erotic stories

Badass Women

 

badass chick

I love a Badass.  Badass men.  Badass singers.  Badass actors.  Badass entrepreneurs who handle their business.

But I especially LOVE a Badass woman.  I respect them.  I admire them.  I often have a slight “girl crush” on them.  They play by their own rules and they get shit done. Since there’s not a designated Hallmark holiday celebrating these extraordinary beings, I am claiming today as BADASS Chicks Day. Here are a few in my tribe, fellow bloggers, that I would like to share.

Lennon Carlyle is about as Badass as they come.  I’ve known this Beauty for longer than Jennifer Lawrence has even been on this earth.  Lennon is fiercely independent and unabashedly confident.  She never compromises her standards for anyone.  And she kicks serious ass working in a male-dominated industry.  She can party like it’s the last day on the planet and show up the next day, ALL BUSINESS. Lennon is a fast driver, smooth talker and plain and simple, she has good hair.  Always has (lucky bitch!).  She writes a hysterically REAL blog that you should check out.. https://fabulouswithglitches.wordpress.com/about/

There is the Cougar of the group.  She’s a real Badass.  Both a nurse and an attorney, this bitch gets shit done.  She is single by choice and has her pick of the litter any time she wants a boy-toy in her life.  She’s packing heat and can hold her own with anyone.  She is the leader of the #BGM, and you can find a few of her stories on Bad Girls Mafia.  She hasn’t written on there in a while…she’s too busy handling her boy-toys.  But her stories are great and I hope she gets back to posting soon! https://badgirlsmafia.com/

There is the Poet Laureate of the Badasses.  She will lure you in with interesting stories and heartfelt poems.  You will think you know what she’s all about…then out of nowhere, this Badass Chick will throw some steamy erotica on the page and you’ll have to look back and make sure you’re reading the right blog.  I’m talking about the lovely, Sandra, from “What Sandra Thinks”  This chick has some serious writing chops.  I love her take on things.  And I love her dirty little tales. You will love her too, check her out at https://whatsandrathinks.com/about/

This next Badass is the music-loving, quick-witted, lovely Lady G.  I just found her blog (compliments of my girl, Lennon Carlyle) and I feel like I’ve known this chick for years!  In one post, she took me on a First-Class, Non-Stop flight down Memory Lane, taking me to a place I’d almost forgotten.  And I am so glad she did, because I did some seriously scandalous shit back then that I need to share with you on here.  Lady G is the cool-as-hell neighbor we all wish we lived next door, because she would always be ready to pour the tea. Check her out at  https://seekthebestblog.com/about/

So go forth and celebrate the Badass women in your life. And if you want to become a Badass yourself, here are a few tips:

Take no shit, but do no harm

Handle your business

Keep your standards (and your heels) high

Don’t pay attention to the trolls talking behind your back, they are BEHIND you for a reason

If you fall on the runway of life, pick yourself up and adjust your crown, you’ve got a job to do…and you better work, bitch.

Surround yourself with strong and confident women.

Oops…almost forgot…Never act or reveal your age.

choose badass

(Photo credits, Pinterest)

 

Prince Made Me Do It

I have a delayed response to grief.  It takes me a while to wrap me head around loss.  While those around me are openly grieving, I maintain a lovely state of blissful denial until I am ready to deal with it.  Maybe it is my defiant nature…maybe it’s my coping mechanism.  Who knows?

It’s been almost two weeks since Prince died.  If anyone should have taken bereavement leave, booked a plane ticket to Minnesota and sought counseling over his death…it should have been me.  I have been a fan for most of my life.  Let me correct that…I am more of a fanatic.  His words spoke to me.  I recall buying a copy of the album “1999” in 1983, at the tender age of eleven…which was before those PMRC bastards labeled everything.  I was hooked to his sound.  I was entranced by his lyrics.  I saved my babysitting allowance and bought every album he’d recorded before.  I immersed myself in Prince.  But I was careful not to let my parents hear the bad stuff…you know…those explicit lyrics that hypnotized me and led me down a path of enlightenment and tawdry deeds.

prince2

Here are a few times in my life, where Prince was there with me.

I lost my virginity while a Prince song played in the background.  July 1985.  On a dirt road, in the backseat of a Monte Carlo.  The song was, “DMSR” (Dance Music Sex Romance) and it was like an aural premonition of my escapades to come. Prince sang of the things I wanted to try.  He fed my imagination…he inspired my carnal wanderlust.  I tapped into the primal side of my being as The Purple One had explicitly given me permission to be the beast I wanted to be. And I am forever grateful.

I channeled my inner stripper with Prince’s music.  After my stellar Superbowl party debut, I gained major confidence.  If I were performing for a current flame, or for him and a group of his closest friends, Prince was a go-to.  I loved dancing to “Erotic City” and closing the set out with “Scandalous.”  No one compared to him.  His words put me in a head space that allowed me to express myself in a most uninhibited way.  To let go of societal restrictions and be the naughty girl I wanted to be.

I got engaged to a Prince song.  I was in a relationship with a police officer for a couple of years. We enjoyed listening to Prince together (when we weren’t fighting) and when he decided to pop the question, he chose Prince’s “Diamond and Pearls” my least favorite song on that album.  He was so nervous when he asked me.  I think he would have been more content to just sing along with the song.  But the ring was lovely. Needless to say, the relationship didn’t last.  We went our separate ways and when he said I could keep the ring…I sold it and went on a shopping spree, treating myself to a few fabulous outfits in hopes of snagging the next unsuspecting gent.

Looking back, Prince was there for it all.  The good.  The bad.  The naughty.  He was like a little purple devil on my left shoulder, egging me on, whispering breathy lustful desires into my ear.  Prince inspired my hedonistic side.  In many ways, he is directly responsible for who I became.  Prince gave me confidence. Prince gave me permission.  Prince dismissed any of my insecurities, and summoned the vixen within.

I am often asked which song I like most.  Which album?  This is an impossible question for such an obsessed fan..but here is my answer.  I was introduced to Prince with the album, “1999” and that will always be my favorite for that reason.  As for my favorite song?  That’s a story in itself.  I first heard the song “Adore” while working (and playing) at the radio station.  The song is a raw profession of adoration for his One.  I recall hoping that one day, if I was lucky, I would find the One…the person who made me feel the lyrics of that song.  And it took a long time, but finally…I have my One.  The One worthy of all I am.  The One who owns my heart…who owns my mind.  I truly adore him.

And Prince is right, “Love is too weak to define just what (he) means to me”

Until the end of time, Prince.  RIP, you sexy motherfucker.  

prince

 

Fist Full of Dollars, Mouth Full of…

Warning…

I am going to live up to my title…

This is going to be quite tawdry.

During our time together, I helped Viktor embrace his inner Dom.  It wasn’t difficult to coax it out of him.  It was in there and he was very attuned to his natural traits.  He demanded respect.  He was disciplined.  In control of himself and his emotions.  And he possessed a charm that made you want to do exactly what he wanted you to do.  During a few of our trysts together, I had the pleasure of experiencing his hand on my backside, of being dominated and taken by him.

As time moved on, Viktor and I morphed into this incredible friendship where we could be completely transparent with each other.  I found myself in a D/s (actually M/s) relationship (and it’s still going strong) and he found himself searching for a submissive. As fate would have it, he found a young woman in her early 30’s looking for a Dominant.  It seemed a good match.  She was willing to learn and eager to please him in every way.  And he was a patient Dominant, willing to train her to his liking.  Her name was Nadia and life was going well for them.

