When I first met Dave, I was about 21 and he was probably going on 43, though you still couldn't tell. He carries himself with youthful vigour. He asked me my name, and immediately knew who my dad was. "Tonto", they called him. It seems that everyone I have met that knew my dad knew that name, and felt it necessary to tell me a few wild stories. I have grown impartial to the stories. I think Dave could tell, because he only bothered to tell me one. I was working with my common-law husband, drywalling, and at the time Dave was running his dad's company cleaning out basements and shit for insurance jobs (after floods and that kind of thing). Every morning, the c-l and I would drop our daughter off at daycare, drive to Dave's, and have a cup of coffee. He drank his coffee like tar, I swear you could nearly stand a spoon up in it. Maybe that's where he got all the hair from, fuck he was a man beast, and it made me crazy. He likely noticed my eyeing him up over coffee, sitting next to c-l. I would fiddle with my spoon, bite on it, make "eyes" and grin at him while he told his stories, and often let my eyes wander over him.
Author: Lollipop77
Ivy pt. 2. .. working on conclusion or “more”. Maybe even a part 3. Open to ideas/suggestions.
written in collaboration with my69shawn Thanks for the help, I have never collaborated in this manner before, and found it super fun. Finished writing without you, hope you like what you see! **YOU CAN READ PART 1 HERE
Cheers!
He awoke on the cold, damp cement floor, head pounding. He rolled over, vision unclear. As he blinked, it became clear that he was still in Ivy's now vacant lair. The cage that held the young woman captive was lying in a corner, twisted from impact… the girl was laying nearby, clearly unconscious. He slowly picked himself up off the floor, to his knees then his feet, surveying his surroundings carefully. He spotted his pile of clothing, armor, shuffled over and collected them in one exhausted reach. He straightened out, put on the basics and approached the sprawled out girl. As he got closer he could see the rise and fall of her chest. She wasn’t dead. He scanned her body for any indication of broken bones, and when he cleared her of any remarkable bruises, he picked her up, draped her over his shoulder and left without a word. He walked briskly out of the building and into the Batmobile, making certain to be unseen.
Ivy (batman/poison ivy, MF) Open to ideas
Wrote this one overnight on my iphone while laying in bed, so it is subpar. I am open to constructive criticism, ideas of things to lose or add.
Ivy.
She's sitting pretty on the giant flower petal, Ivy, twisting and wriggling, waiting. She knows she's done something bad… On purpose.. All for one reason. The chase, the thrill, the capture. Her trophy, a petite little miss, dangling a story above her head in a bird cage like box, swinging just so slightly. The bait, the trophy, has given up calling for help, given up bargaining and pleading. She just stands and waits, and swings now.
Ivy can't help but look up, sneak little peeks up the trophy's skirt. Waiting to be punished, becoming impatient, Ivy's luscious red locks float over her engorged breasts, rising and falling as she breathes heavily. She considers lowering the cage, seducing this little woman, but it is so unlikely she will cooperate. Instead, she lays back, spreads her legs and rubs her pussy firmly through her green leggings, hoping the tiny woman sees… Watches. She can feel wetness slowly making it's way through the fabric. She wants to cum so terribly, but not alone, not this time. She slows her rubbing to a light tease and stares up at her trophy, waiting to make eye contact.