ModernHemingway, Author at NSFW story

Covert Seduction [MF]

Her second drink arrives as she perches on her barstool and patiently observes her target, Victor Lancaster. Victor may not know that his company manages investment accounts for sex traffickers, contract killers, and other unsavory groups. He is a rainmaker, a moneymaker, and the company lets him do his magic. He’s the weakest spot in the company’s security armor.

Victor is good looking, better than many of Taylor’s assignments. He’s already got some gray, a bit early for a 35 year old man. He’s just over six feet tall, and fit. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, stylish and sleek, with a slightly loosened tie. He’s got a roguish smile, the easy confidence of a man who has won at life repeatedly, and expects the world to continue to lay down at his feet. Taylor is ready to make her move, to reel in Victor like the arrogant fish that he is, but there is an obstacle. Read more »

The Private Rooms at the Bar [MF]

Strip clubs are seedy dives, places where the stage is behind the bar, the customers are only allowed to look, and everyone seems a bit sad. My buddy Dave is a stripper connoisseur, and drags me along once in a while. I don’t have extra spending money, and I’m not enthused to pay too much for my drinks. Particularly in a bar where the women are off limits. It all feels like a tease, harder to get drunk, and impossible to get laid.

We are just out of college, on one of the ill-advised road trips that will turn into stories decades later. Dave has a strip club stop all planned out. I’m not particularly excited, and angry Mike, the other guy on this trip, wants no part of it. Mike and Dave argue, it gets heated, and Mike stays in the hotel bar while Dave takes me on “an adventure.”

Our road trip has taken us out of state, and the clubs are different than Dave’s usual dens of syphilis and depression. The girls here are scorching hot, and they dance right in front of you. They drape a leg over your shoulder while you slip a bill in their garter or their waistband, and the over-muscled bouncer doesn’t bat an eye. Read more »

My girl and the Bargirl [FF, FFM]

It is our third date. Twenty years earlier, a third date meant something. Girls followed “the rules,” and one of the rules said you didn’t fuck until the third date. Alicia and I fucked on our first date. I’m not bragging, we are swingers, wife swappers, and it would be weird if we didn’t have sex on our first date. My life is a bit upside down.

For our first two “dates,” all we did was have sex. We met at a hotel, my wife went upstairs with Ron, Alicia’s husband. Alicia and I went to our own room. We fucked ourselves into funky sweaty exhaustion each time. The next mornings, we kissed goodbye, unswapped, and drove off in opposite directions.

Alicia and I turned out to be very sexually compatible. I’m a big guy, and a tall guy. A few months ago, an old lady told me to respect myself, and I shed 15 pounds. Even in decent shape, I’m well over 250 pounds. Alicia, she’s a big gal, six foot tall. If she was a decade younger, she could be a plus size model. She’s thick, curvy, but not flabby. She’s got a wide, plump ass, a body that’s all curves. Everything on her is thick. Read more »

Basement Bar, Upstairs Room [MF, spanking, biting]

We find our way to a quiet corner of the big house. Not that it was quiet anywhere, the bass thumping loudly from the basement bar. But up here, sitting on the dining room floor leaning on the wall, we can hear each other.

We sip our drinks, a beer for me, a plastic cup of Everclear kool-aid punch for her. She tells me about her art and design classes, I try to describe thermodynamics. Different worlds, but an attraction is there.

This is not the typical college party, not for me. The hosts are at a tiny private liberal arts school known for a good basketball team. To make the party bigger, they invited a couple dozen of us from the engineering school a few miles away, and put up posters at the fashion design school. It was a mixing bowl.

She’s a junior, a year ahead of me, and wants to design clothing. She’s pretty in that artsy way, a style I rarely saw in my hometown. Her hair is a dirty blonde, in a fashionable bob cut. She’s pale, with smoky blue eyes, and more lower lip than upper, giving her a natural pout. Her lipstick is dark, not at all right for her hair and eyes. She’s wearing a close fitting ribbon style necklace, black or a dark maroon, also wrong for her color. Her dress is a foresty, deep green, mid thigh covered, with half sleeves. Read more »

Her best Her [MF]

“Dr. Bloom will see you now, Ana.” The nurse is cute. A bit thin, but tall and athletic. Ana idly wonders if she is fucking the doctor, isn’t that the cliche? Ana is a cynic and a skeptic, and she knows she is being unfair to this woman she’d barely met, and to the doctor.

Dr. Bloom has a great reputation among Ana’s closest friends. Lisa came home from his office, and after those first two visits she hadn’t touched a cigarette again. She was a changed woman. Lisa was positively glowing under Bloom’s care, and all she could tell Ana was “it’s really life changing, what he does.” She said it almost dreamily, like she was remembering … something.

