forbidden desire

Wonderland

elevator

My descent into the downward spiral of the rabbit hole was exhilarating.  I peeled off the mask I’d been wearing for seven years, finally recognizing my reflection in the looking glass.  It was me.  I had returned.  The darkness around me was a familiar place of refuge and I felt alive.

Greg continued his massage of my shoulders, slowly easing his hands towards my soft breasts.  He was gentle in his touch and I longed to kiss him again  Time was passing quickly and we couldn’t stay behind closed doors alone for much longer.  Someone was bound to notice and there would be talk.

Greg turned me around to face him.  “We should continue this later.  We don’t want to create any suspicion around here.”

I nodded in agreement.  He quietly unlocked the door and placed a chair under the vent he’d inspected.  “When you open the door, I will be on the chair pretending to diagnose your issue with the vent.  That should ward off any talk.”

He stood on the chair and as I moved towards the door. I noticed the bulge of his crisp khaki pants.  I paused as I walked by him, taking a moment to look up in his eyes seductively.  I casually opened the door and slid out of the office unnoticed by anyone.  He pretended to work with the vent for a few more minutes before leaving.

When I returned to my office, there was a note in my desk:

You name the time, and I will make time. Come see me in my office before you leave.  

Hmmm…Instructions.  I liked the tone of this note.  Around 4:50, I visited his office.  He was busy working on several projects, but welcomed me in.

“What are your plans for Friday night?’ he asked.

“I don’t really have any.  He is working nights and my son is staying over at a friend’s house.”

“Okay.  Could you stay out for a few hours?” he asked.

My face felt flushed.  It just dawned on me that I was about to dive in this pool.  I was about to plan this tryst with him.  I felt nervous at the thought of being intimate with someone new.  I’d brainwashed myself into monogamy and I began feel a slight moral dilemma.

“Is this too much, too soon Tess?” he asked.  I guess he could read my face.  He could see that I was struggling with making definite plans.

“No, it’s not.  I want this.  It’s not too soon…in fact it’s a bit late.  And yes, I can safely stay out until midnight”

He pondered his next comment.  “I am thinking we should meet at the Sheraton around 8:00.  I will get the room.  Just promise me this, if you change your mind, you will tell me and I will promise to do the same for you.”

I nodded in approval, “I don’t think I will back out, Greg. I don’t think Friday can get here fast enough for me.”

He grinned.  My LAWD the man was sexy.  It was only Tuesday.  How could I hold out until Friday?

The week moved on at its normal pace.  I was super-busy and so was he.  We would exchange niceties in the halls and spoke in morning meeting.  We both understood that we needed to WAIT for Friday.  We understood the intense heat between us and knew if we found ourselves alone for any amount of time that we would go too far.  That couldn’t happen at work.

Friday arrived and I felt like backing out.  I didn’t have a change of heart, but I was nervous about our encounter.  I somehow pushed through the day.  When the evening arrived, I took my time getting ready.  My son was with friends.  My husband at work.  And I had the house to myself.  I took a long, hot shower.  I made sure my skin was perfectly smooth.  I prepared myself as if I were going out on a first date.

I had just received a cell phone for work a few days prior.  Greg already had one and that’s how we communicated.  He called me around 7:30 to give me the room number.My heart jumped when the phone rang.  I knew it was him calling with the location.  His voice was deep and sexy, “Hello, Tess.  I am here.  The room is perfect, come on when you’re ready.  It’s room 719”

I did some last minute preparations and headed out. It took about 10 minutes to get to the hotel.  I arrived and the door to the room was ajar.  I knocked lightly as I opened it.  The lights were out and there were candles lit.  I looked down and noticed a trail of clothes on the floor.  Shoes. Socks. Pants. Shirt.  I followed the trail and saw him standing at the end.  He had on nothing but black boxers and that devilish smile.

I walked towards him and he pulled me close.  My face rested on his warm, toned chest.  He smelled divine. His skin was smooth and I rested my head on his heart as he stroked my hair. He pulled my face to face his.  His eyes smiled as he looked into mine. He planted a kiss on me that made me swoon.  I literally felt weak in the knees.

He pulled me close again, as he began removing my clothes.  Piece by piece.  He turned me around, with my back to him, as he unzipped my little black dress.  He carefully slid it over my head, leaving me there in my (matching) ivory and black lace bra and panties. He ran his hands over my back and carefully unfastened my bra.  He slowly pulled it away from my body as my breasts spilled out. He turned me to face him again as he looked at my body.  He kissed me as he guided me towards the crisp white bed.