Although obedient, Nadia had a very bratty side.  She wanted to please Viktor, but often put her own needs first.  She would follow his commands, as it suited her, but often did things her way.  He was very patient with her.  He held her on a long leash, but when he had enough, he yanked it back with incredible force.  And there was always punishment.

Viktor’s punishments were unique and relevant.  He would typically ensure the punishment fit the crime, teaching a lesson.  If Nadia was late, she would be lashed for each minute.  He soon realized she enjoyed the lashing, so he would completely ignore her for each minute she was late.  She hated it and found herself more punctual to avoid it.  Nadia had a very smart mouth and would often speak out of turn.  Viktor turned a blind eye to this behavior, because it was a facet of her personality that he enjoyed.  However, she often towed the line between acceptable and rude.

One Saturday afternoon they prepared to go to Sak’s on a shopping trip.  Viktor’s mother’s birthday was quickly approaching and he wanted to find her something nice. He invited Nadia to join him, as she could provide a second opinion.  She was thrilled to help, but her bratty side bubbled out and she said, “If I go, what do I get?  If I am helping you, I should get something pretty.”  At first, her demands didn’t phase him.  He was so focused on his mother’s gift, that he paid little mind to her antics.  They were supposed to leave at 1:00, go to Saks and have lunch, which would have put them back home around 4:00.  Viktor had a video conference with some clients in Europe at 5:00 and he wanted to get this finished early in the day to make time for the meeting.  Nadia was fully aware of his timeline.  And to be a brat, she decided to run back in the house for something as they were leaving.  Viktor waited patiently for the first five minutes, but then, he became angry.

She climbed into the car around 1:15.  And as she got in the car, she gave him a bratty little smile.  He knew she had done this intentionally.  He knew that she was acting out because she wanted the guarantee of “something pretty” from their excursion.  And as he rounded the corner out of his driveway, he reached down between his legs, unzipped his pants and looked at her.

“Since you are clearly misbehaving, I will need you to suck my cock for the entire drive.  But you are not allowed to make me cum until I say so.  Do you understand me, Nadia?”

Once again, she smiled a bratty smile and said, “Yes, Sir.  I can’t wait!”

She leaned over and began her task of pleasuring him as he drove to their destination.  She loved this punishment.  She loved the feel of his cock in her mouth.  She loved pleasuring him on the open road.  It made her feel like such a naughty girl.  She was lost in her place, when Viktor said, “I am glad to see you are enjoying this.  Maybe if you are a good girl, I will get you something pretty.  But you have to complete the task.”

She came up for air and said, “Oh I will complete the task, Sir.  No worries there.”

Viktor just grinned to himself.  She had no idea what was in store for her.

They arrived at Saks around 1:40.  Nadia’s face was still buried between his legs as he parked the car.  She continued for a few minutes and asked if it was time yet?  Viktor was beyond ready to unload, but had waited for this precise minute.

Pulling her up by her sweaty hair, he turned her face to his.

“Bratty slut.  Your mouth and lack of respect have earned you an applicable punishment.  I hope you learn from this.  I am about cum in your mouth.  You are not allowed to swallow.  You must walk around the store with me, with my load in your mouth, until I tell you to swallow.  If you can do this, I will buy you something.  If not, I guess you will learn to be more careful of when you open your mouth.”

Her face showed it all.  That’s quite a task for anyone.  Our natural instinct is to swallow what’s in our mouth…and she was not allowed to.  And she had to keep composure,as they were at a nice store, and she had cum in her mouth.

She lowered her head and began to suck him once again.  He was so turned on by this time, that he was ready to explode in her mouth.  Which he did.  And she held it there as the walked into the store.  She couldn’t even talk, because she would have to swallow.  And Viktor made it clear, she was not to spill any.

They found a lovely gift for his mother about 15 minutes into their visit.  Then Viktor decided to up the stakes.  “If you can hold me in your mouth for another 15 minutes, I will buy you a bracelet.  But you must not swallow.”  She nodded.

As they perused the store, he would walk up behind her and whisper in her ear, “You naughty little slut.  You like how I filled your mouth.  You like how it feels to be my cum slut don’t you.  You wanna feel it slide down your throat, so you can relive the moment don’t you, slut?  I own you.  You are mine.  Be a good girl.  Don’t swallow”

That talk made it excruciating for her continue on with her task.  She was so turned on my his words, that she swallowed by accident. She looked at him in shock, as he had watched her do it.  His eyes met hers and they just stared at each other.  It was affirmation of their   power exchange.  She knew her place.  He knew his place.  They knew who they were together.

And with that realization, he stroked her cheek, kissed her forehead and took her by the hand, leading her to the jewelry department.  “You won’t get anything today, but let’s look.  I know you will do better next time.”  She closed her eyes and smiled, knowing he was a man of his word.  She would do better and he would reward her.

That Viktor is quite a man.

lips

Photo credit, Pinterest

The Halftime Show

The year was 1992.  I honestly do not remember who was playing in the Super Bowl.  I am sure I could Google it and provide you with those additional details…but that’s not what we want is it?

His name was Tim and we met at the gym (the same place I met Tony).  He was a stockbroker by trade that took his workout regime very seriously.  He was ripped.  His arms.  His torso.  His legs.  He was Adonis-like in form and had a baby face to go with that body…complete with dimples.  It was almost too much to take in.  His voice was deep and authoritative.  He was outgoing and friendly.

And we had immediate chemistry.  He was 37 and I was 20. He took the lead and helped me learn my way around the gym.  We started a tumultuous relationship.  On again.  Off again.  Hot sex.  Bad arguments.  More hot “make-up” sex.  Off again.  And we stayed off for a while.  We would see each other at the gym, where we would exchange niceties as we went about our business.  I’d begun using the aerobics room to work on dance routines as I belonged to a belly dance troupe.  It gave me a quiet place to rehearse, with mirrors and little distractions.

One day, I felt someone watching me.  It was Tim.  He smiled that boyish smile and i found myself wet, thinking of how he would feel inside me.  He motioned for me to come to him.  I walked over as he brushed the sweaty hair from my face.

“You are an amazing dancer.  I didn’t know you could move like that.”

I blushed and said, “Thank you.  You’ve seen some of my other moves. Guess I was saving these for a different time.”

His tone was serious, “What are you doing Sunday?”

I had no plans, but didn’t want to seem too available.  “I’m not sure.  It’s Super Bowl Sunday.  I may go to a party. How about you?”

He grinned, “I am having a party.  Come to mine.”

I smiled at the thought, but then remembered how volatile things became when we were together.  I hesitated.  “Maybe, I will.  I will let you know.”

He pulled me close to him and whispered in my ear, “I will pay you.”

Pay me? For what? 

“I want you to be my halftime show.  I want you to strip.”

I was a little taken aback.  Not that I was offended.  Not being prudish.  Just surprised that he wanted to put me on display like that.  But I was intrigued and flattered.

“What time do you want me there?”

“Be there around 7:00.  Have about 30 minutes of dances ready.  I will give you $200 for your time. I want you sexy, not dirty.  Many of my co-workers and clients will be there. No women.  Strictly a guy-thing.”

And at that, he turned and left.  And I realized…it was Friday.

Holy shit!  What do I do?  Which songs?  What do I wear? I was nervous and scared and I LOVED IT.  I went to my car and pulled out all of my music.  I needed to find the perfect songs for the occasion.  Before I knew it, it was dark and the gym was closing for the night.  I’d worked out searching for inspiration…for 3 additional hours and had lost all concept of time.  But in the end, I felt prepared.  I selected six songs.  Everything from AC/DC, to Prince, to Van Halen to James Brown.  It was a sexy playlist and I had special moves for every song.

