I wasn’t in to Dirk’s plan. So that night, I ignored him. I got trashed at a bar further downtown in Miami and hit on several groups of girls. None of them were interested. I vaguely remember some big dude stepping between me and some other chick and yelling in my face. I swung at him. He socked me in the face. I remember me throwing a chair. We were restrained by bouncers and I was thrown to the pavement. I woke up in our hotel room the next morning with a white hospital bracelet on my wrist and a bandage on my cheek. I didn’t recall anything. Dirk was, once again, not there. I checked my phone and saw a ton of texts from Anjali. I only knew it was her because the first message said; “Hey this is Anjali.” I drank coffee and rehearsed a plan. I would go to her room and we’d have a quick pity fuck. I wasn’t sure how functional my cock would be after the previous night, but I’d manage. I would make sure that she sucked my cock for at least five minutes. I don’t leave these situations without lips having been around my cock. I’d tell her I didn’t think she was my type, get dressed and go. I made sure to remove the bandage before I left, because despite her insecurity, I didn’t think Anjali would want to fuck a mummy. I arrived at her room and rang the bell. Nothing happened. I rang it again. I thought she probably wasn’t there. But she opened the door and stood with her arms crossed, once again wearing a t-shirt and her underwear. In the background, buck-naked: Dirk. I couldn’t fucking believe it. “Hi Dennis,” she said, matter of a fact. “Hey…” I said. “What!?” There was a pause. “What,” she said, “is you’re a neglectful shit-brain. You promise me we’ll hang out again, and you don’t answer my texts. ‘It’s okay, Anjali, you’re such a special person. Your Mom just doesn’t realize it.’” She pointed a finger at me. “Bullshit. You just wanted to have sex with me. You’re a shithead male stereotype, do you know that? Well, guess what? Two can play at the game you’re playing. How old are you, anyway?” “Nineteen. What does that matter, you—“ She looked kind of surprised. “Nineteen,” she said. “Well I don’t know how many women you play these games with, but I hope you get AIDS before your twenty-fifth birthday.” “Thanks for granting me that six-year window,” I said as the door shut on me. I walked away. The door opened behind me and I heard Dirk call, “We’re still on buddy.” At first, when Anjali had used the word game, I’d thought that Dirk had let her in on the moan game. But I realized she was more likely referring to me being a manipulative douche. But I now saw what Dirk meant when he’d said, “No. Those same chicks.” I bought a coke from the machine downstairs. I took a long swig and thought of how two would, indeed, play at that game.
Spring Break (The Adventures of Dennis part 4)
Spring Break is, ideally, a gigantic powwow of not-yet-adults baring their bodies and rubbing their skin together as it drips with clear ocean water like they are in a Gatorade commercial (and maybe they are), while muffled hip hop surrounds their souls like an ecstatic Stockholm Syndrome and colors flash in the sunlight that never goes away and beer cascades through the air in slow-motion. But that isn’t what my spring break was, exactly. By the time my bud Dirk and I arrived at the beach in Miami, large swaths of it were closed off, most people had packed up and left, and it was colder than you’d ever think, all because our college lets out for spring about a week and a half later than everywhere else. By the time we got to the beach, we just stood there, staring. Dirk said; “Let’s go to the hotel.” We did, and we slept. The next day was a little more interesting. We stood in a Tiki bar talking with two girls. One of them was Adrienne, who was a senior at Florida State University, where she studied creative writing. The other was Anjali. She was doing an internship with a law firm down here in Miami. Her college was in California. She was originally from India, but she had no accent, so she must have moved here at a young age. She wore a blue blouse and bluer jeans, with a tear on one leg. I recognized the tear in her jeans was a desperate plea for male attention. Her hair was black enough to create dark contours against the tacky brown oak of the bar. Whenever a drink flashed in the light, her hair countered it. I was playing it low-key. I started off with Adrienne, but Dirk consistently elbowed his way in there, and ultimately I gave him the ground. While I sipped my Jack and Coke (don’t even ask if they bother checking IDs in Florida), Anjali said to me; “So, like, do you get free passes to concerts and stuff?” I’d told her I was a roadie for The Dave Matthews Band. She loved it. I’d guessed she would. “No,” I said. “Not really. Dave and I don’t get along too great.” “Why’s that?” I sighed while I came up with something. “Oh, you know, me and his daughter,” I said. “We may or may not have had something going on. It’s all good now and me and her are totally friends. It’s just, when her Dad found out, you know…” Her eyes bugged out enough to stick to the ceiling. “Oh my God,” she said. “You can’t be serious.” I nodded. “Let’s just say I keep a bat in my apartment.” The more I told her about Dave Matthews being a deranged psycho, the closer she moved toward me. As soon as it got to the point where I came back from the bar with two drinks and slid my hand down her shoulder after handing her drink over, I could see the deal was sealed. At around this time, Dirk and Adrienne split. Dirk’s a pro.
