. For all his talk, he was welcomed back week after week even though his contribution to the games was minimal at best.

Then there was "Old School." He was a graying veteran that played every game like it was his last. There was no flashiness in his game, just smart fundamentals. He still relied on the pick and roll and had a killer set shot if you gave him the room. I swept the court with quick glances, pretending that I was engrossed in my lunch when I saw him.

TyShawn.

His was the only name I knew for sure. He was on the court almost every day, his team usually winning their "runs". He was the Alpha male, he knew it, and so did everybody else on the court. Utmost respect was paid to his person and his game; even Runt kept the jabber to a minimum when he held court.

He was a 6'9" dark chocolate wet dream and I salivated whenever I stared too long. His hair was close cropped with long, but tapered sideburns that connected into his thin goatee. He wore a simple silver chain that encircled his neck, glistening in the sun. His broad chest was devoid of hair; chiseled black marble.

He never wore a shirt or jersey when he was playing, just a wristband placed high on his forearm and a twin headband; matching colors. Today they were white. I would give anything to use those sweat absorbed pieces of cotton as a loofah. His abs twitched with each stride he took up and down that court, quickening my breathing in an instant.

He wore the same Carolina blue shorts, baggy enough for me to see the band of his Phat Farm boxer shorts peeking out. He hitched them up when on defense, drying his palms on the seams and exposing scrumptious thigh in the process. His white Nikes were always clean, no scuffs or tears. When I first laid eyes upon him, D'Angelo got put on pause and Kenny gathered dust in the nightstand. He had a hunger in his eyes that transferred to his game. He would stare at his opponents as if they were fresh prey and bark "Ya'll aint ready," before proving it to them.

I forgot about the hunger in my belly and concentrated on the other one between my thighs. Crossing my legs only heightened the sensitivity and I bit my lip glad no one heard the moan escape when he hitched up his shorts. I took a sip of tea and watched him kill his opponents.

It seemed that there was a new group of victims up for slaughter on the court and TyShawn showed no mercy; he was Caesar in his heyday. With Runt keeping up the trash banter and Old School setting picks stronger than prison walls, TyShawn was in rare form. The game was to 21, but he already single-handedly scored 15 before the other team threw up a prayer outside the arch and got two on the board. I silently cheered from the sideline as I always do, trying not to attract too much attention, getting my fill before walking back to the office to daydream.

This game was pretty much over but the losing team didn't want to go without a fight. Runt was the first victim when he received an elbow to the chest trying to push past a late screen. Out here, the only fouls were called due to blood or contusion. I could see the little man try to suck it up and for the first time in a long while, he didn't have anything to say. Old School was next, a nasty shove under the basket when he leapt for a rebound, sending him crashing into the cast iron support beam.

I could only hold my breath as the sorry ass players tried to zero in on my thug prince, but TyShawn was too smart for their tactics. Cutting tight paths through the elbows and feet with flawless crossovers and reverse dribbles had the defense running into each other, using the asphalt wipe up their sweat. Then there was another guy, the only one there truly in need of a shirt and a shave, trying to use body on him to no avail. TyShawn used his forearm and stamina to keep him at bay. The score was 19-2 and TyShawn had enough of the roughhousing.

With his opponent, whom I aptly named " The Belly" slobbering like Beethoven in heat, TyShawn pulled up beyond the arc for a three and before the ball reached it's apex, yelled, "Next!"

The ball swished cleanly through and because of the lack of net ricocheted off the pole, bouncing over the patch of concrete and rolling towards me. Inwardly I smiled, thinking about something clever to say when all hell broke loose.

TyShawn was jogging in my direction for the ball, the players on the sideline forming the next crew when I saw the Belly waddle to a rusted out Buick and retrieve something. When I saw the silver glint in his hand, matching the color of his mouth jewelry, I knew that shit was jumping off.

"Next this, nyaagah!" spittle flying from his mouth as he drew out the last word, raising the pistol at the same time.

"Look out," I screamed as the first shot broke the noonday chatter. Players jumped out the way as he waved the pistol back and forth screaming obscenities. TyShawn looked back and broke into a sprint right at me as I stood up like a fool, pointing. I think everyone knew what a gun could do. All my street instincts went right out the window when I started law school. Legs churning, TyShawn was almost upon me as the grass behind him exploded in chucks of turf as he dug in. In all the chaos, all I could do was watch the sweaty detail of his pectorals as his arms pumped up and down like pistons; hazel eyes ablaze with adrenaline overload.

"Move, dammit!"

I stood there, paralyzed, until I felt the full weight of his body slam into me, taking me up and over the hard wood and concrete bench. We somersaulted to the ground, my knee taking the brunt of the blow. It finally hit me that this was no dream as more shots cracked through the air. I closed my eyes and prayed for what seemed like minutes, hoping I would escape this ghetto drama.

I could no longer hear the shots or the neighboring shrieks from the scantily dressed chicken heads or tires squealing from escaping vehicles, just my hurried breathes matching his. Then I heard nothing but my own heartbeat. After what seemed like an eternity, I opened my eyes.

TyShawn was no longer here, protecting me in that sweaty embrace and the park was still. I carefully peeked around the stone legs of the bench and saw the Belly was gone as well as everybody else. I tried to stand and felt sparks of pain stabbing me in the knee, taking a scenic route up my thigh. I looked down and saw my hose ripped; blood seeping through the tear. My Jimmy Choos turned to Gummy Chewed.

"You okay?"

I spun around on my good leg and TyShawn was standing there, a construction belt hanging off his shoulder.

"My leg, I can't walk." I managed to squeak out.

He looked down, frowning at the cut, and without word hoisted me up in his arms and began to carry me to the parking lot.

"Where's your car, lady?"

"Tameka. I walked...from work."

I leaned into him as he strode across the grass, each step making my cheek bump against his shoulder. I gorged my senses on his musk and CK1 potpourri. We approached a beat-up Chevy Blazer and he set me down against the fender so he could open the door. We were truly the only ones left in the park. I put some pressure on my knee and found out I could stand comfortably. The trickle of blood slowed , but my hose were done for and I don't know if dry cleaning was gonna save my skirt.

"I don't think I need to go to the hospital; damn that hurts." I put as much weight as I could on my leg. How am I going to explain this at work?

TyShawn looked at me again and reached inside his SUV for a t-shirt.

"I have a med kit in the back." He walked to the back of the Blazer and lowered the door. I hobbled over and he lifted me up into the back to get a good look at my knee.

"What if he comes back?" My thoughts suddenly flashed back to why we were here in the first place.

"He got what he wanted, to fuck up the game, he ain't coming back."

TyShawn grabbed a tiny first aid kit and cracked it open. Finding the gauze, he tore the package open with the whitest teeth I've seen in a long time and unrolled it. He also grabbed a used tube of Neosporin and uncapped it. Applying it to his finger, he began to dab it on my cut. I flinched, not from the pain, but from the thought of him touching me. If this is what it took, I would have jumped in front of a MARTA bus.

He took his time. Cupping his other hand under my knee for leverage, he began to wrap the wound with the tender care of a private physician. I bit my lip, not from the pain but in hopes he wouldn't notice how moist he was making me. I felt my panties dampen when he blew a blade of grass from the bandage.

TyShawn looked up at me with just his eyes and damn if my love didn't almost come down.