On Saturday I spent most of the day shopping for stripper-wear.  But came up with little more than some thigh high fishnet stockings, a black lace corset, long black gloves and a black cowboy hat. I had a little black dress and boots perfect for the occasion.

Sunday arrived and I was beyond nervous.  I almost backed out.  But the adrenaline junkie within me took over and I found myself on his doorstep at 7:05.  He ushered me in a side door and had me wait in his bedroom while his guests watched the game.  He brought me a strong cocktail, which was the liquid courage I needed.  I tossed the drink back and waited for my cue.  I’d already given him my “mix tape” and he had it poised and ready.

He opened the door and took my hand as he led me to his game room.  There were about a dozen men there.  All of them were surprised to see me.  Tim turned the stereo on and introduced me as a “close friend” who came to entertain them.

“Tonight, you will remember this halftime show far more than the game itself.  Feel free to tip this young beauty as you see fit.  But no groping.  She is a lady and I hope to have her back for future parties.”

At that point, I heard the first riff from Back in Black and I found myself in the zone.  I’d brought a kitchen chair to the center of the room and straddled it as I began my routine.  I had them in the palm of my gloved hand as I mixed belly dance with burlesque.  By the third song, Prince’s Darling Nikki, I was down to the corset and cowboy hat.  I closed out the routine with James Brown’s Man’s World, a slow and decadent song where I received the most tips, in nothing but my boots and a g-string.  I felt like a goddess.

I received an additional $100 in tips and a roaring round of applause with lots of inquiries about my availability for other parties.  I was not prepared for that type of reception.  And Tim looked like the hero to all of his friends.

“You were amazing. I am so proud of you…and I am so turned on.  Fuck me here.  In front of them.  I want them to watch us.”

I was not prepared for that.  But at this point, I’d had another strong cocktail and I was game for the exhibition.  I looked at him and pulled the chair over to the side of the room, where I motioned for him to sit down.

I knelt in front of him and unfastened his pants, pulling them down slowly.  I could feel his hard cock beneath his boxers as I pulled them off.  I provocatively pulled my g-string off as I mounted him on the chair.  His friends were quiet as they watched us.  I think they were shocked that we were so audacious to fuck right there…in front of them.  He pulled me down on his cock hard as he rammed himself inside.

I gasped with delight as I rode him.  He squeezed my breasts and kissed me as he pounded my hole.  I remember how amazing it felt to come unglued and orgasm in front of a group of strangers. They were speechless.  The game had been back on for over 30 minutes, and the TV was not even turned on.

But they were.

Best halftime show ever.  I don’t know who won the game that year.

But I felt victorious.

the hat

 

One Hit Wonders-Hotel Valdosta

I am back after a lengthy hiatus.  I would love to report that my absence was from some extended hedonistic orgy in a far away tropical land.  But that was not the case.  A little thing called “life” broke in line, stepping in front of this pleasure seeking vixen and I ended up having to do responsible shit…you know, all the crap that has to be done…

When all I wanted, was to be the one getting “done”

During this responsibility-fueled sabbatical, I did quite a bit of thinking.  And reminiscing.  And fantasizing.  And….(you get the drift).  I thought about the gents I’ve written about and the fun times had by all.  I realized that I’d left out some of my favorite stories of the “one-hit-wonders” of my decadent past.

For several years of my career, I traveled.  I traveled from one side of the state to the other, often leaving on a Sunday night…to return home on a Friday.  The money was great, which helped my family.  But the hours were long and I was away from my kids, which was the major downside.  Along the way, I found opportunities to bring them with me and turn my obligatory business trip into a mini-vacation, while I still managed to work.  It was a win-win.

But for the most part, I traveled alone, but rarely did I find myself alone for long.

Early in my career, I went on a business trip with a colleague.  She was training me to take over a region, she had formerly managed.  She could see that I was more than capable of doing the job and left after one day of training…which left me on my own for four days.  It was my first time traveling alone.  It was nice.  I worked hard during the day and then I did whatever I wanted to do at night.  No kids to bathe…no dinners to cook…no husband to fight with.  The first evening, I stayed in my room and ordered room service.  The second evening, I ventured out to the hotel’s lounge and met several interesting people over free wine and appetizers.  On the third night, I went back to the lounge to see my new friends, where I met Alan.  He worked for Target and had just been promoted to a regional position.  He was tall and very muscular, with a shaved head and a devious smile.  We hit it off immediately.

He was charming.  We sat outside by the pool and talked about everything from work to kids to sports to history.  He was a great conversationalist.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time with him.  Around 8:00 that night, he said, “I am going to head back to my room to call my kids and check in on them.  I will be free in about 30 minutes.  Why don’t you come by and we can rent one of those overpriced movies to watch?”

And I thought…okay.  Sounds fun.  I will do the same.  So I called home and talked to everyone.  I emailed my expense report and prepared some items for work the next day when I heard a knock on the door.  It was Alan.

“How about that movie?” he asked.

“Sure. Let’s do it.” I said.

I had no idea he was about to fuck my brains out and ruin me for days afterward.  Really.  No idea.  I honestly thought we would watch a movie.  (My naivety astounds me at times).  

We arrived back at his room as he made a half-hearted attempt to find a movie.  In a fit of frustration, he flung the remote on the bed and said, “There’s nothing I really want to watch, how about you?”

I hadn’t seen anything that interested me either.

“You know what I want to do?” he asked.  “I want to kiss those full lips of yours.  I’ve wanted to all night. May I?”

And then it finally hit me!  OMG.  How silly of me….of course.  He was trying to weave a web of seduction.  My slut brain had been lying dormant and I didn’t detect the signals…but it was only a matter of seconds before I flipped the switch.

“Silly boy.  You don’t have to ask permission.  In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.  Just take what you want.”

That was the nod he needed to proceed.  He was adept and experienced.  Although, I’d opened the door of opportunity (and my thighs) quite wide, he continued on with his seduction.  He massaged every part me as he removed my clothing.  His lips grazed my neck. My ears.  My back.  My breasts.  He took his time and was relentless in how he enticed me with each touch.

His body was amazing.  His large stature and fit physique were a sight to behold, but there was a large scar on his abdomen.  It was where he had been stabbed as a teenager. He was part of a gang and spent a part of his life running with the wrong crowd.  And that just turned me on even more.  I was about to fuck a real bad boy.  I was about to bang a  member of a gang…ha! 

I recall how his mouth felt as he spread me open.  He told me, “You will never forget me.  I will devour this pussy and no one will ever compare.” He’s right, thirteen years later, few have had his talent for oral expression.  I remember hearing myself scream in ecstasy. I remember how his bald head felt in my hands as I held it tightly between my sticky thighs.

He eventually came up for air.  His face glistened with me as he whispered in my ear.  “You liked that, didn’t you?  Now you’re really going to like what I am going to give you.  I am going to fuck you hard.” He pulled my legs on his shoulders and slid himself inside my throbbing cunt.

His cock was fucking huge.  He filled every inch of me and more.  He teased me with his rhythm.  He would pound me hard and fast and then slow and deep.  And he would all but stop, pushing into me until I begged him, truly begged him for more…and then he would fuck me like a wild animal.  This went on for hours.

We fucked all over his hotel room, knocking shit over that got in our way.  He picked me up and fucked me against the bathroom wall, so we could watch it in the mirror.  Then he put me on the bathroom sink, facing the mirror, my knees on the counter with my ass in his face…so I could watch him lap me up.  That was fucking hot.

