Erotophoria

I’m working on a sex story. I thought I’d share it with you, my lovelies. Though it may seem purely an erotic fantasy spurned on by imaginative desire it is inspired by a true story.

Will you read it for me?

She always wore a black leather jacket, tight pants, and a hard ass expression on her face that could make a seasoned war veteran cringe. She was one of those bull dyke lesbian chicks, complete with short cropped hair, a nose and brow piercing, a thin metal chain dangling about her wide goddess hips, and an attitude towards men that screamed, “Don’t even think about it, bitch.” She was completely hands off to anyone with a penis. But I didn’t care. I lusted after her something fierce, all the same.

I’d try to hide my unrelenting desire to ravish her naked body in plain site by flirting with her like I would everything that walked on two legs. Which basically meant I’d push things as far as I could get away with… then I’d push just a tiny bit more.

Don’t get me wrong, I always believed her when she said she was exclusive to pussy… I’d seen her kiss and grope other girls with a genuine passion too many times not to. She just didn’t seem to mind my outrageous and superficial advances.

“What are you doing?” she mocked, almost indicating a shock response as my dexterous hands quickly wrapped themselves around her plump breasts.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I seem to have lost my boobs, and I noticed yours look very familiar. They’re just so beautiful I had to make sure they weren’t mine.”

“Uh… I’m pretty fucking sure…”

“Shh… I’m concentrating,” I whispered, eyes closed, while my thumb and index fingers searched for her nipples – which became much easier when they decided to peak through her shirt, nice and erect.

“Oh, no… these aren’t mine. When your erect nipples come to attention they’re far more pretty then mine. Sorry for the mix up.” I smiled sweet, pulled my hands away, and patted her on the butt.

“Thank you?” she said, with one poignantly thin eye-brow raised.

“Any time,” I said, before I winked at her, and continued to talk about whatever non-sense was on my mind at the time.

They really were beautiful breasts. I can’t think of a more delicious pair of big juggies then the busty fun bags on my hardcore bull dyke. Especially when she wore low-cut white under-shirts, without a bra, that let her bosom practically fall out. Her’s were breasts worth fantasizing about – worthy of lazy afternoons filled with lotion covered hands and an active erotic imagination. But then, the forbidden fruit always does seem tastier then what’s in the picnic basket, eh?

According to a few male friends, I had a certain reputation that approached legendary status. It wasn’t every man who was allowed to squeeze the soft, plump breasts of a hardcore bitch dyke and live with his balls intact.

We understood each other, is all. Even though I knew she wasn’t the bitch she pretended to be, she had her reputation as an aggressive lesbo bitch, I had mine as an uncontainable and flirtatious slut, and we never so much as questioned each other about it. In fact, we were quite the odd pair when we traveled together in search of fun and sex, each seeking out a different kind of pussy… her, the edgy mistress of dark sexuality sniffing out lesbian pussy, and me, the flamboyantly playful pretty-boy, happy to lick just about anything.

Her sister, on the other hand, was something of a completely different nature. Her sister is how I met her… well, her sister’s boyfriend, actually.

The two were identical twins, though the term identical only applied to the raw appearance of their bodies. They were both gorgeous, full-bodied babes with soft, round faces, wide goddess hips, and an ass that wouldn’t quit. Except, because my friend always wore tight jeans, and she was a regular jogger, her ass looked, and felt, about a thousand times better. On the inside the two were like counterparts – a perfect ying yang combination.

I had a thing for her sister when I first met her too. Maybe it was those dark eyes, or the tight mouth with eternally moist lips, or that big, juicy butt… there was so much going on with this girl I couldn’t pick what I liked best. But her looks didn’t matter, because I quickly figured out that trying to get between the honey-faced hottie and her asshole of a boyfriend, who I was tutoring in college math at the time, wasn’t worth the effort. The sister was one of those sugary sweet, secret bitches who’d slit your throat with a smile. She always looked like she was ready to bake someone some cookies, while my friend looked like she was ready to kick someone’s ass. The difference was, even though my friend barked like a bitch her sister genuinely didn’t give a shit about anyone but herself.

