Intolerable

What do I hate most about going back into the office on Monday morning?

Getting torn from my cosy weekend reverie, and being forced to acclimatize again to the mind-numbing, soul-destroying tedium of the 9 to 5? Having to deal with all the people I don’t even want to know, let alone have to make all that phony small talk with?

Or is it the thing I really most love too? Having to endure yet again the excruciating ordeal of the raw sexual power that is Terri? She who, perhaps unwittingly and certainly with apparent effortless ease, creates utter chaos within the uncharted hidden realms of my deepest psyche, and randomly incites all these throbbing, aching erections in my drab work trousers. 

The onslaught is merciless. The sheer undaunted savagery of her sensual energy assaults my mind, provokes my loins into raucous desire, pillages my soul with a primal yearning which feels entirely spiritual in nature, as well as utterly tumultuous, and thoroughly unbearable. What’s a poor boy to do?

I’m not sure she actually flirts as such, certainly not with me anyway. But fuck does she dress to impress! Fearlessly brandishing all those fulsome curves. She doesn’t show a lot of cleavage if at all, but it’s the way it’s all packed in there, full and compact and threatening. And those pencil skirts. Oh for fuck’s sake! Come on now!

I should point out, Terri’s demeanour is very professional and business-like. Always direct and to the point. In fact sometimes, towards me at least, even a little abrupt. Which, I have to confess, simply conspires to exacerbate my predicament. I like how she subtly keeps me in my place. Mr. Amenable-and-Compliant. Covertly slain by her aura. I have no defence. Monday to Friday, nine to five, is an arena of perpetual slaughter.

One time she accidentally brushed against me in the mutual confusion of trying to negotiate a tight space in a small, crowded room after a meeting. It was the slightest, most paltry and delicate glancing graze of cotton shirt over cotton shirt, with barely any contact actually made at all as I tried to make room for her to pass, but anyone present with x-ray specs would have witnessed me instantaneously exploding into an ethereal cloud of lust-glitter. After that I was pretty much done for, just completely useless, unable to focus, couldn’t concentrate, communicate or even think properly. Think I just about managed to hide it, and fortunately it was near the end of the working day, and as soon as I got home I enjoyed the longest, sweetest, most indulgent wank I think I’ve probably ever had.

Another time she ran straight onto me as she dashed back through the front doors from the sandwich van as I was heading out. I nearly came on the spot as I struggled to camouflage the moan of ethereal joy escaping my lips. I was pushed back against the door frame by the momentum of her body and she had to take a moment to catch her balance and step back off of me. She tried to make light of it with a sheepish sort of half-smile as she apologised, but the troubled frown furrowing her brow at the same time gave away her embarrassment and consternation.

She quickly shook her head and brushed it off and continued rushing back into the office as if nothing had happened, but that brief, inadvertent impact in the doorway had catapulted me into an orbit of flustered delirium. The fabric of the cosmos had ruptured. Life alchemized for the fortuitous flash of a split-second into something it could never be. And I was the only initiate of the secret equation. Though it was anything but equal. Oh the weight of her body against me! That was the first time I couldn’t wait until I got home. Shortly afterwards in the Gents I had to alleviate the overwhelming erotic compulsion she had accidentally inflicted upon me. I had no choice. Please understand. It was like an electrical charge rampantly seeking out any route of release it could find. In the empty toilets, locked away in a cubicle, as I furiously jerked off I could still feel the robust press of her warmth infiltrating my nervous system. I came so fucking hard my jizz sprayed all over the place. It was joyous but it took a bit of cleaning up. However, even the ignominious clean-up gave me an extra shiver of delight.

And in fact I understood clearly from that moment on that my furtive shame is all part of the thrill of being secretly enslaved to her charms, demonstrating so vividly to my pride as it does just how defenceless I really am against her, how desperate I am for her, and how futile any thought of resistance is, all simply serving to underscore my reverence for her power and fuel my exasperating lust for her.

So, although that was the first time I was reduced to spilling my seed across the inside of a cubicle at work because of her, it certainly hasn’t been the last. In fact, I so crave that kick of indignity in my yearning veneration of her that it has become something of a ritual.

Even as I’m sat there at my desk and feel myself succumbing to those first scintillating flickers of arousal, I know my fate is sealed, aware that even from across the room her presence will soon drive me to distraction. I watch my inwardly flustered discomposure intensify and intensify until it is an uncontrollable inferno burning through my veins and I can no longer bear it and have to yield and make that surreptitious dash for the toilets.

