Jack at Twenty-Three

“Use your tongue,” she says
And smiles for the camera.
Her hands guide my head

Lately I seem to be developing a reputation as a blog pimp.  Despite the exploitative overtones, it’s a label I wear with pride, as nothing makes me happier than spreading the word about worthwhile blogs.  This week’s Sunday Stealing post included quite a few plugs for blogs we enjoy reading.  We are only too happy to promote a worthwhile blog either here or on Twitter, as we know from firsthand experience just how difficult it can be to raise awareness of a blog.  Which brings me to today’s order of business.  Jill and I are very pleased to welcome Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace to the ranks of the sex bloggers!

Jack’s Answers

1. Finish this thought: Nerds make me ____ ? (idea from PocketRockettz)
Hot, but only the female ones.  There isn’t a sub-category of the female gender that doesn’t make me hot, really.  For the record, though, I prefer geeky chicks to nerdy ones, and yes there’s a difference.  Come on, ladies:  Wow me with your World of Warcraft expertise and your ability to recite verbatim a variety of Monty Python sketches.  Tell me which is your favorite incarnation of Doctor Who.  Show me your prop tricorder and your Force FX lightsaber, or your Hattori Hanzō sword.  (It’s getting hot in here!)

2. If you were in a beauty pageant, which would be your ticket to the tiara? (heard on the Newlywed Game)
a. Talent
b. Interview
c. Swimsuit
d. Evening wear (i.e., gown, tuxedo)
I’m inclined to say the interview, as I’m eloquent and erudite, and I always know how to make a first impression.  When I was a teenager and early-twentysomething I found it very easy to schmooze the parents of my dates, and convince them that I was harmless and in no way interested in sex.  On the other hand, evening wear is also an area in which I shine, as I fill a tuxedo as though it were a second skin.  I am frequently a groomsman at my friends’ and relatives’ weddings not because I’m particularly well-liked, but because the brides-to-be insist that I be included if only so they’ll get to stare at me in my tux all day.  (Though flattering, this is often an enormous pain in the ass.)  On the other hand, “talent” encapsulates a vast area, and while I am a talented cook, accomplished writer, etc., it is my sexual talents that I believe would win me the tiara, which I would of course give to Jill as it would probably match nothing that I own.

3. On your body what is eye candy and what is an eyesore?
My face is eye candy, especially my eyes.  I’m probably not the hottest guy in the blogosphere – though I’ll wager that I’m up there – but I have a handsome face, and the combination of my eyes and my smile got me thoroughly laid in my single days.  I’m not sure that anything about me could be considered an eyesore, really; but I could stand to lose a few pounds.

4. Your penis is starring in a gritty crime drama? Which part would it play?
a. Straight laced detective
b. Hooded criminal
c. Crooked cop
My penis is neither crooked nor hooded.  It’s very straight, so I would be inclined to go with the straight laced detective character.  However, “straight laced detective” isn’t descriptive enough.  My penis would play the straight-laced, always-hard-working, red-faced, crew-neck-wearing detective who is prone to throwing up after too much exertion.

5. Would you rather? (as heard on the Graham Norton Show)
a. Eat dog food for every meal for a year or
b. Get shot in the knee
If I had to choose one or the other I would probably go with the dog food thing.  While I presume that the knee would heal, I doubt it would do so completely, and even if it did the kneecap is one of the most painful places to get shot.  I’m pretty strong and resilient, but I don’t see myself choosing to experience debilitating pain.  The dog food, on the other hand, would be disgusting, and given my love of food it would be difficult to forego all of the delicious things I eat regularly for cans of wet Alpo.  But it’s only for a year, and I imagine the weight loss would do me good.

6. If you crapped yourself at work what would you do? (This was a poll taken at a blues bar…seriously)
a. Go commando
b. Do nothing
c. Turn ‘em inside out
d. Wash in employee sink
I’m going to go off the board here and opt for the nonexistent “e”:  Leave work.  I’m guessing that if I shat myself at work I’m probably in dire straits physically; it’s not something I do when everything is fine, health-wise.  There is probably something awful brewing in my small intestine, necessitating my going home for the rest of the day, or at the absolute least long enough to grab a clean pair of underwear and some Immodium.

