zombies_never_saydie, Author at NSFW story

A Stalker. A Slut. A Parking Lot. A Plan. [M/F, CNC, D/s, Knifeplay, Choking, Oral, Aftercare, Second-Person POV]

You wore pink eyeshadow, as instructed.

You were sitting–legs crossed, revealing just a hint of thigh beneath your short, pleated skirt–at a table alone, stirring your latte? tea? something. I watched you carefully from across the cafe, flipping absent-mindedly through East of Eden. Of course I couldn’t focus on Steinbeck right now. But I caught you looking. The flicker of recognition as you saw the book I held close to my face.

You got up to leave, sashaying now in a flirtatious manner as you set your oversized mug on the counter. A skirt so tight I could see the individual curve of each ass cheek. I could imagine my hand slipping beneath your hemline and groping your plump flesh.

The sun was peeking barely above the horizon as I followed you out the cafe and down the sidewalk. It was bustling–a crowded downtown strip on a Thursday night–but it’d be quiet where we were going. Destination: a parking garage next to the courthouse. After 5 PM it was deserted and far from the bars and cafes of West Third. A silly place to park if you were going to Cafe Mocha. Read more »

Well, it turns out that my oral-obsessed best friend is also REALLY into getting fucked. [M/F, Rough but Kind, Deepthroat, Fingering, Choking, Shared Orgasms]

“How many times have I [sucked you off](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/wesi8n/teaching_my_best_friend_how_to_give_head_25m24f/)?”

Ella looked up at me, doing her best to glare. She was sucking my dick [again](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/wk2h4k/teaching_my_best_friend_how_to_give_head_pt_2/).

“I’ve obviously lost count. You blow me basically every time we [hang out now](https://www.reddit.com/r/BDSMerotica/comments/yf5i31/my_best_friend_dressed_as_a_spooky_skeleton_for/).”

She started bobbing her head, her golden wavy locks bouncing in her loose ponytail. “Rwight, swo tschu shwould–”

“I can’t really understand you while I’m halfway down your throat. Hold that thought.” I grabbed the back of her head, spread my legs, wrapped my feet behind her ass–she was in nothing but a red thong–and pumped her hard into my lap.

Her French manicured nails dug into my inner thighs. “Mpmh! *Gluck gluck gluck gluck.*”

“Fuck. That’s it. A little bit…more.” I had both of my hands grasping her skull now, my fingers tensed against her crown as I drew closer to orgasm. Ella sputtered against me, a thick bubble of spit dripping down my ballsack as I slammed her nose against my pubic bone.

Then…

“Ah!”

I pushed her even harder onto my cock as I throbbed inside her windpipe. My sperm sprayed over her tongue, my cock rising and falling as it convulsed in orgasm. I could feel Ella desperately trying to swallow my massive, sticky load, her eyes watering as she looked up at me. Read more »

“Hey Sweet Pea, why don’t you give me a little taste of what’s between your legs. You can call me…Detective Clit Tracy.” [30M/29F, Second-Person POV, Soft Dom, Cunnilingus]

I was minding my own business, as usual, nursing the dregs of my Manhattan while the Broken Arrow’s busted jukebox scratched out the smoky crooning of Perry Como.

“Dream on, indeed,” I mumbled, punching the ice in my tumbler as I searched for the final sips of that copper liquor. Lost in thought, I stared into the mirror behind the bar counter, my slick hair falling artfully in a small loop near my eyebrow. I pushed it back and rubbed my chin, inspecting the formation of–what time was it?–seven o’clock shadow. It was then that I saw the red vinyl door swing open and *you* stepped in.

My mood–soured by a shit case and an irritating client–suddenly brightened. *Talk about a stone-cold fox.* I glanced over my shoulder, hopeful that you’d park that black dress-encased ass on the stool next to mine. And you did.