We got in the shower together and fucked some more.  He told me to suck him clean before we lathered up.  I guess I shocked him with my own oral skills, because he could not hold back any longer.  I will never forget how he grasped the shower rod and almost pulled it down.  He pushed my mouth away and shot his warm seed all over my face.

He lathered my body from head to toe and I reciprocated.  I loved the feel of his skin.  Once we were clean from the ditty deeds we’d done, we got dressed.  He walked me back to my room, made sure I was in and safe, kissed me and returned back to his room.  It was almost 3:00 am.

The next morning we passed each other in the lobby as we made our way to the coffee station.  “Good morning” he said, with that devious smile.  “You look rested.”

“So do you.” I smiled.  “It was great meeting you, Alan.”

And just like that…I turned and walked out to my car, headed to a meeting.  Keep in mind, I could barely walk and my entire body was sore from the night before.  It’s that kind of sore that makes you giggle under your breath.  The feeling that you’ve done something naughty and each movement is a reminder of how well you were handled the night before…

Sigh…

And then I realized…the money is great and the job is fun, but this is definitely a perk of working on the road.

image

 

 

 

The Very Close Call

Lee was one of my many high school boyfriends…you know, the ones I used as a facade, so that no one would catch on that I was having a very inappropriate, very mature relationship with a man twice my age.

We started seeing each other when I was fourteen and he was fifteen.  It was puppy love (from his perspective) and we were together every day.  His home-life was not the best and I think he enjoyed being around my family as much as he did me.  And don’t get me wrong…we did have our share of escapades.  Although he was older, I out-experienced him, but we learned a lot together.  In fact, with him I learned how to give head upside down, with my head hanging off the bed.  Not bad for a freshman.

We were on-again, off-again all through high school.  In college, we had a steamy affair (neither of us married, but both of us were seeing other people).  By that time, he had gained more experience and the sex was amazing.  I recall one tryst.  HE was living with his older brother.  It was mid-afternoon and his brother was scheduled to work until 7:00, but he came home early.  Lee and I had been at it for hours.  I was a sweaty mess.  My long dark hair was stuck to the sweat on my face.  I was wearing nothing but a t-shirt as I was perched on his cock, grinding my body into his.  We were listening to Whitesnake (yes, it was the early 90’s) and I was consumed with lust.  I noticed his brother walk in.  Our eyes met and I didn’t shy away.  I didn’t stop fucking Lee.  I lifted the sweaty t-shirt from my body and took it off as I maintained eye contact with his brother.  I used the shirt to wipe the sweat from my face and smiled devilishly at his brother, as I threw it in a heap of our clothes on the floor.  Lee then noticed and dismissed him from the room.  We finished soon after and that was the last time we were together until 2005.

We ran into each other at a Chamber of Commerce breakfast.  Both of us were networking our businesses.  We had lunch a few times. The chemistry, the connection was still there.  Our first “reunion” was at a local biking trail.  Lee is an avid cyclist and we rode our bikes to a secluded spot and picked up where we left off 14 years earlier.  We fucked outside, in broad daylight, as if we were the only people around.  I wondered if the other cyclists could hear us, but neither of us cared.

That was just the beginning.

We embarked on a journey of lust and debauchery that lasted an additional 8 years.  We couldn’t get enough of each other.  We went through phases.  We would see each other often and then we would be apart for several months.  It was the ebb and flow of our dynamic.  It worked for us.

One spring day in 2012, we reconnected.  I woke up that morning, hungry for Lee.  No one else would do.   Especially not the man I was married to at the time.  He was consumed with addictions and spent his days gambling and drinking, as he plowed through our life savings.  Our relationship was over, but neither of us had the initiative to start divorce proceedings.  All of that aside…on that day, all I wanted was Lee.

The hubs had two doctor’s appointments back to back.  He worked very hard at being unemployed, so it was rare that he was out of the house for any length of time.  I welcomed the break and knew how I wanted to spend the four hours he would be gone.  With Lee.  I called him and told him the situation.  He cleared his schedule and headed over to my house.

He parked in front of a house a few doors down.  It was for sale on the market and always had different cars out front, so it wouldn’t bring attention from any of the neighbors.  He walked through my front door at 1:00 and immediately afterwards, the doorbell rang.

My heart sank.  OH SHIT!!!!  Who is out there????

I opened the door, and there was a young man standing there from TruGreen (a landscaping service) looking to sell me a lawn maintenance plan.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.  I am Chris from TruGreen.  I was trying to catch up to your husband before he came in, but looks like he got in here before me.  Do you guys have a few minutes to talk about your lawn?”

OH SHIT!!!  My husband?  Oh…he thinks Lee is my husband.  Okay.  I can handle this.  But what if he comes back by and my actual husband answers the door?  So I reacted quickly and said, “Oh no.  That’s not my husband.  He’s a co-worker and we are late for a conference call.  Can you come back another time?”

Chris bought the story and excused himself to return at later time.  Soon afterwards my legs were behind my head as Lee fucked me relentlessly. About an hour into it, we almost lost track of time and finished our afternoon delight in a frenzied state of climax that made me shake all over.

We cleaned up, got dressed, fixed the bed, and as I was walking him to the door, I heard the garage door open.  HUBS WAS HOME!!!! Over two hours early.

Lee went into stealth mode, slipped out the front door and got to his car in record time, just as hubs was coming in from the garage.  Seems the last doctor’s appointment was rescheduled for another time.

We pulled it off.  Barely.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang.  Guess who was back?  Chris.  The eager-beaver salesman from TruGreen.  Hubs and I both arrived at the door at the same time.  Chris was all smiles.

“Hey there again.  Sorry for intruding on your conference call earlier.  Is now a better time?  Is this your husband? he chuckled.

I could have DIED!  I kept my composure and said, “This is my husband! I am glad you came back!  Come in.  Let’s talk about that plan.”

My husband didn’t even catch on.  He was too inebriated to notice anything.  And I felt like I’d dodged yet another bullet.

From that day forward, Lee and opted to see each other in neutral places.

And Chris sold me a great plan.  My lawn was perfect that Spring.

front door

“Real” Sex-Burning Love

Fall 1992.

I lived in off-campus apartments with 3 other roommates.  There was the exhibitionist bartender, Mary.  She walked about the apartment naked.  She rarely ate and had a different man in her life every week.  There was Jen, originally from Minnesota-‘don’t cha know’ who kept to herself.  And there was Maura.  She was from Jersey with jet black dyed hair and the attitude to match it.  And there was me…the straight-A student with a naughty side that overshadowed anything they were capable of doing.

Late that summer a new student moved across the hall from us.  His name was Levi (pronounced Levee, NOT Lee-vI).  He had just moved to the states from the Bahamas.  His skin was the color of honey.  Hair a sun-kissed blond.  And his eyes were a translucent hazel.  He had a strong British accent, with a twang from the islands.  He came from old money and drove a brand new white Jaguar.  He caused quite a stir among the girls at the apartment complex.  Dashing good looks.  Cool name.  Great accent.  Beautiful car.  Everyone was after him.  But he was aloof.  He paid them little attention.

One day we showed up at the apartment laundry center at the same time.  We talked as we washed our clothes.  He was quite smart and charming  I could certainly see why everyone was taken with him.  I found myself attracted to him, but wondered if he was “bad” enough for me.  We didn’t speak again for several days, when he approached me in the parking lot.