Swim Coach M/f, spank, reluctant
I've had several similar fantasies for years and am starting to write them down for the first time. I welcome comments and messages.
Coach Barry is our school's assistant swim coach. He is also my friend(enemy), Nicole's step-father. She is away for the summer at swim camp and Coach Barry said I could come over whenever I wanted to use their pool and get a head start on our last high school season.
Coach B is a little intimidating. He is very tall and really muscular. I wish guys my age had chests and abs like his. Not that guys my age really look twice at me. My body is straight as a board, except for my bottom, which is sculpted from all our kicking drills, and I have barely any breasts. Plus I always smell like chlorine. Coach B is also the strict coach, the one who assigns drills, the one who criticizes, and the all around bad cop next to our head coach.
[Excerpt] Some Experience Required [M/F] [Deflowering] [Older Man]
Hello, fellow Erotica lovers! This is a short excerpt from my short story, Some Experience Required. This is the story of Kristi Campbell's "first time", as she gains new experiences at the hands of a masterful teacher.
If you like what you see and would like to read more, please visit my SmashWords page at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/AuthorJosieDaniels
More to cum soon!
Keep it sexy, lovelies!
Some Experience Required (Excerpt) By Josie Daniels
I can’t explain how it happened. For a few minutes, we stood there in his living room sipping beers and making mindless chatter, and then I was standing before him as he sat on a bar stool. His hands itched at his legs as if wanting nothing more than to reach up and wrap around my body, but his mind wouldn’t let it happen. His eyes burned into mine, and mine into his and I tried with everything I had to send him the mental instructions to just do it – to rip my yoga pants off and to take me in his arms and fuck me until I screamed, to make me feel the way I had that night so many weeks back in my bedroom when he had invaded my fantasies.
The Addict – Part 2 (m/f, office sex, erotica, humor)
She smirked. "You're funny, Gary, and kind of attractive in an overgrown high school jock kind of a way. Sorry. That was inappropriate, I'm sure you'll want to report me to HR."
"Not at all. For the record, I find you to be a very nice looking woman." Then I panicked. "Please don't report me to HR, I need this job, oh crap, sorry, me and my big mouth."
She laughed out loud. "Nice to hear a compliment, it's been awhile. A long while. Shit, did I just say that out loud? I've been here for twelve hours already, I think I'm getting loopy."
"While we're saying stuff out loud, I am compelled to tell you that a button came off your blouse and I can see your bra. But let me say this, the view is pretty amazing." Damn my brain, what an asshole.
She looked down at her chest and shrugged. "Hey, gotta take a cheap thrill once in awhile, right?"
"That's not a cheap thrill ma'am, that is like a million dollar view." Hey, I was on a roll, so I decided to just go for it.
The Addict – Part 1 (m/f, office sex, erotica, humor)
My name is Jerome Baxter, I’m twenty eight years old, and I have a confession to make. Ahem.
I’m addicted to boobs.
“Whatever, dumb ass, all men love titties,” is what you’re probably thinking right now, right? And you would be correct. However, I’m not sure you could find a guy who loves them more than I do. Or thinks about them as much as I do. Or pulls up pictures of them on the internet as many times as I do.
I’m not real particular about size or shape, either. I love a jiggly D cup as much as I like a perky A cup. Once, in college, I dated a girl who had a lazy eye and buck teeth, but she had a rack you could take a bullet for. About a 38 C, firm, but bouncy. Yeah, I love boobs, but I also love the women they’re attached to. Women. Soft and strong, open and loving. I don’t understand the female gender very well, but I am a fan. A huge fan. Hell, I even qualify as a groupie. Everything about women makes my heart race and my mind wander. All types, tall, petite, chubby, skinny, I’m not a picky man. As long as she’s fun to be around, I’m cool. But let’s get back to the titties, shall we?
Her wet fantasy.
