Today's excerpt is quite frankly as much a surprise to me as it is to any reader. I found out this weekend that my story Grinding was reprinted last year in Wetware: cyberpunk erotica. Don't worry - it was with permission! There was just a wee bug in the communication about publication dates, lol!
Grinding first appeared in the very limited hardcover anthology Geek Love so I'm delighted to see it now available to a wider audience, in such talented author company, and in an anthology with such an illustrious editor.
“Would you like to fuck me, Joe?”
“Um. I guess.”
That’s good enough. I step right out of the monitor into the mundane world. Instantly I feel the aether tighten, resisting my presence. It wants to reject me because this isn’t my realm. Only Joe’s acquiescence allows me purchase.
Bereft of my touch, he leans forward and stares into the monitor at his lonely avatar. “Damn. Where’ve you gone?”
“Behind you.”
He swivels round abruptly, the casters of his chair squeaking. His jaw sags a little. I’m right there in his room, and he can’t help being a bit freaked out. He can see me, and I look just as I did on-screen.
“Shit. You’re gorgeous.”
I am. Of course I am. I shine with an inner light that nothing in the mundane world has, and what’s more, I’ve dressed up to please him. I’m short and slender and the color of a caramel sweet, just ready to be sucked. My emerald eyes are slanted and the ram’s horns that curl up and out of my forehead are almost buried in my thick dark hair and all the beads and flowers and scarves braided into it. My clothes are flimsy rags of crimson silk, held on by narrow straps that threaten to give way under the strain. They are garments that emphasis just exactly which bits of my body he can’t see—yet.
“Hello Joe,” say I, sauntering over and settling down in a straddle across his lap. He doesn’t know where to look: at my face or my breasts or my spread thighs. I’m just heavy enough to make him believe in me, without being the slightest bit uncomfortable. Of course I can be as heavy as lead, should the need arise.
“Hi,” he says, swallowing. His hands drift to my legs, cautiously, and test the satin of my skin. His fingers slide all the way to my crotch but stop just short of the translucent silk flap that shields my sex. “Wow.”
Smiling, I lift my tiny skirt to reveal a mons as soft and smooth as a bird’s breast, split by a delectable crease. He slides his thumbs in, one from either side, stroking the tender folds and searching out my heat.
“Best. Dream. Ever,” he says faintly.
That makes me giggle. Wriggling my hips to encourage his exploration, I keep my own hands busy by finding the thick ridge of his cock under the denim of his jeans. It’s quite solid already, so I rub the heel of one palm up and down its length. Then I locate his fly zipper and tug it down. His cock is hot and sticky and keen, and with a few twists and a lift of his hips I manage to fetch it out into the open air. It bounces up, ruddy and engorged, hairy about the base. I’m impressed by its size and congratulate myself; I’ve picked a good one here. I can smell the savory sweat of his arousal and it makes my mouth water. “Oh, this is nice,” I whisper, wrapping one small hand about his shaft.
He grins, goofy and unfocused, as I lick my middle finger lavishly and use it to caress the swollen head of his tool. It weeps a drop of pre-cum.
“What’s your pleasure, Joe?”
“Me?” His gaze meets mine and his eyes are full of confusion. His hesitancy is kind of endearing. I’ve known men who’ve stuck their head between my tits by this stage. I’ve known men who push me down between their legs and stuff their cock in my mouth. To be honest, I don’t mind one way or another, so long as they don’t erupt before they’re inside me.
“I’m here for you, Joe. This is your dream. What do you want to do to me?”
He licks his lips. Then his gaze drops to my out-thrust rack and he lifts both hands to cup me. I’ve a small frame but full breasts and big, pert nipples, which swell and harden as his thumbs slide over the sheer cloth.
“Yes,” I urge, not needing to exaggerate my pleasure as he flicks and circles them. My hips writhe and I press into his hands. I can feel my sex juices gather and swell. He makes a small questioning noise in his throat and then pushes my top up altogether to reveal the twin orbs heaving beneath. I am not, strictly speaking, a mammal—but I am sweet to the taste, as he finds out when he stoops over me and fastens his mouth over my left tit.
Oh, that feels good. Oh, that’s just wonderful. The pleasure of suckling him makes me moan low in my throat and writhe against him. I arch my back, losing my grip on his cock as I clasp his head to me, turning him from tit to tit, urging him to suck and lick. My pussy nuzzles against the hard jut of his erection.
That’s not enough for Joe. Without warning he clasps his hands about me and pushes me right up
over him, his lips pulling from my teat and scouring across the flat of my stomach instead. I plant one bare foot on the arm of his chair as he gets where he wants and buries his mouth in my pussy. Our balance is insanely precarious, and doesn’t last: the computer chair tilts back suddenly, leaving Joe half-recumbent and me practically straddling his shoulders, clinging to the air by my fingertips. It’s a good thing my balance is preternaturally good. And a real woman would be heavy enough to tip the silly office chair over altogether and bring us both crashing down.
I writhe upon his face, kicking out one foot and nearly taking out his monitor, spreading my sex lips, sinking my pussy onto his wildly lashing tongue and withdrawing it again to let him lick and nip and capture me anew. Oh, he’s sweet. I can feel the arousal building in me like a furnace. I’m going to come, soon. On his mouth. While his cock stabs the air behind me.
And that would be very bad, at least for him. If I don’t consume semen as I come … well, I have to eat something.
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