Jill’s Answers

1. Finish this thought: Nerds make me ____ ? (idea from PocketRockettz)
Horny, as long as they’re not too socially awkward.  I always think of the quote from Revenge of the Nerds about how jocks only think about sports, and nerds only think about sex.  I really like a cute guy in glasses, and when I first met Jack I was overjoyed to learn that he sometimes wears glasses.

2. If you were in a beauty pageant, which would be your ticket to the tiara? (heard on the Newlywed Game)
a. Talent
b. Interview
c. Swimsuit
d. Evening wear (i.e., gown, tuxedo)
Definitely talent.  I look great in an evening gown, but I’m sure my talent for oral sex would win me the tiara.

3. On your body what is eye candy and what is an eyesore?
I love my hair.  It’s long and lush and it holds curls well.  Plus it makes nice reins during doggy style.  I also have gorgeous eyes that are brown on the inside with a ring of green and flecks of gold.  They are usually the first thing people notice about me.  When we bought our car a few weeks ago, the saleswoman said she was taken by my eyes and wanted to show us cars all day so that she could stare at my eyes the whole time.  As for the eyesore, I injured my toe a couple weeks ago and the nail turned black.  Unpolished, it’s pretty scary to look at.

4. Your penis is starring in a gritty crime drama? Which part would it play?
a. Straight laced detective
b. Hooded criminal
c. Crooked cop
I don’t have a penis.  My pussy would portray the hooker with a heart of gold.

5. Would you rather? (as heard on the Graham Norton Show)
a. Eat dog food for every meal for a year or
b. Get shot in the knee
I’ll go with the dog food.  When I was a kid my older brother and I dared each other to try the flavored Milk Bone dog treats.  They weren’t too bad.  Can I go with those or does it have to be actual dog food?

6. If you crapped yourself at work what would you do? (This was a poll taken at a blues bar…seriously)
a. Go commando
b. Do nothing
c. Turn ‘em inside out
d. Wash in employee sink
If I crapped my pants, I’m washing my panties in the sink, then tossing them and going commando.  I would probably blame the smell on one of my students.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Maybe I’m crazy, but I’d rather get a few poorly-spelled and punctuated questions peppered with leet speak and ending with “kthxbye” from users that happen to be anonymous than one more question bulk-submitted to every Formspring user, usually intended as bait to get me to visit a website, watch a video clip, or reveal my credit card number.  I’m a sex blogger, not a guy who cares for answering questions posed by a corporation that doesn’t really give a shit.  Hell, if some Beavis and Butt-Head wannabes want to ask if we’ve ever scored, we’d answer.  Again, this is a sex blog.

Although we haven’t gotten as much use out of our Formspring widget as, say, Good Will, we’re leaving the widget up in case someone sees fit to submit a question actually intended for us.  But if you want to ask us a question and need to do so privately or anonymously (i.e. not in the comments), your best bet is to send us an email using the “Email” link on our Blogger profile page.

Today we ripped off a blogger named Firecat from the blog Party in My Head. He doesn’t state where he got it. But, it was probably stolen there as well. So, of course, that will be as far as we go. Tracing back our theft’s thieves might take some time. Take the time to comment on other player’s posts. It’s a great way to make new friends! Link back to us at Sunday Stealing!

Cheers to all of us thieves!

Jack’s Answers:

1. Why did you sign up for writing your blog? A couple with whom we’re friends told us about a sex blog they had before we knew them.  As Jill and I have always been very open when it comes to sex and talking about our sex lives, the idea of having a public forum in which to share our fantasies and brag about our experiences held a lot of appeal.

2. Why did you choose your blog’s name? What does it mean? I believe the couple mentioned in #1 suggested the name.  “The 916” refers to the area code where we lived at the time, though it has not been our home for more than a year.  Though we considered changing the name of our blog, we instead stated in an August blog post that we like the title, and left it as-is with the understanding that we do not intend to maliciously mislead our readership.  And we are nothing if not frisky.