You open the door. Turning your back to find me. You feel my hands over your eyes from behind surprising you. I kiss your neck and my hand makes it's way up your dress. Feeling your skin rise as I move up. Body filled with anticipation. I feel warmth as I near you. Gently grazing then drawing my hand back away. Kissing your neck again. You try to move my hand from your eyes. I spin you around. Hand on the bottom of your back I pull you close to me. Deeply kissing you then biting your lip. We both smile. My hand grabs your ass lifting you to your toes. My hands move up you dress again this time actually using my fingers through your panties. Rubbing. Your lips quiver. My hands leave lifting up your dress over your head. I kiss around the brim of your bra. I pick you up finally leaving the entrance of the door. Carrying you to the bed. You wrap your legs around my waist. Grinding into me. Wanting me to lay you down and fuck you. I lay you down. Me following shortly behind. Kissing your collar bone and your neck I move down paying special attention to your breasts. My left hand makes it's way down teasing and rubbing. My right hand in clasps your bra. Revealing your hard nipples. I bite one then the next getting a rise out of you. Left and still rubbing moves under the brim of your panties. Teasing you with the thought of moving down I feel your skin right under the only cover you have left. Then suddenly my fingers find there way to where you want them so bad. You exhale. Your hand moves pushing them deeper. Now my head is between your legs fingers still in you I like. All around feeling you wet. I nibble your clit. Pulling it with my teeth while I lick. Your legs twitch. I speed up letting go with my teeth now just licking sucking and fingering. Your hand grabs me. Wanting me to move. I don't. I feel you getting warmer and warmer. Tighter and tighter. Wetter and wetter. I please you until you can't take it.
As the World Ends [MF, oral, post-apocalyptic]
She was at school when the war started. No one had expected it to really happen, this was the sort of thing that happened in other countries. It was bombs at first. Power outages. Looting. It was dangerous outside. And then school was cancelled. And food stopped being delivered. The phones went dead.
She didn't know if she was the first person to quit talking and start walking, but she may have been one of the most famous. She had been the most places it seemed. No one knew her name and she wouldn't break her silence to tell them. But when she walked through a town, or part of a city, a hush fell. It wasn't so much what she was, but what she stood for. What was lost.
Town and cities, after the first few, were easy. The walkers were given food and shelter by both sides. It was the roads between that made her think it was a mad plan. Jesse hadn't spoken to her in more than a year, since well before the war. She didn't know if he would come with her or let her stay. She was half starved and filthy. She walked because he was the only person she wanted to be with when world ended.
Saneya: Pain or Pleasure [Mf, nc, huml, sm, fantasy]
(This story is based in a fantasy land. The main character, Saneya, has been taken captive by magicians after the slaughter of her family and race. She is being held in a fortress….) (p.s. sorry for this being kinda dark; I'm just exploring what I've felt since I was 6. Also, I'm brand-new to erotica, so suggestions for improvement are welcome.)
Stabbing pain coursed through Saneya’s head, bringing her to wakefulness. Her body trembled from dehydration and weariness. Her arms were completely numb from being stretched above her head for hours, perhaps days. She lay flat on her back, ankles and wrists bound; her neck also was fastened to the icy metal table beneath her, prohibiting her from turning her neck. Her breath came in short, miniscule gasps; she hadn’t been able to breathe properly since she was placed on the torture table. A cool breeze danced along her naked skin, causing her to shiver endlessly. The wounds she had been given at the battle had healed partially, and the scabs were hard and black. No infection.
Rocko is love, Rocko is life (WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS)
(This is a parody of "Shrek Is Love, Shrek Is Life".)
I was only 12 years old. I loved Rocko's Modern Life so much, I had all of the episodes on DVD. Every night I masturbate to Rocko's feet, thanking him for the modern life I've been given.
"Rocko is love." I say. "Rocko is life."
My dad hears me and tells me that stereotypical faggots like me are ruining the show's chances of returning from the dead. I knew he was just jealous of my devotion for Rocko. I call him an idiot. He slaps me and sends me to bed.
I'm crying now, and my face hurts. I lie in bed, cold and bitter. Suddenly, a warm hand touches my shoulder.
It's Rocko. I'm so ecstatic.
Taking his clothes off, he whispers in my ear.
"This is my house."
Rocko jumps onto my back with his powerful and sexy kangaroo legs and pulls my pants down as I get down on my hands and knees.
I spread my ass cheeks for Rocko. His surprisingly huge Aussie dick penetrates my butthole. It hurts so much, but I do it for Rocko.