"You a fan?"

"Sure."

"Of the game or something else?" He gave my calf the slightest squeeze as he let my knee down. A quick glance down confirmed what I assumed. I watch a thickness slowly creep down his thigh, making me lick my lips in anticipation of what could happen next if I were a weaker woman. Hell, who am I kidding? I wanted to feel that cocoa stick against the swell of my lips; both of them.

"You want that ride?"

His question shook me from my trance and I quickly crossed my legs in attempt to regain my senses.

"I'm not far from here, but I'm...." My words trailed off when he licked his lips.

"Get in."

I scooted off the back bumper and hopped as quickly as I could to the passenger side where TyShawn had the door open for me. He pushed some books off the seats and gestured for me to have a seat. I slid in and tried to still my heart, while waiting for him to get in.

The door slammed with authority as TyShawn hopped in the driver's seat and shook his keys until he found the right one. As old as the Blazer was, he kept it clean enough. The leather seats were shiny from hand detailing, floormats free of debris, spare coins filled the ashtray instead of butts. Cherry scented kisses wafted at me through the vents when he started the engine. TyShawn turned in his seat and stared me down with those smoky eyes.

"Where am I taking you, shawty?"

I melted when he called me "shawty". I knew I had to have him. I couldn't find my voice, so I just pointed in the direction of my office. TyShawn backed out the parking space and rolled smoothly out into traffic.

On the way there, we didn't speak, I didn't know if I could without blurting out my intentions.

I was so moist and I knew he could tell what he was doing to me. He reached for a peach that was sitting on the dashboard and took a hefty bite, the juice escaping from the corners of his mouth. I watched him devour the fruit, throat working overtime as he didn't bother to chew that much.

I thought of my partially eaten lunch left behind on the bench and realized how much I wanted to snatch the rest of his snack from him, I was so hungry. He kept chomping, not bothering to offer me any, abruptly tossing the pit out the window.

I pointed to the entrance of the parking garage and he deftly turned into it, waved through by the security guard who recognized me. We entered the cool cavern of Mercedes, Jaguars, and other statures of success.

"Keep going," I blurted out.

TyShawn didn't respond but kept creeping up the parking ramp, turning right after each floor. I let him keep driving until the number of cars lessened and we were far away from the service elevators. We reached the top floor, where nobody ever parked since the nearest entrance was a floor below. I was full aware of what I was doing even though my stomach turned flip-flops and I kept asking myself why.

"Right here," I pointed left, stretching my arm across his line of vision to a spot out of sight by prying eyes.

TyShawn whipped in the lane, and turned off the ignition before turning his body to face me fully.

"Is this good?"

"It's more than good."

Without warning, I leaned into him, pressing my lips into his. Mixed with the recent fruit, I was tasting the sweetest sweat ever created by man. His lips were soft as Egyptian cotton, filled with the energy of a thousand beehives. I heard myself moan with gratitude.

His hands cupped the underlining of my jaw as he pulled me in closer, smothering me with the full force of his kiss. My legs rubbed together like a cricket at midnight and I tugged at his t-shirt, dying to get to his flesh. The material gave way beneath my clenched fingers, ripping in two. I reluctantly escaped his lips to assault his chest with fiery kisses and nibbles.

"Hold up," TyShawn pushed me away from him, licking his lips, "You ain't running this squad."

Running his hand around the back of my neck, he peppered my neck with machine gun kisses, moving down my blouse, pausing to pop my buttons with his teeth. Using his other hand, he slipped his fingertips down the strap of my bra, sliding around till he was palming my breast. His kisses kept a downward path until his lips found my hardened nipples, sucking them as if Gatorade would spring forward any second.

I could barely contain myself, squirming from every lick and bite, running my hands all over his smooth head, hips gyrating feverishly, my soaking pussy begging to be filled.

"Come here." he grunted.

TyShawn held his grip on the back of my neck, guiding me back to map of muscle that was his chest. I licked, bit and suckled to my hearts content, not realizing how far south I traveled till the tip of his dick brushed against my cheek bone. Just like on the court, he was a step ahead of the competition.

"Put them lips to some good use, shawty."

His demand only made me salivate more as I took a firm grip on his thick pole. TyShawn didn't give me much time to admire to his natural work of art, pushing my neck down until his bulbous mushroom top forced its way past my lips.

I couldn't help thinking about my first Tootsie Roll. Like the candy, he tasted so sweet and I wanted to keep sucking until the flavor was gone and that was going to take forever. I took in more mouthfuls with each bend of my neck, trying to maintain control of my gag reflex. My tongue mingled with his shaft, feeling out every detail, vein, and texture, drawing me an internal map. He went in so smooth, a true fit, and I got bolder. I couldn't find a decent spot to put my hand, so I just cupped his balls, pulling and squeezing, while I let my tongue play ring around the rosie.

I kept sucking, increasing my movement, assuring myself that he was loving every minute of it even though not a peep escaped from his lips. After another minute, I was pulled off with a resounding pop. I rose up and caught a glance of my appearance in the rear view mirror. My lipstick was wiped clean, replaced by the shine of my own saliva. The air temperature in the car was rising since the engine was off and my forehead had a thin coat of sheen to justify the heat.

TyShawn was busy tearing the gold foil of a Magnum with his teeth, smoothly rolling on the latex. Without a word, he reached under my skirt, finished tearing through my ruined hose and relieved me of my soaked panties, pausing to inhale my scent of wanting, before sliding two fingers of his left hand, his ball hand, inside me.

I came immediately, pussy clenching around his digits, hips raising to meet the thrust of his hand. His fingers were no match for his hardened dick, which I grabbed and began to stroke rapidly. Even through the sheath of latex, I felt his heartbeat. His pulsing dick was looking for a warm, wet sanctuary and I was more than ready to offer refuge.

TyShawn removed his fingers, immediately stuck them in his mouth, grunting again in what I took as approval.

I wrestled with my skirt, hiking it up around my waist as far as I could before he grabbed me by the waist, yanking me over the console and impaling with the full force of a slamdunk.

All the breath rushed out of me as if I was punched in the stomach, might as well have been, his girth stretching me to my limits. I had many firsts. My first kiss, first drink, first orgasm. This was the first time that I had pleasurable pain. I felt the tremors of another orgasm taking me and moaned like an abandoned kitten in the night.

"Oh yeah, thats what I want to hear," TyShawn growled in my ear.

"Errrmmm." I couldn't even form coherent sentences. But my body did all the talking for me. Pushing deeper against him, wrapping my arms around his neck and the headrest in a orgasmic grinding bearhug.

TyShawn stared me down, gripping the globes of my ass as he shifted in and out of my saturated slit, spreading moist lust all over his thighs with each thrust. The cherry scented interior of the car was quickly replaced with the heated aroma of frenzied lust accompanied by the sounds of my audible satisfaction.

I couldn't stop my legs from shaking and could only let him do his thing, bearing my full weight on him in surrender. Before I could even get into a rhythm, I was lifted off and dumped back into my own seat, while TyShawn completely removed his shorts. I stared transfixed at his bobbing rod; it looked bigger. I couldn't help thinking about that plant in "Little Shop of Horrors". It wanted to be fed, badly. His dick was saying "Feed me Tameka...FEED ME!"