“Doing any laundry tonight?” he asked.

“Not tonight.  Think I’ll do it tomorrow.” I replied.

He grinned.  “Good.  Then you’re free this evening?”

I felt a flutter in my belly.  Was this price charming asking me out?  I decided to play it cool.

“That depends.  If you’re asking me to do your laundry, then no.  I am not free…I am quite expensive.”  I smirked.

I could tell he was impressed with my witty response.  He said, “No.  I wasn’t thinking of doing laundry…”

I decided to play along…so I asked.  “What were you planning on doing then, Levi?”

He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I was hoping to do YOU.”

Talk about direct and to the point.  Out there in the parking lot, he basically asked to shag me.  I loved it.  I do love a man with large balls…the balls to say what’s on his dirty, twisted mind  Maybe this pretty boy was bad enough for me.

I felt myself blush.  I struggled for a biting response, but I was so shocked by his brazen proposal, that I had nothing.  And before I could respond.  He said, “So it’s on then.  I’ll see you at 8:00.  My place.  The roommates are gone tonight.  It’s just you and me.  Oh…and wear those lacy black panties you were folding at the laundry the other day.  I’ve been thinking about them since I saw them.”

Now I really had nothing.  How do you even respond to that?

I managed to mutter, “Okay.  See you then.”  And we both went on our way.  I closed the door behind me and sighed….did that just really happen?  What the hell do I wear (besides the black, slutty panties?) He made me nervous.  Very nervous.  I was accustomed to being the most experienced.  The most confident. And here he was…outranking me.

To help cope with the tinge of anxiety, my bartender roomie, Mary, decided I needed a drink…just to take the edge off.  She made me some concoction that loosened me up as I got ready for my rendezvous across the hall.  I wore a sheer black shirt and cut off denim shorts.  I know…not date worthy, but we were staying in.  The shorts made my legs look fabulous.  My hair was fierce and I felt sexy as I knocked on his door.

I simply was not prepared for what I saw when he answered.  He was shirtless.  I was speechless.  He complimented me on my ensemble as he ushered me into the apartment.

“Have a seat.  What do you want to drink?’ he asked.

I had already had more than my limit, but before I could stop myself, I said, “Surprise me, Levi.”

I heard the cork pop and realized he had opened a bottle of champagne.  Oh crap…champagne?  Really?  Champagne had a very sexual affect on me.  I knew I’d be bent over his couch after two sips.

He brought out some glasses and poured us both a glass.  He toasted, “to laundry”

I don’t remember how we transitioned into the fuck fest we had.  He was very knowledgeable and aggressive.  He flipped, spread and rammed me as he pleased.  After he came several times, he said, “I need to recharge.  Dance for me while I stroke my cock.”

How sexy.  This man had some serious chops.  I loved the opportunity to dance for him.  We found some music on the stereo and he lit a couple of large pillar candles on the table.  He then gave me some instructions.

“The candlelight is so sexy.  I want you to take your time.  I want to see every inch of your body.  Spread those legs and let me see that glorious pussy that I am going to keep fucking.  Don’t stop dancing till I tell you.”

I was still a bit tipsy, as we finished off the bottle of champagne.  I started my “routine” on the floor.  Carefully choosing my moves.  I crawled to his feet, flipped to my back and opened my thighs for him to see.  I lifted my ass off the carpet and did a sexy grind for him as I touched my clit.  He loved it. I loved watching him watch me, while he stroked his hardening cock.

I rolled back over on all fours and crawled closer to him, allowing my breasts to spill onto his lap, grazing his cock.  He loved it.  Now the challenge was to get back on my feet, gracefully.  So I dipped down to shift my balance before standing and threw my ass in the air to keep it sexy.

Little did I know, the candle was close to the edge of the table.  My sexy sashay caused the flame from the candle to come in direct contact with my right ass cheek.

I was burned.  The flame scorched my exposed ass.  I was too shocked to mutter a sound.  I couldn’t believe it was happening.  But then the pain was too much.  I cried out.

He realized what had happened and immediately took me into the bathroom for a closer look.  It was a significant burn.  He made a decision.

“Get some clothes on.  I am driving you to the ER.  NOW.”

I quickly dressed, placing a homemade bandage on my burn, and got into his car.  He took me into the ER, helped me check in and left soon after they got me into a room.  He had class very early the next morning.

Can you even imagine my embarrassment?  How do you explain such things to an ER nurse?  There were questions like, “can you tell me what you were doing when it happened…followed by, did your clothes burn into your skin…followed by…so there were NO clothes that burned to your skin?  I finally just looked at the young RN and said, “look…I was doing a dance for my date and got too close to the candle.  I had been drinking champagne and my judgement was off.”  She smiled and said, “we see all kinds of things in here.  No worries…we will get you patched up.”  I managed to get some treatment and went home around 4:00 that morning.  Maura picked me up, in her bathrobe…with a towel on her head.  Seriously…no shame in her game.  Levi came over to check on me that morning before his 7:10 class.

“How are you, Joan of Arc?”  I was groggy from the champagne and pain medicine.  And I am sure I looked horrible.  But I managed to pull myself together.

“I’m okay.  Just sore.”

“I bet you are.  That was a nasty burn.  I am so sorry that happened to you.”  he said.  “Next time, we will make sure the candles are up a bit higher, because I want to see the rest of that dance.”  And he kissed me on the forehead and ventured on to class.

I was out of commission for a few days.  I made up a story about a more appropriate injury for my friends and family.  Only Maura and Levi knew the truth.  He moved to a house later that month.  Seems his parents bought him a nice 4-bedroom next to campus.  And I didn’t see him at school often.  He was more focused on living the dream, than attending class.  I heard he moved back to the islands sometime in 1993.

So, that was my stint with prince charming.  All in all it was a fun time.

I still have a small scar on my ass cheek.  It was always a topic of conversation with subsequent suitors.  I usually told them It was an injury from my childhood caused by getting too close to a space heater.  I did tell a few of them the truth…which was typically followed by, “i want a dance, too. ”

And I always obliged their request.

But with NO candles.

candle2

“Real” Sex-The Eyes Have It

It’s pretty obvious that I am one naughty girl, with quite a bit of experience under her skirt.  I’ve seen and done it all (well, most of it) and lived to tell my tawdry tales, here with you.  My goal is to be as detailed as possible, not to leave out any tempting tidbits for you to savor.  It goes along with being a bit of an exhibitionist, I want to share it all with you.

Being honest and transparent, there are things I do leave out.  Most of what I omit is minor and would not affect the story in any way, shape, or form. To keep it concise, I leave out details that serve only to drag out the story line.  Things I consider to be “fluff”.  And well…some details…they are funny as hell!  I’ve left most of these out of my raucous recollections, because I did not want to detract from the debauchery of my torrid tales.  But there are some scenarios that are worth sharing.  So I have decided (with some encouragement from my soul sister, Lennon Carlyle) to share the funny shit that’s happened along the way.  For those following along at home, these undignified gems will now appear in a new category called, “Real” Sex.

Here goes…“Real” Sex-The Eyes Have It

There was the bodybuilder I met at the gym…Tony.  The married one.  We had a fling for almost a year.  He would often ask me to wear something specific for the evenings we got together.  It may be a short skirt.  Or maybe thigh highs.  Or maybe he would ask me to go commando.  One particular evening he asked me to wear a short dress and heels.  I complied. I wore a tight, form-fitting black sheath that proudly displayed my assets, with my highest black strappy stilettos.  I’d just had my hair cut and it looked fabulous.  My full, pouty lips were harlot red.  But I couldn’t stop there.  I decided to “vamp” it up a bit more by wearing some false eyelashes.  These black beauties evolved my look from hot co-ed, to Sex Goddess.  I was stunning in my ensemble (sans panties) and walked into his place like I owned the joint.