“Lay down and get comfortable.” he instructed.  He sat next to me and massaged my body, circling my breasts, softly rubbing my legs, tickling my abdomen as he stroked it like a feather.  He kissed me as he touched the place between my legs.  I was still wearing my panties and he teased me by tracing the edges of the elastic with his fingertips.  I wanted him to rip them off and fuck me sore.  I wanted him to unleash what I’d held onto for seven years.  I wanted him badly.

He stood up and pulled my panties off.  They were moist from my arousal.  He dropped to his knees and buried his face in my thighs, exploring my slit with his tongue.  I whimpered and moaned in delight.  He slid a finger into my slippery place as he probed for the sweet spot.  Once he found it, I came immediately.  He stood up and I sat up, dropping to my knees on the floor, taking in all of his length in one movement.  He almost lost his balance as he felt for the bed under him.

I worshipped his ample cock.  I licked the shaft slowly, deliberately circling the head with my tongue before taking it deep.  I sucked softly and then aggressively, like the greedy slut I was.  I teased him by only taking in the tip and then taking it as far as it would go down my throat.  I don’t think he’d ever received anything like that.  He was so hard.  As much as I wanted to swallow his load, I also wanted to feel him deep within me.

I stood up and he pulled me on top of him.  His cock was slick with my saliva and it easily slid inside me.  I moved my body down onto his, feeling how he filled me.  I started to grind and buck, taking his cock deeper with each stroke.  I found myself going faster and faster, overcome with pleasure as we headed to orgasm.  We came together and I fell onto the bed beside him.  We both just lay there…in awe of what had just transpired.

“You okay, Tess?” he asked.  He was slightly out of breath.  I replied, “I am better than I have been in forever.”

He pulled me onto his chest and brushed the hair out of my face.  Looking at me, he said, “That was amazing.  I want more of you.  I want to have you as many times as I can tonight, you feel so good.”  I was speechless, as I was still recovering from the high.  But I found myself morphing back into the naughty girl from years past.

We took a candlelit bubble bath together and fucked again.  He took me from behind that time.  He filled every space inside me.  As he was about to unload, he pulled my shoulders back to edge in as far as he could.  He let out a primal growl as he filled me.  I loved it.  I wanted him rough.  I wanted him to use my body for his pleasure.  I wanted to give him something he didn’t get at home.  I wanted to be slut he needed me to be.

We carried on throughout the night.  Around midnight, we both got ready to leave.  He helped me put on my dress, but refused to let me put on my panties.  He said I should keep them off, as he found it sexy.  I was happy to oblige.  He walked me to the elevator and pushed the button for the penthouse.  I was confused.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Just taking a ride, that’s all.  Gives us a few more minutes together” And with that comment, he walked over to me, slipped his hand up my dress.  Pushing two fingers in my hole, he fingered me on the elevator for a couple of floors.  He slipped them out and put them in my mouth, running them around my lips.  I could taste my sex and his seed.  He then pinned me to the wall and kissed me.  “Now we have tasted each other together.  Until next time, baby.”  He kissed my cheek and walked off the elevator as it we had just reached the ground floor.  He walked to the left.  I walked out to the right.

And as I made my way to the car I thought about the evening and once again, I felt weak in the knees...

 

(photo credits, Pinterest)

The Rabbit Hole

alice

May 2002.

I was in a place of transition.  I’d just been recruited to work in a director’s position at a local retirement home.  The place had a horrible reputation, but the new ownership assembled a strong team of experienced managers tasked with turning it around.  I loved it there.  The owners worked day and night to make improvements to enhance the lives of the residents.  We all worked together to make a difference.

For the most part, I liked everyone I worked with.  The administrator was kind and focused.  The director of nursing was great at leading the clinical team.  The social worker and I immediately bonded over music and movies.  And then there was the director of environmental services.  I was very fond of him.  His name was Greg.

I met him the day of my interview.  He was walking out as I was walking into the building.  He smiled as he opened the door for me, “Come on in.  How may I help you?”  His smile was sexy and I recognized a certain look in his eye.  It’s the look that you share with others in your tribe.  It’s a glimmer that lets you know that they “see” you also.  The real you.

I shyly smiled as I walked by him.  “I am here to see Brian.” I said.

“You must be the one he told us about!  Are you here for the interview?” he asked.

I nodded.  Greg smiled as he walked me towards Brian’s office.  He knocked on the door as he opened it and said, “She’s here.  The one you were telling us about.” Brian opened the door and welcomed me in.  Greg shook my hand and said, “It was really nice meeting you.  I hope to see you around here soon.” I sat down with Brian and sailed through the interview.  He immediately made me an offer and I accepted, on the spot.