But the sister’s not important. What’s important is that, for some reason, this edgy babe liked going out to parties and clubs with me. She seemed entertained by my ability to play the flirtatious fool, begging to get into trouble at every available opportunity.

At one point, my friend and I were doing our usual Saturday night thing: a brief romp at some party we were barely invited to, a few beers, some botched sexual exploits, followed by a quick and embarrassment free getaway.

According to her, she wasn’t like the other bull dykes. She was too sweet… at least that’s what she would tell me. My problem was I was too clean. All the expressive, artsy chicks who’s pussies I wanted to lick were into musicians. Which meant only one thing: they wanted their guys to get them loaded on good drugs before they’d fuck.

All musicians do drugs, and so do their girlfriends. Every fucking one of ‘em. The snotty violinist who rehearses for the pompous show in coat tails at the music hall, where even snobbier jack-asses pay good money to listen to some butchered attempt at Tolstoy, or Paganini? Yeah, I’ve met him… he’s worse then a fucking pot head. Ever seen a classical virtuoso sell the tools of his trade for some sugar so he can get himself a high maintenance soft-hooker? Fucking shame, is what.

Anyway… back to this ball crushing, hot bitch dyke lesbian friend of mine.

Like I said, I was real sweet on her. I loved the cold, hard, uncaring stare she gave to the world, with her dark, deep set, steely eyes. And I loved how I could easily make those eyes melt into utter softness whenever I’d look at her like she was a plaything.

All I had to do was walk over to her, brush a lazy finger across her sour puss cheek and swivel my head like a gay queen… she’d grab me, pin me down, and tickle me until my eyes felt like they were gonna bleed. Even though her hands handed me rough, I’d retreat into my private little fantasy world and pretend her strong fingers were really as soft as a lover’s…

Oh wait… I was talking about the party.

After a pathetic, second failed attempt at getting one on one with some tall brunette, who just so happened to have finished reading the same book as me, I was ready to head out. It was my fault, of course. I made an assumption that anyone with an interest in Heinlein must be open-minded. Turned out, it was required reading for her lit class. I didn’t give a fuck:

“I… don’t think so… I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you’re wearing eye-liner,” she confessed to me, whispering so as not to embarrass me publicly, I think.

“I thought my eyes looked especially delicious tonight, but I just couldn’t figure out why! Thanks for clearing that up for me. I’m gonna go get a drink.” I walked away.

She wasn’t into the unique flavor that was me. No worries. What else was I gonna do? Violate the rules and boundaries of her tightly wrapped little world by exposing her to the sexual freedom that only a freak can bring? I didn’t have the energy for that kind of commitment… not tonight.

On any other night, I might have flown my freak flag high, and laid it all out for her. If she was ready to see what it’s like to lay down with a man who’s about as sexually liberated as an ancient Greek after dinner and wine, I’d have carefully opened a few doors for her… maybe… if she kept up with me, quick enough.

There weren’t any obvious pussy lickers for my friend either. Turned out, everyone there was hopelessly straight, or at least not adventurous enough to handle either one of us.

The party was tame anyway, I didn’t figure I was gonna get any fun. I couldn’t even sniff out a whiff of the green, and back then this Hippie always knew where to find the wackiest shit. Probably why neither of us was getting laid… but we rarely, if ever, got laid at yuppy parties like these. We liked to pretend we could any time, with anyone, whenever we wanted, we were so damn sexy. Didn’t matter all the “normies” were so hopelessly out of it they couldn’t handle the full sexual power of someone completely uninhibited, and perfectly in tune with their inner-freak. It was our responsibility to show up at these quaint little shin-digs and see if anyone was ready to have their eyes opened.