In honor of Yummy‘s birthday, we have written a piece of erotic fiction involving a tryst between her and YSL and the two of us.  Though hastily written, we thought it a decent gift.  Note that while it is told from Jill’s point of view, the two of us wrote it together.  Here goes:

Outside, it’s cold and rainy.  Inside, the four of us are watching porn.  Jack and I cuddle on a plush sofa, while YSL lounges nearby in an armchair and you sit cross-legged on the floor in front of him.  Over the sounds of sex and obviously faked orgasms, we can hear rainfall pounding on the roof of the house.  The movie playing on the screen is definitely sexy – I am turned on at least – though there isn’t much of a plot.  It’s just a series of scenes with only the flimsiest excuse for a story, even by porn standards, connecting them.  None of us minds.

Though the wind howls furiously outside, the heater has been on all day and the house is warm and very cozy.  YSL is dressed lightly, and as comfortable as he looks it could be summer outside.  You, on the other hand, wear a warm pair of flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks.  I’m wearing sweats and my favorite top, and Jack is dressed just as casually in jeans and a clean white T-shirt.  There is a small blanket draped over the back of the sofa should we find ourselves chilly, but our attire and our choice of entertainment are unlikely to leave us cold.  Then again, my feet could stand to be a little warmer…

You and YSL are the first ones to get started.  Our attention no longer on the movie we’re watching, we observe you squatting before YSL, your head bobbing up and down in his lap.  His pants are lying nearby on the floor, tossed aside with callous disregard.  I gasp at the sight of you and he at play, and my body grows even warmer with my arousal.  As you tease YSL, his expression and body language serve as silent testimony of your innate knowledge of his body.  As YSL feeds your famished mouth, he plays with your hair, fingers gingerly caressing your scalp.  I can see your lips making their way up and down, and I strain my eyes through the dim light of the living room in hopes of getting a better look at the action.

I am unable to keep myself from blatant, full-on staring for fear of throwing off your rhythm.  Then it occurs to me that you’re not going to stop, that no matter what happens it won’t disturb your rhythm.  At this moment each of you is the only thing in the world that matters to the other.  I could kneel beside the armchair for a closer look and you won’t miss a beat.  You take YSL’s cock out of your mouth and hold him in your hand, stroking rapidly against your lips and tongue.  He is beautiful to behold, his cock thick, lengthy and stiff.  His head is plump and red like a freshly-picked strawberry as your mouth envelops it.  You plant soft kisses all over him, then work your way down and back up again.  I can see your tongue gliding rhythmically against him like a snake, lapping gently at the delicate ridge where head meets shaft.  You trace a trail down to his balls and back up again, and when you finally reach the top you suck him back down as though attempting to eat him alive.

It quickly becomes clear that Jack, like me, is paying no attention to the porn on the television.  His hand reaches around me, settling between my legs, and we observe together for a moment.  I can picture the mischievous look on his face as I feel his hardness pressing against me through our clothing.  Suddenly you both feel our eyes on you and turn to us.  You react to our watching with the guilty giggle of a little girl who has been caught misbehaving and knows that it’s pointless to try and deny her guilt.  Rather than immediately resuming, you and YSL wait for us to make the next move in this very naughty chess game.  We stare back, hoping you’ll continue.  You stroke YSL’s cock up and down a few times without looking away from us.  After a moment I break the silence just before it turns awkward.

“May we play too?”  You and YSL respond to the question enthusiastically, so I hop off of the sofa and onto the carpeted floor.  I kneel in front of Jack and massage his thighs through his jeans, my hands eventually coming to rest on the large, throbbing bulge inside.  As I manipulate him, I realize that we are now the ones being observed.  I hurry to unbutton and unzip Jack’s pants.  His erection springs forth to greet me, and I give a quick but loving kiss to the swollen pink head.  I yank down his jeans and shorts, leaving them bunched up around his ankles on the floor.  Taking his hardness into my hands, I wrap it up in two tight fists and give a few strokes just for show before devouring it completely.  His taste overwhelms my palate, and he fills up my mouth and throat as I swallow him whole.  When I come up for air, I turn to look at our hosts and to my delight I see that you have returned to what you were doing before Jack and I briefly became the center of attention.

Although no one acknowledges it verbally, our play turns into a race, with you and I actively competing to see which one of us knows her man’s pleasure zones the closest, and accordingly which of our men will get off the quickest.  We have long forgotten the porn movie on the television, and now you and I are concentrating solely on what we’re doing, both of us hoping to show the other that one crucial move, the one that will make her the unspoken winner of the race.