I chewed against my toothpick, pushing it upwards as I gave you a sly, but friendly smile. “Evening, miss.” Read more »

“I should open how wide?” When an aspiring singer goes to a new vocal coach, she discovers that he has a rather unique teaching method…[M/F, D/s, Dubcon, Manipulation, Instruction, Sloppy/Rough Oral]

“The Oral Maestro?” Molly cocked her head to the side, her bountiful red curls bouncing as she looked inquisitively at the business card. It was a deep, royal blue with white trim along the edges. It had a nice weight to it and looked rather professional.

“Uh-huh, honey, I think he’d be perfect for you.” Ms. Robinson closed the cover of her piano, smiling brightly at Molly as they finished their lesson. “I think we have a great thing going, but he’s a specialist. He’ll be able to help you really hit those high notes. You’d be amazed how many pop artists he’s worked with.”

“Really?” The young woman’s eyes grew wide, but could she really book a session with such a well-regarded vocal coach?

“That’s right. Plenty of those country singers from Nashville and a few up-and-comers from LA too.”

Molly nodded, slightly in awe that she might have the opportunity to train with someone so well-respected. “And you think I could get an appointment?”

“Of course,” Ms. Robinson assured her. “Let’s just say I’ve put in a good word for you. You’re already booked for tomorrow.”

*** Read more »

Your Lips [M/F, Cunnilingus, Poetry]

Your lips on my lips

First wrapped in the low fog of the Lost Coast

Shared cheap box wine in patterned paper cups

Swirls of water making trenches between my toes

Cabana stripe beach towel squeezed tight

Mist pouring through the open tailgate

The crackling cinders of a collapsing bonfire

Slivered silver moon pulling the tide

Tossing a small boat against tongue as I find

Your lips on my lips

Bent like a pilgrim genuflecting in the pews

White stockings rolled as I pursue

Dress ruffled, words muffled

An open hymnal tossed in the scuffle

Come, come, thou fount of every blessing

The flaming tongue above hums the melodious notes below

I taste the skin, the seed, the flesh of the choicest fruit

Nectar drips onto my suit as I press

Your lips on my lips

Feeling swanky and sultry from palomas and back rubs

Torn denim shorts thrown aside like blue skies open wide

Splotched with puffy wisps of cotton candy white

Shook your hips and scooted down by the poolside Read more »

“That’s Mistress Claus to you.” It turns out that Mrs. Claus is just as obsessed with breaking and entering as Santa. Though, she’s more interested in getting laid than in giving gifts. [M/F, Femdom/Power Struggle, Cunnilingus, Rough and Sloppy Sex, Teasing, Dirty Talk, Holiday Cheer]

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring–well, except for that *louse*.

Yes, Jack.

Home from the city to visit his folks. That bachelor of a man who masturbated more than he spoke. He was, quite predictably, jerking off. Laid upon a down comforter in his old bedroom, one hand in his jingle-bell boxers, the other absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone. No light, save the kaleidoscopic skin hues of all manner of pornographic amateurs.

They were sucking cocks and riding them too. Bending over in three-inch skirts or becoming lodged in home furnishings. And every single one seemed to have an incredibly hung step-brother. Jack thought to himself that it was wonderful to see such diversity in households.

**Ahem.**

No, he didn’t. For he had not a single thought. His brain directed all the blood to his cock, which he stroked with such ferocity that he didn’t observe the door creak open. Read more »

The First Time You Told Me That You “Like It Rough.” [M/F, Second-Person POV, Spanking, Choking, Soft Dom]

The first time you told me, “I like it rough,” we were in our hotel room overlooking the Strip.

You were just *slightly* tipsy on mini champagne bottles, the effervescent bubbles still popping on your lips while you nuzzled my neck. I’m surprised I didn’t ejaculate right there, with the hair-raising goosebumps of *possibility*, leaving you to discover a warm pool of semen spreading across my dark denim.

Instead, I said quite matter-of-factly, “Oh yeah?” in the cool, comfortable baritone that I know makes you want to go off the pill. But, as I unhooked my belt, I pushed a little further, “You don’t even know what rough *is*.”

