Tag Archives: r/DirtyWritingPrompts

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Cutie Cumpire Goes to the Movies

[WP] It’s well known cum is an alternative for blood to vampires. Obviously most are disgusted at the thought. Except your girlfriend. Who, lucky for her, has found a man with the most extreme case of hyperspermia in the world to satisfy her thirst. from DirtyWritingPrompts

The lights dimmed throughout the movie theater as the bass rumbled with the first explosion of an action movie trailer. The leather seats creaked and popcorn bins rustled as the handful of patrons settled in for the Tuesday night showing.

Jasper and Nora had an entire row to themselves. A sports car drifted around a corner on-screen, casting a red light across the theatre as Nora leaned over to whisper in Jasper’s ear.

“I’m hungry…”

Jasper stiffened, and he glanced around the row just to make sure it was still empty. “But you just ate!”

“Yeah, but action movies always make me hungry!”

“Why?”

Nora licked her lips and the shell of Jasper’s ear. “All the blood.”

Jasper gulped. He would have loved to be a sweet and doting boyfriend and gone to buy Nora as many overpriced candy bars as she wanted, but that was not an option.

Nora had very extreme dietary restrictions, so she did not eat overpriced candy bars or even regular candy bars, nor did she eat popcorn or any kind of grain, nor meat, nor tofu.

Nora was a vampire. And while the sight or smell of blood always got her ravenous—a detail that Jasper should have remembered when he recommended they go see the new Umpires of the Universe movie—Nora primarily subsisted on semen.

Specifically, Jasper’s semen.

It was an option for all vampires, but few took to it as gleefully as Nora. And Jasper couldn’t really complain, all things considered. Nora was funny and weird and pretty and someone he would have dated regardless.

So much so, in fact, that Jasper still couldn’t quite believe that she wanted to be with him. He’d made the offer many times that she didn’t have to date him to suck him dry. But she’d always just laughed it off. He could almost believe—almost—that she still would have dated him regardless of his own condition.

Jasper had a particularly extreme case of hyperspermia. And although Nora had indeed sucked him dry in the parking lot, although she had massaged his perineum in that way that always made him cum extra hard, although he would have said he was totally spent…

When Nora saw blood, she got hungry.

And when Nora got hungry, Jasper got horny.

And for a reason that Jasper still did not quite understand, the more and harder he came, the more and faster his body replenished. His refractory period was all of two minutes by this point, a fact that Nora happily abused on weekends.

So, just the tip of Nora’s tongue on his ear, just the hint that she was hungry, was enough to send Jasper’s cock throbbing to attention.

And Nora knew it, saw him hardening under his pants, and her soft laugh trailed down his spine.

“We can go to the bathroom,” Jasper whispered.

“No, I don’t want you to miss any of your movie. You’re so excited to see it! Just relax, you’ll hardly notice me.”

Jasper wanted to protest that he was going to be missing the movie either way, that there was not much else he could think about with her mouth around his cock, that this was the only movie theater in town that put real butter on their popcorn and he didn’t want to be banned forever, but she had already ducked down to kneel between his legs, and he was only going to be more conspicuous if he tried to lean down to protest.

And then her hands were on the front of his pants, massaging his throbbing cock through the fabric, and it was all he could do to not moan aloud.

It was not their first time having public sex, but it always made Jasper just as nervous. And the anxiety delayed his climax, which was great for Nora—he came extra hard and extra long—but nerve-wracking for Jasper.

Even if… deep down, maybe he liked how risky it felt.

He certainly loved how her mouth felt around him, and his whole body tensed as she unzipped his pants and enveloped him. This time there was no teasing, no foreplay—just straight to the back of her throat immediately. Nora really was hungry.

It was his own damn fault for bringing her to a bloody action movie. And he really had been excited—no wonder she hadn’t said anything. She’d probably resolved to tough it out, and then actually seeing the blood had been too much.

He could imagine the way her mouth had watered, how her resolve had slowly melted, how her hunger for that blood had so quickly become a hunger for his cock…

Jasper shuddered and exhaled sharply as Nora pulled him down all the way to the hilt. Her long tongue stroked between his balls, which already throbbed heavily.

