Monday, 30 January 2017

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a filthy excerpt for your entertainment!

In my ongoing efforts to save the Northern Hemisphere from the winter blues, I'm posting an excerpt from my truly reprehensible short story Scorched, which appears in the heat-themed anthology Playing with Fire

Emerald has been cheating on her boyfriend Max with their roomie Greg...

“Let’s see them.”

Obediently she drew up her skirt to expose stocking tops and the triangle of silky material. He smiled. “Like that. You buy them for me?”

Emerald nodded.

“But Max will get a kick out of them too, I bet.”

“Mm.” That was the thing about this purchase, she thought: she’d be getting double value.

“You know I can hear you two at night? The walls in this place are pretty thin.” He savored the way she blushed. “Not that you’re exactly quiet. But I hear every thump of the headboard, every little groan and squeal.” He caressed the towel-covered knot of his cock, and the bulge twitched visibly. “Drove me nuts for a year, doll.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was husky.

“I can even hear the sound he makes when he slaps your fat ass.”

Emerald’s eyes widened: Greg’s brutal crudity was one of the things that made him so different from Max. He was shamelessly honest and it was one of the things that made her hot. He liked the fact that she had a big ass, and he told her so. He liked the fact she was a slut, and the more he treated her like one the more she acted that way. “Does it annoy you, hearing us?” she asked.

He smirked. “I just grin and join in for the ride, doll.”


“Now show me that big bum of yours.”

Turning, Emerald pulled up the back of her skirt. She heard the intake of his breath.

“Fuck, yes,” he said in awe as she wiggled her backside. “I want that.” He stood, the better to run his hands over her ass-cheeks and down the barely clothed split between them. The elastic was taut across her asshole, the gusset stretched tight over pussy lips that already felt swollen. Greg’s fingers crudely but very accurately found the sinkhole of her cunt through the cloth.

“You won’t be able to take these back to the shop, doll. They’re already wet.” Every poke of his fingertips on the sodden cloth exacerbated that situation and Emerald whimpered. There was the sound of a towel hitting the carpet. “You ready for some of this?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Emerald saw the cock she was getting to know so well: heavy, dusky, with a bit of a lean to the right, it stood proudly despite the scrotum beneath that seemed to be trying to drag it down by sheer virtue of its weight. That was the thing about Greg: his dick was good but his balls were something else, and they produced prodigious quantities of come. Emerald was sure they were to blame for the swiftness with which he recovered and was ready for more. Was she ready? “Oh yes.”

“Then get down and ask nicely.”

Falling to her knees, she shimmied out of her dress and faced the object of her desire, wetting her lips. It swayed a little and Greg stroked it up and down.

“Please,” she said sincerely.

“Not good enough, doll.”

“Please, sir…” Leaning forward, she delicately tongued those big balls in their velvet pouch.

“Better.” His glans was glistening.

“I want it so much.” She kissed his bollocks and licked her way up his shaft.

“That’s ’cos you’re a slut, Emerald,” he sighed pleasurably. He was so clean from the shower that he was almost tasteless until she sucked the faintly salty pre-come from the eye of his cock. Putting her hands on his hairy thighs, she lost herself in the art and the pleasure of giving him head. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, guiding her, unhurried. He pushed all the way to the back of her throat and when she took the length without gagging he nearly purred. “Emerald.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, knees splayed and ass thrust out, her mouth wrapped around his turgid cock.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He nodded over her shoulder.

Confused, it took a moment before she broke away and turned. There in the doorway, arms folded, stood Max with a face like stone.

“Shit!” squealed Emerald, clapping her hand over her mouth as if she could hide the fact it had just been pleasuring their flatmate’s cock. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!”

“Yeah,” said Max. “You look sorry.”

She tried to scramble to her feet but Greg’s hand tightened in her hair, shoving her back down: that was such a shock she went momentarily limp. “Oh no,” he said. “Time to face the music, Emerald.”

“You knew?” she shrieked.

“Of course he knew.” Max came into the room and hunkered down so as to be on eye level with her. “He told me what you two were planning today. He told me everything. What did you expect? He’s my mate, isn’t he?”

“But he started it!” It sounded childish even as she shouted the words, but she meant it. The furtive affair had begun one evening that summer when she and Greg had been lying out on the roof, in swimwear, listening to their MP3 players. Greg had, without warning and without a word, rolled over and put his hand square on her breast.

“Like you resisted,” replied Max.

Emerald gaped. She hadn’t resisted. She’d let Greg squeeze her tit and then pull down her bikini top to play with them both, his hand firm and slow. She hadn’t struggled or protested or even spoken, pinned to her towel by the sunlight and the glint on his opaque sunglasses, overwhelmed by his assurance. Her nipples had stiffened to his touch and her breasts had heaved to meet him. After ascertaining her response to his tweaking and pinching and kneading, he’d slid his hand down to her sex and explored that, sliding inside her bikini bottoms to find her hot wet softness, her yielding openness. And when she started to tremble and twitch he’d heaved himself on top of her and fucked her, not even bothering to remove her bikini. Then he’d rolled away and gone back to reading his Mac magazine, still without a word.

“It…it just happened. I don’t know how.” After that, it had only taken a possessive slap on her butt as she leaned over the sink to water the plants, or a confident tweak of her nipple as she met him in the corridor, to teach her that her whole body was tuned to his key. She’d waited home one morning, pleading that she had stomach cramps, and then as soon as Max went out to catch the bus she’d gone naked into Greg’s room to endure his triumphant smile and submit to his voracious appetite. He’d fucked her on every piece of furniture in the house by now. “It was his idea,” she wailed.

“It was your idea, Emerald.” Max’s eyes were like blue Arctic ice. “I saw the way you looked at him. I knew you wanted to fuck my best mate, no matter how much you denied it. So I told him to make a pass and see how you’d react. I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Oh my god!” Realization came crashing in on her. “You’re out of your mind!”


“It’s been three months!” she gasped. “You knew all this time?”

He nodded. “I knew. I knew the first time, when you were all over me that evening, hot and gagging for it like you were in heat. Was it guilt, or are you just a horny little bitch? I knew every single time you fucked him, Emerald, because you were…so different. Pliant and eager. Like he’d greased you up for me. I knew all right.”

“Shit,” she whispered, seeing him in a totally new light, remembering the ferocious intensity of his lovemaking over these past months. She’d been too wrapped up in herself to question it. “Max, this is twisted…”

Twisted.” He smiled sourly. “Hey, you’re the one who decided one man wasn’t enough for your hot little cunt. Well now you’re going to put your money where your mouth is.”

“What d’you mean?”

Greg, who’d kept quiet so far, laughed. “You reckon you need two men to satisfy you, doll. Well, this is where we test that out once and for all.”

Buy Playing with Fire at:

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