Posts Tagged ‘sexy story’

The fourth of four short erotic fiction stories for Madison Lake’s Titillating Tuesdays.

A much better S&M story than Shades of GreyBOUDOIR STORY #4 – FLOYD

Floyd sold insurance. House insurance, car insurance, life insurance, disability insurance, you name it, Floyd sold it.
Floyd lived alone in a beige stucco duplex on a quiet cul-de-sac in Reno, Nevada. He had two cats, two goldfish, and a praying mantis that hung out atop a frond on his indoor Areca palm tree. Most of Floyd’s time was spent working, not a nine to five schedule, but a lot of random hours throughout a twenty-four hour period. The rest of his time was spent watching Showtime and HBO movies, or, when someone from the league needed another player, and he was available, he went bowling. Floyd’s wardrobe consisted of two pair of khaki pants, two pair of brown polyester slacks, two white golf shirts, two plaid flannel shirts, two pair of Rockport men’s walking shoes, one chocolate nubuck, one black, and two suits that he alternated during the work week, then had dry cleaned on the weekend. Floyd liked pairs.
A routine kind of guy, every Tuesday night, even if there was work to finish or a client to contact, Floyd went out. He waited until darkness fell, got dressed up, and drove to a part of town that most folks didn’t frequent. He parked in his usual spot, under an overpass where the drunks and hookers huddled in small groups, paid the same guy two bucks to keep an eye on his car, and walked the two blocks to his destination. Every week the sign on the front door read: No Costume, No Entry, like glow-sticks, in flashing purple neon letters. Floyd paid his admission with a laminated card for members only.
“Hey, Baby Butt,” the cashier said to Floyd as he handed her his membership card. She was dressed like Little Bo Peep, the Peep being a hole in her pink stockings just where someone would want to ‘peep’. Floyd also peeped at her two full breasts spilling out of the corseted cotton blouse she wore. He didn’t know the cashier’s name, even though he had been going there for five years, but he liked that she wore a different costume every week. Last week she had dressed as a baby bear, and wore only ears and paws because she was bare. He thought that was a very clever idea.
He unbuttoned his trench coat and handed it to Bo Peep to hang in the coat room, then stepped into the dark, cavernous room. The buff bouncer, who called himself Thor, and wore an armor of beautifully crafted chain mail, lowered his head as he passed.
“Your highness, Baby Butt, Zaria awaits your arrival. He bowed, and with a low sweep of his armored arm, banging and clashing with every move, he ushered Baby inside. Then he stood and held his post at the curtained entryway to ensure no riffraff got in.
No sooner than Baby had entered than he heard a sharp, irritated voice call his name.
“Baby! You’re late you fucking piece of…”
“I’m sorry, master,” Baby said meekly, falling to his knees. A sharp leather whip came down hard on his backside, that could be felt even through the thick cotton diaper he wore. Baby got hard at once.
“I’m not happy with you, Baby, and you don’t want to displease Mama Zaria now, do you?” The whip cracked against the concrete floor, creating sparks. No one in the crowded room paid any attention. Only Baby, who jumped up and ran into Zaria’s embrace.
“There, there,” she said, rubbing the top of his balding head. “That’s better now, isn’t it?” Baby nodded and stuck his thumb in his mouth.
“Oh, take that stupid thing out of your mouth, you idiot.” She unfastened the clasp of her tight leather vest, and one large breast popped out, as if it were a spring. “Here,” she said, shoving her nipple in his mouth. “You want to suckle? Then suckle.”
Baby immediately began to suck on her breast while she patted his head and rubbed his groin. He moaned like a contented infant.
The volume of heavy techno beats picked up, crashing through the room in a frenzy. There were couples, threesomes, and larger groups of guests, all exploring each other’s fetishes like tasting a new piece of candy, but Baby dared not look around, for fear of what Zaria might do to him if he did. Instead, she perused the crowd from above, until she found who she wanted to play with.
