Erotic Fiction

 

A short excerpt for a nude bodywork session –

He lay there. Facedown. I poured hot oil all over his body. I watched the oil drip down his spinal column. I traced it with my fingers as it edged down over his lower back, his sacrum, spiling eagerly in between his buttocks, dripping down to where his genitals waited eagerly for its arrival.    

I reached my fingers down and latched on to his hard cock with one hand, while I dripped hot oil onto his throbbing member with the other hand. He moaned. His body writhed with pleasure under the intoxication of my touch.

 

We sat in the back row. I thought we would be sitting in a dark, almost black back row where no other theater patrons could see what I was going to do to him during the course of the film. About ten seats away there sat about 5 or 6 teenagers, munching away on their popcorn. My first thought (the Catholic school girl in me): “FUCK”. My next thought (the indifferent teenager in me): “Oh well. Whatever”. And the thought after that, my favorite thought of all (coming from the exhibitionist in me): “HOT”. I got excited.

The movie started. We shared our popcorn. Our elbows and legs touched. The electricity and sexual chemistry between us grew. I am 47. He is 28. Not more than 20 minutes into the film, he reached down and placed his hand on my leg. I wore a dress with a tiny black g-string under it. His hand slid up my thigh. We made eye contact. Deep, intense, penetrating eye contact. That beautiful, sinister, turned-on look in his eyes was too much for me to bear. My breath quickened and deepened. I leaned into him. Our lips touched. I reached over and placed my hand on his hardness. I undid his belt while maintaining eye contact in that dark back row of the theater the entire time. Slowly. Ever so slowly, I unzipped his pants while his hand raised up higher on my thigh, finding my tiny little g-string underneath my dress.

 

Hello Professor.       I am addicted to you Professor.  Yes.    I know you are, student.  Do you have a lesson for me, Professor?  What can I do to please you, beautiful Professor?   To prepare for you?   Well … hmmm.    To begin, stroke your cock while you think about me.   Anything to please you, my most beautiful Professor.   Tell me what is beautiful about me, student.   Tell me how you want to serve and please me.  Your eyes are so intriguing and hypnotic and the taste of your wet lips and your beautiful body.   I love your sexy body so much and I love the deviant look in your eyes when you are about to punish me.   Aw.   Good boy.    Are you stroking your cock?   Yes.   I am for you, my beautiful Professor.  Tie it up.   Tie up your cock.   (he ties it up and sends me a picture)    Mmmm.    Hot.    What a good student you are.    DO NOT CUM.    You save that for me, do you understand?   Yes, Professor.    Yes, ma’am.     (pause).     May I stroke it for you in person?   Yes.    Meet me at the park.    You are going to stroke your cock in your car in the parking lot of the park and you are going to cum for me.    Keep it tied up.

The waitress came to take our order.    I grabbed your hand and placed it under the table on my inner thigh.    As she was taking our order, I pulled my skirt up.    I wasn’t wearing any panties.     I slipped your hand in between my thighs.    She was still taking YOUR order.     I grabbed your finger and slid it inside of me.     The waitress turned to me and said, “And for you, miss?”     I stared directly into her eyes and politely ordered a club soda with a splash of lime (I do not consume alcohol, remember?), the grilled kale salad with dressing on the side, and a baked sweet potato, hold the butter, while my pussy was getting wetter and wetter under the table with your fingers inside of me.

My voice did not falter a bit.    That waitress had no idea.    I wanted to cum while ordering and see how stealthily and quietly I could gush my wetness out all over your hand while calmly ordering my dinner, staring directly into that innocent, clueless waitress.

(WARNING:  EXPLICIT CONTENT)

 

My sweet bitch slave needed to repent. I was about ready to cut him off and never talk to him again for his mishap. But then, my ever so loyal bitch boy-slave surprised me. He politely, and ever so respectfully, asked me to use him as my whore.  “Please Ms. Wylde.    Please use me as your whore.    I will make it up to you.    I will do whatever you want me to do to prove my loyalty to you and your beauty.”   To reinforce his loyalty, he brought a black Sharpie and poster board with him that day.   “What is this for?” I asked my slave.  “I want to make a sign,” he retorted, “… a sign that reads,  ‘I am Genesis Wylde’s Whore'”.    Impressive.     This bitch was pleasing me more and more by every passing moment. I made the sign, inscribing my ownership with the black Sharpie onto the white poster board.  I made him hold the sign (after I whipped him a bit) while I took pictures that I could post all over my social media sites, this blog, and more.