After some mild disappointments like these, we’d usually go out to a club before selecting a place to crash until we fell asleep… that’s assuming neither of us found a fellow sex enthusiast.

That night, before we’d picked out our last-ditch effort of a night club, I spied a park on some corner. It was a kid’s park, with a swing set, a jungle gym, and even monkey bars… it was totally awesome.

“Hey! Let’s go to the park!” I exploded, pointing with a sharp finger across her nose. Around most people, I was always up for some playful childish type fun - part of being a shameless flirt means having the courage to do anything harmlessly fun on a whim.

“I think there’s a 10 o’clock curf…”

I cut her off, my eyes went totally buggo, and I pushed my face into hers, “So!?” I mocked, in a childlike challenging tone.

“Fine!” my lesbo friend replied, and whipped the car around in a tire squealing u-turn, launching me away from her in my own seat.

Before she came to a complete stop I was out the door, barreling up a dew-covered, deep dark green hill top, making my way to chilled bars glistening in soft moonlight, screaming, “race you to the jungle gym!”

After a few minutes of me exploring the set, she came sauntering up and sat in a swing and watched me run around, like some drunk lunatic who just escaped from a psyche ward.

Panting, nearly breathless, I noticed she was sitting all alone and bolted to her.

“Hey!” I said, and puffed twice. “Play!”

“Nah… you go ahead.” she gave me a half-smile. She was down. I guessed the sting of loneliness was taking its toll on her that tonight.

“Okay…” I said, before I grabbed the chains of her hanging seat and pushed her backwards. After shoving her knees a few times, she was already swinging, staring right at me. Her half-smile slowly turned into a grimace.

Once her round, moonlit face actually broke into a soft, sexy smile I got it in my head that I wanted to sit in her lap… I needed to press my swelling manhood against her body, and spreading my legs around her belly seemed the surest way.

With a long lingering shove, still facing her, I pushed her back as far as I could before I jumped up and wrapped my legs and arms around her. I nearly fell, and so did she, but by the return swing I was well situated in her lap.

I got a hearty laugh out of her for that silly stunt… which nearly unseated both of us again.

After a few swings, while I made stupid “woah… wooooaaah” noises at every swaying motion, we slowed to a stop. I put my legs down to offset my weight on her legs and released my death grip, bear hug about her waist. Now looking down on her, I fell in love with her all over again.

At that moment, she wasn’t the hard-ass bitch like she was with everyone else. She was calm, gentle, giving me a smile that revealed the dimples in her cheeks.

She avoided my eyes, and looked far off at the play set.

“You think if I kissed your sexy sister she’d fuck me with your strap-on, like you did with Betsy after your birthday?”

I knew what I was getting myself into. The closest I could ever come to revealing my lust for her was to talk dirty about her hot, identical twin sister. Even though it always ended in disaster, I still prodded away.

Before she could respond with anything more than a cold, quizzical stare boring deep into me, the kind of stare given to a surprisingly insolent child, I leapt from her lap and made for the jungle gym. Without missing a beat, she chased right after me.

Because of my quick, long legs I easily made it first and so climbed to the top, swiveled my hips, and belted out, “I’m Queen! You are my puppet!”

We fooled around for a bit, climbing around like kids, she trying to grab me while my skinny body deftly ducked in and out of the dome like collection of metal rods, until she banged her head against an offending corner and stopped to sit.

“Oh… you okay?” I asked, unable to hide the genuine concern in my voice, as I danced over bars to sit beside her.

“Let me see, let me see,” I said, while I peeled her fingers away from the side of her forehead. No cuts, no scrapes, “you’re okay… just a bruise,” I said, and kissed the side of her barely swollen, now soon to be bumpy face.

“I’ll bruise you!” she said, with an obvious anger in her voice.

She was a dyke who kept to her word… with a swift crack at my arm I felt a small measure of her pain too. I didn’t mind though. Years of living with a dysfunctional family and training as a fighter left me with a curious appreciation for painful forms of affection.

