Author: JamesRussell224

“I swear to GOD I’ll blow this place to hell!”

Corey had never been in a hostage situation before. He was flat on his stomach, praying for it to end. An armed, mentally unstable man with with a grenade vest had taken the local supermarket hostage. All customers and staff were corralled into the bakery department storage room. The gunman barricaded the stores entrances with shopping carts and was on the phone with the hostage negotiator.

“I want the FCC to cancel all flights to Panama or I turn this place into a creator!”

Corey, along with a cashier, a cute young blonde with a dyed pink streak in her hair, were cable tied together at the wrist. Corey could smell the subtle musk of sweat emanating from her. She was terrified, so was Corey. The other hostages were: the manager, a 40 year old Vietnamese woman, a teenaged stocking clerk, an African-American woman with her daughter, and older white man and a 30-something young professional woman. Corey had felt sexual tension with the professional woman, a nerdy brunet with long legs and thin waist, when they made eyes over the vegetables. Read more »

“Your cousin said you were ticklish.”
“My cousin said that?” Tony chuckled “Well my cousin likes to tell lies so, there.”
“I mean, I don’t care. I think it’s cute.” Tracy smiled as she dipped her bread into a puddle of olive oil at the center of the table. Carmine’s is an Italian restaurant on the near South Side, just on the east end of Taylor Street. They are known for fresh baked bread. The décor is modest, nothing fancy. Fake brick floor tiles, walls painted as colorful Tuscany landscapes. Charming, but nothing fancy.
“Well I’m glad you think it’s cute, I think it’s cute that you think it’s cute.” Tony smiles back flirtatiously “But the fact remains, I’m not ticklish. Sorry.”
Tracy cocks her head and gives Tony a sly, suspicious but playful glare. “Look, it’s ok. I’m into it. It’s nice to learn something like this about a guy on the first date. Who knows, maybe it will come in handy later.” Tracy raises her eye brows seductively.
“Ohhh lordy, I like where this is going.” Tony chuckles, rubbing his hands together “I hate to kill the vibe, but I swear I’m not ticklish.”
“Tony. Listen, I don’t care that you are. I’m into. It’s cool.” Tracy says with a slightly more serious tone.
“This is getting weird Tracy, I don’t know how else I can tell you. I’m not ticklish. I never was. Not on my belly, or my feet. It’s just not a sensation that I feel.” Tony asserts, getting visibly frustrated.
“Oh wow, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. Jesus dude. Who knew you would be so defensive about being ticklish, it’s not that serious.” Tracy looks around for the waiter, hoping he can break the awkward tension.
“What the fuck. I’m not ticklish. Stop saying I’m ticklish. You’re acting psycho. Let’s just drop it, please.” Tony is firm and doing a poor job of containing his frustration.
“Okay… sorry.” Tracy rolls her eyes and awkwardly looks down at her empty plate, clenching her teeth.
The table is silent. Tony takes a long sip from his glass of Malbec. He can hear the conversations from the people at the neighboring tables. Feeling guilty about snapping at Tracy, he tries to lighten the mood with an apology.
“Tracy I…” before he can utter even a single word, Tracy hurls her water glass full speed at Tony’s head. It cracks above his left eye, splitting the flesh and bleeding instantly.
“Ahhhhh! Jesus christ!” Tony screams, clutching his eye. The restaurant falls silent, save for the gasps of the patrons who witnessed the incident. Tracy rises from her chair, grabbing the wine bottle and striking it down on Tony’s head. The bottle shatters. Glass, wine and blood blend together on the floor. A plucky patron moves between them to break up the carnage, but Tracy shoves him into an empty table.
“Is this psycho enough for you!” Tracy screams at Tony, who is lying on the ground, whimpering and holding his bleeding face. Tracy places a chair over Tony’s body, pinning him to the ground. She pulls up his shirt and proceeds to run her fingers gently over his belly.
“Ha ha stoooppp!” Tony pleads, holding in laughter while wincing in pain. “Ok ok… I’m ticklish as fuck… haha… please, stop!”
“Not ticklish huh? You lying motherfucker!” Tracy barks. She reaches down and unbuckles his belt with one hand, continuing to tickle him with the other. She reaches into Tony’s pants and hoists his cock out, it’s smooth like marble, large and pink as fuck. All his pubes have been shaved off. Tracy hikes up her dress, and moves her panties aside. She is wet and fertile. She slides Tony’s robust dick smooth into her. She settles down, and takes a moment to feel it in her.
“I’m gonna keep tickling you until you cum Tony. You hear me?!” Tracy whispers. She continues to tickle Tony as he writhes in giddy delight. Tracy is not pumping, riding, or moving whatsoever. She is simply letting Tony’s cock soak inside her.
At this point, patron’s have either left, or have called the police and are filming for evidence.
“I think he’s really hurt!” a patron exclaims “He needs help!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Tracy yells. “He’s fine!”
“I’m cold Tracy…” Tony mutters “I’m cold.” Tracy can feel Tony soften inside of her. He is no longer responding to her tickles. His eyes wide and vacant.
“Tony? Tony!?” Tracy shakes him. Nothing. She feels his pulse. One. Two. Gone.
Tracy stands up, terrified. She looks around, and runs out of the restaurant. She makes it to the end of the block and stops to catch her breath. Panting, she feels something warm dripping down her leg. She knows exactly what it is. Tony had cum inside her before he died.
“I’m gonna be a mommy!” She gleefully says to herself.
Sirens race by as the police pull up to Carmine’s. Tracy starts running. This time she is not running out of fear, but running out of joy. This is happiest she has ever been.
The end.
** PLEASE COMMENT! I just started writing and would love any feedback, especially critical feedback. Trying to improve my craft.

“No one knows you. That’s not how you make money in this business.”

Jake slowly draws the needle from his arm. He licks the spot where the skin was punctured.

“You’re selling yourself, see. You sell yourself, you can be whatever the customer wants. You can be their friend, relative, teacher, lover. Get close to them. Get inside their head.” Jake taps his forehead with his two fingers. His eyes meet his reflection in the rearview mirror. He notices how high he is. Sometimes it takes you seeing yourself in the mirror, and not recognizing the guy staring back at you.

“Making money was never hard for me.” Jake says, looking down at a photoshopped picture of Jennifer Aniston inhaling an 8 inch dick. It is black and white, printed at the office.

“Women like you, don’t come cheap. You always end up paying one way or another.” he kisses his finger and touches Jennifer’s face.

Jakes cock is fully erect. Not a particularly big dick, but smooth like marble. He was pale and damp, sweaty from the methamphetamines. Thinking about the girl in the photocopy, Jake rubs his hog with focus and precision. Sinking lower and lower in the drivers seat. Read more »