"Back seat," he commanded as he let his own seat recline and scooted away from the steering wheel, clad in only those spotless Nikes. I followed suit, the pain in my knee long forgotten. I barely got my ass over the headrest before he was snatching me by the ankles. Removing my battered shoes and chucking them to the side, TyShawn kissed my toes one by one. I was enjoying his romantic side till I realized it was just a diversion when he locked my legs over his shoulders and thrust inside me to the hilt.

"Oooooohhhhhh," I moaned louder than I wanted to. He quickly quieted me down with the insertion of that still sweetened tongue. As good as it felt to be kissed, I could only groan as one of the seatbelt buckles dug a trench into my lower back.

The last time I fucked in a car was prom night and that was no picnic either. But I wasn't relinquishing my lip lock on my thug prince for the sake of comfort.

"You aint ready," he chuckled as he pulled out halfway and slammed back into me. I was too in awe to look but his balls rubbing against my ass told me every inch of him made his way inside of me, but I never got to feel it for long as he quickly pulled out and repeated, drilling me like his dick was a jackhammer.

I gripped his steeled arms for dear life as I took the fucking of a lifetime. He worked himself into a frenzy, his sweat dripping into my face, eyes, running tiny rivers between my breasts.

I was paralyzed as he stared me down. I saw that same fire that arouse in his eyes when he went to battle on the court and I knew I was getting schooled like a first timer.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out, which made him go faster until I was ready to sing backup for the Supremes. The oos and ahhs came faster and harder and I started speaking gibberish. I lost count of my orgasms, them blending together into one continuous wave, never breaking.

As good as his dick was, I might have been a hole in the wall. He treated this as if it were another game. Well, I wasn't going to roll over like his opponents. I didn't have a stationary bike in the corner of my bedroom just to hang my jacket nor did I take yoga just to chat with bored housewives.

I dug deep within and started to fight back, squeezing my pelvis, putting a full-court press on his dick. His rapid grunting turning into slow moans told me it was working. His look of deterimination shifted to resignation as he bit his lower lip, nostrils flaring.

"You got a lil' game down there, girl," he breathed trying to to keep up the pace. I threw some trash talk back at him.

"This ain't my first game." I was past the shock of this monster dick and after being limbered up, was ready to go all out. "Come with it."

With each thrust of his hips, I squeezed back. Thank you, Kegel! Pretty soon, his dick stopped driving the lane, pulling up for outside jumpers. I raised my ass higher to catch his escaping member. I wrapped my hands around his neck in a steel grip to keep him close, the fire in my eyes matching his till he had to turn away.

I took that as my opening, rising up and clamping my lips on his earlobe. He shuddered, tried to switch tactics but it was too late. I felt the rumble between my clenched hands. It rolled down his broad shoulders, ran down to the base of his spine. He tried to back away, but I deftly got my legs from around his shoulders and locked around the small of his back. All those nights of watching Tito Ortiz didn't hurt either.

The first blast caught me off guard, so powerful against my spongy walls even though he wore a rubber, I came again. It became a game of chain reaction. Every time I felt his strong seed, I was forced to reciprocate with an orgasm, which caused me to tighten up and coax another strand of life from him.

TyShawn surrendered his thug persona for a minute, collapsing on top on me, riding the rest of his orgasm out in shaking defeat. I took the brutal beating he put on my pussy, but I had him ready to walk away while I was ready to shout, "Next".

While TyShawn tried to get his breathing back to normal, I took advantage of the situation, rubbing the back of his head, planting little kisses on his face, doing everything I thought about doing, savoring my win in the process.

Just as I was getting comfortable, the polyphonic chirp of a ringtone broke the air. TyShawn pulled out and away from me with a squishy plop, reaching towards his middle console. He grabbed the phone and looked at the lit screen before chucking it in the front seat and reaching for his UNC shorts. He carefully removed the bloated condom but, just like the peach pit, opened the door and chucked it out.

"I'm out."

Those two words were my cue. No thanks, goodbyes, or transfer of phone numbers. I sat up, relieving the pressure from the seat belt on my back and tried to get myself together. I pulled my sweat stained dress down and tried to fix my blouse, but just said fuck it. There is no way I'm wearing this outfit back to work, matter of fact, I'm taking the back stairs to my vehicle and calling it an early day.

I reached in the front floor boards for my purse and slid from the reclined seats out the back door where the cooling wind dried the sweat from my face, plastering my ruined makeup in a frozen mask.

TyShawn already cranked the engine of his Chevy and was toweling himself off with his t-shirt. I stood in the doorway for a second longer than I needed to hoping I would get some affirmation that I wasn't a complete fool when he turned around to look at me.

"Nice game."

I shut the door and stepped back so he could pull out. Well, it was better than nothing. But, that's what thugs do.

As I watched him creep down the ramp, TyShawn stuck his arm outside the drivers window, my Victoria Secret bottoms clutched in his hand, waving a final goodbye.

I returned the wave with a trophy of my own. Two pieces of elastic cotton; extra damp. "Damn, he got game..."

The *69 Savior - An Erotic Tale...

The *69 Savior - An Erotic Tale...

"Damnit, damnit!" I whined aloud to myself seeing the steam pouring out from under the hood of my rental car. I looked down at the temperature gauge and saw that it was off the charts. "That's what I get for renting a Ford Taurus...FUCK! These new cars just can't handle highway speeds..." I was mumbling to myself as I raised the hood of the new white Taurus, forgetting that I'd had the accelerator all the way to the floor. The heat of a July sun beat down on my bare shoulders as I stood there, semi bent over, hands on the driver side fender. I kicked the tire brutally, then wished I hadn't. "Guess I shouldn't have worn these sandals." I reached through the window to grab my cell phone, exposing more of my ass to the elements as the denim mini I wore hiked up my thighs.

As I struggled to grasp the phone, my feet left the asphalt and I could feel the heat of the Baltimore sun warming my ass through my pink silk panties.

"Hey there...having some car trouble?" came a mocking voice from behind me.

Embarrassed, and turning as pink as the panties I wore, I eased my feet back onto the ground and turned to face the man leaning against the rear quarter of the Taurus. He was over six feet tall, wearing a pair of button fly Levis, a white tee shirt and a black fitted hat...

"Car trouble? Is that what you call this? Here I am, in 90 degree heat, with a BRAND new car, stranded along side I-95. What do YOU think?!?" I snapped.

"Well then," he laughed, "I guess you have it all figured out. Guess I'll just be on my way." He turned to leave then, and I could feel the anger rising inside me. As he turned, I could see he had probably the nicest ass I'd ever seen. And as I looked beyond him, expecting to see a beat to hell Chevy pick up, instead I saw a gorgeous black Ford Mustang, a GT500.

Reevaluating my situation, I called to him, "Wait! Wait, please...I'm sorry I was so rude, but it's... it's just," I gasped somewhat breathlessly, "just so hot, and I'm all by myself out here." I pushed up the strap of my tank and walked toward him. "Could you just give me a lift?"

"Where to?" he asked.

"I...I don't care - anywhere."

We flew down the interstate and the black leather beneath me, began to stick to my thighs. I arched my back and pulled my skirt up, allowing the rushing air from the window to cool me down. "By the way, my name is Sahai," I said.

The driver said nothing, but I could tell he could hardly keep his eyes on the road. When I saw a turn off ahead, I suggested he take it. We could cool off in the shade of the trees along side the road perhaps?

