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Orbital Academy III

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"Four minutes remaining." Missy was sure that the cold robotic voice was speaking directly to her. It didn't matter that she could look to her left or right to see her squaddies climbing the rock wall around her. It didn't matter that the other rookies were sweating, straining, and in pain as they scaled the surface just like she was. No, at this moment as her muscles screamed at her and her vision blurred Missy knew that the cold, metallic voice was aimed solely at her.

One hand up. Look for the hook. Grab. Pull up. One hand up. She let the mantra repeat in her head, trying to ignore the fact that even the slowest of her fellow squaddies had made it to the top. Her arms stung, trembling whenever she pulled herself higher. The joints in her fingers were on fire. She tried to distract herself by doing the math; she was forced up this wall three days a week, and she had been at the Academy for three weeks. Ten times on this hateful surface. On their first attempt, Captain Appet had assured them all that the course would get easier, that they would soon be able to finish the whole course in the twenty minutes. She told them that someday they would find it easy to run the mile, scale the wall, and make it safely through the attack track to grab one of the nine pendants that hung on hooks at the end of the track. Read more »

The Farm, Pt. 1

[m,f]

It didn't take Lucy long to hear, through word of mouth, about the farm five miles out of town. The community college she'd moved to was a in a fairly rural southern town, and there wasn't much around besides the Baptist church on every street corner, and the gas station and grocery store.

Being so small, hardly anyone was hiring, but Lucy had heard the rumors. Girls paid their way through school around here by getting part-time, or even full-time, jobs at the farm. It was taboo, and incredibly risky, but without her dad to help her out, Lucy could see no other choice.

The day she decided to finally look into the farm was the day before Thanksgiving break. A girl in her literature class had been whispering to another right in front of her. Lucy knew the girl's name was Ali, and when Ali pulled out 700 dollars from her wallet to prove it to her friend, Lucy was convinced.

That afternoon when their class let out, Lucy approached Ali and discreetly asked her about the farm. Ali glanced around the two of them and pulled Lucy aside by the forearm. "We can't talk about it here, but if you're serious, meet me in the parking lot outside of the theater building tonight at six." Read more »

Push [MF][BDSM]

I brush the back of my hand over her left cheek to make sure she's no longer trembling. Then I lay it over her lips and wait for her to kiss it before moving two fingers down the side of her neck, to pet her, stroke her—comfort her. I lean down and kiss her on the lips, her right cheek and the cloth the covers each eyelid, my hands sliding down her shoulders to her hips, touching everything in between.

“Are you ready?” I ask it as neutrally as I can, trying to stop any hint of concern or excitement from entering my voice. I imagine I fail.

She just nods, her lips pursed together, being a brave little soldier.

“Alright, but you can say stop any time. I won't be angry. It won't change anything. Okay?”

She nods again, her lips pressed together even more tightly. Read more »

Koneko (OC)

God, she stretched like a cat in the morning. Or a dog, I suppose. Downward dog, they say. Anyway, what she was doing was everything she could to accentuate the dimples above her ass, swelling a supercell in the back of my brain. Hormones, hormones, hormones- The Apollo to my brain’s Olympus. I really wish I was in control sometimes.

She was leaving, picking up her white panties from the ground and giving me a hell of a view in the process. Her tits were just right so that when she was bent, they swung slightly, but maintained a firm point at her constantly-erect nipples (she had some as-yet-unidentified eastern blood, maybe cantonese?). I was horny, but figured it was best to just let her go. My mouth tasted like stale Belmont, and sour breath was one of the few things in this world that can kill my mood. We’d had our fun, anyways. Read more »

Desire

She texted him. "Tonight. 9.30 pm. The Ritz". As she reclined on her chair, sipping a warm, deliciously rich coffee, she felt shivers of pleasure down her spine…

The phone vibrated. He was busy at work, and glanced at his phone. A message from her! He read it. He felt his organ growing under his well ironed trousers, and his ears turning a shade of scarlet at the thought of what she must have planned for him…

The day progressed, and so did their eagerness to meet. No sooner did the clock strike 9, did he switch off his laptop. He raced down the stairs, not waiting for the lift to arrive. He revved up the gear on his BMW, and drove at a speed he wouldn't usually drive at. But then, it wasn't going to be a usual night…

She was waiting in the lobby, elegantly perched upon a high backed chair, her legs crossed. A fitted black skirt, skimming her knees, sheer black stockings, a deep grey shirt, the buttons straining across her bosom, and deep red lips. Just how he liked them. Read more »