Our lips, tongues and hands operating with blinding speed, you and I pull out every erotic trick from our respective bags.  As I stimulate Jack, the pleasured sounds filling my ears – not only Jack’s but YSL’s, and even yours as well – arouse me progressively further, and even though I love the intimacy Jack and I are sharing as I give him pleasure, I know that I must have him inside me, and soon.  I’m eager to hear the moan, and feel the throb, that tells me that I am the winner.  It’s not that I’m very competitive, because really, I’m not.  I just know that once Jack cums, it will be my turn.

I play his shaft like a very sexy musical instrument, slurping, sucking and kissing my way up and down while at the same time stroking him determinedly with a well-lubricated palm.  As I do this, I manage to spare a glance at the armchair where I see that you’ve taken off your pajama top.  Your breasts are full and lovely, each of them two handfuls.  As they engulf YSL’s cock you move them up and down with your hands.  The stimulation must be intense, and I decide to steal this particular trick.

I whip off my own top and throw it to the floor, then caress my breasts for awhile.  I love the unbridled lust evident in Jack’s eyes as I roll my quickly-hardening nipples between my fingers.  After a moment of this wanton display I lower my lips onto him one more time, sucking hard and deep, my mouth leaving moist traces which I spread all over his cock with my hand.  Then I hold my breasts around him just as you did to YSL, and Jack titty-fucks me with reckless abandon, each impassioned thrust more exciting than the last.

I don’t know how long we continue this way, exactly, as the thrill of the moment has made me lose track of time.  I am only brought back to reality by the sound of YSL moaning, each wheezing breath alerting us to his impending climax.  His breathless gasping and panting mingle with your noises of contentment over your apparent victory.  Desperate not to lose (okay, I am a little competitive), I take Jack in my hand and stroke him furiously against my open mouth and tongue.  But it’s too little, too late and he gently turns my head so that I can watch YSL preparing to detonate like a ticking time bomb.

Still on your knees, you lean back and hold your breasts together as though offering them up to YSL for inspection.  His spasming erection in hand, he leaps to his feet and finishes himself off, ejaculating like a fountain.  His cum showers your face, breasts and hands, and when he is finally depleted he collapses onto the armchair.

We continue to play with each other, both of us hopefully close to orgasm ourselves.  I know I am, at least.  I can feel my knees buckling already as the pleasure intensifies.  Oh, you’re good, no doubt about that.  As you continue to buzz me with your thumb, I feel two of your fingers slip inside me.  In seconds you are pressing right on my G-spot.  I’m so close now.  I know I am.  Once the G-spot gets some stimulation it’s never long before I cum.  I hope I’m doing as good a job on you as you are on me.
         
I guess I’m doing something right, because all of a sudden the kiss breaks and you collapse against me, burying your face in my shoulder and my chest.  As your legs tighten around my hand, I exert a little more pressure, moving my thumb against your clit even faster than before.  As you climax I feel your lips, soft and warm against my neck, and it triggers my own orgasm.  My knees buckle, and I cry out in sweet ecstasy, a sound so candid and genuine that I surprise myself as the intense waves of pleasure crash through my body.
         
We stand under the spray and embrace each other tightly as we catch our breath and return to reality.  Basking in the warm glow of the intimacy we’ve just shared, you and I hold each other close, each feeling the other’s heartbeat as it gradually slows to normal.  You kiss me again, quicker this time, and then bring your hand up to let me taste myself on her fingers.  I like the way I taste!
         
“How long have you been standing there?” you ask.  For an instant I think you’re talking to me, but then I turn to see Jack and YSL standing in the bathroom doorway.  YSL tells us that they have been watching the entire time, and I feel a quick erotic jolt zip through my body as I wonder what they thought of our little performance.  Before I can ask, though, you speak.  “Well?  Are you coming in or what?”  You push open the shower door, thrust forth your ample breasts, and with a sexy smile beckon seductively to your lover, and to Jack as well.
         
I step under the showerhead and rinse the soap from my body.  By now, the men are casting off what remains of their clothing, discarding them in the pile where you and I threw our own clothing earlier.  When they’re naked, Jack and YSL squeeze into the tiny shower cabinet with us.  Our bodies are squished together, the four of us a tangled conglomeration of slender arms, plump breasts, smooth legs and erect cocks.