As he eased the car into the tall green grass beneath the trees, thunder crackled overhead and big heavy drops of rain began to fall. I got out of the car, imagining how wonderful the cool rain would feel on my hot sticky skin. I placed my hands on the hood of the car... the metal burned my hands. As the rain fell, the metal cooled down and I became even hotter. My black tank stuck to me, showing very clearly my hard nipples beneath the light cotton fabric.

By now, the mysterious savior had joined me in the rain. I turned and looked into his eyes hungrily, then placed my hands back on the hood of the car. He reached around me and unbuttoned the front of the skirt I wore, peeling it down my thighs and throwing it onto the roof of the car. Next, he pulled my wet top off...his eyes devoured my braless titties, nipples pink and hard, rain dripping of the erect nubs. He took the right nipple into his mouth, sucking hungrily, pinching the other between his thumb and index finger. He continued his assault on my wet sensitive nipples, pushing me down on my back to the hood of the car. He pulled my panties off, leaving my bare pussy lips exposed to the pouring rain.

The heat of the engine radiated through the hood and mingled with the cool rain running down the crack of my ass. The savior lowered his head to my pussy, wet with my own juices as well as the rain. He drew the pink lips wide apart and thrust his tongue into my tight wetness, driving me insane. He nibbled on my clit and continued eating my pussy as the rain beat against the hot metal and my skin. Slipping two fingers inside of me, he began fingering me to ecstasy while sucking on my excited clit. I was moaning and crying out, begging him to let me cum when he pulled me off the hood and pushed me to my knees in the wet grass.

I quickly pulled the buttons on his jeans apart and pulled the pants down to his ankles. I licked my lips when I saw the huge bulge awaiting me inside his underwear. I peeled the wet briefs down to reveal 10 inches of hard, delicious dick. I took him into my mouth and drew him down into my throat. His dick was so huge, I almost gagged, but I had to have it, so I kept swallowing until his balls slapped my chin. I began to suck, gently at first, then harder, pressing him against the roof of my mouth. He took two fistfuls of my hair and began fucking my face. His balls brutally slapped my chin and I thought I would pass out from lack of air. My nose was buried deep in his trimmed pubic hair. I could feel his muscles tensing and prepared myself for his load.

All of a sudden, he pulled out of my mouth, pulling me to my feet and throwing me chest down onto the hood. The hot metal and cool rain sent shock waves through my body, as he pulled my legs far apart. He thrust into me brutally, holding me down with a hand in the small of my back. I slid up and down on the hood with each thrust, gliding on the wetness of the rain.

I could feel the heat building inside me, his heavy balls slapping against my skin. He was groaning raggedly, grunting deep in his throat. I could feel his dick twitching as it slid in and out of me, harder each time. Again, I braced myself to take his hot load of cum, when he withdrew, pulling me down into the soft wet grass with him. He flipped me around and buried his head in between my legs once again. I took his hard dick in between my lips, sucking the head, then licking down his shaft. We sucked and licked there in the cool wet grass until we filled one another's mouths with sweet cum. As we lay there in the afterglow, the rain receding to a drop here and there, both of us exhausted, I looked him in the eyes. "What year is your car?" I yawned.

He barely said "69" before he fell asleep.

Now, as I fly down the highway, the black leather seat sticking to my thighs, the accelerator to the floor, I smile and think to myself... "69...Figures!"

Monday, October 12, 2009

Don't Fuck With Gamma Nu! - An Erotic Mini-Series...

Don't Fuck With Gamma Nu! - An Erotic Mini-Series...

1
Kevin tried to open his eyes; they felt like ten pound weights were hanging from each lid. His tongue felt swollen, stuck to the roof of his mouth. He would kill for a drink, give just about anything to give his mouth some moisture. The dense pounding in his head was worse than any hangover he ever had. He had no idea how long he had been out, it felt like hours.

After great struggle, he was able to crack open one eyelid to take in his surroundings. He was in a windowless room with a hard-packed dirt floor, lashed to a bondage rack, clad in nothing but his boxers. They were his date underwear.

The last thing he could remember was pulling up to Shay's dorm, ready to put another notch in his belt. He got out of his car and set the remote alarm when things went dark. He could barely turn his neck to the left or the right so he fought to open his other eye. He blinked a couple of times and tried to adjust to the dark.

He heard a click to his left and saw the wall slide inwards. Three figures entered the room, single file, cloaked in dark robes.

"What the fuck?" He rasped, trying to force his tongue to move. None of the three replied, separating to opposites corners of the room. The tallest one stood next to a large table, covered in a white sheet. The second went to the adjacent wall, hitting a switch, flooding the room with harsh lighting, making Kevin shut his eye to mask the pain.

The last figure approached Kevin, standing directly in front of him. It was holding a riding crop in gloved hands, which it tapped lightly. The tender pop of leather on leather made Kevin very nervous. He tried to move away as it approached, but the straps that bonded him to the smooth wood held firm.

The figure dropped the crop to the side and removed the hood. Kevin's eyes widened, a sheet of cold sweat washing over him.

"Oh shit…"

2
He thought back to three weeks before that very night. A light wind blew through the campus, carrying the faint sounds of lovemaking throughout the evening air. The sounds escaped from a second story window of the Gamma Nu Sorority house. Upon closer examination, the sound was not lovemaking, but frenzied fucking. Inside, a young coed was crushed deep into her mattress, neck shoved against her headboard and limbs askew. On top of her was a muscular man, pounding his pelvis as deep as he could; one hand pressed tightly against her breast, the other gripping her calf and pushing it back as far as it could go till her toes were touching the wall overhead.

"Shit, Kevin," squealed the coed. "Ease up a minute."

"Shut the fuck up, I'm almost there."

Kevin kept up his rigorous sexual workout, bed frame groaning under the strain. The cooling wind from the open window did nothing to dissipate the stream of sweat running off of him. He shook his head to keep it out of his eyes, grunted in time with the banging headboard. The female moaned under the strain of her forced contortions and his rough grip, not to mention the stabbing pain from his urgent thrusts. Just as the twinge in her thigh marked the beginning of a cramp, he released his grip and pulled out.

She felt the relief of relaxed limbs before she was barraged with bullets of cum, splattering her face and hair. Kevin groaned as he tugged the remaining seed out of his dick before collapsing on the bed next to her in a panting lump. Shock was quickly replaced by anger as hot semen dripped off her nose and trailed across her lips.

"STUPID BASTARD!" She screamed at him as she disengaged herself from the tangled sheets and jetted across the room to the bathroom she shared with her absent roommate.

Kevin chuckled, wagging his softening dick back and forth with his hand before wiping the sticky member clean with her bed sheets. A mix of sweat, blood (from a torn hymen), and pussy juice stained the cotton. Rolling off the bed, he began to get dressed. The deed was done; another notch on his sex belt marked with pride. He looked around for his lucky drawers, a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers that he wore the first time he fucked the head cheerleader back in high school. He was fastening the buckle on his belt when the door to the bathroom opened. His date came out, fastening her robe, a towel wrapped around her hair. She stared daggers at him, but he just smiled.

"If I wanted to be fucked by a horse, I would have called Mr. Ed!" She glowered at his casual demeanor. This wasn't the same man that surprised her with flowers in class, left love notes on her car, and treated her to a night on the town less than two hours ago.