I could tell he was impressed.  He looked me over and then…out of nowhere, he tied my hands behind my back with cable ties.  He whispered in my ear, “I am going to fuck you till you can’t walk tomorrow, baby.  You knew you were going to get it…coming over here, looking so damn sexy.  I am going to give it all to you.”  He lifted my dress, spread my legs open and began an evening of decadent pleasure.  He had me bent over his leather couch, face down-ass up, as he took control of me and took me over and over.  His endurance was unbelievable and the man just kept fucking me.  No breaks to change position.  No coming up for air.  He ravaged me like the slut I was, without mercy. And I loved it.  By the time he finally had an orgasm, the back of my dress was up around my shoulders, my hands (still behind my back) were almost numb, my legs were shaking and I was practically balancing on my head on his couch.  My newly coiffed hair was a sweaty, sopping mess and it was stuck in long strands, to my face.  But nevertheless, I was quite pleased with myself for taking such a pummeling, hands bound, in heels, without ever flinching.

He had been so into the moment that he didn’t realize that I was helplessly suspended like that on his couch.  He quickly tended to me and cut the cable ties, freeing my wrists.  He pulled me out of that awkward position (I had been unable to move because of how my arms were restrained) and flipped me over to face him.  He pulled the hair from my face and then….

In a look of absolute shock and horror…he backed away, as if he was startled by something.  I felt my face and realized that in the intensity of our fuck-fest, the eyelashes on my right eye had come off of my eyelid and found themselves stuck to my upper cheek…just under my eye.

I looked like Alex from “A Clockwork Orange”

alex

I peeled them off of my cheek and we laughed our asses off.  While we sat there, I went ahead and pulled the other one off because I could sense he was preparing for another round.  And no sooner had I removed the lashes…that he removed my dress and it was on again….and again.

And here’s a detail worth sharing…he had me keep the heels on.

heels in bed

By the time I left his place, the once gorgeous Sex Goddess looked like a brunette Cyndi Lauper on crack…hair matted to one side…runny makeup…remnants of eyelash glue on her face. But that’s okay.  It was a good night and.after all, as Cyndi says…

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun…

Oh yes, they do.  

Wicked Wednesdays with Tess Presents, “Carried Away in The Big Easy”

Continuing on with the Wicked Wednesday series, I am eager to share the following post with you…a decadent tale of fun and cloaked debauchery in the Big Easy, written by one of my favorite soulful Southern siren’s, Lennon Carlyle. Check out her guest post below and be sure to visit her blog at, https://fabulouswithglitches.wordpress.com

One of the Partners at the firm invited me to his Halloween party. Rarely had I been out in the last two years since I was trying to prove myself. I was the youngest attorney and had just won my eleventh case. Cause for celebration don’t you think?

The party was going to be one of a kind. He had rented out an old funeral home and was having an open bar with an incredible DJ spinning some serious beats.

Now, what will my costume be?

Witch? Devil? Maid?

I needed something unusual and something that would hide my identity. This was just in case I wanted to prowl around and get into something out of the ordinary.

That’s it! CAT WOMAN! Yes! Why not show off my curves tonight. Let’s face it, I’m blonde, blue eyed, 5’9”, 129 lbs, nice rack, hourglass is in check.
Purrrrfect!

The night had arrived and I was beyond ready. I must say I looked incredible. My full lips were shimmering with my favorite lollipop red lipstick. Although I was wearing the mask I decided to wear my hair down. Why not show off the blonde locks since every single day I wear it up in a bun. I wanted to be someone other than Poppy tonight. I wanted to be someone reckless and daring.

The leather felt righteous against my skin. This costume really showed off my hips and my tits. The thigh high platform boots made me feel superior. The limo picked me up and off I went. As I entered the party a Lurch greeted
me with a glass of champagne on a tray. Oh! How I love the bubbly. It always makes me feel kittenish. I walk over to the bar where I see Luke Skywalker AKA “The Partner” the one who is throwing this magnificent Halloween party.

I might actually need to check out Star Wars because Luke was killin’ it.  Yes, I know, where have I been to have never seen Star Wars?

Honestly, “The Partner” and I really don’t know each other well at all. He knows nothing about me personally. He makes eye contact with me and asks “Would you like another drink?”

I’m shaking in my platform boots at this point and wondered to myself…does he recognize me? In a Jersey accent I quickly reply “Of course I would love another drink.” (Note: I was in drama club in High School and had it perfected)

He orders me a Tombstone Tea. He leans into my ear and whispers “It’s refreshing but will put a spell on you.”

Is he hitting on me? Well, this could be the dare that I’m looking for this evening. Yes! Winning!

I’ve never noticed how green his eyes are. He has this extremely deep voice and even with these kick ass boots I’m wearing he’s still towering me. He introduces himself and I stretch out my hand introducing myself as Finn, a girl that came with a date that I can’t find and how I’m really not “feeling it” and how I’m trying to ditch this guy. He assures me that he can help with that. Hmmm…Oh really?

After three tombstone teas and four glasses of champagne I find myself arm and arm with “The Partner” walking down Frenchmen Street passing the bars and giggling at whatever he’s saying in my ear.

He stops abruptly and says “I’m going to take you to one of my favorite haunts.” We take a turn down a dark alley and just a few feet away I see a wrought iron archway. There’s a sign but it’s dark and my vision is blurry at this point. I’m feeling fantastical and will go wherever “The Partner” wants to take me.

As we enter the gate he suddenly scoops me up like a child and carries me. “I wouldn’t want you to stumble and hurt yourself in those boots Finn.” This cobblestone is broken in some spots.” I could get used to this…I put my arms around his neck and within just a few steps I realize we’re in a cemetery. The full moon is shining on the graves as if covered in glitter. This is nightmarish but also enchanting.

He carries me up a couple of steps and gently puts me down while he opens this shrill sounding door. He grabs my hand and pulls me into this tiny little dark room. He suddenly grabs the back of my hair and pulls my head back and begins kissing my neck. I immediately get chills up my spine. He then lifts me up onto his waist and I wrap my legs around him as he walks me over to something behind me and props me up on it. His kisses are hard and wet.

He’s drinking me in. He tastes like caramel and whisky. His tongue is delicious and wanting.

My mind says Stop – Don’t do this. I kept thinking, this is “The Partner” at my firm and I really shouldn’t be making out with him. Truth was, I wanted him badly. His lips were full like mine. He bit my bottom lip and the blood tasted so sweet. God, this man was fucking hot.

He picks me up off of whatever I was propped up on and flips me around facing the wall and I put my hands on something to hold myself up and realize it’s a casket. What the fuck? Oh my god, this is fucking incredible. I’m about to fuck “The Partner” in a crypt.  As he unzips my cat suit and rips it down to my knees the anticipation of him touching me is beyond intoxicating. I’m wearing no panties or bra. All access approved!

He put his arm around my waist to hold me in place and then began teasing my nipple with his fingers. He grabs my face and turns it towards his and starts kissing me again. His taste is addicting. Soon his tongue is licking my ear and he whispers “How bad do you want me to fuck you Finn?” Words couldn’t escape my mouth. I just whimpered under his grip. He took his knee and pushed my legs apart and brought his hand down to my clit. His fingers were melting.  My knees were weak and I held back on screaming his name.

