steakfish, Author at NSFW story

Friday afternoon privacy

Or, Substitute Handjob part 3. Enjoy. No trigger warnings this time.

I wake up late and the power is out. The rain is still going, but not as hard as last night. Storm hangover.

Mom already left but there's an egg muffin on a plate in the kitchen. I eat it and get crumbs everywhere as I get ready for school in the semi-dark and try not to think about the dream. Or Mr. Stoddle. But that's impossible, he enters my mind and the memory of how hard his cock was for me and how his cum tasted and his big fingers playing inside me gets me wet. Read more »

Substitute Handjob, part 2

part 2 of the story. trigger warning

As I run through the rain I feel sick and scared. I can't believe that just happened. Sure I liked having fun with boys my age, the jocks, the nerds, the rebels, the drug dealers, the scenesters. I identify positively with the word "slut." I admit it, I like the attention, and I like sex.

But what just happened with Mr. Stoddle was beyond anything I've done before. I put his job in jeopardy, I realized as I waited for the light to change at the main drag. And I used my…fluids to lubricate his handjob. We hadn't been safe about it at all. He seemed to know what he was doing. Had he fucked around with other girls at the school? Does he get tested? What if someone saw us, we were just a few blocks over from the school…

"LOOK OUT, BITCH!" I heard as I froze to a stop and a truck whizzed by me. My heartrate somehow shot up even higher and as I careened to the other side of the intersection I started to feel the swell in my sinuses as I cried. As I calmed down I sat against the Starbucks and lit a cigarette. Read more »

Substitute handjob

all characters depicted are fictional

"Noemi, since you're done with your assignment can you organize these overhead slides for me?"

"Yes Mr. Stoddle," I smiled. I'd do anything for you, Mr. Stoddle. Not only are you a total babe but you're a substitute teacher, and an easy one too. Nothing brightens up my day like seeing you instead of one of the bespeckled lifers. I plop down in the teacher's chair and start organizing the slides, glancing at him occasionally.

He's a skinny white guy and had a nicely trimmed beard. He can't be older than twenty-seven. Once he had his shirt sleeves rolled up, and as I was checking out his meaty forearms I noticed the hint of a half-sleeve tattoo. Ever since then I've been crushing on him harder than any teacher at the school. His smile made lines in his face stand out and came slow, so I could see his lips expand and jaw tighten. Read more »

College Ballerina

"I'm so glad we're friends," she said.

I could never tell how sincere she was. She almost sounded sarcastic when she said it. There was a smile on her face but it always looked mischievous. Maybe I was biased since I had seen so much of her naughty side.

"Me too," I said, and squeezed her bony hip. She bit her lip and looked up at me. I gazed down at her and her girlish spaghetti straps resting on her pale shoulders. They didn't hide much; her petite body did have curves but they were very gradual and not pronounced. It was like a very flat rock you find at the beach, chiseled at points but mostly smooth. And she was small girl, the ballerina type, could probably fit comfortably in a suitcase. I looked into her face as I pinched her hip. Her demonic green eyes were always trying to tell me something, always trying to peek around the hallway corner of my thoughts.

"I like it when you touch me like that," she breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeahhh," she moaned a bit. She came up closer and put her hand and head on my chest. My hand slid down and cupped her tiny but visible butt and she cooed. Read more »