"Shit, Jessica…" drawled Kevin. "I didn't know you sorority chicks were into that sort of shit! Maybe next time, witcha freak ass." He laughed at his joke, stroking himself nonchalantly through his pants before buttoning his shirt.

"Nigga fuck you!"

"Ah, we just did that." He slipped into his loafers and eased around her to make his exit. Jessica could only glare as he opened the door to her room and left without another glance. She was steaming, mostly pissed at herself for being duped by his suave demeanor and empty words. It wasn't the first time he pulled this stunt, but she refused to believe the rumors around campus. After locking the door behind her, she stripped the soiled sheets off the bed.

The roar of a Mazda 3 in the driveway announced his departure. She scooped up the bottle of perfume that he brought for her and ran to the window, chucking it at the departing vehicle. The glass shattered on the gravel, missing his car completely. Kevin beeped the horn, waving bye as he sped down the driveway.

Jessica slammed the window and returned to the bed. She picked up her cell phone and punched a few keys. After a couple of rings, someone picked up the line.

"Hey girl, I fucked up bad."

She related the story to the person on the phone; hot tears began to spill down her face. She listened intently for a minute, a sneer slowly replacing the scowl. By the end of the conversation, she had a grin dripping with evil.

"That's why you're my girl," Jessica laughed. "I'll tell the others and get back with you."

3
Later that night, three members of Gamma Nu gathered in the basement of the sorority house. There was Jessica, a bronze beauty that favored Beyoncé but had much larger breasts; Kevin's latest victim. In the overstuffed chair, still dressed in her party clothes sat Selina. Her line name was Glamazon, because of her large frame and muscular build. She was the only girl on the collegiate wrestling team but had the looks to land her a small modeling contract during semester breaks.

The last girl standing by the bar, hair pulled back in a ponytail, tugging at her rumbled pajamas while she mixed a drink was Felicia. Her rimless glasses pushed back on her head as she mixed herself a late night cocktail. Felicia was the most plain of the trio and although she spent more time in the books instead of the mirror, she had a hidden beauty that few ever saw.

"Thanks for meeting me y’all," said Jessica, fidgeting like her bladder was full.

"The club was dead anyway girl." Selina crossed her long legs, picking at a strand of thread on her dress.

"Couldn't it wait till breakfast?" Felicia slurped the overflow from the highball glass before adding a couple of maraschino cherries.

"Time is of the essence on this one." She didn't know how to drop the news to her sisters; they would freak out when they find out what occurred only a few hours ago.

“Well, tonight..." She was interrupted by a tapping on the basement door. Everybody looked in the direction of the knocking, counting the taps to indicate the secret signal. After seven taps followed by two long knocks, Jessica strode over to open the door. In strolled a thin boy, dressed in purple slacks and matching sport jacket with a scarf wrapped around his neck almost trailing to the floor.

"Hey Babies," squealed the flamboyant guest, doing a pirouette to show off his wardrobe.

"Luscious!" the girls shouted in glee. Luscious was their unofficial sorority “sister.” The gay male loved the Gamma Nus, couldn't pledge because of regulations but was embraced nonetheless. He was always over to the house, cooking scrumptious meals, dishing the dirt on fellow coeds, helping coordinate and plan events and using them for models when he designed his over the top fashion designs.

After a minute of hugging and pleasantries, they got down to business. Jessica repeated the events that she relayed to Luscious earlier. Selina uncrossed her legs and stood up. She strode over to Jessica, towering over her by a couple of inches.

"What did I tell you about Kevin?" She hissed through the teeth. "You get the highest grades every semester, but you're too stupid to stay away from that son of a bitch? I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND! WE WARNED YOU!"

"Not you," chimed in Felicia slamming down her drink. "I thought he was never to darken this threshold again."

Luscious stepped between Jessica and Selina, putting a reassuring hand on their shoulders. "Now, babies...What's done is done, but I have a plan to end this once and for all.

The one thing that everybody in the room had in common was humiliation at the hands of Kevin. Felicia was swayed by the only guy that would talk to her freshman year. She never wore make-up, dressed down and kept to herself. Kevin was nice to her, always walking her from biology class. They dated for a brief period, going to movies and romantic dinners.

When she gave herself to him the last night of the semester, he became a beast. He fucked her on the cold metal bleachers of the football stadium, leaving his signature all over her new red blouse, and then refused to give her a ride back across campus. She walked home in a cum-stained top; his mark visible to all parties hanging out in front of the dorm. He stopped taking her phone calls, pretending she didn't exist. There was nothing she could do about it.

Luscious, (who's real name is Leroy) was a quiet boy on the third floor of the freshman dorm who became a youtube sensation overnight due to a snooping Kevin and his new camera phone. A perfect rendition of him singing Dreamgirls in the shower made him the laughing stock of the third floor, confirming what everyone speculated about his sexual orientation. A public outing on campus reached his small hometown, resulting in the abolishment of his full scholarship from his family's church. Luscious hoped for the day that Kevin got his just due.

Selina didn't fall for the charms of Kevin; her younger sister Serena did. At a fraternity party Kevin tricked the poor girl into having sex with him…without informing her of the camera recording them or the fact that it was being broadcast to the attendees of the party. With over 50 independent witnesses confirming it was a consensual event and Kevin denying knowledge of the camera’s presence, Kevin once again avoided trouble and Selina’s sister left school shamed. So the entire quartet had retribution in store for Kevin.

Luscious licked his lips. "What EXACTLY does he have that gets you girls all hot in the vajayjay?" His eyes cast a faraway look. "I'd like to see for myself; I deserve that much at least."

Selina shoved him on the shoulder. "Stop getting hot and bothered. What are we going to do about this motherfucker?"

"Bring me a Cosmo and gather round, children." Clapping his hands together, he placed himself in the chair that was vacated by Selina, unwrapped his extra long scarf and got comfortable. Felicia mixed a fresh drink for her companion and the rest pulled some chairs together to listen to him hatch his scheme. Three hours later as the sun began to rise the house above them began to stir with life. Luscious took his leave and the female trio retired to their rooms with revenge cooling on their minds.

4
Meanwhile, Kevin was having one of his narcissistic episodes. He stood in front the mirror after having gotten out the shower, dripping water on the tile floor as his towel hung limply by his side. He couldn't help grinning as he admired his Bowflex rock hard abs, flawless chocolate skin, and movie star good looks. He wiped away a bead of water from his brow, smoothing a hand over his trimmed goatee, staring as if seeing himself for the first time.

He dropped the towel from his left hand and picked up his flaccid dick. He hefted it, studying it like it was fresh picked produce. Even in its limp state, it was something to admire. Almost nine inches with the impressive girth of a porn star, tapered with a swollen head.

He knew he had something special when he exposed himself during a gym class back in high school. The looks and gasps from his classmates solidified what he assumed; he wielded the Excalibur of dicks. He's never disappointed when those black boxers were pulled down. He would hear the gasp of breath, see the widened eyes, the unconscious swallow of apprehension; he’d know right then and there that it would be all downhill for her after him. He was taught in the art of "laying pipe" by his favorite uncle.

"You gotta show those bitches what you're made of," his mentor would school him between gulps of whiskey and drags of menthol. "They scream cuz they can't believe how good you fuckin' em!"