You bit your bottom lip, did that cute little nod, and then titled your head to the side. Of course it drives me wild when you play dumb. Your hand–so small and cold and *weak*–grasped mine. You laced your short digits through my long ones and brought my palm to your neck. And you just barely whispered, *”It’s like this”*. And it was the hottest thing you’ve ever done. Read more »

My best friend dressed as a spooky skeleton for Halloween…So I decided to skullfuck her. [M/F, Rough and Sloppy Oral, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Praise]

“I’m having a hard time believing you’re a skeleton with an ass like *that*.”

Ella was dressed in a black, skin tight bodysuit that featured the outlines of a skeleton on the front and back. I might call it a lazy costume if not for her elaborate face makeup, which–like the rest of her costume–glowed in the dark, giving her the luminescent appearance of the risen dead in a dark room. Her wavy, golden locks were pulled into ponytails, which didn’t *quite* nail the skeletal theme, but they sure were *cute*.

“Oh?” She pursed her lips at me while placing a grape “eyeball” between them. She sucked on it teasingly before popping it inside her cheek, “Are you trying to solve the mystery of the open grave in Hill Hollow Memorial Cemetery, detective? I promise you I’m not the undead woman you’re looking for.”

My costume really *was* lazy. I was a “70s private investigator.” An excuse I used to put together my outfit at a local thrift shop–and to carry handcuffs, of course. Ella rolled her eyes as soon as she saw my open-collared paisley shirt, but a sarcastic remark was cut off when I grabbed her ass and pointed her towards the narrow hall that led to the bathroom. We’d only been at Tim’s Halloween house party for an hour, but I was ready to get my dick *wet*. Read more »

A Proposition: You game and I spread your legs, pull your panties down, and suck your clit. [M/F, Cunnilingus]

What?

You were expecting something else?

You think I don’t fucking *love* the way your pussy tastes?

You think I won’t drop to my knees right here, spread your legs apart, and nuzzle my beard against your inner thighs?

You think I’m not about to flatten my tongue against that perfect little pearl while you trade turnips or quick-scope noobs or murder all your simulated people by deleting the doors in their houses or whatever?

Fucking **bet**. I know you’re a nerd. A straight-up *slut* for your virtual farm. I don’t care about that. All I care about is lapping that sweet pink slit while you try to concentrate on something else. Give it a shot. We’ll see how long you last.

How long until your hands are running through my hair while my tongue treats your clit like the last ice cream cone on Earth? Don’t worry. I’m not gonna do that doorbell shit. Like I’m a Mormon missionary begging for you to let me in so I can tell you all about the greatness of God. All I care about is the glory of that biblical **pussy**. I’m a glutton for it. And it ain’t gonna be *antediluvian* in this fucking house for long. Know what I’m saying? I’m gonna lick and flick and twirl and tease and dip in and out and all around your gushing little sleeve. Read more »

On the Imperative of Creampies. Or, a brief dissertation on why it’s absolutely essential that I cum inside you. [M/F, Creampie, Choking, Rough Sex]

Let’s not make this a long discussion, hm?

You knew it’d have to be this way, from the moment you bit your bottom lip to give it that extra **pop** of blood plumping color. Sitting at the dinner table, legs crossed, black dress–fucking **that** black dress–riding up your thighs. Like I didn’t see you scotch around in an attempt to pull it down. As if that’ll prevent me from taking a peek under the tablecloth to see what skimpy piece of lace might be barely concealing your *place*. Your warm embrace. My homebase.

Tie and blazer cast aside with little regard for their fate as soon as the apartment door was thrust opened and then kicked close. My hands were pulling at the stretchy fabric of your dress—which you always tease me for finding so enchanting–to find what ensemble you hid beneath. Sometimes it’s **nothing**. And nothing can be a *very* nice gift. You always have a tendency to pout and playfully squirm when my hands advance down that gorgeous dip of your child-bearing hips. Then they’re rolling inward towards the pearl clutched between your thighs. Read more »