“Enough!” she suddenly snapped, and yanked Baby’s mouth off of her bosom. She did not fasten herself back into her leather corset as she moved away from Baby toward her prey, completely unfettered.
“Don’t be such a lag, you ninny”, she called after Baby. “Come along.” Zaria pulled on his ear, dragging him behind her. He stumbled, but managed to regain his balance just in time. When Zaria stopped, they were in front of the DJ on a dance floor, in a well lit part of the room. Baby knew from previous visits that on either side of them, where in the early hours some of the braver folks performed their fetishes, there were two private rooms. He had been in those rooms on a few occasions, and found he enjoyed the peaceful solitude they provided away from the fray. He longed for that now. He wanted Zaria to whip him and yell at him. He wanted her to strip him of his clothing and his manhood, and take him down to his most vulnerable self, but he knew this was not his night for that pleasure. Zaria was in charge, and it was she who was to be pleasured this night.
“Hello, you big, handsome hunk,” Zaria said, rubbing her exposed breast up and down the bare, hairless chest of, Nino. Nino was six five, muscular, and a drop dead gorgeous transvestite, who Zaria had a thing for. Everybody had a thing for Nino. He was sweet and kind, and seemed to take care of everybody’s needs. He was very versatile.
“Get away from me, Baby,” Zaria yelled, letting go of his ear. Baby fell to the floor squirming, trying to hang on to Zaria’s ankles. His thumb shot back in his mouth, and he was soothed back to a temporary state of calm. This jealously he had for Zaria made him want to screw her hard, but he enjoyed the toying she did with him more. Whether she finished him off at the end of the night, or whether he did it himself when he got home, it didn’t much matter. He came to the club to be pushed to all levels of arousal, and that included not always getting what he wanted. For Baby, that was his climax.
Zaria shook free of Baby’s grasp, and shimmied up to a gyrating Nino who was dancing to the disco music now being pumped out from the Bose speakers. Nino was doing some classic John Travolta moves from the movie Saturday Night Fever. A crowd was gathering and Zaria was in her glory, shaking her bootie with Nino in front of everybody, because everybody wanted to be Zaria at that moment, even Baby. The music got louder and faster, and other people started dancing with them. They were all touching Nino’s body, rubbing up against Zaria’s tight leather skin-suit, fondling and kissing each other. Baby sat in a dark corner watching all this go on around him, his thumb in his mouth, and his other hand down the front of his diaper. Suddenly, Zaria dashed out from the crowd, and stood before him.
“What are you doing, Baby?” she said, in a gentle voice. Baby cowered further into the corner, her sugary sweet tone disturbing. “Take that thumb out of your mouth and come to Mama Zaria.” Baby immediately obeyed, removing his other hand from his pants before she saw him, but it was too late.
“I saw what you were doing, Baby,” she bellowed through the din of music. “What? You think you can hide from me?” she asked. “Do you?” Baby shook his head. “I think you do. I think you were trying to get off without me, that’s what I think. Is that what you were trying to do? Was it?” Zaria cracked her whip again, striking Baby in the leg. A sharp stinging sensation ran through his entire body, and his penis got hard. He reached for his groin.
“Mmmm, does Baby like getting punished? Does he?” Zaria pulled Baby in against her soft flesh and shoved his face into the fullness of her breasts, where they both rocked to Staying Alive until they were done, and the early morning dawned.
* * * * *
The next morning, Floyd decided to wear his brown checkered polyester slacks with one of his clean, white golf shirts, not because he had a special meeting that afternoon, or because he was going bowling after his last client of the day, but because he was feeling rather frisky.