He made it a rule to only deal with virgin pussy. He dealt with a case of syphilis back in his rookie days, vowed never to play with “used pussy” after that. He kept that promise, hunting down only the inexperienced and naive during his quests. He hated condoms, they hindered the sensation. He only had three “accidents” so far, but as long as his father's checkbook was fat, he didn't worry about his bastard children.

"They love it." Kevin thought as he began to apply moisturizer to his chest and arms. He squirted out an extra dollop before painstakingly applying the white cream to his dick. He felt himself harden and willed it away.

"Down, Showtime," He chuckled. "No leading ladies for you to perform for right now."

A banging on the door interrupted his vanity session. It was one his countless fraternity brothers begging to unload some greasy leftovers and beer. He quickly finished before wrapping the towel around his waist and opening the door. Letting his brother in, he whistled a tune as he sauntered down the hall towards his room.

His Blackberry hummed on the nightstand as he closed the door. He read the name on the faceplate; Shay. She was ranked pretty high of his soon to be conquests, a runners body with a pair of titties that screamed for release from those colorful sports bras she wore around the gym. He let it go to voice mail, wiping the excess moisture from his face and got ready for bed. No need to gorge, he had the rest of the semester to satisfy his sexual quota.

5
Three weeks later, Kevin was putting the final touches on his appearance before preparing for battle. He decided that Shay was ripe enough for the dicking, plus he noticed the starting quarterback with an open nose, hanging outside her dorm. Shaking out the collar of his coat, he left the house and strolled to his ride with a spring in his step and an itching in his groin. He maneuvered his four-wheeled chariot carefully through campus, the Halloween festivities in full swing. Some of the dorms sponsored a trick or treat for younger kids; the streets overrun with youngsters dressed in all kinds of costumes. What would have normally took about five minutes, took twenty. Kevin got antsy as he got caught at just about every crosswalk.

Finally, he pulled up to Shay's dorm. Parking was ridiculous and he was forced to go to the back to find a spot. Getting out of the car, he popped an Altoid and checked his image for the umpteenth time. As he was standing up, he felt a crushing weight against the nape of his neck and everything suddenly went black.

6

When he came to, he was in the dirt dungeon, staring in horror at a scowling Jessica. To her right stood Felicia, a black medical bag clutched in her hands. Selina stood on the left, wielding a Barry Bonds edition ash bat, next to the table covered with a white sheet and a camcorder on a tripod.

"Oh shit?" quipped Jessica. "What, were you expecting someone else?" She took the riding crop and traced a circle around his nipple, tapping lightly on it to make it rise. "How many women have you fucked and left in the exhaust of your pussy mobile?"

"Hey, whatever misunderstanding we had...” he searched for the words to make things right, but couldn't get his brain to function.

"Boo, what we had…," Jessica moved closer, drawing the crop across his dry lips. "Was no misunderstanding."

She turned to a cloaked Felicia, snapping her fingers to snap her out of a daze. Felicia fumbled with the bag, setting it on the floor and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for. Producing a hypodermic needle, alcohol swab, and a brown vial, she approached Kevin who began to struggle even more.

The door slid open again and another person scurried into the room.

"I know you aren't starting without me," lisped the hooded figure.

"No, ma'am," replied Felicia. "Just prepping the patient."

"Patient?" Kevin jerked around but the bonds held firm. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Felicia didn't answer him, instead slapped on his forearm, looking for a vein.

"Shouldn't you tie him off first?" asked Jessica.

"Oh fuck…you RIGHT!" Felicia reached under her robe and pulled out some surgical tubing, handing it to her cohort who quickly wrapped it around his elbow.

Quickly, a vein popped up and Felicia continued, injecting the syringe in the bottle, drawing a small amount. She wiped his arm with the swab and before he could protest jabbed the amber liquid into his vein.

Kevin groaned, not from the pain, but from the apprehension of what would happen next. He didn't know if he was poisoned, drugged, or both, but the increasing warmth in his arm scared the shit out of him, his lucky boxers soaking with his own urine.

Felicia pulled out a tape recorder and a stethoscope. As she measured his heartbeat, she began to speak.

"10:15. Subjects heartbeat strong, pupils still normal." She turned to the rest of the group. "We have about five minutes."

"Perfect," said Selina as she made sure the camcorder was functioning properly. "More than enough time to explain."

7
Kevin eyes darted back and forth the room and the people surrounding him. Other than Jessica, none of the others revealed themselves, but it was obvious who they were. He fucked a multitude of girls since arriving here, too many to remember and now HE was about to get fucked severely. It appeared Karma finally caught up to him.

Jessica stepped forward again with the riding crop.

"Kevin, you have a gift," she ran the leather fob over the outline of his groin. "But, you have no idea how to use it."

"Please." He begged before she shut him up with a smack on the mouth.

"In your famous words, 'Shut the fuck up, I'm almost there.'" She continued. "You, like to fuck. You enjoy it, as long as you can get your nut off. You have no idea how many women you have hurt. While you may not have raped us, you did abuse us." She began tapping the crop against his thickening member. "You didn't just break our hymens; you broke our hearts along with them."

Kevin felt the warmth spread throughout his body, centering on his dick as if someone laced his groin with icy-hot. He began to squirm, pushing his pelvis away from the board.

"Oh my," drawled Luscious from the background. Everyone, including Kevin followed the sound of his voice and then his masked stare to see what made him speak up. Five pairs of eyes looked down at Kevin's crotch, the head of his dick protruding from the waistband of his boxers. The room fell silent except for the panicked breathing of their captor. Kevin felt nothing but heat as he hardened before their very eyes. He had no control over it, could only watch with the rest as his dick throbbed and hardened against the constricting material.

Felicia checked her watch and breathed into the recorder. "10:19. Subject fully engorged. Automated gestures starting."

"What did you stick me with?"

"My thesis, my dear." Felicia began to explain. "It's a beta compound that I've been testing out, sorta like Viagra, but a much bigger beast." She laughed. "To even compare it to the thrill pill is an insult. In fact, I gave my cousin Paula a prototype of the drug to test on women...turned them into brain dead nymphos once they got worked up. And YOU have the honor of being the first male specimen...you should be proud."

Kevin began to hump the air, like a male dog without a partner. He desperately wanted to fuck…something…anything. His brain was telling him the only way to ease the intense burning was to stick his dick into something.

"See," Jessica took the lead again."We figured since you like to fuck, we'd let you." She jerked his underwear down, letting his throbbing dick bob free. "Only thing is, it won't be us this time."

Kevin was barely hearing her words now, thrusting at nothing.

Luscious couldn't contain himself any longer, finally pushing past Jessica and grabbing a handful of swelling penis.

"Girl, this is should be in a museum," he chirped as he ran his hands back and forth over the girth. "Or on my dresser!"

Kevin pushed against the manicured hands, drool forming at his lips as he felt the soft fingers squeezing around him. Luscious pulled out his iPhone and took a snapshot as a keepsake.

"Fuck that! We here to handle business!" Jessica pulled him back and beckoned Selina. Together they went behind Kevin and loosened the straps so he could put his hands down to his sides. He grabbed himself at once, jerking and tugging on his dick with both hands. He was no longer in his right mind. He didn’t bother even fighting his bonds. His thirst for release had consumed him. He reached out for Selina, grabbing a breast as she skirted by out of his reach again.