“You hit like a girl,” I sneered.

“Fuck you…”

“… your sister!”

She hesitated, a silent fury on her face.

“Why do you say that?” she asked. I didn’t have the heart to play this kind of game with her, not while she was hurting somewhere I couldn’t see, so I was stuck on the defensive.

“Because she’s hot,” I jived, after a short pause, hoping a distraction might forestall what I had inadvertently started. “I mean, really hot… like, ungodly sexy… she’s a goddess, with goddess hips, and a goddess ass. About the only thing sexier then your goddess sister’s goddess ass are her goddess legs, and even then her lips always look delicious enough to,” I was staring right at her, searching for descriptions of her very likeness and attributing them to her sister.

“But when you don’t call her sexy, you call her a snob.” She interrupted.

Snob is the worst insult ever invented. A bitch can be sexy, a cunt can be pleasurable, a fucking asshole…well… they’re fun to finger, but a snob? The only thing a snob is good for is complete and utter banishment.

“Yeah,” I had nowhere to go. I was fucked no matter what I did, so I figured I might as well regain the offensive, “and she looks just like you,” I said, in as flat a tone as my knotted, quivering belly could allow.

She looked away from me for a moment. I was lost. My head was spinning. Thoughts of our playful, perverted adventures coming to an abrupt and painful end because of my transgression swam through my mind. Because of my inappropriate desire to lay her down and spread more than her legs with my eager, throbbing manhood, while wet tongues danced in an out of hungering mouths, these perfect little tirades of titillating pleasure would have to cease. Only from years of intense mind and muscle control was I able to sit upright, and wait for the counter… but I wasn’t prepared for her vulnerable counter-attack.

“You mean that?” she asked.

“Well… you actually carry yourself in a sexier way.”

I knew I had no choice but to surrender. Whatever consequence was about to befall me, I deserved. I had become entranced by a lesbian friend, yet again, and now I’d have to go through life without one until I could find another… it would be painful, but I could do it. Right about when I’d come to terms with accepting my fate she struck me into oblivion.

“Then stop talking about my sister,” she said, as she stood up from her perch on cold, wet, steel, pissed like I’d never heard her before. I expected her to walk away, but what I thought was going to be an embarrassing trudge back to the car ended up being quite a surprise to me.

She turned onto me, and placed her hands on my chest… warm hands, they were. Soft and gentle, as I’d imagined they could be.

She advanced on me and we kissed under pale moon light for what seemed an eternity in the span of a breath’s time. Sweet, and only slightly moist, it was, at first.

“You bitch,” I whispered, her lips still kneading mine. I was powerless to say anything else.

“Fuck, You,” she breathed, as I reached around behind her, pulling her into me by the soft cushion of her wide butt. To this day, they are the sexiest two words I’ve ever heard anyone say.

Already, I was getting hard, eager to feel the soft flesh of her belly against the quickly warming morsel of masculine flesh growing between us.

With her body, she pushed me back, and the intensity of her now very wet kissing brought me to an even higher arousal. Laying flat on cold hard bars, my hands groped her flesh, greedily stealing every morsel of her firm yet feminine flesh.

In an instant of realization, an intense swoon washed over me – she, my lesbian bull dyke friend, was about to become my bitch lover… and I was nervous. I froze, impaled by the harshness of an erotic fantasy, which had plagued me for months, about to come true. This wasn’t like fucking all those other women, and men… this was like fucking a goddess, an untouchable woman on a pedestal finally stepping down to thank me for my worship with her sex.

The hungering bitch broke me from my erotic stupor as she relinquished my lips from her entrancing kiss, and stole my belt from its buckle. Within moments, both our hands had pulled aside every obstacle between her lips and my now achingly hard, throbbing cock.

But as greedily as she had freed my erect member, she equally stopped and paused. Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that she’d never seen a hard dick so intimately before. Watching her soft, curious face admiring my flesh sent a rush of warm, blushing affection rushing through my body. My fingers curled within her hair, as I gently guided her mouth closer to me.