YSL manages to squeeze in close to you, and you both crowd beneath the hot spray.  You throw your arms around each other and melt into a long, fiery kiss.  Watching this hungry makeout session turns me on, and makes me want a kiss as well.  I lean over to where Jack is standing, and I try to kiss him but it’s difficult because I’m at the back of the shower and he’s the closest to the door.  For my mouth to reach his I would have to somehow maneuver myself between you and the wall of the shower, or rudely interrupt your kiss and hope that I fit between you and YSL.  Needless to say, this is even harder than it sounds!
         
As Jack and I struggle to win this bizarre standing game of Twister, I hear you whisper something to YSL about finishing up in the bedroom.  All at once you and he step out, and I finally get to make out with Jack.  As you grab a couple towels, I feel Jack’s tongue sliding between my lips and I suck on it.  While you and YSL dry yourselves off, Jack’s hands caress my breasts as his mouth travels to my neck.  As you toss your towels on the floor with the rest of the clothing, Jack’s lips find my nipples, taking in one, then trading it for the other before finally attempting to suck both at once.  He’s so good…

You linger in the doorway.  “Have fun, guys,” you say as YSL pulls you into the bedroom.  At the same time I can feel Jack pressing hard against my stomach, and I reach down to hold him in my hand.  I never get tired of the way he feels, or of the anticipation of having him inside me that always accompanies that sensation.  I could have my fill of him three times a day and it would still be as exciting to me as it was the first time, or probably even more.

As I rock him back and forth in my grasp, I can feel Jack’s cock pulsing against my hand and my fingers, and it makes me tingle inside.  Suddenly I can’t take it anymore, and I need him.  Now.  Quickly I turn around, bracing myself with my hands against the glass wall of the shower.  And although all I want is to feel him filling me up, I am not disappointed when he drops to his knees and bombards me with a nearly-overpowering mix of hands and mouth.  As his fingers explore me on the inside, his tongue excites me on the outside.  The frenzy of unrestrained desire we are sharing is too much, and he’s too good.

I pull away from him before I can climax, and I tell him exactly what I want.  He stands up, and in an instant he’s behind me, his hardness opening me like a blooming flower.  Decisively, urgently he drives inside, pulling me onto him by my waist, and begins to fuck me.  Each thrust is forceful enough to give me what I desire, yet not so forceful as to push me through the glass.  His hands find their way to my hips, yanking me down his length with great force.  I push against him with each thrust, our bodies slapping together in a primal, carnal dance until, finally, he sends me over the edge.

Exhausted, I sink slowly to the floor of the shower.  After a moment Jack shuts off the water, and the lusty sounds of you and YSL carrying on in the next room bombard our ears.  As we towel off, the sounds grow even louder and more intense.  We walk into the master bedroom, neither of us surprised by the sight that greets us.  YSL lies on the bed on his back, and you sit astride him, straddling his waist.  You are both wet with the sweat of your pleasure.  While you ride him, YSL’s hands hold your hips and manipulate your body with each powerful upward thrust.  When you notice us standing in your play space, you slow down.

“What took you so long?” you ask playfully, your breasts rising and falling slowly with each heaving breath.  You invite us to join you, and Jack and I drop our towels and climb onto the bed.  As we do, you rise from of YSL’s lap and lie down on the bed on your back.  YSL also gets up from where he was lying, and positions himself between your spread legs.  I watch with fascination as he strokes his still-hard cock with one hand while fondling your pussy with the other.  When YSL finally slips inside of you, I am already lying on my back, and waiting for Jack’s own entrance.

Jack quickly pushes his way between my lips and fills me up.  He lifts my legs onto his shoulders and begins to move sensually and confidently inside of me.  At the same time, you wrap your legs around YSL’s back, your feet meeting at his waist.  You pull him in deeper, making the most of every thrust.  Your hands rest on his shoulders, caressing him gently as he fucks you.  Your eyes are locked on YSL’s, your passion for him clear from the expression on your face.