He suddenly stopped and I heard his zipper come down and instantly he gained entry into my tight little passage. As he entered me he let out a rough low “Fuck.” He stood there not moving with that superb cock inside of me taunting me by standing still. I wanted him to fuck me until I collapsed but instead he was taking it all in, literally.

He whispered in that deep voice, “Are you ready Finn?” I was ready but also edgy, could I handle him? I loved the feeling of fullness in my narrow tunnel.

He grabbed my hips tight, pulled me backwards and then pushed my back to where my head was between my legs. I could see his knees at this point due to the moon glaring through the stained glass. I loved the way he was taking control over me, but I wanted more.

He knew how to take me and he knew how to make me beg. I finally had all I could take and I started grinding into him. He took me by surprise with this strength and fucked me hard and fast and with ill intention. Right when I was about to cum he pulled his cock out and pulled me up and turned me to face him. My mask was still on and he reached to take it off and I quickly got to my knees and licked and sucked his glorious shaft. He was growling and then pulled me up and looked me in the eyes and said “Just let me fuck you.” The way he said it sounded like he couldn’t live without it.

He had to have it.

He picked me up and I put my legs around him and he did exactly that. He fucked me like I’d never been fucked before. Every time he would thrust I would bounce breathless. There was a connection between us. We were driven and consumed with each other. When I came with him it was the feeling of being upside down in a roller coaster. It was absolutely thrilling.

As he hailed a cab for me he hands me his card and asks “Can I see you again Finn?” As I slide into the cab and look up at him I wink and whisper “Maybe” and as the cab pulls away I sigh with my kittenish grin.

Monday Morning arrives and I’m going over my notes for my case. I hear a knock on my office door, “Come in”. A delivery guy has me sign for a long white box with a beautiful black bow. The card reads “Finn AKA Poppy, Please enjoy these beautiful red poppies. I have to see you again. Meet me in the lobby downstairs at 8 pm. Since you’ve never seen Star Wars I thought it was about time. Your Jersey accent was outstanding but I knew it was you all along.”

He sent me poppies? Really? No one has ever done that before. How did he know? Fuck.

catwoman

Wicked Wednesday with Tess presents, “Wrong Way In”

Good evening readers!  Thank you for joining me as we begin the Wicked Wednesdays with Tess series.

This is a deliciously sinful yarn spun by the intriguing erotica writer, Eon.  I hope you enjoy it as much I do.

Make sure you check out his bloghttp://www.eonserotica.wordpress.com

Wrong Way In

Jessica smiled at my offer.