She went to the table, flipping the sheet back to reveal an array of items. Picking over them with care like a budget consumer, she finally chose her first item. Kevin was still tugging at himself, grunting, but feeling no reprieve. When he looked up, Selina was holding a large watermelon in her hands. He saw pussy. His eyes said watermelon, his brain told him vagina.

She dropped it into his outstretched hands and they watched him attack. He dug at the rind with his fingers, tearing at it until the red center was revealed which he promptly plunged his dick into. He pumped furiously away at the oblong fruit, juice running down the sides, seeds and red bits splattering against his thighs as he fucked away.

8
The group watched in amazement as Kevin fucked the fruit into pieces. The watermelon split into two hunks, falling away to the ground. He reached for it, but was out of reach, the straps not giving too much. He went back to using his hands, sticky with watermelon residue.

"That...was different." said Felicia. She put the tape recorder to her mouth but couldn't find the words to describe what just transpired.

Luscious licked his lips and mumbled, "What a waste of good dick."

"What a waste, period," spat Jessica. "I wonder what else he will fuck."

She moved over to the table, and after a few seconds picked up an item. She returned with a wheel of Swiss cheese and watched in both humor and amazement as he pounded away at it.

For the next hour, the items on the table disappeared. They went through all the basic food groups, watched in muted awe as he mangled anything put in front of him. If it had a hole, he plowed right through it. As much as he fucked, Kevin couldn't relieve the burning. Everything was a wet slit, begging for penetration. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't reach that feeling that once encompassed him.

"He hasn't cum yet, why is that exactly?" asked Selina.

"The drug inhibits ejaculation." replied Felicia as she scribbled notes down in her journal. "It started out as a male form of birth control, but impotency was the endgame." She looked up at the group, who was watching the action with apt attention. "So, I had to create a stimulant to produce a heightened libido, but I had no test subject, until now."

"How long will he go?" asked Jessica.

"That," Felicia looked back down at her notes, "Has yet to be determined."

Kevin paid none of them attention as he kept fucking. He heard the voices, but couldn't make out the words. All he wanted to do was cum. His thighs shuddered with exhaustion, cramps riding up and down his legs as he kept up the frenzied pace. He no longer sweating, slowly dehydrating in the musky room. He couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. He felt the urge to blow, but every time he felt the crest of an orgasm, it subsided and he had to keep going. A spasm in his lower back caused him to howl in pain, scaring the others in the room. He still just couldn't stop. The bag of recently cooked pasta began to spill, wet noodles falling around his feet.

"Kevin," Jessica called out to him. He paid her no mind as he struggled to keep the Ziploc of spaghetti intact. She lashed the riding crop across his face, but got no reaction. He was gone.

"Time for our exit plan," remarked Selina with an exasperated yawn. The table next to her was bare, sans two items. As the others began to pack up, making sure to leave nothing behind, she stared at the humping figure. She felt a tiny pang of remorse for the bucking creature, but the look on her sister's face that fateful weekend clarified why they were doing this.

When everything was removed from the room, they tossed him a cantaloupe, this time Selina was kind enough to make a hole for him. “Oh, Kevin,” Selina said pulling his hair to make him look up at her. “I was sure to get this entire thing on videotape. I know how much you like that. We’re gonna show everybody and you’re gonna be the laughingstock of the school for once. You’ll never hurt another girl again. And by the way…Serena sends her regards!” As Kevin continued his activity without missing a beat, Selina gathered the tripod, camcorder and bat she knocked him out with earlier and left. Jessica crept around the back of the rack and prepared the straps for his release. She cut enough of the leather that a few good tugs would break them. She then joined the others at the door right as he finished off the last of the fruit. He started searching for his next "conquest", lips caked white from exhaustion, eyes darting around the room.

When he saw the Jack-o-Lantern filled with crushed glass and honey (Felicia’s idea), he grabbed it with no hesitation. He shoved in with full force, gasping as the minuscule shards dug into his flesh. He began to speed up, desperate for release, the strap began to give and he fell to his knees, dick still impaled inside the pumpkin. He began to bleed from the tiny cuts but didn't stop, feeling the familiar rise again.

As soon as it subsided, he threw it at the wall in frustration, immediately sorry that he did. He scanned the room for another “pussy”, finding none, scrambled to his feet and staggered to the open doorway which the foursome left open on purpose.

9
Two sheriff's deputies found a naked Kevin in a field, miles from the university. They stared in disbelief at the man, frothing at the mouth trying to chase down a herd of horses. Only when he succeeded in mounting one, did the lawmen spring into action. Grabbing Kevin by the elbows, they pulled him off the shrieking animal and then had to fight tooth and nail to restrain him as he turned his lust onto them. A couple of well-placed tasers subdued him enough to place on the handcuffs, but once they got him to the car, he renewed his humping with vigor, finding the crack in the backseat sufficient.

They took him straight to the emergency room, where the doctors had a hell of a time trying to find out what was wrong. Felicia did an excellent job on the masking agent as his toxin screen came up negative. They had no idea who he was as he wouldn't talk, just grunt and moan. He never was fingerprinted before, so there was nothing to identify him except his dental records. They sedated him and prepped him for surgery to remove glass and other objects from under the skin of his still erect penis. A chemical castration was administered after a couple of hours to prevent amputation, but he kept thrusting anyway.

It was a week later, when Kevin was identified. He had been under heavy sedation, strapped down to the bed after trying to fuck the surgeon and two recovery nurses. His father claimed him, whisking him off to a private clinic in New York, threatening lawsuits all the way out the door. Even in his unconscious and impotent state, his pelvis jerked slightly.

Rumors flew around school like the autumn leaves after an edited version of the video showing Kevin simulating sex with foods surfaced on the internet. Numerous jokes and theories about what may have happened to Kevin circulated. Shay was even interviewed by campus authorities, but her roommate confirmed the fact he never showed up for their date.

10
Back in the basement of the Gamma Nu house, Selina, Jessica, and Luscious sat around the bar while Felicia made drinks. Pushing glasses in front of each one of them before taking her own and raising it, she made a toast.

"To sweet revenge; even when it’s served lukewarm, it's still delicious."

Everyone clinked glasses and swallowed their mixed drinks.

"Do you think he'll ever come to?" asked Jessica.

"I don't care." answered Selina, pouring more alcohol into her glass.

Felicia pulled her notes from her bag, flipping through a page or two, before answering.

"Think of his brain like a beach." She took a sip from her glass. "Right now, it’s in the middle of a tsunami and when it's over, it'll be a miracle if he can even blink without wanting sex.

"I'm scared of you, girl." said Luscious, pointing a pinkie in her direction.

Selina stood up, glass half full. "I have another toast y’all."

The group joined her, glasses raised in a semi-circle.

"A Warning To ALL Men: Don't fuck with the Virgins or the Gays!" she screamed while the others erupted in laughter.

Luscious cleared his throat and began to correct her. "I think you meant...'Don't fuck with Gamma Nu!'"

As they nodded in agreement, they all shouted "DON'T FUCK WITH GAMMA NU!" and brought their celebratory glasses together in victory.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Trick AND Treat - An Erotic Tale...

Trick AND Treat - An Erotic Tale...