The last trailer finished, and the theater went dark and silent. Nora chose that moment to bob her head over Jasper’s cock, and he held his breath lest he announce their activities to the entire theater.

Then the Umpires of the Universe theme song blared and Jasper let his ragged breath saw in and out of his chest. God, what if someone thought he was having an anxiety attack and came over to try and help him? Then he’d really panic.

But with Nora’s mouth around his cock, Jasper couldn’t maintain a train of thought longer than about two cars, and his concerns melted in the heat of her tongue behind his balls again.

Another thing about vampires.

They didn’t really need to breathe.

Jasper’s hips bucked reflexively, and the plastic leather creaked under him. Shit! He needed to hold it together.

Nora knew how to read the cue and picked up the pace. A hot, dizzy arousal overwhelmed Jasper, and the movie became nothing more than a series of flashing, blurred lights as his awareness narrowed in on the heat of her tongue working around him.

Nora sucked and stroked and bobbed in all the ways she knew Jasper liked, and his arousal built quickly. His balls ached and his prostate throbbed, every nerve awake and shouting ‘FUCK YES’ as if it had been three months since his last release, not thirty minutes.

His muscles tensed with pre-orgasmic pleasure, and the heat of his pre-cum oozed down his length. As soon as Nora tasted it, she swallowed around him. The squeeze was so rhythmic and tight that Jasper was convinced that vampires were more perfectly adapted for cum sucking than most of them wanted to admit.

And fuck, was Nora effective.

Jasper panted as quietly as he could. He couldn’t hold his breath anymore, couldn’t hold back, prayed that the loud music wouldn’t fade at an inopportune time. That familiar heat coalesced in his base, curled in and condensed like a dying star, and then went absolutely super-nova.

The thing about hyperspermia was that he while his individual bursts were certainly above average, the real volume came from the fact that he just kept cumming.

He had plenty of time to appreciate how each surge felt inside of his cock, running from base to tip—how each convulsion squeezed not only his balls but also his prostate and the surrounding glands—how Nora swallowed around him, so greedy for everything he had to give—the suction and squeeze on his cock, practically sucking the cum out of him—how he would feel to her, his hot seed pouring down the back of her throat—that they were here in a movie theater, so close to being caught, the thrill of it making his heart pound even faster. Every time Nora sucked him off like this, it was a 4D high-def surround-sound clIMAX.

And he especially loved the long trail at the end, when both he and Nora awed, every time, that somehow he was still cumming. He wanted to measure it sometime to see just what kind of volume he was up to, but Nora was never not hungry for him and he couldn’t deny her. Needless to say, it was a lot.

He’d had a few close calls where the arousal had nearly overcome him before Nora could get to him, but she’d always arrived just in the nick of time. Being able to get somewhere as the crow flies—or more accurately, as the bat flies—was great for beating traffic. It was also ideal for dropping through the window in the bathroom at Jasper’s work. Nora didn’t make a big deal of it and she gave him his space when he needed it, but she was never very far away. Jasper didn’t mind—he liked all the time they spent together. And the six to twelve orgasms a day weren’t bad either.

Nora gave him one last affectionate slurp and then tucked him back into his pants.

Jasper returned to his senses as Nora returned to her seat.

His balls were light, his arousal sated—though by the end of the movie, he’d be aching again.

And it was a good thing too, because as the next fight scene sent arcs of blood across the screen, Jasper knew that Nora would be ravenous.

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Faster Than Light

[WP][TT] At the last minute you were invited to help crew the worlds first FTL ship. They may have neglected to mention you’re the lewd, experimental fuel source from DirtyWritingPrompts

Mason Jones was over the moon. Literally! Over the moon! Further away from Earth than the moon!

He’d been on the waiting list for space travel for years. And being on that list owned your life whether you were selected or not. You had to eat perfectly, exercise perfectly, regular blood tests, twice yearly check-ups, it was a whole thing. Only those in tip-top shape were allowed to even stay on the list.

As Mason watched the earth become smaller and smaller behind them, he marveled that it had only turned around twice since he’d been notified that he’d been selected for the mission. And not just any mission. The mission of the century. The maiden voyage for faster than light travel.

It had all been a blur since then. Something about him meeting a certain physical qualification based on his most recent test results. Something else about his predecessor dropping out. Their loss!

And now, he was here, in space!