I did take his request to be my “whore” quite literally.  In fact, last week, after I tied him to my kitchen chair and caned his legs until I saw welts and a purplish color beginning to form on his placid thighs, I made him taste the delicious essence of my lover and feel every inch of my man inside of him … after I made him crawl to and kiss his feet, of course. My little whore was begging for that juicy fat cock, just like any good obedient whore should do. He was so excited about that big piece of meat in his ass that he kept thanking me over and over again and proclaiming how good it felt. “Oh, Mistress. That feels so good. Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.” Good, good, obedient whore. Take that deep in your ass. Make me proud. Prior to this, my poor little bitch boy had only had my silicone strap-on inside of him. Not that this isn’t an incredible experience because, there is, after all, nothing quite like me, #Genesis Wylde, fucking you in the ass. However, me guiding a real, live, juicy, raw, hard fat cock in and out of his eager, naughty hole proved to be quite intoxicating. Yes. My whore did good. He pleased me. He made me proud.

 

I pulled off of the interstate into this rural, hole-in-the-wall gas station in Kansas City, MO. We had been talking on the phone off and on for a few days now; both Farmer & Woman were anticipating this secret, deviant rendezvous. The “Farmer”, as he referred to himself, would be waiting for me, the Woman, the sex goddess, the erotic genius, in an old red, Chevy pickup truck. You know – the typical dusty old pick-up truck that looks as weathered as the Farmer himself. Sure enough. There it was.

The dutiful, dusty old red pick up truck. I couldn’t see the Farmer yet. He must have been tucked inside of that dusty truck. I had never met him before. The man, of course, not the truck. Ah, but I was familiar with trucks like that. Had fucked in trucks like that; crossed the border after being an accomplice to a robbery in a truck like that; gone down on in a truck like that; raped a willing sissy bitch in a truck like that? But I digress. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Farmer.

He was a nasty, naughty, naughty thing on the phone. Couldn’t wait to finally put a face to the nasty, dirty talking fuck. God, how I love nasty fucks like that.

I pulled my white Chevy Tracker up next to the old red truck. I caught a glimpse of him. He beckoned to me to come to him. I got out of my car and climbed on up into that dirty old truck. And there I was. Face-to-face with the Farmer. Overalls. Dusty. Weathered skin. Just how I expected him to be. He gave me gas money. He tributed me nicely for all of the dirty moments we had spent on the phone together, planning for this day. He presented me with a gift: an Iron Maiden.

An Iron Maiden is a cock cage that has spikes in it. It is secured into place on the cock with a padlock. Mmmmmm. This man’s propensity for pain excited me. The Iron Maiden was to be securely put away and saved for me to use on him in my dungeon. But … for the time being … I undid his overalls. There were people everywhere. We were parked right in front of this Podunk gas station. I pulled out his cock. His breath began to quicken. He looked around a bit frantically. “It will be fine, “ I assured him. Nobody knows what I am doing to you in here. They can’t see anything.

As I stroked his cock and it began to grow larger in my hand, I instructed him to just sit there and act normal. He did his best. I put his bulging cock in my mouth. It was so fat I could barely fit it in my mouth. I moved my mouth up and down that cock while he sat perfectly still so as not to bring attention to what we were doing in there. Right as he began to explode, his body tensed. A woman and her son were walking directly by the driver’s side of the truck where he sat with his cock in my mouth.

I still don’t know to this day if he tensed up because he was afraid they were going to glance over and see, or if he tensed up because of the intensity of the orgasm. Maybe it was both. I don’t know. I never asked him. I redid his overalls. Got out of the dusty old truck. Slipped back into my white Tracker …and drove away.

He was coming to see me from a nearby town that was, oh, I’d say about 30 – 45 minutes away.     I had been seeing this man for a little over three years now, so we had established quite a rapport; one much beyond the typical client/provider or Dominant/submissive or slave/Master thing.     He was texting me while he was driving.     He was telling me that he was driving to me naked and that he was going to come to my door that way and take me on the hood of his little red corvette.

The doorbell rang.    I was thrilled to see him standing there, completely nude, just as he said he would be.    His cock was rock hard.     He reached out his hand.   I placed mine in his.    He guided me out into the dark night.    His hot corvette was parked in my driveway.     He reached into the back seat and pulled out a single red rose and a warm, soft blanket.     He handed me the rose and laid the blanket down on the hood of his car.     Then, after making direct eye contact with me and nonverbally checking in with me to see if it was alright, he laid me back on the hood of his car.   The soft blanket added to the deliciousness of the moment.     Right there, under the stars with the warm summer wind caressing both of our bodies, he worshipped my body until I cried out in ecstasy.    I was still holding the rose.    After I came, I looked up at him.    Fuck me, I said.    And so he did.   He took me.   Right there on the hood of his car.   Under the stars.    In my driveway.