Lisa was a bit of a flake, and Ana wouldn’t have given Dr. Bloom a second thought until Deb went to him. Deb was part of the friend group, but she was tough to be around. She took pride in “telling it like it is,” but that was just code. She was a bitch. She’d yell at anyone, and have fun doing it. She yelled at a police officer over a month ago, poking him in the chest as she argued with him. She was sentenced to therapy in addition to a hefty fine. She chose therapy with Dr. Bloom. Deb was downright lovely the last two weeks, his treatment of her bad attitude and explosive temper was eerily effective. Just like with Lisa, whenever Ana asked how he did it, the answers were vague, and in Deb’s case accompanied by an uncharacteristic dopey smile. Read more »

Bar Three [MF, FM]

We walk through the bar, to the banquet room at the back. The sign says “private event,” with no other description. They couldn’t, really. The regular bar patrons would stare or leave or complain. She looks at me, I nod, and she opens the door. There is a wall of curtains. They don’t want anyone casually looking in. We navigate around the curtains, and as we enter the big room, half the room turns to survey us, head to toe. We are the new meat.

Nine years in, but we both found our seven-year-itch. There are too many symptoms, some shallow, some deep. Emotional needs, evolving sexual desires, and even a bit of arrogance on both our parts, that maybe we each could have done better.

She had a lower sex drive years before, but turning forty had put her into overdrive. She lost weight, toned up her legs and ass and abs, and treated herself to “tasteful” implants. She chose a “full C,” quite a change from the barely there A-cups that I lamely call her A-pluses for almost a decade. She still has the mousy hair and eyeglasses, a librarian from the neck up, a porn-ready body from the neck down. Read more »

Back of the Bar [FM, MF]

We walk through the bar, to the banquet room at the back. The sign says “private event,” with no other description. They couldn’t, really. The regular bar patrons would stare or leave or complain. She looks at me, I nod, and she opens the door. There is a wall of curtains. They don’t want anyone casually looking in. We navigate around the curtains, and as we enter the big room, half the room turns to survey us, head to toe.We are the new meat.

Nine years in, but we both found our seven-year-itch. There are too many symptoms, some shallow, some deep. Emotional needs, evolving sexual desires, and even a bit of arrogance on both our parts, that maybe we each could have done better.

She had a lower sex drive years before, but turning forty had put her into overdrive. She lost weight, toned up her legs and ass and abs, and treated herself to “tasteful” implants. She chose a “full C,” quite a change from the barely there A-cups that I lamely call her A-pluses for almost a decade. She still has the mousy hair and eyeglasses, a librarian from the neck up, a porn-ready body from the neck down. Read more »

Raising the bar

Strip clubs are seedy dives, places where the stage is behind the bar, the customers are only allowed to look, and everyone seems a bit sad. My buddy Dave is a stripper connoisseur, and drags me along once in a while. I don’t have extra spending money, and I’m not enthused to pay too much for my drinks. Particularly in a bar where the women are off limits. It all feels like a tease, harder to get drunk, and impossible to get laid.

We are just out of college, on one of the ill-advised road trips that will turn into stories decades later. Dave has a strip club stop all planned out. I’m not excited, and angry Mike, the other guy on this trip, wants no part of it. Mike and Dave argue, it gets heated, and Mike stays in the hotel bar while Dave takes me on “an adventure.”

Our road trip has taken us out of state, and the clubs are different than Dave’s usual dens of syphilis and depression. The girls here are scorching hot, and they dance right in front of you. They drape a leg over your shoulder while you slip a bill in their garter or their waistband, and the over-muscled bouncer doesn’t bat an eye. Read more »

Bar Two [FM]

Strip clubs are seedy dives, places where the stage is behind the bar, the customers are only allowed to look, and everyone seems a bit sad. My buddy Dave is a stripper connoisseur, and he drags me along once in a while. I don’t have extra spending money, and I’m not enthused to pay too much for my drinks. Particularly in a bar where the women are off limits. It all feels like a tease, harder to get drunk, and impossible to get laid.

We are just out of college, on one of the ill-advised road trips that will turn into stories decades later. Dave has a strip club stop all planned out. I’m not excited, and angry Mike, the other guy on this trip, wants no part of it. Mike and Dave argue, it gets heated, and Mike stays in the hotel bar while Dave takes me on “an adventure.”

Our road trip has taken us out of state, and the clubs are different than Dave’s usual dens of syphilis and depression. The girls here are scorching hot, and they dance right in front of you. They drape a leg over your shoulder while you slip a bill in their garter or their waistband, and the over-muscled bouncer doesn’t bat an eye. Read more »