Angie loved her new home and her new life in suburbia. She lived in a beautiful house, with many rooms, a pool, and both a front and back yard. So why was she so miserable today? Well, it had something to do with Halloween. More specifically, being alone on Halloween.

Angie and Derek bought their dream house a few months ago, after Derek made partner at his law firm. The only drawback was that he worked many nights, many long hours. Sure, making seven figures by the age of thirty-five was huge, but Derek was hardly home anymore. Even on their first Halloween in the new house, Angie was spending the night alone...and she wasn't happy about it.

The neighborhood trick-or-treaters were long gone. It was approaching ten o'clock and no one had been by the house for half an hour. There wasn't much candy left in the oversized pumpkin beside the front door. Angie was going to help herself to what was left while watching television. She had hoped to be awake by the time Derek came home. She didn't know what time that would be and she was completely wiped out. She sat on the couch, remote in one hand and a fistful of candy corn in the other.

The doorbell rang and Angie ignored it. It rang again. Angie ignored it again. The ringing stopped for about a minute. Good, they finally got the message, she thought. The bell rang yet again. Angie looked towards the front door and saw nothing. Again, it rang.

"No more candy! Sorry!"

Everything got quiet again. Angie even muted the television to make sure that no one was at the front door. The bell rang again. This time it startled Angie. For the first time, she was afraid.

"Don't have anything left! Try next door!" She listened closely. Waited. Nothing.

Then the bell rang again. Angie went from afraid to terrified to plain old pissed off in about two seconds. She was confused, not knowing how to feel or what to think. She stood by the front door. She saw the knob turn, the door being pushed, but not opening. Her jaw hung open, Angie's feet felt like they were cemented into the floor.

"Oh shit," she said to no one in particular. Then the bell rang again. Angie let out a gasp. She tip-toed away from the door, as the knob-turning, door-pushing, and bell-ringing continued in concert, growing louder by the second.

Angie let out a shriek and ran toward the back of the house, hoping to get to the back door. She was tackled from behind as a black leather glove covered her mouth. The other hand pinned her to the floor. A menacing voice growled at her. "Make another noise and I'm gonna kill you." Angie turned her head to see who it was, but couldn't tell. The assailant wore a bloody ghost mask, perfect for Halloween. She wanted to scream at that very moment, but Angie held it in, although she couldn't stop shaking.

"Let's go...and don't you make a fucking sound." The masked man helped Angie to her feet. He grabbed her by the arm and forced her toward the bedroom. Angie didn't know why they were going to the bedroom, but went without protest.

The short walk gave Angie time to think. She wished Derek would come home right now and save her. She also wished they had a better lock on the door. Did the masked man break the door open? She wasn't sure. She hadn't been looking. She was too busy trying to escape the back way.

"Take off your clothes and get on the bed. Lie down on your back."

"What? Take off my clothes? Why..."

"Bitch, take your fucking clothes off now! NOW GODDAMMIT!"

The intruder pulled a piece of rope from his back pocket. "You ever been fucked tied up before?"

Angie looked into the eyes of the stranger and shook her head no as she slowly peeled off her clothes. First she took off her red satin robe. Then she kicked off her slippers. She stood in the bedroom shaking in nothing but a purple lace teddy.

The masked man looked her body over slowly. Angie stood at five foot five, about a hundred and twenty pounds. She had long thin legs that ran up to her curvy hips, which helped accentuate a beautiful ass that Derek simply couldn't get enough of. He constantly told her how phat and juicy she was, especially when referring to her titties and ass.

"Don't stop now! Keep going! Take ALL them fucking clothes off!," ordered the intruder, in his low-growl pitch.

Angie pulled the teddy over her head, revealing her naked form. She had 36C breasts, topped off by soft, brown nipples. The mound of hair between her legs was reduced just this morning to nothing more than a few wisps of hair. It was supposed to be a Halloween surprise for Derek. She imagined him coming in the door and while she yelled "Trick or treat!" from the bedroom, with her legs spread open. Her succulent pussy would be his treat, as long as he promised to perform his tricks for her. She especially liked the trick he did with his tongue - licking her until she felt faint, sometimes even passing out. Oh, she wished Derek were here now, instead of this sick, perverted son-of-a-bi...

"I said get on the bed! Now!"

Angie did as she was told. The bloody ghost took the rope and tied Angie's wrist together, over her head. He slowly ran his hands over her naked body, fingertips gently scraping her soft skin. Beginning with her neck, his fingers traveled down over the peeks of her nipples, through the light patch of pussy hair, and then down one leg.

"You ready to get fucked?" He whispered in her ear. Then he walked to the light switch. "I hope you are...cause I'ma wear that pussy out REAL good before I kill you!"

The lights went off. The room was pitch black. Angie heard rustling. She strained to see what was going on. The intruder took off his mask, then his clothes. They were now both naked on Angie's bed.

The mystery man licked the inside of Angie's thigh's gently, just using the very tip of his tongue. It tickled her, in fact, she even giggled. But playtime was over quickly when he reached the folds of her vagina. He stopped to take in her aroma before sucking her slowly. Angie immediately became wet, as her pussy opened for her mystery lover, who worked his tongue inside her. He lapped up all the juice he could, before licking his way up to her clit. Once there, Angie let out a sigh that was more like a scream. It felt so damn good to get licked in such an expert fashion. She let herself go for the first time this evening and it was exactly what she needed.

Angie's first orgasm came with great force. Having her wrists tied together made the sensation that much more intense. She bucked and kicked, as her orgasm rippled its way up from her pussy, until she screamed out loud. This, as it happened, made her mystery lover even more excited.

He grabbed her legs and rested them on his shoulders, as he lined his dick up with her wet opening. He plunged hard and deep into Angie, igniting the fire that burned deep inside her. She gasped for air, as her lover pounded away at her pussy with great force. She loved the rude fucking he was giving her, as he jack-hammered away. She felt as though her hips would break, or perhaps she would split into two, but enjoyed the rough fuck she was getting.

This went on for a few minutes before her lover started grunting like a wild animal. He slowed down his pace, but only because his own orgasm was building. Angie lost count of how many times she must have come, but no longer cared. She had been properly fucked and was now ready for her reward.

A few more primal grunts and howls from her mysterious lover gave way to Angie's treat. With her legs wrapped around his waist, her mysterious lover shot his load deep inside her, coating her womb. He gave her three or four big blasts of his love juice, until he let himself empty out slowly, holding onto her tightly. He collapsed on the bed, right near her feet, panting loudly. Angie, her pussy filled with a mysterious lover's potion, slowly captured her breath.

Reality settled back into Angie's mind. She had just been fucked by someone who tied her up, against her will. Not only that, he was still in her house, in her room, and on her bed. Who was it? Who would do such a thing? Why...

The man got up, legs a little wobbly, and walked over to the light switch. Angie tried again to see who it was, but it was just too dark to see anything. All she knew by this point was much as she hated to admit it, she had probably the best sex of her life. Now she only hoped that it wasn't the last sex of her life.

Just as she was about to scream for help, the light in the bedroom came on. Angie was temporarily blinded. Slowly her eyes adjusted, though still blurry, she looked at her mysterious rapist in shock and surprise.

"Derek?!?"

"Happy Halloween! One question babe, was "he" better than me?"

Angie just laughed out loud uncontrollably as she laid back onto the bed. That night she got both her Trick and her Treat!