From the beginning, there was tension between Greg and I.  It was an unspoken air of sensuality that existed when were in each other’s presence.  Although we didn’t have time to talk often, the conversations we did have were charged with an underlying tone of mutual attraction.  It was in the eyes.  When our eyes met, there was a certain electricity that sparked from the connection.  We both dismissed it.  After all, he was married.  I was married.  And neither of us wanted to venture too far off of our ascribed paths.

As the days went on we became closer, often talking about our kids and our lives at home.  We had sons the same age, who attended the same elementary school.  We worked hard at keeping our interactions professional but there was still tension in the air.  Occasionally, we would forget our obligations and shamelessly flirt with each other.  Then one of us would reel it back in.  We would take a couple of days off from chatting, to cool down, but eventually we would end up in the same place.

One sultry afternoon in May, I called him to my office.  The air conditioner vents were blowing hot air and it was quickly becoming uncomfortable.  He stood on a chair and checked the vents.  I looked at his form as he stood there, inches away from me.  I fantasized about facing him, and slowly unzipping his khaki pants as I looked in eyes; pleasuring him right there in my office.  I was lost in my thoughts when he said, “It’s electrical.”

I was caught off guard.  “What?” I stammered.

“The issue.  I think something may have tripped the breaker because, there’s no air coming out at all now. It’s happened in a couple of the other offices.  We’ve already called in a HVAC company to fix it.”

“Thank you.  It’s already too hot in here for me.  What should I do?”

He grinned.  “I have a fan tucked away in my office for such occasions.  I will go get it for you. Do you need anything else?”

At that moment, our eyes connected and there was no going back.  It was happening.  I could feel it.  He could feel it.  I stared deeply into his brown eyes and said, “Yes.  I do. But it can wait until you bring the fan.”

He held my gaze for several seconds before walking back to his office.  I felt a tinge of nervousness deep in my belly.  I looked around my office and began visualizing where this would take place.  Over the desk?  On the table?  On the floor?  Does the lock work on my door?  Do my bra and panties match today?  Oh shit, did I shave my legs this morning? As my mind raced, the door opened as he walked in with the fan.

He stared into my eyes and said, “Where do you want it?” He meant the fan, but I knew there was another meaning to his question.  He knew I knew it.  I nervously sat behind my desk and said, “how about on the table?”

He plugged in the fan and turned it towards me.  He sat in the chair across from my desk and said, “What else did you need, Tess?”

Oh shit, I thought.  Not prepared.  At a loss for words.  What to do?  I’d not stepped off the path of fidelity in my sexless marriage for almost seven years.  No man, other than my cruel bastard of a husband, had touched my skin in seven years.  I had not felt like a woman in seven years. I was so hungry for Greg’s touch, but I was bound to another.  As I struggled with an answer, Greg stood up and walked towards the door.

“Don’t go.” I said.

“I’m not going anywhere.  I am just locking the door. So tell me, what is it you want from me, Tess?” his tone was direct.

Keep in mind that for seven years I’d been in a relationship where I could not be my wanton self.  I worked hard to bury that part of me in exchange for the perceived comforts of the Stepford life I was encouraged to live. Plain and simple, I’d all but lost my game.  The old me would have spun a yarn, filled with innuendo that would have already had us in the throes of passion.  The new me didn’t know how to navigate this part of the journey. But slowly, I found the words.

“In my last job, the director of environmental services, was known to give a great massage.  My co-workers would call him to their offices on stressful days and he would work all of the knots out of their shoulders.  I never got one, but he said those were tricks of the trade and that all environmental directors are good with their hands. Is that true, Greg?  Are you good with your hands?” I coyly asked.

He walked towards my desk, stepping behind me, he moved the hair from my shoulders as leaned down and whispered, “I don’t know.  I will let you be the judge of that.”

He gently stroked the back of my neck as he moved his hands towards my shoulders.  I’d not been touched there for so long that I sighed out loud.  He began kneading my tense muscles and I relaxed into the massage.  “How is that?” he asked

“It’s wonderful.” I said.  My voice was breathy and faint.

He moved his hands up toward my neck, gently caressing my throat as he moved them back to my shoulders.  I was lost in his touch.  I could tell he wanted to feel my breasts, but he kept his hands at a respectable distance.

“What are my limits, Tess?  How much can I do?” he asked.

I stood and turned to face him, looking him in the eye.

My voice was steady and sure, “You have no limits with me, Greg”

He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me towards his mouth, passionately kissing me he said, “I want you.  I’ve wanted you since I met you.”

“I know.  I’ve wanted you too.  But I’ve been trying to do what’s right.”  I said

He nodded. “I know.  I don’t want anyone to get hurt, but I want you, Tess.  I fantasize about us all the time.  I don’t care if it’s only once.  I just want you.”

