Lascivity, Author at NSFW story

Gush [M22 – F22] [Oral]

He has her open her mouth. Wide. She kneels in front of him, naked, hands behind her back as instructed. She opens her mouth. He is naked too and his cock is hard and she wants him to put his cock in her mouth, to fill her mouth with the familiar bulk and heat and thrusting insistence of him.

But, first, he fetches a bottle from the bedside cabinet. Lube. Flavoured lube. He drips two long, generous spurts into her mouth. Sweet. Slightly saline. Slick, like saliva. Pina colada flavour, perhaps. Something intense but artificial.

“Don’t swallow,” he says. She doesn’t. She shuts her mouth and lets the thick sleek liquid sit there at the opening of her throat.

He returns the bottle to the bedside. Then positions himself in front of her. Then fucks her mouth.

From the first thrust, she drools. Liquid gushes through her lips and patters down onto her naked thighs. She tries, on reflex, to catch it in her hands. It veils her chin. Runs in a flow of warm droplets down her neck. Read more »

Peep Show [M22 – F22] [masturbation]

Once, while lounging around an unfamiliar woman’s bedroom the morning after a one-night stand, I asked if she would masturbate for me. I expected her to refuse. It was too intimate a thing, and we barely knew one another, and didn’t intend to know each other any better. Once we left her bedroom, we both knew, we’d likely never find ourselves in it together again.

She didn’t refuse. “Now?” she said.

“Yes. If you want to.”

“I want to. With my fingers?”

“However you normally would. Pretend I’m not here.”

She nodded. And then, much to my surprise, she did exactly as I had asked. She lay back, arranged her hair, pulled the duvet between her thighs and started grinding into it. Slowly, at first. Eyes shut. She gripped her pillow with one hand, pressing her cheek into it, and slipped her other hand down her body, into her underwear. Her fingers stretched the fabric. She touched herself and rolled her hips. Read more »

The First Time After [M31 – F33]

The first time after hospital is good. Long, slow, careful. A shuddering orgasm that lasts for ages, unfolding and unfolding and unfolding. He drinks in the smell of her as he comes – familiar, acute. He hasn’t smelled much except disinfectant and flowers for weeks. He breathes her in, and feels like he’s melting into her.

Afterwards, he’s tired. They lie on their backs, legs tangled. It feels like it did before. Everything feels like it did before, more or less. Which strikes him as a miracle. He was open, for a while. Opened up, gloved hands reaching through ribs. Opened up and put back together as best they could, haphazard, sealed with thread. And yet he works, just as he did before. He runs a hand over his stitches and the holds up his fingers to check for blood. Nothing.

His hand is framed against the skylight above his head. Up above, way up there, planes are stitching vapour trails across the sky, back and forth, north and south. He lowers his hand. Watches them. How blue the sky is. How quiet. Read more »

Make Me [M22 – F22]

What I think she thinks is going to happen when she says the words, “Make me,” is that I will bend her over the foot of her bed, press her face into her own bedcovers, and spank her at length.

I think she thinks this because I have spanked her every time we’ve played since we started playing, usually in response to her behaviour, which at times is specifically calibrated to make me want to spank her.

She’s behaving the way she behaves when she wants me to spank her when she says the words, “Make me”. Which is to say that she’s scratching at me, snarling at me, pulling faces at me as I hold her by a handful of her hair. She is refusing every instruction I give her, including the instruction to suck my dick that immediately precedes her saying the words, “Make me.”

She is also pointedly not ending every utterance she makes with the word “Sir,” which is something that we have pointedly agreed she will do whenever we play.

In the immediate aftermath of her saying the words, “Make me,” we stare at one another. I believe that, at this point, she thinks I am about to spank her. Read more »

Your Fuckbuddy After Quarantine [M23 – F24]

You will pick up where you left off on a sunny day in summer, 48 hours after one-on-one contact becomes legal once more. He’ll have changed. Gained a little weight, become pale, grown out his hair. He’ll have a slightly wide-eyed look. When he speaks he’ll struggle for words more often than he ever did before.