As I observe, Jack leans down and nuzzles my neck, lavishing it with hot kisses.  My moans betray my pleasure, and soon you turn your head to watch us just as I am watching you both.  No words are exchanged, and in no way do either of us acknowledge that we are being watched.  We don’t even make eye contact.  Instead we both lie on the bed, enjoying the attention our men are paying us, enjoying the sensations they are giving us, and enjoying the naughtiness that naturally accompanies sharing a bed with an equally open-minded couple.

I finally meet your gaze, and instinct suddenly takes over.  Our mouths come together once again, just as they did in the shower.  We kiss casually, our lips mingling, barely even brushing against each other.  The kiss is neither friendly nor particularly passionate.  The kiss simply is.  In time, however, it grows warmer, hungrier, more erotic.  As before, your mouth opens to mine, and I feel your tongue undulating against my lips.  You feel your way along for a few blissful seconds, and when you’re finished it’s my turn.  You reply by softly closing your lips around my tongue and sucking it gently before releasing it so I can return the favor.  I can feel the men gazing at us, and although I can tell that Jack and YSL are enjoying the show, we are doing this as much for ourselves as for the two of them, perhaps moreso.

Without even trying to pull away, you moan into my open mouth.  YSL moans too.  You’re cumming, that much is certain.  You kiss me harder than before, and our tongues swirl about in the borderland between our open mouths.  At the same time YSL declares that he’s cumming – as if I hadn’t figured it out already – and his moans build to an exciting, heart-pounding crescendo.  Only now do you take her mouth off of mine, your moans loud, erratic, and nothing if not genuine.  Your hands join your feet on YSL’s ass, your fingers digging in as you pull him into you as deeply as he will possibly go.  You both groan with the ecstasy of it all, your bodies convulsing and shuddering together as one, until finally YSL falls against you, spent, and you share a hearty kiss.

YSL pulls away from you, his softening but still impressive member glistening with your mixed moisture.  As he lies down beside you on the bed, you try to compose yourself as well, your thighs dripping wet with the results of YSL’s climax.  You settle into the spoon position now, resting against YSL’s body, relaxing as you watch us.  Lazily, YSL plays with your hair, twirling it around his fingers.  At the same time, Jack pulls out and maneuvers me onto my hands and knees.  I know what’s coming, and I can’t wait.  I arch my back and, using my arms, brace myself against the mattress to wait for his hardness.  Soon I feel Jack’s head petting my lips, each movement a delicious, exhilarating tease.  With one hand I reach down between my legs and hold myself open for him, and once he is back inside me I decide to keep my hand there.

As Jack fucks me he holds my hips in a relaxed grasp, each thrust impaling me, pushing my face closer and closer to the mattress.  All the while my fingers dance over my clit, each sensation threatening to make me cum with greater urgency.  I don’t want to – not yet, anyway – so I move my hand away and use it instead to steady myself on the bed.  Enjoying the ride, I glance up at you and YSL, still lying on the other side of the bed.  You seem to have recovered from your synchronous orgasms, and at the moment YSL’s hand rests on your breast, idly playing with your nipple and enjoying the feel of your skin against his palm.

Reeling from Jack’s expert thrusts, I am suddenly struck by a wicked impulse.  “Come here,” I say to you.  You move from your spot on the bed, your still-sweaty skin reflecting the room’s light.  According to my directions, you sit down on the bed right in front of me.  I lower myself onto my elbows and place my hands on your knees.  I can see YSL’s eyes widen as he watches me lovingly fondle your soft thighs, each stroke bringing my hands farther and farther up your legs.  When you settle onto your back, I take that as implicit permission to continue my exploration.

I open your legs with my hands, kissing them tenderly.  But I am drawn to your heat, and all too eagerly I place my mouth right on you.  You are fragrant and very juicy, moist not only with your own wetness, but with YSL’s cum.  I open you up with my tongue and fingers, lapping slowly.  I am determined to make you have another orgasm, but as I feel Jack’s head stimulating my G-spot, I know that I’m close to the end, at least for now.  It won’t take long for me to cum.  It never does.  With all my willpower I try to resist just a few seconds longer, but I know it’s pointless.  I’m too far gone, too close to the precipice and about to topple over the edge.  Defiant even in the face of my own climax, I meld my mouth to your hot and wet pussy, doubling my efforts as Jack continues to work me from behind.  Each thrust threatens to trigger my surely imminent orgasm.  Finally I focus on your clit, erect and peeking out of its hood.  I put my hand on it, fingers working double-time even as my tongue laps frantically at the engorged pink bud.