1280px-CardThisIsTheLife

The third of four short erotic fiction stories for Madison Lake’s Titillating Tuesdays.

BOUDOIR STORY #3 – KYLE, PENELOPE & DHARMA

“I can’t believe she did that,” cried Dharma in outrage. “She’s never done that.” Dharma pulled her pink cashmere sweater off and tossed it over the back of the green overstuffed chair in the living room. She grabbed her mail from the side table and began to open it.
“Did what?” asked Kyle nonchalantly, not letting on that he enjoyed it when Dharma walked around the house in her skivvies. Her breasts, although not large, over-filled her petite red lace bra, and then he couldn’t help fantasize about her firm, round butt protruding from a red lace thong underneath that skirt she was wearing, or wondering whether she wore a pair of bikini panties that didn’t match, or nothing at all.
“What was that you said?” Kyle asked her, startled out of his daydream by Dharma’s voice.
“I said, she left the door unlocked. Penelope left the god damn door unlocked. My laptop is in here, along with my hard drives and all my old vinyls…”
“Was anything stolen?”
“Uh, no, but…”
“Well then,” Kyle said, getting back to his work. “No need to get in a panic, is there? Nothing’s missing. All is well.”
“Kyyyle,” Dharma lamented. She hated when he called her on things.
“Oh, come on,” Kyle went on. “You know you like having her here. She fits in, helps out with the chores and errands, and we all seem to get along well. Besides, she’s cute.”
Dharma looked up from her mail. “Oh, I see where this is going. You have a big fat crush on her.” Kyle chuckled.
“I think you’re cute too, Dharma. Especially when you’re jealous.” Kyle kept typing as if he didn’t know her eyes were boring into him.
“I’m not jealous. We’ve been roommates for, how long now, almost a year? Haven’t we gotten past all this?”
“Past all what, the fact that you’re fucking hot?” he said, point blank. Dharma blushed, and hoped that with her head down, her brunette bangs hid her embarrassment.
“New York summer is what’s fucking hot,” she said, and he laughed at her quick wit.
“Kyle,” Dharma said looking up again, her cheeks still flushed. “You’re my brother’s best friend.”
“What does your brother have to do with the fact that you’re fucking hot?” Kyle loved annoying her. He thought she was even sexier when she got revved up.
Dharma threw the stack of mail on the uncluttered coffee table and walked into the kitchen for some water. Kyle watched her go. “Want some?” she asked as she filled two glasses from the cooler. Kyle nodded, turning back to the graphic designs he was editing on his iMac. Dharma brought his water over to him and, reaching over his shoulder, placed it on the table beside the computer.
“Whatcha working on?” she asked, leaning in. He felt a wisp of lace graze his neck.
“Mmm, you smell good.”
“Me? Oh, that must be eau de office,” she said. “It tends to linger.” He laughed again, leaning back to feel her body against his.
“I’m working on a presentation for a lecture I’m giving tonight at the college,” he explained. “I’m almost finished.” He looked at his watch. “Oh, shit, gotta run. I forgot I’m supposed to be there early. Fuck, where does the time go?”
“When you’re having fun, right?” She pulled away from the desk and sauntered over to the sofa where she flopped down to resume reading her mail. He glanced over and noticed one tender nipple was peeking out from underneath the low-cut of the bra. It was firm and brown, and made him hard just seeing it.
He and Dharma walked around the apartment half naked a lot of the time. They were used to each other, comfortable. Both had had long term live-in relationships that ended badly, so when, Frankie, Dharma’s brother, suggested they share his old apartment while he took a year long sabbatical in Spain, that turned into two, they both agreed, knowing neither of them was interested in getting involved again for a long time. This living arrangement had been working well for both of them. They found each other to be tidy, dependable, they loved the same moves, liked cooking and, aside from Dharma’s occasional mood swings, they were both easy going, thanks in part to the fact that they both had a sense of humor. It was platonic bliss up until a few weeks ago when Penelope had arrived.