And only once there, concealed away again in that little cubicle, raging stiffie in hand, is my torment quenched as I pleasure myself to the visions of Terri’s alluring magnetism to which my inner self has become addicted. That bright cheeky smile amongst her mates. That automatic dismissiveness of me and the routine coolness towards me that borders on rudeness. Her sensual vibrancy. That chest! Those lips! That arse! That glorious arse I dream of getting my hard cock in, hearing her moan because of me, and feeling her tremble in my hands.

But alas, it’s all just delusional daydreaming. I’m but a poor miserable fool wallowing in my own private perverted paradise. For all intents and purposes she has no knowledge of me, invisible and desolate as I am in the shadow of her wake. I have to endure this all the time at work. But somehow it’s always toughest on Mondays. Hits me like a freight train. I can see it coming but I can’t get out of the way. It’s hopeless. Utterly intolerable.

Date Night

He pulled out such a beautiful cock I think for a moment I was just stunned, mesmerised with admiration. I gazed up at him, gleefully stroking my appreciative erection in anticipation. He smiled back down at me. I looked at my wife, kneeling in front of him beside me, her gleeful eyes twinkling like stars. “Let’s suck cock,” she said.

Cosmos

As I kneel behind her, my hands softly massage and then tenderly part her buttocks. For fleeting seconds of lingering euphoric anticipation my lips hover just millimetres from her splendid bum hole. Then she shakes her glorious arse in my face and I yield. An incomparable narcotic bliss floods my bloodstream as I press a warm, grateful kiss onto that pretty little flower. Suddenly the whole universe lights up with spinning, sparkling fairy lights. We swerve away lopsided off into the cosmos. I feel her trembling, feel her spirit singing, feel her searching insistently for more. I kiss her there again. This time I hold on tighter.

Domestic Bliss

Inklings. Just inklings. Within the shrouded mists of slumber. Inklings of cosiness. Sexy warmth. Euphoric touches. Fluttering and elusive. Suddenly fleeing my mind as I awake. But even as these cherished impressions dash from view, my soul is somehow still anchored deep within their melded evaporating aura of sympathetic arousal. Opening my eyes to meet the clean, fine summer morning light filtering through the net curtain, I momentarily watch the curtain lifting ever so slightly with the faintest of breezes.

Yes, I was dreaming of being intimate with someone. Yes, I’m not sure who with. Yes, doesn’t feel like my boyfriend. More like a close friend, or perhaps someone I used to know. But not my boyfriend. Adore him though I do.

Our little one bedroom flat, nestled on the top floor under the eaves of this old, five-storey Victorian terrace house, is our little sanctuary. A world of textures, of books filled with stories and poetry and knowledge, of films and games, of tenderness and vulnerability, of sensuality and kinkiness. Private and sacrosanct, away from all the terrors and horrors and tedium of the world outside.

My nerves are thrumming lushly with the narcotic kiss of last night’s wine. Stroking a sleepy hand over my breasts beneath the sheet, my fingers discover my nipples are stiff. My other hand touches my snatch. Damp and sticky. I slide the tips of my fingers inside myself. If only I could recall the dream. It felt like it was very, very sweet.

Drowsily searching my thoughts, I try to pry open the tiniest, fading little hints from the dream. But… no. All gone.

Never mind, I console myself, my fingertips playfully idling over my labia, because it’s Saturday. And Saturdays are the best. The soul-destroying grind of Monday to Friday is over and our time is ours again. Sundays are nice too, but we catch up with family on Sundays and our timetable is never so free and easy. But today is Saturday, our day. We deliberately organise jobs like shopping and laundry during the week so that on Saturdays we literally have nowhere we need to go, and nothing we have to do.

Abandoning any hope of recovering the dream, I stretch to rouse myself to wakefulness, my flesh luxuriating in the sensual, soporific quietude of soul induced by the prospect of a whole day ahead filled with nothing but leisure and pleasure. A day without obligation. Ours to indulge. For only us.

It’s going to be a warm sunny day. The aromas of my boyfriend’s body fill my nostrils as I turn to look at him, laying asleep on his side, facing away from me, naked, with half the bedsheet twisted round his legs. My lover, my soulmate, my gorgeous kinky-ass boyfriend.

I place a hand ever so lightly on his back between his shoulder blades. I love the look of my very dark brown skin against his milky white skin. It excites me. He stirs slightly as I feel his soft flesh alive and warm to my touch. My hand smooths down his back, luxuriating in his supple, slender physique, coming to a rest on his hip.

I shift closer and begin kissing his back, moving my lips down from his shoulders, following the line of his spine, then around his taut waist, over the fine upward hip and back down to his silky smooth buttocks. His butt cheeks flutter as I plant thick kisses all over them.

Oh I could just so bite into that sweet juicy ass!