Soon the ship was millions of miles away from Earth, in empty space, and it was time to start preparing for faster than light travel. And to meet the rest of the crew. In all the rush, they’d hardly been introduced. There were six of them altogether; the pilot, the co-pilot, the navigator, the mechanic, the researcher, and then Mason.

“So, uh… I don’t think they quite told me in all the rush, but what’s my role here?” From what they’d listed, they seemed to have it covered.

The rest of the crew shifted uncomfortably, except for the researcher. She was a black woman, late twenties, round eyes, button nose, and like everyone else on the crew, in impeccable physical condition.

The pilot, a Scandinavian man with blond hair and nearly clear skin, blushed. “They didn’t tell you?!”

Mason tried not to let his growing concern show.

“Guess they didn’t want the same thing to happen as with Dutch,” said the mechanic, a thick woman with brown hair and blue eyes.

“You’d better tell him,” said the pilot, looking at the researcher.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” the researcher said. “FTL is theoretically possible with a careful warp of the space-time continuum. Recent research has indicated that human consciousness is more multi-dimensional than initially expected. Desire is inherent to the existence of life and thought to be species agnostic, so the theory goes that with sufficient desire, an FTL jump to another compatible concentration of desire is possible. This will cause the space-time fabrics to collapse, allowing instantaneous transport over light years.”

The pilot shook is head and put his hand to his forehead. “Tch, in English, Kendra?”

Kendra tilted her head. “That was an extremely simple explanation.”

The mechanic sighed. “What the good doctor here is trying to say is that FTL apparently runs on sexual torture.”

“Say what now?” Mason said.

“This is why your predecessor dropped out last minute,” the pilot explained.

Mason tented his fingertips in front of his chin. He caught eyes with the researcher. “I just have one question. Is it going to hurt?”

“Only if you want it to,” she replied.

A shiver tingled down Mason’s spine and his growing confusion was replaced with a growing boner. He was beginning to understand which ‘physical qualifications’ may have resulted in his invitation.

“Well, I will do whatever I must to make FTL possible. I didn’t measure my alcohol consumption down to the milliliter for the past five years to let a little bit of sexual torture stop me from making space history. Let’s get to it. For science.”

And for the predicament bondage and sexual torture fetish that he was now sure the government had scraped from his browsing history. 

The researcher had horrible bedside manner and that made the whole thing that much more thrilling.

Mason was taken to the center of the ship to a rig that comprised a body-shaped armature and a lot of bindings. He was sure that the space administration had spent millions of dollars engineering what was already available on the market as bondage furniture. 

The researcher had already explained to him everything that was going to happen, and he felt quite excited. He could also sense the eyes of the rest of the crew, grateful but curious, and perhaps slightly judgmental of his enthusiasm. And, shameless pervert that he was, that turned him on even more.

His flight suit could not hide his erection as the researcher finished preparing the machine. 

The researcher noticed. “It’s not that time, yet.”

“Yes, but a good service member is always prepared.”

“Hm.” She didn’t laugh, but she did seem amused. 

Finally, it was time to strip and strap in. Mason’s heart pumped hot blood throughout his whole body, but especially to his member. He shed his flight suit and underclothes and then the researcher secured him to the frame. 

She prepped a needle and an IV canister, and Mason looked away as she pierced his vein. This would be a mix of fluids, to ensure that he did not become too dehydrated, and a powerful aphrodisiac.

Even before the bag was empty, the drug started to hit Mason. It was an overwhelming surge of arousal and he strained reflexively against the bonds. He felt so hot, and so hard. And this wasn’t even the full effect.

Fuck, he needed to fuck something! His hips pressed against the bindings.

He focused on taking deep breaths to calm himself while the researcher finished her administration. He’d be able to go crazy with lust in just one more moment.

Once the IV canister was empty and the needle removed, she stepped around the front and swung another piece of the armature into place. It supported a cylinder aligned with Mason’s cock, and it looked quite similar to a masturbation sleeve he’d owned once.

As with the armature, he was sure that the space administration had spent millions — billions even — creating something that had been available to kinky consumers for decades.

But such thoughts vaporized from his mind the moment the cylinder slid over his over-sensitive cock. It was soft, textured and lubricated inside.