“Kiss it,” I said, and she did, before she looked up at me, searching my expression with her dark, softly moonlit eyes. I could feel her warm breathe on me as her lips lingered, barely grazing the tip of my sensitive head. “Oh… baby…” I swooned. “Like you do in my mouth,” I encouraged.

Like a soft, warm breeze, her juicy lips slowly enveloped the head of me, and I moaned as if I were a virgin, experiencing previously unfound sensations for the first time. The tip of her tongue flicked on the tip of me, and a jolt of pleasure shot through me, “yeah… good…” I whispered.

Within moments she filled her slippery, wet mouth with about a third of my shaft, before she began to suck the juices out of me. After an uncountable number of steady strokes, I began to gasp and quiver beneath her, like an injured and fluttering moth pinned to a wall.

She slipped me out from between her lips, “No… please…” I begged, with honey laced desire seeping through my voice. With the flat of her tongue she licked the complete underside of my entire length a few times, and resumed sucking, except now her tongue danced inside her mouth, wriggling against me.

It was all I could do to hold on, but within what seemed an eternity of moments, her lips wrapped around me, pulling at me, her tongue dancing circles around the head of my penis, and stabbing at the soft, spongy underside of my shaft. I was quickly approaching my peak. In the heat of desire I gripped her hair tight in my fingers and guided her mouth up, and down at the pace I so desperately craved. She didn’t seem to mind, and even began to hum. It was a soft song to my ears, more powerfully provoking then Davis’ bluesy melodies. I looked down, and spied that she had pushed past the boundary of her pants with her own hand.

I cried out peals of pleasure as I imagined what her fingers would be doing around and inside her secret folds, caressing a wet clit, ducking into her pussy for slippery juices before circling around her clit yet more.

“I’m going to… may I cum inside you?” I pleaded, all sense of urgency in my voice pouring out as thick as syrup.

She responded with a deep, throaty hum, and as the vibrations flowed from her throat and tongue a powerful orgasm gripped at the fires deep within the pleasure flowing into me from her sweet embrace.

I threw my head back, and shook, panting, crying in short, quick gulps of air. Spurts of hot fluid poured out of me, into her mouth. Still, she hummed with me, her tongue drinking me up. The feel of her swallowing me sent another shiver of pleasure up my spine.

I cried out as a second, more powerful squeezing of my orgasmic muscles culminated in an abrupt halt to my ejaculation. I couldn’t help the spasms of energy that ran up and down my spine, like stampeding beasts made of bolts of lightning.

My hands released her hair, and gripped tight to her head, forcing her to hold motionless while I felt the last of my love juices slowly dribble out between her warm lips.

“Stay,” I gasped, and attempted to catch my breath with quick inhalations timed to the slow dying rhythm of my weakening, still contracting, muscles. With each receding sense of fire drifting through me my fingers slowly released my new lover so they could lazily brush the hair from around her face.

After a few languid moments, with me still inside her mouth, I hung on the precipice of disbelief, still unable to fully grasp what had so obviously just happened, glowing, basking in the warmth of this unbelievable affection I had just experienced… and I laughed - a soft chuckle of a laugh at first, as I gently pulled her face up to my own. She smiled sweeter then I’d ever seen her before as her lips once again approached mine.

I tasted the sweet, salty flavor of myself in her mouth, and couldn’t help but interrupt her kiss with a deep, throaty laughter. She shared a soft chuckle with me before she nibbled on my ear.

“My turn?” she begged with a whisper.

‘Yes, please,” I replied.

I used to write a lot of sex stories. As I’m sure you can imagine by now, oral sex is my forte. Should I pick up the habit again?

Pleasant erotic dreamings my lovelies,

~Virgohippy

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 7th, 2006 at 7:54 pm and is filed under Sex Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.