So I do exactly that.

Hard.

“Ow!” he yelps and jumps, turning his head round to scowl at me with a sleepy frown furrowing his brow. “That really hurt!”

“Good,” I tell him. “It was meant to.” I give the plump little buttock a really sharp smack that I know will sting.

“Ow!” he yells again. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Because you deserve it,” I tell him, and grab the sheet and pull it out from around his legs.

“Why? What have I done?”

“I don’t know yet,” I say, perusing his lily white body up and down. I need to make that sweetness suffer. I twist our sheet into a rope. “Now stop whining and put your arms above your head.”

He does what I tell him and I tie his wrists firmly together with the twisted bedsheet, securing them to the bedpost. He gives me a coy, almost helpless glance over his shoulder. I smack his bottom hard, repeatedly, so his white buttocks are glowing a rosy red around the deeper red of the teeth marks I left in the cheek I bit. Scrumptious. He thrusts his bottom out lasciviously at me. He knows what’s coming.

“You’re a dirty little slut,” I tell him. I turn to reach behind me into the middle drawer of the bedside cabinet. I pull out a tube of gel and my prized long, smooth, gold vibrator. He watches me intently over his shoulder as I spread gel along the sleek gold shaft. He can’t hide the glee in his eyes.

I snuggle back up closely behind him and smack his backside again so he jumps like the little slut he is. Then I smear some gel on his bum hole before beginning to push the sleek golden tip gently into his bottom. He squirms and moans as I penetrate him with the vibrator. I fuck him with it deeper and deeper, millimetre by millimetre. He loves it. He groans and pushes his bottom out to me and rocks his hips back and forth in rhythm with my probing. Oh just look at him writhing, offering his slinky White ass to be buggered by his horny Black lover. I keep attentively shafting that naughty bottom without turning on the vibrator for a good few minutes. The simple, sweet, delicate obscenity of doing my man like this is hypnotising. I love it. I love it!

I decide to escalate matters, and holding it still firmly up his arse, I twist the base of the shiny gold vibrator to switch it on. His eyes light up and I watch his face contort in sublime pleasure. Sliding my other arm beneath his neck, I clamp a hand over his mouth as I steadily push the vibrating gold rocket deeper into his bum. I feel his body tense then relax again as he surrenders to the pleasure. He groans wildly.

“That’s it,” I say into his ear, “moan for me, you little bitch!”

He’s gasping for air but I don’t release my grip over his mouth, making him pant excitedly through his nose. I peek over his waist to see his cock absolutely rock hard.

“Are you going to come?” I tease. “Are you going to come with my big golden cock up your slutty bottom? Bet you wish you could jerk yourself off while I fuck you. Look at you, hard as fuck for it, you filthy little slut!”

I’m giving him a deliciously tender, dirty shafting now. Rhythmically pushing in and out, nice and slow, deeper and deeper. He whimpers and wrestles weakly against my hold, his greedy bottom pushing appreciatively, hungrily, against my thrusts. For five minutes, maybe longer, I keep him dangling there in the thrall of unbearable pleasure, in a crazed kind of heaven. He’s writhing, panting, whining, taking it, giving himself up to my power. I mutter dirty-sweet everythings into his ear.

Then he grunts really loudly, and his whole body shudders and jolts vigorously, as if someone just flicked a switch.

“Is that it?” I ask in playful derision. “Right there? Is it that your sweet spot, my darling little cherub? Is it? Right there?” I’m pumping him with the golden shaft more quickly now, pressing it more firmly into that secret little trigger point I’ve found. I twist the base of the vibrator to change-up the speed and I keep driving into that sweet spot. I feel him break.

He’s trembling, shuddering, moaning, trance-like. Not quite with me anymore but at the same time thoroughly, essentially connected with every nuance of my touch. I’ve got him. He’s mine forever now. He melts in my arms, grunts and groans and then orgasms. Not the muscle-tensing, angst-packed desperation of a cock-pumping climax, but an altogether different, ethereal release, as if he’s swooping serenely through clouds of rapture, like I connected him with something cosmic, his whole being pulsating to the slow beat of a hidden transcendent song, an irresistible, soothing balm to the soul, lifting him up to be free of all his mortal constraints. In rippling spasms of ecstasy he gives everything up to me and his semen gushes freely like a waterfall from his hard, quivering cock.

“Oh fuck!” I yell excitedly. “Look at all that jizz!” 

He’s trembling, drifting in my arms. I delicately withdraw the golden rocket from his bottom and switch it off and place it onto a pile of tissues. I kiss my lover’s forehead as I reach up to release his wrists. I lean over him and dip my fingers into the cum on the bed. There’s so much of it.