And that was the day I chose the red pill.  I swallowed it whole without persuasion.  I swallowed it whole on my own accord.  I knew what I was doing.

That was the day I ventured down the rabbit hole.

(To be continued…)

red pill

 

 

The Tower

My former lover, Lee, contacted me a few days ago.  We stay in contact, although we’ve managed to morph into a strictly platonic friendship.  We have been close since we were kids.  It’s a complex relationship.  He was with me at the hospital the day my mother died and he was there with me, a few months ago, when my father died.  We’ve been together in many forms over the years.  I’ve often wondered what would happen if we just tried going all in…you know, as a committed, monogamous couple.

And I realize that it would never work for us.  When we are lovers, it’s the thrill of being caught that fuels our fire.  If neither of us are already in a relationship, the intrigue isn’t there.  But put us together when we are not supposed to be…and you have a towering inferno of heat.  Which brings me to my saucy little story….

Lee messaged me late Thursday afternoon, “I was just at the tower.  Made me think of you.”  I was surprised by the message and said, “Oh yeah?  Which one?”

He responded, “At Exit 11”

Immediately, I was transformed by the mention of that location.  After the “Very Close Call” we had at my house, we opted to meet in neutral locations.  Lee works in the communications industry and would occasionally have to go to a radio tower site to ensure everything was running properly.  He had this wicked idea for us to meet there for a tryst.  And we frequented several around town.

If you’ve ever visited a radio tower, you know that it’s a spartan building with lots of controls and wires.  The floor is usually concrete.  Lee would have to open a padlocked gate and then a padlocked door for us to gain entry.  But it was secluded and it was just what we needed for an afternoon delight.  As long as there was a wall for me to brace myself against, Lee would navigate the rest.

We began a routine of meeting for a quick lunch and then taking a ride to a tower site.  Sometimes our appetites were so ravenous that we would meet two or three times a week.  I loved fucking Lee.  It was always more than sex with him.  We have a deep connection that makes our physical chemistry even hotter.  I loved how he bent me over while I held onto the ledge on the wall.  He would hit every perfect angle as he slammed himself into me.  I could never get enough of him.

One afternoon was particularly steamy.  We were at the tower site off of Exit 11.  We had both already gotten ours once, but we were not sated.  I wanted more of him.  He wanted more of me.  He propped my leg on a control board as he pushed himself inside me.  He rubbed my clit as he slowly and deeply sank into my hole.  It was all I could do to keep my balance.  The pleasure so much that I couldn’t contain it.  I moaned and screamed with each movement. He was turned on by my display and his rhythm became more powerful and intense.  He kept making me come over and over and eventually we collapsed together in a heap on the floor.  He was still inside me and I rode his cock, my bare knees against the concrete floor.  I didn’t care.  I was possessed with lust.

Just after he unloaded inside me, I saw the door begin to open, as the sunlight forced its way into the dark corner of the room.  “Lee?  Are you still here?” a voice called.

And I thought…can we catch a freaking break? How many times have we been walked in on, in our 25 years together?  One of his co-workers had arrived to check a setting on one of the control boards.  Ironically the one I’d been propped up on.  I quickly composed myself and Lee immediately went into work mode.  He introduced me as the IT/Communications Director of a local hospital, who was curious to see how things worked on this end of the business.

His co-worker, Ray, took one look at my sweaty appearance and knew exactly what side of the “business” I was working.  He shook Lee’s hand, nodded at me and made his way out of the building.  We got ourselves together and smiled.  The same smile we’ve shared on so many occasions before.  The “we got away with it again” smile.

Lee and I walked outside and he secured the padlock on the building.  He grinned and said, “What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”

I smiled back at him and coyly said, “You”

tower

(Photo credit, Pinterest)

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Growing up in the Deep South, it was an expectation to date within your own race, culture and religion.

I’ve never liked rules.  And I scoff at expectations.

My poor parents never knew who was coming to dinner. (But lets just say I always knew who was “coming” after dinner.)  My curiosity and adventurous spirit led me to some very interesting encounters with gents from all walks of life.

There was Geoff.  He was a restaurant manager where a few of my friends worked.  He was very dark and brooding.  No one called out sick when Geoff was there.  He ran a tight ship and as much as my friends disliked him, I found his power and control a big turn on.  He seemed to like me also.  We began dating and on the first date, I learned that he was Jewish.  I was fascinated.  We talked a lot about religion.  His very orthodox upbringing. His “rebellion” by dating Christian women.  We talked about rituals and teachings.  I was like a sponge.  I learned so much from him.