Penelope was an old high school classmate of Kyle’s. They had never dated – she was not his type – but they had friends in common and so had kept in touch via Facebook and email over the years. When Penelope contacted him a month ago looking for a place to stay for a couple of weeks during some modeling auditions in New York, he and Dharma both agreed it would be fine. After all, both of them worked all day, and she said she would be out on the town most nights. But things didn’t turn out that way. Although they all found Penelope a helpful, quiet houseguest, after her first night, she did not go out clubbing, choosing instead to stay at home and watch indie movies and eat popcorn with them, which was their thing to do. She made a point of wearing skimpy clothes whenever Kyle was around, and made sure to sit beside him – almost on top of him – when they were on the couch together. Dharma didn’t know why all this bothered her. Kyle was not her boyfriend, nor did she want him to be. All she knew was she didn’t take well to Penelope getting so comfortable with him in their home. That aside, Dharma liked Penelope. She thought she was fucking hot too.
That night, when Kyle got home from his lecture, he found the apartment extraordinarily quiet.
“Hello,” he called. “Anybody home?”
“We’re in here,” he heard Penelope call back from Dharma’s bedroom. The door was ajar, and candlelight flickered out into the dimly lit living room. He dropped his briefcase by the front door and hung his jacket on the coat tree.
“You girls want a beer? What’s on TV?” Kyle walked to the fridge and grabbed three bottles of Fat Tire Pale Ale, opened them, and walked to the bedroom. There, lying in bed together, were two gorgeous, lingerie clad women. Penelope and Dharma were snuggled together on top of a bed stripped of all bedding other than a satin fitted sheet. Their long, smooth legs were intertwined, their arms were around one another. Kyle was amazed to see that as they watched the TV they fondled and stroked each other’s delicate skin and touched one another in places he had only dreamed of. He also noticed that Dharma looked a little nervous, or was she shy? He couldn’t tell.
“Join us,” Penelope urged. Without hesitation, Kyle disrobed while both women watched with delight. He climbed into bed and he too began to fondle and caress them, taking care to give each woman equal attention. Don Draper could be heard explaining to Peggy how to present her ingenious ad to their current client in a Mad Men rerun that played in the background, but no one paid any attention. All they were aware of was touching each other’s bare skin, exchanging wet kisses, and groping unexplored orifices.
Penelope, it seemed was well versed in the ménage à trois. She directed the other two in what to do and who to do it with, making sure she was well taken care of. It wasn’t just Dharma who noticed, so when Kyle was getting a hand job from Penelope, who of course hoped it would lead to much more, Kyle had another idea. Wiggling out of her clutch, which was no easy task, he turned her onto her stomach. She moaned, lifting her butt into the air and placing her own hands underneath to pleasure herself while waiting for Kyle to make his move. Kyle continued to rub her buttocks, keeping her satiated so he could look at Dharma, because she was who he really wanted. He had to admit that Dharma was even more desirable than he had imagined, or was it that he was fondling another woman while fantasizing about Dharma that was the turn-on? Whatever it was, his throbbing manhood was saying take her now.
Dharma watched as Kyle moved closer to her, leaving Penelope to her own devices. He spread her legs and came down on her, licking and sucking her deliciousness until she forgot where she was and what they had been doing. She arched her back and pressed herself into his wanting mouth until she came in a rush of liquid heat, the only thing wetter being the ultimate release of Kyle’s engorged member.
Kyle stayed down there for a while, enjoying his pleasure, and hers. He had forgotten about Penelope, who seemed to have created her own orgasm and now lay listless at the head of the queen sized bed. Finally Kyle crept out from between Dharma’s legs and inched his way up until they were face to face. They kissed.
“I love eating you,” he said to her. “You’re the only woman I think of, or want to taste for the rest of my life.”
And so, thanks to his old high school classmate, Penelope, from that night forward, Kyle had Dharma for dessert.