“Really?  You would do that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She stood on her tip-toes to kiss my cheek.  Her small warm hand squeezed my bicep.  Feeling my muscles?  Or just expressing gratitude?  God, I could never tell with her.  Everything she did seemed to mean two things.
“You’re such a sweetheart.”
You see what I mean.  Friend zone?  Or hint?
She began to gather her things.  I held up her jacket.  When she looked up to find it waiting for her to step into, she beamed at me.
“You really are.  Thank you again, Jeff.  I can’t handle him when he gets like this.  Remember, once you get him sobered up, he’s supposed to meet me at the haunted house at midnight.  His costume is in the trunk.  You’ll be able to find it?”
“Sure.”
She passed me the keys to his car, then turned to go.  Pausing, she glanced back over her shoulder.  Our eyes met over the keys still held up in my palm, like an offering.  She shook her head, then stepped in quickly and gave me a quick peck on the lips.
“Get a move on, you big dummy.”
Then she was gone.
My free hand touched my lips where hers had pressed so briefly.  I looked over at Max, Jessica’s fiancee.  Like her, a lifelong friend.  Unlike her, who had had only a single glass of white wine, he was half comatose with drink, mostly rum, mumbling to himself as he slowly slipped lower in the booth where he sat.  I heaved a sigh.  Struggling this brawny bastard into his car was going to be a helluva chore.  It was a good thing we were of a size.  Always had been.  I can remember people getting us mixed up as kids.  We’d always thought it was hilarious, and used it to our advantage when we could.
Now, that size was a definite advantage.  I left a generous amount of money on the table.  He’d been increasingly boorish as his drunkeness progressed, and I felt bad for the waitress.  Then I heaved him into a fireman’s carry and made my way out to the parking lot.  Bastard better not puke on my good suit.
A lot was going through my head, and not all of it was pleasant.  Lifelong friends look out for each other, sure.  But lately it was feeling very one sided.  I was worried about Max’s drinking.  I was even more worried for Jessica’s safety.  I’d known Max a long time, and he was an agressive drunk until he reached the blackout stage.  He’d done some things when we were in our teens, and she was such a tiny little thing.  Five foot tall in heels, if that, hardly more than 110 pounds.  I pictured lifting her up, her lithe little legs wrapped around my waist…
No, stop that.  Get this drunken fucker home and figure out what to do about the situation.  Odds were he wouldn’t be even halfway funcitonal by the time midnight rolled around.  Not the way he’d been slamming it back.  Sure, he was big, but I knew him.  He was teetering on the edge of blackout, and if that happened, there’d be no waking him for twelve hours.
Mumble, mumble.  Twitch and drool.  Cuss at me for driving too fast, making him feel sick.  Fuck you, Max.  You’re sick?  I’m fucking sick, too.  Of all of it.
Drag the guy out of the car, chivvy him up the stairs, half pushing, half dragging.  Get him inside.  He flops on the couch.  Well, at least he’s moving.  Maybe I can salvage the night after all.  I think about Jessica, that smile, that sudden unexpected kiss.  Yeah, okay.  I can do this.  For her, I can do this.
Put the coffee on.  Use the washroom.  Dig through Max’s CDs, find some good heavy metal, get the stereo cranked up.  Back into the living room.
“What the fuck, Max!  No, man, you’re done.”
He’s found the energy to get up and grab the whiskey from the liquor cabinet.  He hasn’t even bothered with a glass.  I move to take the bottle and he gives me a shove.  Roars at me, guttural, a beast.  I can see in his eyes that this won’t go the easy way.
So I raise my hands, placating, back away a few steps.
“Okay, okay.  You’ve made your point.  Fuck.”
He drops back onto the couch and takes a big swig.  I cringe.  Sit on the armchair opposite and watch him drink, listening to the savage scream of Sylosis’ vocalist echo demonically through the room… where the wolves come to die… before that brutally heavy guitar groove segues into the next track, Victims and Pawns.
So which am I?  Victim?  Pawn?  Which is he?  I’ve never seen him hit the bottle so hard.  It’s frightening to watch.  And which is she?  I know I should stop him.  For him, for her.  But what about me?  I don’t want to get into a scrap with a fucking gorilla who’s already numb to pain and reason.  And I’m beginning to think there are possibilities here, a way to take a little back for all I’ve given this asshole lately.
So I let him drink until he passes out.  Eventually.  It takes more than I expected.  But now he’s done, and it’s 23:00.
I go down to the car, grab the costume.
Ha.  Perfect.  Frankenstein.  A mask to cover the upper half of my face and everything.  I go back into the house to try it on.  Yeah, it’ll do.  We’re of a size.  I steal his boots and put them on.  Do my hands and neck and lower face up corpsey grey-green.  Only my eyes give me away, staring out of the Frankenstein mask, green as grass.  Max has brown eyes.  But it will be dark where I’m going, or dimly lit.
I arrive early at the haunted house, park Max’s car a ways down the street.  Walking through the dark, I’m greeted by goblins, ghosts, and witches as they flit out of the late night fog and make their way towards the abandoned mansion at the end of the street.
The house party held here every year is always nuts.  Last year a group purchased the estate, fixed it up, and began making the yearly bash an official Halloween event, selling tickets and everything.  Max’s ticket had been with his costume, and was now in my pocket.  Tradition dictated that everyone arrived alone, without telling anyone in advance what their costume would be.  I knew my size would give me away, and likewise, Jessica’s slight stature would let me spot her easily.  But I had no way of knowing who anyone else was.  That was sort of the point.  This was a party where anything goes.  Let the demons out into the night, in true Bacchanalian style.  In the morning, when the sun came up, the costumes would come off and we would all be divested of sin along with the getups.  Reborn.
I spotted Jessica right away, but didn’t approach.  Better to play up the Max role a bit; I went straight for the punch.  It looked like eyeballs floating in something greenish brown.  What the fuck are those?  Peeled grapes? I popped one into my mouth.  Yup.  Grapes.  I down a full glass of the punch and then ladle out another.
Whew!  Strong stuff.  I wander off to check out the mansion.  I figure she’s had plenty of time to spot me by now, and she’ll follow along if she’s interested.  I have a sneaking suspicion she’s not too impressed with Max, and so she might avoid me for the night, but I can always find her later.
The place is huge, of course, and every room has been done up in a different theme.  Dracula’s castle is already in full swing, the lord of vampires himself presiding over a bevy of sultry vamps in various states of dishevelment.  I wonder briefly if he needs to suck blood in order to get it up. Whatever.  The two vampires hungrily sharing his meat don’t seem inclined to complain how it got hard.  Those teeth, though!  Laughing, I move on.
There’s a dancehall, with a fog machine, eerie lights, and all the spooky Halloween favorites.  Gotta be fifty or sixty monsters gyrating out there.  The total abandon is a thing to see.  Something about a costume and a mask that gives a person complete license to indulge.  I can feel it working on me, too, eyeing up the scantily clad witches, the linen wrapped girl with the dancer’s body, a yummy mummy if I ever saw one.  I’m being checked out, too.  My size alone gets me a lot of attention, but there’s a reason people are here, and one monster is as good as another if you haven’t found a partner (or two or three) by the time the hour gets late.
Upstairs the game room is done up like a dungeon.  Some werewolves are shooting pool with a ghost.  A couple of zombies are playing strip poker and laughing at all the rotten flesh revealed.  I finish my second drink and find a third.  A blonde witch who is far too beautiful to play the role pulls me into a closet for a brief fumble at my zipper, but she can’t fit my cock in her mouth, and declines to try it elsewhere.  As we emerge the look on her face is one of stunned awe, and I enjoy the looks from the others in the room as I step out of the closet, slowly putting my length back into my trousers.  The werewolves howl and a mad scientist runs by, cackling madly, his lab assistant thrashing at him with a whip.
Jessica finds me one of the bedrooms.  It looks like the chamber of a voodoo priestess, perhaps, or a caveman shaman, all animal skins and dangling bones.  A nun is on the bed, being ravished by Jesus.
“Max.”
I turn at the sound of her voice.  I can only stare.
Black stiletto heels, buckled and strapped to the top of her shapely calves.  Fishnets, a tantalizing glimpse of white skin.  Clining black miniskirt, shockingly pink panties peaking out from under the scandalously high hemline.  Black corset, leather and lace, small firm breasts pushed up invitingly.  Black gloves past her elbows.  Slutty black and red makeup, incredibly luscious lips pouting below gigantic innocent little girl eyes.  Fuck me, she’s so tiny and perfect. I can’t breathe.  I’ve never wanted her so badly as I do now.  And right here, right now, I could have her, and she would forgive me for taking advantage of the situation, wearing the mask, pretending to be Max.  In the morning, she will understand.  I had to have her.
She approaches.  Her wings are large and black, feathered thickly.  They move when she does, an impressive illusion.  I notice her devil’s tail swishing behind her as she walks, hips swaying seductively.
“Max, are you avoiding me?”
I don’t answer.  I toss back my third drink, feeling the buzz creeping through my veins.
Our eyes lock.  The last of my inhibitions fall away.  Lifting her easily, I carry her into the next room, another bedroom, this one empty and dark.  Placing her gently on the bed, I push her onto her back and lean in, framing her with my arms.  She raises her face to my kiss and I taste her for the first time.  Her tongue meets mine.  She is wanton, hungry.  She lifts her hips and rubs her crotch against my stomach.  Sensation surges through me.  My erection suddenly strains at my slacks.  My mind stops spinning and I am completely, blissfully immersed in the sweet strain of the moment.
My hands are massive, engulfing hers.  I press my palm against her pubic mound and she grinds against it.  I feel her heat, her dampness, soaking through her pretty pink panties.  She gasps as I curl my thick fingers and deftly slide first one, then another, around the edge of the fabric.  She is slick and tight.  My fingers force their way inside, and she moans.
“No, no, don’t make me wait, I don’t want fingers, I want you.”
She is a fallen angel in truth, now, as she frees the serpent and succumbs to sinful urges.  Holding her panties aside, she guides me to the gates.
“Here,” she says, “here is where I fell from,” and I’m sliding inside her, her muscles stretching to accomodate my girth, her teeth gripping her lower lip as she struggles not to cry out in pain, and then the slippery fluids are working, and I’m halfway inside her, and then mostly inside, and then I’ve forced the whole length of my cock into the depths of her straining pussy and she’s gasping, “Yes, yes Max, oh God, I love you…”
And I can’t do it.  I’m not Max.  I can’t rape this woman.  That’s what’s happening here.  I’m raping my friend’s fiancee.  I’m raping my own best friend.
Horrified, I leap away.  I choke on a sob and stumble, sit heavily on the floor.  I shudder and a sound escapes me, a high keening.  I am a monster, in truth.  My heavy cock falls limp between my legs.
“Oh, God, Jess, what have I done?”
She’s in my lap, no hesitation, her small warm hands on my face, her mouth on mine.
“What?  What is it?”
“I’m… I’m not…”
“Shh…” she presses close.  “Shh… I know…”
I freeze.  I raise my eyes to hers.  But the look she is giving me isn’t meant for me.  It’s meant for Max.  She can’t see the color of my eyes in the dim light from the next room.  Did she see it when our eyes met back there?  I thought she had.  I thought maybe…
But I’m a fool.  A monster.  I can’t do this.
“I know,” she whispers.  “It’s okay.  Take your time.  I understand…”  She is kissing me again, reassuring.  What does she think is happening here?  Has her drunken lout of a fiancee fallen victim to erectile dysfunction?  Has this happened to them before?  Does she believe patience and compassion will fix this?
Slowly, heavily, like in a dream, my hand rises.  The mask comes away.
I feel her breasts press against my chest with the sharp intake of her breath.  For some reason I’m compelled to tighten my arm about her waist.  Holding her close.  No escape.  Confront it.  See the truth.
Look the monster in the eyes.
“Jeff?”
Her voice is barely there, a meek breath, an incredulous whisper.
I take my arms from around her waist.  Shaking, she rises, steps back from me.
I’m not prepared for the viciousness of her sudden stomp.  Fire shoots up through my guts.  I double over in agony, seeing stars, nausea rising in a sparkling wave.  I barely register the sound of her footsteps as she flees.  Gurgling, I curl around my self-disgust and weep silently.
Jesus and the nun look in on me.  They watch for a moment.  Then, without a word, they turn their backs.
The door snicks shut, cutting off all light.
fallen angel