Vega

My keys stabbed into my back with every pump. The car was cramped, fogged, echoing moans and breath. Our clothes were still half on, her skirt was hiked and my jeans low, just enough to reach each other. My right hand was on her breast, her nipple rest between my middle and ring finger. They got hard when I would tell her how tight and satisfying she was, or when I spanked her through her skirt. I grabbed her ass with both hands, one of my fingers landed on the outside of her asshole. She loved the tease, and would bring her hips back on her downstroke to encourage me to move closer. I gave her another spank before reclining my seat and pulled her towards me. She smelled like patchouli incense, her olive skin was rippled with goosebumps. I could hit her sweetest spots like this, fast. I had her long ebony hair gripped and pulled so her neck bent and she faced upwards, her mouth blissfully hanging open. The most beautiful sounds came from the back of her throat, and I felt her torso pressing into mine like it always does before she comes. My biggest problem in bed is that the sound and feeling of her oncoming orgasm is what sets me off, and I have to fight to reach my own apex during of after hers. I grabbed her shoulder with the hand that was not wrapped in her hair, gripped, and pulled her body down, as deep as I could, before my body became it’s sentient self and forced my head back. My shoulders flex, my hands pulled her hair harder and gripped her body. Her nails dug into my neck and shoulders, and the chirps she let escape into my ear were even more satiating than my own pulsing muscles. I didn’t even notice the officers lights in the window. Read more »

Catnip (OC short)

Nipple rings. I’ve been obsessed with them lately. The desire to impale something so sensitive tells of some beautiful neural highways I would love to drive. The vines on her dark skin crawled up the side of her breast, and from my position behind her, it tangled with my fingers, through her rings, and helped squeeze the way she liked it. I loosened my grip so that her breasts sat in my hand, and the sway from each thrust made her nipples brush my calloused palms, and they stiffened.

Because it was Her, I was in heaven. I wished I could slip my middle fingers through her rings and keep her captive. My face would land in her neck and my hip bones would lock into the dimples on her back. I would walk for both of us, carry her anywhere, and it would be worth it. White.

Truth & Games [mmf – WIP]

Here’s a preview of a new story I'm working on. It’s… different. I’d love to know what you think!

“Let’s play a game,” Felicity said, as Aaron mixed their third round of Margaritas on her kitchen counter. Though it was late spring, it looked like anything but. The rain was coming down in sheets outside. Sheets.

Ben snorted. “What kind of game? Poker? You hate it. Go Fish?”

Felicity pulled one of her curls out so that she could see it, searching for the grey that would appear one of these years. “I had something different in mind,” she said.

“What?” Aaron said wryly as he splashed tequila liberally into the pitcher,“Spin the Bottle? Truth or Dare?”

“Something a little more like that, I suppose,” said Felicity as demurely as she could manage, reaching down and pulling a tiny clear vial from her purse, which was resting on the floor beneath the table.

“What the hell’s that, Lici?” Ben asked. Aaron placed the lime-green pitcher in the center of table and peered at the little bottle, clearly intrigued.

“Truth serum,” said Felicity and held up the label. “Amobarbital.” Read more »

[mf, dirty talk] Whisper in My Ear

The party was in full swing and James had just finished setting up the sound system with Kevin. He was pretty proud of how it had turned out, even though he knew Maya was humoring him when she oohed and ahhed over the way they’d situated the speakers for maximum amplification. He was also just this side of shit-faced, which probably had something to do with the small shake of her head she’d given as she’d walked away and left them to it.

He saw her on the balcony, leaning over the railing and watching the festivities going on below. In just a simple skirt and a tight shirt that hugged her curves in all the right places, she still looked the same as she had four years ago when they’d first met. The neon lights outside the bay windows played on the contours of her face and in the lighter strands of her hair, and she was absolutely beautiful. It made his heart ache in that good way that happened more and more often around her.

There was another ache developing, too—this one a bit further south. Read more »

[mf, critiqueish] Miss Insert Here

"You like sucking it, bitch?”

Let it be known that I am a strong advocate to the benefits of responsible alcohol use. So much so that if there was ever another prohibition on it, I'd be the first to offer bootleg moonshine out of my basement.

That being said, I am not an example of responsibility. That colorful spectrum of what is responsible and what isn't is something I must have selective color blindness for. It is much easier accepting a fault in the making of my eyes as opposed to a fault in my judgment. Now, there are many things I could blame what's happening right now on. Many, many things.

"Mm," I muffle, my mouth full. I mean to continue with, "Does it look like I'm capable of holding a conversation when I'm in the middle of deepthroating you?" but what comes out instead is, "Mmm mm mmm."

We could blame my mother. That's always an option, no matter what the situation. Out of creamer and sugar for coffee? Damn you, mother! On my knees for a man that doesn't even know my last name and is incapable of saying the word cock? Damn you again, mother! Read more »