He moaned shamelessly at the sudden rush of pleasure.

The researcher moved back to the outside of the room. A series of concentric rings around Mason started spinning, though his part remained still. The researcher had explained something about the rings magnifying the effect and grasping the space time fabric, whatever that meant.

All he could think about was his body pounding his heat, quivering in an attempt to fuck the cylinder but held tight by his bindings.

Then the rings whirred to life and so did the cylinder. It squeezed around him, something near his frenulum vibrated, and he was totally overwhelmed with pleasure.

With the effects of the aphrodisiac, it was not long before he was moaning and panting on the edge.

But he knew, with profound and painful pleasure, that he was going to be on that edge for a very, very long time. This, the researcher had also explained. The space time fabric had to be given enough time to ripple.

He would orgasm when the ship made the FTL jump, and not a moment before. The armature was monitoring all his vitals, controlling the vibrations and the pressure in the cylinder, and it completely controlled his ability to climax.

The edge, the denial, the desperation aroused him even further and deepened his predicament.

After a few minutes at the torturous edge, Mason clawed his way back to thinking actual thoughts to give himself a bit of a respite. He found the researcher, watching him, and grinned wryly. “So, uh, who’d you test this out on before?”

“An adequate sample size.”

“Ohhh, so you’ve had quite a few blokes through your frame.”

“You’ll have a bullet through your head as soon as we’re back to earth if you make inappropriate remarks to me.”

“Right! S-sorry, just… not quite thinking… straight…”

“Please do surrender yourself to insatiable desire.”

Mason shivered violently. “T-minus… ngh… two or three edges and we’ll be there…”

“Would some visual stimulus assist your descent into sex-crazed madness?” Her tone was deadpan. But Mason would have sworn she was fucking with him on purpose… or maybe it was just him projecting.

“I, uh, daresay it might.” What kind of hilarious science porn might she have?

But then the researcher moved into the center of Mason’s field of view and unzipped her flight suit.

Mason gulped, arousal flaring hotter.

She grinned at him, letting him simmer in that anticipation. Okay, she was *definitely* also getting off on this.

Then, she reached down and grabbed the hem of her undershirt, starting to pull it up.

Mason quivered, every nerve alight with desire.

“For science,” she said, and pulled the shirt the rest of the way over her breasts.

Mason’s heart pounded, his breathing came in rapid gasps, the heat of the edge tickled at his base, the rings around him whirred with energy, but there was no release. No relief.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” she teased.

Mason’s dick screamed ‘yes!’ but a quiet and steady part of him said, “O-only if you want me to…”

“What if I want you to be here, trapped, quivering on the edge until your brain melts into insanity?”

Mason’s hips thrust involuntarily against the bindings, every hair on his body stood on end, the rings whirred louder. His balls tensed, but he didn’t come.

“What if I don’t want FTL to work,” she said, slipping a hand down into her panties, “And I haven’t turned off the safety, and so I will do this to you over and over again until you’re physically incapable of arousal, and we’ll have to turn around and head back to earth?”

“Fuck!” The rings were whirring so fast that they became a blur, a transparent curtain between Mason and the researcher.

And then something shifted. Mason moaned with a deep pleasure. He felt his sense of self expand, he was aware of something outside the ship, something very very far away, and yet also right in the center of him.

Something was coming together. Something very, very important was coming together.

“I f-feel something…” he said.

“Give into it,” the researcher said, eagerly. “Let it call to you.”

“It’s calling… oh fuck, it’s calling… oh god…”

The researcher grinned, eyes wild with anticipation. “God can’t help us where we’re going!”

The pleasure of the edge was expanding through his body, but slowly, very slowly. As if it was carrying something with it. Like a piece of the space time continuum and the ship of six space goers trying to bust through it.

“I’m so close… it’s so close… oh fuck it feels good… I need it…”

“Yes!”

“I want it…”

“Yes!”

And this his breathing became deeper, faster. His body quivered. His cock throbbed with pleasure, his whole being buzzing with heat and anticipation. “I’m… I’m coming… oh fuck… I’m coming… I’m coming!”

The researcher slammed her fist on the intercom button. “We’re going!”

“Fuck, yes!”