And then I thought…time to teach him a thing or two…

Although he was older than me by a few years, he’d not had many sexual experiences.  I feel that his upbringing had a lot to do with that.  I was happy to school him in the ways of the flesh.  He was a very tender lover.  Very considerate.  I longed for him to channel some of that power and control he exuded at work, but it just didn’t happen.  He just wasn’t confident enough yet to blend those parts of his personality.  But I could see a beast lurking behind those big brown eyes of his.  But it just didn’t last long enough for me to bring it out.  Our relationship fizzled before Passover.

There was Ki.  His mother was Korean and his father American.  We went to high school together and the bastard beat me out for Salutatorian by less than a point.  I never saw myself dating him.  He was so focused on school that I don’t think he dated much.  We were always friends (and always in competition) but there was no spark.  While in college that changed a bit.  He began working out and out of nowhere…picked up some serious swagger.  The combination of his new attitude and intelligence made me take an interest in him.  We started going out.  He was a doting boyfriend.  Always attentive.  Almost in a fatherly way.  He would ask if my car had gas, if I’d done my assignments, if I’d paid my bills (and offered to pay if I needed) and always made sure I had groceries.  Not that I needed any of this, but he ensured I was cared for.  For him, it was a learned behavior.  His mother had never worked outside of the home and his father handled everything.  She was very submissive and I feel that modeled what Ki sought in a girlfriend.

And in turn, as a submissive…I made sure he was cared for.  I gave him his first head.  And he was blown away.  He had only had missionary position sex and I opened the doors to contortions far beyond his imagination.   He was such an eager student that we fucked every chance we could.  It’s ironic that he tried to control my life in his own way…keeping me on task with the things I needed to do.  And I controlled him in a sexual way…steering the course of what we would do next.  It was an interesting dynamic.  And he loved nothing more than filling me with his seed when I rode him, only to have me finger myself to taste him afterwards.  Our little hot flame went out as he began testing to get into medical school.  His time was consumed with his studies.  But I must confess…I intentionally kept him up all night in a marathon fuckfest, the night before his first attempt at the MCAT.  Retribution, motherfucker…for beating me out of being Salutatorian.

There was Umesh, my chemistry tutor.  He was from India and was already arranged to marry a woman his parents selected for him.  And for me, in my rebellious nature, that posed a challenge.  How dare anyone decide for another person!  (Again…I was naive and headstrong…I had no idea that it was accepted in his culture)  So I took Umesh on as my student.  We didn’t have intercourse, but we explored far more than the periodic chart of the elements.  I showed him how to make me cum using only his index finger.  How to exact pleasure and pain by sucking my nipples.  I pleasured him manually and orally.  I think I even showed him some new hand job techniques.  He was always so grateful for our lessons. I am sure his knowledge served him and his arranged bride well.

And I ended up with an A in chemistry.

There were so many others I brought into the mix. My family finally began asking if there were any dietary preferences or religious restrictions when I said I was bringing home a date for dinner.  They eventually became accustomed to meeting people from different cultures, so I feel I did them a great service. And I didn’t do it to rebel against them or anyone else, I was truly thirsty for knowledge and experience.  I was able to learn things about different cultures and religions, intimate things.  I learned that at their core, men from all cultures and walks of life seek the same things.  Connection.  Respect.  Pleasure.

And amazing blow jobs.  

ki

The Good Girl’s Guide to Getting What You Want

faster pussycat

You know, the Rolling Stones will tell you that ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’….and they are mistaken.

As much as I love Mick and the boys…they got this one wrong.  You can get what you want.  You just need to know how to ask for it.  And I am here to help you…

There are those types who are able to learn things the easy way.  They read instruction manuals.  They change their air filters every 30 days.  They even check the batteries in their smoke detectors on a regular basis.  They tend to make well-informed decisions.  They color in the lines.  This type of person usually understands what they want and they take the well-traveled, well-lit, path of least resistance towards their goal.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with this type of persona.  I admire them.  I wish I could be more like them.  But I fall into a completely different category.

I have to figure out what I don’t want to understand what I do want.  I must take the long route to my destination. I need to sample everything on the menu to figure out what tastes good.  And I have certainly done that in my love life.  Did it and loved it.  Did and it and liked it.  Did it and thought…what the hell was I thinking???

It has taken me quite a while to embrace who I am.  Over the years I have kissed many princes, a few princesses and a ton of frogs…but I emerged from the disheveled beds of lovers past to find my true self.  I share this with you to illustrate that it may take you time and trial and error to figure out what you like.  It is not always an easy path, but the destination is well worth the journey.