The second of four short erotic fiction stories for Madison Lake’s Titillating Tuesdays.

Boudoir Story #2 – FREDERICO

man-206932_640

Frederico was a vagabond. He was not homeless, nor poor, but he couldn’t stay in one place long enough to keep more than a six pack of Pacifico and left over Chinese take-out containers in the fridge, or hook up a telephone in the house he rented. Not long enough to leave a trail, just long enough to have some fun, make a little money, live till it was time to move on, and he never knew when that would be.
One of the things Frederico loved to do was dance. When he was six years old his mother had signed him up with the local boys soccer team, and later t-ball. After witnessing her son doing pirouettes in the middle of the field as balls whizzed past him, she pulled him out and enrolled him in ballet classes. He never looked back. Needless to say, Club 36, where he currently worked, was delighted to have such a classically trained dancer perform in their display window. Frederico was who the young, hip crowd watched as they waited patiently in the long line-up to get into the dark, seedy looking after-hours club. Around midnight he moved from the window to the stage, where he entertained the crowd with semi-erotic strip tease moves while the metal house band, who played at the club every weekend, blasted tunes up to the rafters. Pay was crap, but tips were good, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. The job paid the rent, kept him in great physical shape, while he did what he loved to do – dance. What more could anyone want in life?
Frederico had a best friend in Tucson, his current pit stop. Her name was Angela, but he called her Ange. Ange also danced at the club, and stripped from midnight to 2 am. Ange was tall, full figured, and very fit. Her best feature, she thought, was her butt – firm, round, and perky. Frederico had to agree, so most of the dances the two of them choreographed for her shows used her finest feature, and often included tassels, dangling balls and thongs. You get the picture.
Other than his handsome square-jawed face, thick dark hair, and steel blue eyes, Frederico’s best quality was his entire body, which included a gigantic penis. At first sight, Ange had been mortified, then curious, then in awe. She wanted to check it out, so they jumped in the sack and she tried it, the sack being a top-of-the-line Tempur-Pedic mattress in a frame on the floor. The floor was tongue and groove oak laminate that had pee stains from a dog the previous renters had probably kept indoors all day while they worked. To cover the stains, Frederico had thrown down a small, beige shag carpet he bought at Crate & Barrel. It served its purpose not only to cover the soiled wood, but to provide a soft cushion for Ange to kneel on.
Since the bedroom window was south facing, the room filled with afternoon light and Arizona warmth, even though the day was overcast. Ange didn’t bother to remove all of her clothes, but she did toss her t-shirt onto the nearby dresser, a white antique deco piece Frederico had picked up at an estate auction. He hadn’t meant to make a purchase when he walked through the door of ‘The Girls’ Estate Sales, especially one of home furnishings, but the gorgeous design was so unique he couldn’t resist. When he was ready to move on he would put whatever he had accumulated on Craigslist or eBay. Without fail, he’d make enough money for gas, food, and lodging to get him to his next destination.
Kneeling on the shag carpet from Crate & Barrel, Ange filled her mouth with Frederico’s enlarged member until it made her gag, but she didn’t stop, the enjoyment filled her more. Her large breasts bounced awkwardly as her mouth moved up and down the long shaft. Frederico lay on top of the bed on a feather duvet with his eyes closed. He had seen those same breasts bounce around when she danced on Friday and Saturday nights at Club 36, but this was different, if he had opened his eyes to notice. After she was finished, Ange had him enter her from on top. She climbed on the bed beside him, spread her legs and lifted them over her head, because she was a flexible girl. He entered slowly, filling her in that position too, his erect organ growing even more when inside her, or at least that’s what it felt like to her. It stretched her opening, then reached deep inside her so when her orgasm came, it was as if he had found a button and pushed it. Wham. Finally, she had him mount her from behind, and she arched up to meet his enormity.
Frederico enjoyed their sex, although he knew it wasn’t lovemaking. He did love Ange, he just did not love her. He had actually never really developed a strong enough attachment to anyone at any one place before he met Ange at the club in Tucson. For now it seemed to work for both of them, tumbleweeds that they were.