Author: Orrinoramalo

A very short non consentreluctance bit. Not my usual piece of cake but it kinda came up to me on its own while watching a movie and I had to put it on paper.

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He caressed her, savouring her unease as he felt the muscles of her thin legs tense as she resisted the impulse to dart for the door.

She picked a condom from her handbag and handed it to him, her attempt at displaying nonchalance in doing that ruined by the trembling in her hands and by her inability to look at him in the eyes for more than an instant.
He was clean, and so was she – he had access to her medical files.

And she, on the other hand, knew of his obsession for health and cleanliness – she knew just as well that the risk was nonexistent. The condom was just a last attempt at putting some barrier between herself and what she was about to do, a little lie to be able to watch herself in the mirror tomorrow morning. Make-up for the soul, so to speak. Read more »

He was a kind, caring man and for that she loved him. He tried to be equally gentle as a lover and that she appreciated – but while she appreciated the thought of him trying she enjoyed far, far more the way he failed at it.

He started softly, almost fearfully, caressing her like a brittle glass vase – time a few minutes and his caresses turned more aggressive, his soft breathing heavier – by the time he had gotten her naked – a process that had signed a death sentence for quite a few pieces of lingerie – he was barely able to form a full sentence. His hands now grabbed her more forcefully, his kiss were almost predatory and the very notion of him waiting for her consent to take her sounded risible.

Without as much as a warning he would turn her over, grab her firmly and get inside her with a satisfied animaleque grunt – the only reason why that rough, forceful penetration never hurt was that by then she was always completely drenched. He kept going, the only sound in the room her welping, his growling and the rithmic slapping of skin agains skin. Read more »

The inspiration for this story is Heinlein’s “The moon is a hardh mistress”, a book I have never read, so read at your peril. The story os incomplete bit I will gladly finish it if someone is interested – feedback is much appreciated.

“Can I take your order sir?”

Johna almost left out a yelp.

He had lifted the menu to cover his face and had made a conscious effort to isolate himself from the restaurant around him. He dared to look at the owner of the voice, a short freckled girl at least a decade his junior. Her smile was polite but he could glimpse a shadow of amusement in it.

His embarassment was obvious and the girl had probably seen this same scene a hundred times before. He muffled the name of the first plate he could see on the menu and looking down he handed it over to her. He almost chocked on his tongue. He had forgotten of the mirrored floor – his attempt not to look directly at her had backfired.

She was a natural redhead, apparently. Read more »