There are few scenarios that led me to this place of self-discovery (which spiraled me into self-indulgence…but we will save that for another post). From an early age, I knew I was different than my friends, with a different perspective on life and a much more liberal but grounded view of sex.  I knew I wanted to try everything.  I wanted to know what felt good.  How to make my partner feel good.  And in this quest, I longed to take risks.  Whether it was sex in a public place.  Sex with more than one.  Sex for hire.  I knew I wanted to live on the edge.  I guess you could say that I am my own version of an adrenaline junkie.   The lesson here for me, the underlying theme…I like the thrill of the risk.  I like to teeter on the edge of danger.

How do you ask your lover for danger?  How do you translate this need into your ‘day-to-day romp in the hay’?  How do you verbalize that you want to be choked to the brink of unconsciousness, without them looking at you like you are an alien life form?  Without them worrying they could hurt you?  How do you ask him to carve his initials in your flesh, without him stealing a side glance to look for his getaway car?  The answer is simple.

knives

Choose a partner whose demons play well with your demons.  For all of us kinky motherfuckers out there…this means, make sure their kinks align with your kinks.  It is likely that two sadists won’t play well together.  Not to say they couldn’t…it’s just that one person may walk away hungry, while the other is full…when both should be sated.  Do you feel me?  Not saying you should dump your mate if they’re not into what you’re in to…but look for the compromise.  What’s the common ground?  Maybe he is not comfortable with breath play that involves his hands around your throat…but he is turned on by gagging you with his cock deep in your throat.  For those of us who like breath play, this may work as a great compromise.  He likes.  You like.  Everyone is happy.

Communicate openly and honestly with your partner.  This can be difficult.  What if you want something that you are afraid to verbalize to anyone…even your lover?  And that risk of rejection and humiliation keeps you from uttering the words…Take for example, my fascination with knives, needles and sharp objects.  I am not a cutter.  I have never tried self-mutilation or anything of that nature, however, I find it erotic to have my lover “puncture” my skin.  It’s about giving up the control to another..the manifestation of release as the point breaks my skin.  And I enjoy watching the wound heal.  (For any shrinks reading this…I may need to privately message you).  This is something I like, but rarely engage in with my One.  He is not comfortable cutting me, as we have tried it, however, he is adept at inflicting just enough pain and puncture with the Wartenberg wheel, for me to be satisfied.  It works out.  And I am happy.

Stay present and in the moment.  This can be challenging for some..myself included.  There are usually about ten random thoughts buzzing about in my brain at any given time.  When I am being fucked, my head isn’t always in the game.  Not that it’s not good…it could be that it is very good and I am trying to figure out what is making it so good, so it can be repeated. But get out of your own way…relax and enjoy the moment.  Relish in the pleasure.  Don’t try to over-analyze.  Just learn what feels good.  And then tell your partner.  (You could even take it to another level and add in some dirty talk)   When they know you like something, they are more apt to do it.

Let go.  Let go of all of the bullshit.  Let go of your doubts.  Embrace your beauty.  Embrace your body.  The softness of your skin, the warmth of your breath, the wetness of your sex.  Let go of your hang-ups.  Evict the negativity from your brain, and indulge in the pleasure.  Let go of your fears. If there’s something you want, ASK FOR IT.  You will know when the time is right.  Tell your lover your fantasies.  Lose the fear of rejection or judgement.  You may need to learn how to translate your desires in a way they can understand.  I often talk about my fantasies as a lead in to foreplay.  As he kisses my neck and I know where we are headed, I may whisper in his ear, “I want to feel your warm load all over my face tonight.  I’ve been thinking about it.  How I would look.  I want you to take a picture so I can enjoy it too.” Yes…that is a little risque for some.  And it may not be your cup of tea…but this was something I wanted.  And guess what?  I got it.  (I really got it.  And on a side note, be careful and don’t get it in your eyes.  It burns.)

It Is a Two-Way Street.  The best way to get what you want is to give.  Give your partner what he wants.  Learn what he likes and give it freely.  And before you over-think this concept, remember the art of compromise.  He may whisper in your ear that he has always wanted to see you with another woman.  And this may be something you are not willing to do.  It may not appeal to you at all.  Now what?  I am pretty open to this idea, but would be hesitant to act on it.  I mean where does one randomly find another woman willing to play with you and your mate for an evening…that doesn’t cost you a fortune?  With that being said…if I were in this situation, I would ask him to open up about what he wants to see and take it from there.  “I want to watch another woman make you cum.  I want to see her face buried in your sweet pussy.  I want to watch you lose control.”  Even if the fantasy was not possible, I would respond with something like this…”I can feel her soft lips on my nipples (as I fondled my breasts) moving down to my sweet spot.  Her long hair tickles my legs and her mouth is wet and warm on my skin. (I would begin touching myself for him to see).  Tell me what you want to happen next.”  Acting out this scenario (without the other woman) helps to give him the fantasy without making you uncomfortable.  It may or may not be enough for him.  Regardless of what happens next, you have responded to his needs.  You have listened to his desires without judgement.  He feels comfortable sharing what he wants with you…which opens the door for you to share what you desire.  It’s a win-win.  Not all fantasies come to fruition.  And that’s okay.  