At last you tense up, your thighs closing tightly around my ears.  You grind up against my mouth, and I can taste your wetness like never before, can feel it clinging to my lips and tongue, dribbling down my chin and my neck, collecting on the bedsheets.  I continue to lick, savoring you like an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day, my efforts bolstered by the knowledge that you, like me, are on the brink of what I hope will be an explosive and intense orgasm.

I can just barely hear your faint gasps for breath, but it isn’t until you say that you’re cumming that I allow myself the same pleasure.  I give in to Jack’s thrusts, and I cum in a noisy procession of moans and grunts, my entire being trembling all the while.  And wouldn’t you know it?  The beautiful, erotic sounds of two women getting off together is just what Jack needed and he cums too, his throbbing cock making one last valiant attempt to push its way into me before ejaculation.  I can feel stream after stream of his cum, hot and thick, flooding me from the inside, and when he is finally spent we relax.

Happy Birthday Yummy!

Note:  If you are not currently reading Yummy’s blog, you definitely should be, as it is consistently erotic and a treat to follow.  In fact, Yummy was recently named one of the top 100 sex bloggers of 2011, and if you read her 13-part (so far) account of her and YSL’s adventures in Cap D’Adge – or anything she’s written for that matter – you’ll see why.  We recommend her blog knowing full well that you may never return to ours once you’ve read it.

After they climaxed together, Marianne clung to Hector.  Their hearts pounded in unison as midday sunshine streamed through the bedroom window, baking them in its warmth.  They kissed passionately, hungrily, their bodies melded together so perfectly it scared her, shocked her to think how alive she was, every pore on her body awake with fiery desire.

She rose from the bed, his eyes drinking her nakedness as she picked up her clothes from the floor.  “You’re the only woman I’ll ever want,” he said.  He slept while she showered and dressed.

They’d lived there a year.  They sought a tropical paradise where they could enjoy a life of leisure, her husband playing the guitar while she lay on the beach in a string bikini.  As the months wore on, she grew tired of only being kissed by the sun.

She left the house and walked out to the cabana.  Jeremy sat on a wicker chair, lazily strumming his antique Rickenbacker.  “Hello, darling,” she purred.  He stared out to sea. (187)

-Jack

Behind the Scenes:

In honor of today’s Thanksgiving holiday in the United States, there is no new prompt for Erotic Flash Fiction Friday this week.  As was the case on November 11, I decided to delve into the archives and write a story about  a previous week’s prompt.  I selected the prompt for Friday, March 25th, and managed to come up with a decent idea in about twenty minutes.

The story practically told itself.  In my mind, the photo depicts an attractive woman who can’t seem to get the attention of a handsome but oblivious man.  They appear to be at or close to a body of water, possibly on a boat or the deck of a seaside house.  The wicker furniture and some aspects of their attire, including her bikini top and his hat – not to mention the title of the image (“Casablanca”) suggest a tropical setting.

The word range was 119-187, and the required phrase was “kissed by the sun”.  Describing Marianne’s slender, tanned body or Jeremy’s muscular torso this way seemed obvious, even trite.  I knew immediately that I would use the phrase exactly as I did, to describe their affectionless marriage.  I did not, however, count on the twist ending in which it is revealed that Hector is not Marianne’s husband but her lover.  This device was necessitated by the word limit.

Deleted Scenes:

Given more space, I would have examined their relationship, as well as their lifestyle, at greater length.  I liked the idea of having Marianne’s lover be an old friend of her husband who has come to visit.  Jeremy, far too preoccupied entertaining guests with his guitar, has neglected Marianne and her needs, and she finds solace in the arms of Hector.  Given the word limit, I was forced to truncate any such exposition, and the relationship between Marianne and her lover remains ambiguous.

Trivia:  

The first thought that came to mind when I saw this picture was “Cindy Crawford and The Rock”, as in my opinion the two individuals pictured bear a passing resemblance to the celebrities in question.

Soundtrack:


“Fallen” by Lauren Wood