collection of stories you shouldn't read at work
I’m having a really hard time finding stuff that isn’t liberally peppered with graphic language. My wife enjoys passages depicting actual sex, but does not like the explicit words.
Anyone have any suggestions? There’s got to be a way to describe this niche that is eluding me.
You both lay back on the bed, side by side, basking in the afterglow of your sex. You finish your wine and Sara passes you the bottle after refilling her own. She flicks through the channels on the tv and settles on Countdown. Sitting in comfortable silence, you find it amusing that you are watching something as normal as Countdown after being anything but normal!
You have the urge to pee and you head to the bathroom, still slightly embarrassed at your nakedness. You feel her eyes following your arse as you hurry across the room. It’s small and compact, just enough room for a shower cubicle and a toilet and sink. You piss and wipe yourself, realising how wet you are from the fucking.
“I’m going to have a shower” you call through the gap in the door. She doesn’t answer. You slip into the shower, turning it on you gasp as freezing cold water hits your body and it takes a few seconds to find the right temperature. There is a small bottle of shower gel and you lather up, soaping all over your body, inbetween your legs, suds hanging off your nipples. You soap all over still feeling the places where she has touched you and close your eyes as you think of it.
I awoke to Derek standing over me. The light from the moon could be seen coming through the window, and that mixed with the light from the alarm was enough to make out his face. After I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and I got some of my bearings, It was then I noticed he was stroking himself. His pink member stuck out and dangled in the cool summer night. Angel was still next to her. She didn’t move and I figured she was sleeping still. I looked up at Derek and he began to whisper when he noticed I was awake.
“I’m sorry, I woke up and it was this hard. And I…”
I didn’t wait. I opened up and took his head between my lips and let my mouth work over him. I flicked along him and felt his body stiffen and sway.
“Poor thing. I’m so sorry.”
I began to kiss it and stroke it. He took another step forward and rested his knee on the mattress. I opened up and laid back, letting him slide in a bit further while I relaxed my throat.
Truck Stop Fantasy (Part 2)
We last left the boys Ray, Bubba, and Billy rolling down the open road. Billy had finally gotten out of his one horse town. Ray and Bubba had been kind enough to give him a ride, but not for free. Billy was happy to do whatever he could to please his new friends and they had shown exactly what would be expected of him to continue traveling with them.
Chapter 5
Their hands worked fast. You were chained within a moment. You instinctually went to struggle but by the time it could have happened, it was already over. Up until this point you could have ran away, your subconscious told you too many times, but you ignored it so you wouldn’t be rude. Everything is an option now. They have you trapped, and anything is conceivable at this moment. Your breathing narrows into short bursts. Your fear rises exponentially. You convince yourself that you’re going to die. Your heart starts to pump so hard that it feels like it’s going to pump through your chest.
Hey there Heartwood fans (and people passing by!). I’m so sorry for being gone. I had a lot on my plate personally, and the story suffered because of it. I had a recent fire lit inside me to write by a very talented fellow literotica writer, so I made myself sit down and continue the story!
As always, stop by, say hey, and let me know what you thought! Mwah! ?
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The auditorium buzzed with conversation. Forty sweethearts fidgeted nervously in their chairs, all dressed in the traditional red plaid skirt and white cutoff top as they waited for someone to appear on the small stage. Three years at the academy lead to this, and soon we would all find out whether the next few years of our lives would be spent in a bikini next to a pool or taking cock nearly every waking moment. There were those of us that wanted the former, and some that wanted the latter. As the saying went, there truly was a Sweetheart for every home.
Chapter 1
You’re sitting on the couch reading. You hear your roommate getting ready. It’s been going on for what seems like forever. You have been smelling the faint perfume emanating from your shared bathroom in your little two room apartment. Even though you’ve been reading, you’re distracted by her. For the last few months you two have lived together, its random, but she will get really made up and do her hair, put on lots of perfumes, take a long bath. And then in the mornings she will get in looking all haggard, with her JBF hair, smelling like the woods, and be extremely tired, but very happy. And glowing. Does she just have a guy or is she just that good at finding them. And if so, what help can she provide to the lack of hard cock that has slowly manifested itself into your life. You’re ignoring what you’re reading in the book anyways and head to the kitchen to wait for her to come out and confront her to get any tips or to find something out.
She kisses him back, moaning into his mouth. She pushes herself up and wraps her arms around Wyatt’s neck and kisses him, one hand grasping his cock and stroking it gently. “I’d love nothing more, sir,” she says trying to sound confident even as her legs shake slightly in anticipation.
“That’s a good girl. I’m just getting started with you,” he says back.
“And you two?” he calls over his shoulder. She glances over at them and sees Monique kneeling on the floor with the boss’s cock in her mouth.
“He likes to be sucked until he’s good and hard before he fucks,” Anna calls out to her, a reminder that tonight is temporary. She’s still the best at pleasing her master and knows what she wants.
“Not a bad idea, little lady,” Wyatt says, wrapping both of her hands around his thick shaft. “Get to work.”
Like a good slut, Anna gets on her knees in front of Wyatt, gently strokes his shaft, and closes her lips around his tip, sucking hungrily. She hopes to impress him with the skills she has perfected over the past few months.
I smiled at the jazzy rendition of “Baby One More Time,” being hammered out by the spirited pair of players at the piano bar. I stared across the tiny table at my husband. He had used product in his hair. I could hardly believe it. Then again, I’d spent far too long trimming my crotch into a neat and tidy landing strip. I had no idea what the night would bring, but I wanted to feel sexy in comparison to the smoldering goddess on my right.
Juli was a vision in shimmering silver. The cut was surprisingly classic. She could have fit right in whether it was 1920 or 2020. In fact, all of us were dressed to the nines. When we asked Juli where we should go on a date, she insisted that she wanted to go somewhere we’d always wanted to try but had never pulled the trigger on.
There was this dueling piano place an hour away. It was really classy. The dress code was formal. We’d always figured it would be dead. Who the hell dressed up to go get drunk at a piano bar? Turns out—a lot of people.
Lawrence sat at his desk on Monday morning. All weekend he couldn’t get Brielle Mooney out of his head after she took her payment and left early on Saturday morning (she nudged him awake ataround five a.m.) Even when he woke up, the usual dread of Monday didn’t overshadow him. He was . . . a little excited. The idea he’d see her in his English class today had him smirking to himself as he got dressed that morning. Jess even gave him a questioning eyebrow raise before he took off after seeing Ella on Sunday.
Pleasant Groves had an system in which they alternated schedules daily so the class periods changed up, too. But Brielle always had English with him after lunch in one of the last three periods of the day. That Monday she had him for the very last period.
Even though Lawrence knew he had to pretend Friday night didn’t happen, he was still glad to see her walk through the door of his class. She completely ignored him and kept her eyes on the ground like she always did and made her way to the back of the class to her corner seat by the window. She brought out her book–Ernest Hemingway’s *The Sun Also Rises*–and waited for the class to start.