“Oh my goodness!” I exclaim. “Get something hard up your boy twat and you just start spunking up all over the place don’t you? What a mucky slut!”

He smiles blissfully. I lick my fingers. His semen is sweet. He always shoots a sweet load. All the fresh fruit he eats.

I smack his arse. “Something to say?” I ask

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Thank you so much. That was just incredible.”

I roll him over to face me and we cuddle with him lying dozing in my arm. I feel my snatch. Dripping wet. I can’t resist slipping a finger in. Mmmm, uh-huh, too damn nice. I softly pleasure myself, exulting in the invigorating aura of my sensual power over my good little slut, my dirty little pervert, my nasty, kinky little fucker. Waves of pleasure intensify throughout my body. I ruffle his thick brown hair. “Whose little slut are you?” I ask him.

“Yours,” he replies through his cosiness. “I’m your little slut, babe.”

“That’s right,” I tell him. “And don’t you ever forget it!” And with that I hear myself sigh as I cum in a hot, sweet little climax, trembling and gripping his neck in the crook of my arm so hard he cries out.

My grip on him eases as every fibre, every molecule, every nuance of my being relaxes into a cloud of tranquil hypnotic bliss. I keep drifting deeper and deeper and deeper until I awaken again a little later to find we both fell asleep again together. The sunlight pouring into the room is brighter now, thicker, warmer.

A second awakening to Saturday. How joyous is that? I shake him awake and tell him to fix me breakfast and I push him playfully out of bed with my feet until he falls off the edge. He loves me pushing him around, and it sure works for me. I think today I’ll make my good little slut wear out his tongue pleasuring my pussy for me. Oh I do so love Saturdays. Yeah, Saturdays are definitely the best.

About Writing: Words Counts

In line with a number of online sources, I recognise the approximate word counts listed below in categorising the length of a piece of writing. I’m not pedantic about it, which is why I say 'approximate' counts. If, for example, a piece is 104 words, I'd probably still categorise it as Micro rather than Flash. Likewise, if a piece is 1055 words, I'd probably go with Flash instead of Short Story. And, also, I realise all of these could perfectly fairly generally just be called short stories anyway. But I feel these categories can provide a useful way to organise my writing to help readers find what they want. So you’ll see these categorisations reflected in the layout of this blog, and I hope you do indeed find it helpful - 

Short Story – usually between 1,000 and 7,500 words

Flash Fiction – generally 1000 words or less

Micro Fiction – up to about 100 words

Kingfisher Black

All the colours of the rainbow and more,

And neither north, nor east, nor south, nor west –

Hushedly extolling her hymnal,

O secluded fount of the citadel.

Kingfisher black,

Across her skin there glides a swan;

The lightning is in her elbows,

Within her bowels, the joy of the horizon.

All her flowering lips reveal

The satin Merlot maze;

Enchantments, poetry covert,

Unfathomable constitution.

Forever Moment

It was a huge fashion and modelling convention and all the hotels were packed. I was only booked in at the hotel for one night, to be able to head off the next evening to another event the day after that. My agency booked me into a family room with Michael and Sean, two beautiful black guys. They were from the same agency but I’d never met them before. And I mean these guys were beautiful. That kind of gorgeous, stunning, charismatic beauty that just mesmerizes you. Michael had dark brown skin, was quite muscular, and seemed more confident and forthright of the two. Sean was mixed race and lighter in colour, a little taller and more slender in physique, and came across as quite quiet and shy.

Sean and I were chatting while we waited for Michael to finish in the bathroom. Sean was really a sweet guy, with a deliciously bitchy side to him which really turned me on. He was telling me that he and Michael went way back. And he told me to be careful because Michael had a thing for white guys. Which, from his playfully sweet inflective, I took to mean I could be in for some fun. I asked Sean if he had a thing for white guys too. He just smiled at me mischievously. Fuck it! I was supposed to be being good for my boyfriend while I was away on this trip. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen. No way could I resist the seductive power of these two guys if they came on to me. Not that I had never been with a black guy, or even with two guys at once, but these guys were just so fucking beautiful and alive and sensual!

When Michael came out of the shower, I thought I detected just the briefest flash of a knowing glance between him and Sean. I tried desperately to quell the swell of my nerves running rampant inside me. The brightness of the white towel about Michael’s waist only served to emphasise his exquisite silken dark brown flesh. I started to feel intoxicated by the thought of what might happen. I glanced across at Sean and witnessed affirmation and confirmation in his warm smile.