You’ll go to your bedroom. There’s traffic on the road outside. You can hear it. There’s voices. At first you’ll fuss around each other, avoiding the moment of touch. You’ll make him a cup of tea. He’ll remove his tie. Sit awkwardly on the edge of your bed.

When it does happen everything will feel like it did the first time. Unknown territory. He reacts to your touch, draws up into it, presses close to you. Before, when you saw each other once a week, you rarely kissed. This time you will kiss extensively, extravagantly, silently except for your breathing.

You will be able to smell him. A pleasant scent like whisky. You remember that scent from before, where you would catch it sometimes in the crook of his neck or an armpit or his chest. But it was never so strong. The only person you will have smelled for a hundred days, at this stage, is you. Read more »

Hush [M32 – F27]

When we fuck in his office we have to be silent. Not just quiet, but silent. He bites my lip when he kisses me and I stifle the cry that rises up my throat. Not more than a metre away, on the other side of the wall, the corridor is filled with a babble of voices and footsteps. Jostling university students queue up, fat and clumsy in their winter coats; a hundred file out of the adjacent lecture theatre and a hundred more wait to file in.

The door to his office is unlocked. Any one of them would only have to turn the handle and they would see us standing there, mouths pressed together.

That is why, when he bites my lip, I don’t cry out. When he puts his hands on my hips and turns me around, I turn pliantly and without protest. And then his hand is on the back of my neck and he’s pushing me down so that I’m facing the surface of his desk. Read more »

Natural Born Cocksucker (Part One) [MF]

Chloe’s life changed the night she gave her first blowjob.

She did so in the bathroom of a house in the suburbs, during a house party. Her partner was a boy she had met in the garden just a few minutes before. It was, Chloe thought later, probably the sluttiest thing she had ever done in her life up until that point.

Of course, it wasn’t like she’d had the opportunity to do many slutty things before then. She’d spent an entire year with her first ever boyfriend, who she’d met in the first week of university at the first ever meeting of Anime Society. Though they’d fucked a few times, he’d never once asked her to go down on him. In fact, he’d seemed thoroughly disgusted by the idea.

He didn’t, he explained to her, want to be thinking about where her mouth had been when he kissed her.

Chloe’s first boyfriend had kissed gingerly, like he was trying to avoid sharing any spit. He wore two condoms when they fucked, and always disposed of them in the outside bin soon after they were done. Read more »

Sweat [MF]

She sweats profusely. I notice this first when we go running together. Her sweat slicks down the hairs on her arms. It forms patches which spread until her top is saturated with wetness, uniformly drenched.

Later, we fuck. She sweats just the same. It is most noticeable in certain places. Her armpits are hot and slick. Beads of sweat on her face. My hand slides on the small of her back.

The smell turns me on. Watching her pant and pinken turns me on.

I make her go on top, riding me. Our bodies are frictionless, sliding over one another. Normally skin catches on skin, pulls a little as bodies rub together, like velvet. Not with her. She’s lubricated with perspiration. I can barely grip her. She fucks energetically and she drips on me. Her sweat dries on my skin.

Afterwards, when I lick her ribs, she tastes like the ocean.

*

*As always, everything I write is* [*cross-posted on my blog*](https://www.lascivity.co.uk/)*. Cheers!*

Notice This [MF]

Her cunt conveys nothing. Notice this when she’s sitting on a chair in your kitchen, legs spread and dress rolled to her hips, her phone in hand, reading out the texts she sent you last night. Her face is expressive, even in ways she cannot control: a slight blush or a moment of open-mouthed hesitancy before she delivers certain sentences (sentences she wrote, but which clearly she never imagined she would be asked to read out loud).

Her cunt, however, is inert. It is quiet, unchanging. A smooth and closed-seeming entrance to her body. Her cunt does not blush. Does not stiffen like a cock. Does not engorge or drip with pre-come. Svelte and obscene, it merely is.

Look at her face and you will know that the words she’s reciting excite her. Look at her cunt and you wouldn’t know a thing. It gives up its secrets only to touch. If she’s wet, if she’s open and ready for you, if she’s tense and snug, if the soft skin between her legs is hot, if there is a pulse within her beating like a heartbeat… all of these things you will know only when you touch her. Read more »