2girls

Just remember this…there are very few mind readers out there.  It’s probable that neither you nor your lover have this superpower.  Simplify.  Just say what you want.  Listen to what they are saying to you.  Be responsive.  Go all in, or find the compromise that satisfies you both.

Now go forth, kinky motherfuckers.  Go get what you want.

mick

 

Wicked Wednesdays with Tess, Presents…Diabolically Yours

(Due to some unforeseen technical issues, I am wrapping up the Wicked Wednesday Series, a little late.  But I hope you find this worth the wait. Presenting a tale from my own darkside…the devil is in the details.  Hope you enjoy!)

The Halloween season always brought him to mind. It had been years since they’d been together. Regardless of space and time, he left an indelible mark on her psyche. This man, stirred her to the core unlike anyone else. And on this dark and desolate evening, she pined for him.

He was an enigma and almost seemed as if he was not of this world. Larger than life. There was a darkness within him that drew her in. It engulfed her like the flames and embers from hell itself. The burn….the wonderful slow burn.

I wonder where he is now, she thought to herself. And in the same breath, she dismissed the thought as a lost cause. He had moved far away and reconnecting would be difficult. For all she knew…he was married with kids and a lovely wife, living in the suburbs…blending in with the rest of society.

But again…this was him. He wasn’t the type to “blend in” anywhere. He was a different breed of man and not the type to settle down. She knew that type of personality well….as she found herself still single. She could never find anyone who understood and embraced her restless spirit.

After reliving their tumultuous affair in her mind, she decided to look him up online. It only took a few minutes and she found him. He was not married with kids. And he was not halfway across the country. He was less than an hour away. Her stomach stirred….her heart raced. What to do? Do I contact him…she thought. Do I leave it alone?

And before she knew it, her phone rang. There was no number, it simply read “unknown” and she surmised it was likely a telemarketer, as she had been bombarded with them since changing her number. After a few seconds, she noticed the caller left a voicemail message. And she also noticed it was after 10:00 pm…not a typical time for such calls.

She played the voicemail and immediately recognized the voice. It was dark and brooding. It was HIM! It had been less than fifteen minutes since she’d looked him up. Her cell number was new. How could he have found her so quickly? How did he know? Was he thinking of her too? It just seemed weird and predestined.

His message was short, “It’s me. You know who I am. I was just thinking of you and would love to talk. Call me.” Just hearing his voice gave her butterflies. She composed herself and dialed his number.

“Hello, Elise. I am happy you called.”

“Hello, Jude. How are you?” she asked

“Better now. I’ve been thinking of you a lot lately. I would love to see you. When can we meet?” he was direct and to-the-point, as always.

Taken aback and burning with excitement, she managed to stutter her response, “I am free tomorrow, if you are?”

He paused for a few seconds, “That works, but I was thinking about now.”

She looked around at the disarray in her house. She had been working long hours all week and hadn’t tidied up at all. There’s no way she could have him over, but she found herself saying, “Okay. Good”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in an hour.” And before she could respond, he hung up the call. Does he even know where she lives? She attempted to call him back and the number he gave her was not valid. What the hell?

She got herself ready. She recalled what he liked her to wear…corsets. She fumbled through her lingere chest and found the perfect one. It was black lace with silver accents. It laced up in the back. She shimmied herself into it, tying it as tightly as she could. She looked at herself in the mirrot. “wow…i’ve still got it” she muttered. She drew closer to her reflection. Her eyes looked funny. The hazel/green color looked darker. Before she could look any longer, her phone rang.

“Is this Elise?” it was a woman’s voice on the line.

“Yes, it is. Who is this?” she asked. After all it was almost 11:00 pm.

“I am Jude’s driver. I am in route to pick you up. Are you ready?”

“Yes, well almost. I will be in a few minutes.” and the phone went silent.

Moments later, she heard a knock at the door. Standing there was a tall blond woman wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater, black skirt and boots. She was gorgeous. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and her skin was as white as porcelain. Her eyes were dark and her lips were red.

She grabbed her keys, purse and phone and followed his driver.

The driver ushered her into a large black SUV. She felt the tightness of the corset through her black dress. Her stilettos looked amazing with the dress. She felt sexy in her clothes. She wondered if he would approve.

And just then, her phone rang. It was him.

“Did Tasha pick you up?” he asked.

“Yes. You must be very important to have your own driver.” she jeered.