As the ship broke into the impossible space between space, Mason released his first thick spurt of cum into the cylinder. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through him, squeezing more cum out of him, as the ship passed through fields of strange energy and hurtled through space.

Then, finally, Mason relaxed and the ship came to a stop.

In a completely different system, on the other side of the galaxy.

They’d done it!

But Mason was too exhausted to celebrate. 

The researcher came over and hooked up another IV canister for him, this time without aphrodisiac. “You did great,” she said. “Do you think you can do it again?”

As he let sleep overtake him, he murmured, “To infinity and beyond…”

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The Horny Sorority Ghost (Part III)

Continued from Part II

It was Halloween and a Wednesday, so the big party wasn’t until Friday, but that didn’t mean the girls couldn’t still have some holiday fun.

They lounged on the couches in the basement and watched spooky movies and munched on candy corn and giggled whenever something startled them, which was often.

In between movies, Chelsea went and grabbed a box from the closet. “I’ve got a surprise for everyone…”

The girls leaned in.

“Since Amber seems to believe this house is haunted—”

“You said it first!” Amber insisted.

Chelsea ignored her. “I thought it would be fun to break out the old ouija board and get a real answer once and for all.” Chelsea opened the box and placed the board on the ground between them.

The girls leaned in closer. 

Chelsea said, “Jess, Amber, help me out here.” The two girls giggled nervously, but obliged. They each put their fingers on the planchette and waited. 

“What should we ask first?” Chelsea said. 

Eddie felt an inexplicable draw to the board and reasoned that it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun. Before any of the girls could answer, she looped an invisible finger through the hole in the planchette and pulled it over the printed word ‘hello’.

All eyes widened and the girls looked at each other, then giggled. 

Amber said, “Hello! Ummm… My name is Amber. What’s yours.”

Eddie spelled out, E, D, D, I, E.

“Eddie? A boy?”

Eddie quickly pulled the planchette to ‘no’. Then E, D, I, T, H.

Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “A grandma ghost?” 

Chelsea, Amber, and Jess each smirked and looked at each other knowingly, sure that one of the other two girls was steering the planchette. 

Eddie pulled the planchette to ‘no’ again. 

“Have you been dead a long time?” Chelsea asked.

‘Yes’.

“How old are you?”

1, 5, 0.

“What about when you died?”

2, 0.

Chelsea grinned. “Well I daresay that makes her an honorary member of the sorority, wouldn’t you?”

Borrowing from her peeks at the girls’ phones, Eddie spelled T, Y. 

“So,” Amber said, “Oh friendly sorority spirit. What do you want, haunting this house?”

Eddie had already answered before she thought she maybe should be more subtle. C, U, M.

The girls burst into giggles.

“Chelsea!” Amber said.

“What?! We all know it’s you!”

“Nuh uh!”

The argument devolved into tickling and shoving and the board lay forgotten in the middle of them.

Finally, they settled back in, Amber wiping tears of laugher from her eyes. “Oh man, a horny sorority ghost, that’s something.”

Eddie, forgetting a moment how the board was supposed to work, moved the planchette to ‘yes’ even though none of them were touching it. 

All eyes were wide. Nobody giggled, that time.

Chelsea blinked. “Did anyone else just see that?”

All the others nodded. 

“Jess? Amber? Swear on your life, were you steering that earlier?” 

They both swore. Chelsea did too.

One of the other girls said, “Do you really think…”

“I saw a ghost, once,” said another. 

“My aunt swears they’re real,” said another. 

“W-what do we do?”

“Well,” Chelsea said, either now comfortable with the idea or mustering her courage for the benefit of the other girls, “If it’s cum she wants, then I daresay Friday’s party will satisfy.”

Eddie couldn’t quite remember what parties had been like during her first life, but she was sure that this was very, very different.

Loud music came out of a metal and plastic box. Alcohol was distributed in flimsy red cups and the dancing was not organized at all. The costumes were all sorts of things, most of which Eddie did not recognize. The ones that she could identify were a pharaoh queen, a dog, and a mouse. 

The rest represented decades of celebrities and entertainment characters, a world that Eddie was just beginning to discover with her stolen peeks at the girls’ phones and laptops and movie nights.

The sexual energy of the party was incredible. The air was alive with energy and sweat and desire, and as alcohol flowed, libidos rose.