Michael came and stood provocatively close in front of me as I sat on the edge of one of the beds. I looked up and lost myself in his serious, sparkling dark eyes. He was a vision of utter loveliness. Fresh moisture from his shower glistened like dew over his dark sculpted torso. He let the towel about his waist drop and his plump flaccid cock hung inches from my face. Oh my God, he was so beautiful! My own cock stirred in response to his naked proximity. He stepped even closer so his cock was nearly touching my lips. It looked so soft and thick and juicy. I gulped in anticipation. “Be my guest, Rory,” he said.

I gratefully kissed the beautiful brown flesh of his cock. It twitched responsively. I kissed it a few times and he began to stiffen.

Sean came and stood beside Michael, kissed him on the lips and stroked his blossoming erection with slow, delicate movements of his hand, massaging Michael to full, hard glory right in front of me. I kissed the smooth firmness of the underside of Michael’s thick shaft. Sean wiped Michael’s impressive erection back and forth across my face, then brushed my lips with the bulbous helmet. Feeling incredibly guilty but excited, I was filled with overwhelming exultant pleasure as I let Sean slide Michael’s cock into my mouth and I began sucking on the head slowly and affectionately and adoringly.

“Damn!” Michael whispered hoarsely, looking down at me. “Damn!” And he began moving his hips back and forth, tenderly fucking my mouth with his thick, hard length.

Michael and Sean kissed each other deeply, tongues assailing each other with passionate enthusiasm, as I eagerly took the top half of Michael’s length into my mouth.

Michael loosened Sean’s trousers and took out Sean’s stiff erection and began massaging him.

Then as they kissed they both pressed against me and gyrated their hips to rub their firm cocks over my face, skin over skin, ebony over ivory, joyful homosexual infatuation, worshipping and being worshipped, free to revel in our delectable lascivious lust. I repeatedly kissed each gloriously firm, smooth, brown erection. And then licked them. And then took each in turn into my mouth, sucking and slobbering over their engorged glories between licking their balls and stroking their lengths in my fists. For precious, everlasting moments I laboured about their enthused loins with my fervent mouth and dextrous hands to pleasure both of these gloriously beautiful guys. It no longer felt like them and me. Now it was just ‘us’. All of us together relishing our interconnected mutual infatuation and heightened sexual exhilaration. Sean and Michael were kissing and caressing each other as I lost myself in sucking and licking, kissing and fondling, stroking and caressing. I was in seventh heaven pleasuring these two guys with their transparently rich personalities, evidently intensely sensual souls, gorgeous bodies, fine good looks and beautiful excited penises. One of my hands wandered down to stroke my own hard-on inside my shorts. Michael grabbed a fistful of my hair and held my head still for his cock as he fucked my mouth with slow, smooth thrusts.

Then a moment later, Michael became suddenly impatient. Frowning down intently at me, he took his cock from my mouth and pushed me backward on the bed so I was laying on my back with my legs hanging over the side. He directed me to flip over onto my stomach, which I did, and he shoved and bumped me up the bed. He tugged off my shorts and boxers and knelt forcefully between my legs, pulling my backside up to his groin. His dick rested between my buttocks. I could feel myself reflexively offering my arse up towards him. I knew what was coming next and I was so ready. My butt hole puckered greedily.

Michael told Sean to get the gel. And a moment later Michael was fingering my arse and eagerly pushing gel up in there. It was so fucking good feeling him doing that to me. My gut turned somersaults. I groaned and trembled. I wanted this guy’s cock so bad.

And then it came. Michael pushed it in and I dropped my head and grunted as I took it. Oh I opened up so good for him. He held my hips and fucked me slow and sensual and all I could do was keep moaning loudly for him as I took inch after inch.

Sean bounced naked onto the bed and sat kneeling on the pillows at the head of the bed in front of me. He slid his hard cock into my mouth and fucked my mouth with the same easy rhythm that Michael was fucking my arse.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some fun in my time, but never in my life had I experienced such intense euphoria, never felt so elated and satisfied with life’s benevolence as I was in that moment, with both my holes stuffed full of delicious black cock. These guys were stunning, and they were both focusing on me together at the same time, enjoying me, taking their pleasure from me, and giving indescribable pleasure to me.

As their excitement grew, I could feel both of them thrusting harder and harder until they climaxed almost simultaneously, Sean just a few seconds after Michael. I felt exquisitely and euphorically blessed and favoured, squatting on my hands and knees, taking their spurting hot bolts of semen both ends, gulping down Sean’s bitter sticky cum as it flooded my mouth and throat, Michael grunting loudly as he enthusiastically pumped a seemingly endless stream of cum up into the depths of my rectum. It was glorious. A glorious moment seared into my memory, woven into the fabric of my soul, forever.