He laughed and said, “I will see you soon, Elise.”

Elise had no idea where she was going. The driver mentioned the location, but it was not anywhere that Elise recognized. They crossed over a river on a old rickety bridge. It rattled and swayed as they made their way to the other side.

“That’s it up ahead.” Tasha said.

There was a stone wall around the property and the wrought iron gate squeaked as it opened for them to pass through. The house was enormous. It looked like a medieval castle, or a royal estate. She was puzzled. She didn’t recall him being wealthy. The last time they saw each other, he lived in a loft apartment on the river.

“What kind of work does Jude do?” she asked the driver.

Tasha replied, “He’s into a lot of different things. He’s very good at what he does.”

And just like that, she pulled into the side garage. He was standing there to greet her.

“Hello, Elise.” he held out his hand and helped her out of the vehicle. He was still as handsome as before.  He was wearing all black also.  His physique was perfect.  She could tell by the way he looked at her that he liked what he saw. “It’s been a long time. You look great. Just as I remembered. Come with me, I’ll show you in.”

They entered the large dining room. The table was huge and could easily seat 40 or more. There was a place set for the two of them. He guided her over to her place and pushed her chair to the table.

“I thought we would have a light meal as we catch up.”

She was speechless. It was almost too much. The house…no the mansion was gorgeous…the stuff of celebrities. The meal before them looked to be gourmet. And he was as striking as always. Tall. Dark. Brooding. He hadn’t changed at all. In fact, he looked like he had aged in reverse.

They ate as they caught up on the last 10 years. He spoke of his new business and how he been very fortunate to land a couple of profitable deals that lead to his success. She told him about finishing her Masters degree and opening up a counseling center to help troubled children. They chatted on an on, picking right up where they left off. The chemistry between them felt more intense than before.

“Were you surprised to hear from me tonight?”

She smiled shyly, “Yes and no. I was actually looking you up online when you called me. How did you get my number?”

He grinned, “I have my ways.”

“How did you know where I live? You’re not a stalker are you?” she joked.

“No I am not a stalker.” His tone was a bit different. He moved in closer to her. He moved her hair back from her neck and whispered, “No, Elise. I am not a stalker. I conjured you”

She snickered, “You conjured me? Ha! Maybe I conjured you! I have been thinking of you a lot lately.”

He was very serious, “Yes I know. That’s how I was able to find you. Your thoughts led me to you.”

She was beginning to get a bit creeped out. Had he gone mad since she last saw him. What the hell was he talking about???

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked.

“Remember what?” she asked.

“Your promise to me. What you promised to give me?” he said.

Her mind was racing. What had she promised him so many years ago? What was it he wanted from her? They were never really a couple. They were more of a physical thing. He was a sadist who found pleasure in pushing her limits. There was no real relationship. They fed off of each other. Their sex was ethereal and molten hot. But she began a serious relationship with another and they soon went their separate ways. She tried to piece together their last encounter.

“I don’t remember. I am sorry. What did I promise you?” she nervously asked.

He laughed and took her face into his hands. He kissed her and she was transformed back to their last tryst. She was tied to his bed, legs spread wide as he poured hot wax all over her form. The sting was painful and sweet and he tormented her for what felt like hours. He asked her, “who do you belong to?”

She could hear herself…from 10 years ago, say, “I belong to you.”

“Do I have your mind? Your body? Your soul?” he asked.

In a breathless whisper, she said, “Yes. You have all of me.”

He pulled away from kissing her and looked deep into her eyes. “Now do you recall? You promised me your soul. Now I am here to collect, Elise. I want you. All of you. Give yourself to me.”

She felt an ominous sense of fear and trepidation as she asked, “Who are you, Jude? Who are your really? Tell me.”

He chuckled, “Oh Elise, you know who I am. You’ve always known.”

She felt his hand around her throat as she blacked out.  When she awoke she was bound to his bed, as like ten years before.  He was staring at her naked body.  There was a look in his eyes.  He wanted her.  And as terrified as she was, she wanted him.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked.  Her voice was trembling in fear.

“I am going to fuck you, Elise.  I’ve never stopped thinking of you.  I want you to be here.  With me.  Will you be mine forever?”

Before she took another breath, she said, “Yes”

He entered her in one movement and she felt ecstasy unlike anything before.  She had an orgasm, instantly. Followed by another and another.  He ravaged her and she welcomed him into her body with each thrust.  And as he unloaded inside her, her entire life played before her eyes.  She saw her entire existence.  From birth on.  He could see it too, after all he had been there the entire time.  Lurking in the shadows.  Waiting to take her.

And now he had her.  She was his.  Mind.  Body.

And Soul.

For eternity.

devil

 

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