Eddie followed her instincts to the current hot spot of arousal, which was Amber and a jock chatting at the base of the stairs. Eddie deduced that this must be Amber’s boyfriend.

“The house is haunted,” Amber said, straining to speak over the music.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We had a seance on Halloween. She’s a sorority ghost. Wants cum, apparently.”

The jock’s arousal flared higher. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah so… I thought we might… go upstairs for a bit. Keep the ghost happy.”

The jock grinned. “That’s the weirdest proposition I’ve ever heard, but don’t have to ask me twice.”

Amber grabbed his hand and pulled him up to her room. Eddie eagerly followed. Eddie did not know how she knew it, other than that a new instinct in her had been awakened, but what Amber was doing made this an offering, and offerings were so much more potent than scavengings.

The jock was fully hard by the time Amber shut her door behind them and Eddie floated invisibly through.

Amber pushed him onto the bed and he wiggled out of his pants and she kneeled between his legs and greedily took his member into her mouth.

Eddie superimposed herself over Amber, occupying the same space.

Amber she moaned into the jock’s shaft, probably attributing the rush of tingling heat to the alcohol or arousal as opposed to Eddie’s otherworldly influence.

The electric sensation of Eddie’s lips around his shaft built the jock’s arousal very quickly.

“F-fuck! You’re so good at this… I swear I usually last way longer… fuck, I’m coming!”

Amber moaned happily with his tip on the back of her tongue. Eddie, unrestricted by physics, pulled her lips to his base.

His eyes rolled back as he shook through his climax. Eddie let a little bit of it through for Amber so that she wouldn’t get too suspicious, but she greedily swallowed the rest of it herself.

The jock started to recover and picked his head up again, and he looked through Eddie for a moment.

Eddie quickly ducked into the bed.

“Fuck…” he said. “You made me come so hard I’m seeing double…”

Eddie cursed to herself. She was already having trouble staying invisible! It wasn’t her fault, there was just so much energy! And she could feel more of it, in the house below. Welling. Growing. Begging for her to take it.

Amber clambered up and sat on the jock’s face and Eddie was momentarily distracted by making sure that Amber squirted harder than she ever had before.

After that, Eddie found it difficult to shift through the ceiling and into the attic. As she passed through the floor, dust stirred around her. 

Curious, she focused for a moment and her hand became more visible. Then, reached out for a piece of paper that the mold guy had left behind. She was able to easily lift it.

A plan came together in her mind.

Eddie stood in the middle of the party, a sheet draped over her and brushing the floor. It was late enough in the night that the least inebriated partygoers were sloppy drunk, and so Eddie wasn’t facing much direct scrutiny anyway.

She floated over and found a boy who was looking especially drunk. She tried to say something like Amber had, but he wasn’t really following. Finally, she decided to just be direct. “I want to give you a blow job in the bathroom.”

That got his attention and he jumped up, eagerly following her.

She closed and locked the door behind them, marveling that she could. “I have one rule,” she said. “Lights off.” She flicked the switch, and the little bathroom went dark.

He would be blind, but she could easily see him shrug his shoulders. “Works for me.”

Eddie shrugged off the sheet as he unzipped his pants, his erection ready and waiting.

Without further ado, Eddie enveloped him in her mouth.

“Oh fuck… what are you… that feels… wow…”

Eddie could tell that she was manifesting more physically than she ever had since she’d died. While she would not quite feel like a living mouth and throat, she would certainly feel like more than just a hot tingle.

However she felt to him, it seemed to be working. Within a couple of minutes, his breath was fast and shallow. “Fuck, oh fuck, I’m gonna!”

He absolutely emptied himself down Eddie’s throat, and she greedily drank him down.

The rush of intoxicating power left Eddie feeling not sated, but even more ravenous than before. She quickly whisked the sheet back over herself and stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the boy struggling to zip his pants.

She invited a girl to the closet and then a boy upstairs, becoming more and more solid with every infusion of energy. And the stronger she became, the more she pulled out of each subsequent donor. It seemed to be pleasant for them, just leaving them sated and ready to sleep for the night.

After a second boy in the bathroom, Eddie was quivering with so much arousal that she tried to float back up to the attic, but found that in her current state, she could no longer pass through walls.

Then, she noticed Chelsea drunkenly attempting to assemble jello shots, and she got an idea. When Chelsea was looking the other way she grabbed a tray of shot glasses and ducked out through the back door of the house — actually opening the door, imagine that! — and into the autumn chill.

Eddie finally let the arousal explode out of her in wave after wave of pleasure, and when she was done, the shot glasses were full of viscous ectoplasm. The tray was fairly well covered, too, but Eddie guessed nobody would particularly notice.

She stepped back into the house, marveling again at the fact that she had to actually open and shut the door, and set the tray on the counter.

Chelsea had gotten distracted before even managing to open the jello packets, and she was drunk enough that she didn’t think anything of it when the guests cheered that the shots were ready and tucked in.

Eddie had been optimistic, but even she had not been prepared for just how quickly the party devolved into an outright orgy.

And it was incredible. Everywhere she turned there was a climax to devour, cum to guzzle. The men, normally so easily spent, kept it up and each came three, four, five times. The girls, not subject to such limitations, came many more times than that.

They muttered about ‘who spiked the punch’ and ‘good drugs’ and ‘must be dreaming’ and they came and came and came and seemed to have a grand old time.

Eddie could not help herself and she quivered under the sheet, oozing ectoplasm all over the place, hoping it would blend into the already sticky mess of spilled beer and liquor.

But despite the mess, not a single drop of cum made it to the floor. Eddie was certain of that.

It did not take long for the news of the incredibly sexy party to spread. Amber and Chelsea were now certain that the house was haunted and eagerly planned a follow-up party.

But that was still a week off and Eddie was hungry.

She had gained a new power from all that new energy. Now, she could sense dreams.

It was late morning and Eddie drifted over to where Jess lay, sleeping in and dreaming of missing class. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Eddie settled next to Jess and as the dream became more clear to Eddie, she nudged it just a little in a sexier direction.

Okay, maybe she shoved it aggressively in a much sexier direction.

Jess was now in class, sitting towards the back, and the boy that she liked from her chemistry class had his head buried between her legs under the desk. “Fuck, Jess! You taste so good!”

Jess hushed him but then she whimpered with pleasure. His tongue felt so good in her. It felt so good that she was going to come in class! In front of everyone! She didn’t care! God, she was going to come so hard!

And Jess did, both in her dream and in reality. Eddie drank it in, the flavor sweet and urgent.

Downstairs, Amber got a text from her boyfriend that piqued her arousal. Eddie drifted down and magnified that until Amber couldn’t help but rub one out in the bathroom before she left, even though she was already late for class.

That night, Eddie made the rounds and was quite delighted that Amber’s boyfriend had decided to spend the night. The next morning, Amber would find that for once, he wasn’t much interested in morning sex. It may have had something to do with the fact that Eddie had drained him six times over the night.

It wasn’t her fault that she’d taken so much — he kept having sexy dreams! She couldn’t help but join.

And so it went, the pleasure of the residents keeping the edge off of Eddie’s hunger as they waited for the next party. Even so, as the first partygoers stepped through the door, Eddie was ravenous.

This party went much like the first, except there were twice as many people. Eddie was in better control of her power, now, able to stay invisible and move around as she pleased.

And oh, how she pleased.

At first, she sampled from the lovers that scurried up the stairs or ducked into the bathroom. Then, she tempted whoever she could to a private area and then overwhelmed them with arousal until they couldn’t help but masturbate. 

She discovered something new when she went to tempt a boy who was fantasizing in the corner and he came right there and then, Eddie just barely managing to capture his cum before it went into his jeans instead of her mouth.

She could devour their energy even when they had their clothes on. She drifted around the party, making two boys climax as they kissed each other, pulling a girl through orgasm as she danced, descending upon the couch-locked stoners and sending them quivering with pleasure.

The more she consumed the more she radiated pure sexual energy into the air around her, the more aroused the partygoers were, the more there was for her to take.

Eddie became certain, as she drained the entire party dry, that she had well and truly become a succubus.

And thus began what Eddie called her third life.

The girls of the sorority usually insisted that their boyfriends stay over with them instead of the other way around, because the sex was always better in the house. They didn’t even mind that they could usually hear each other. In fact, they found it turned them on. Eddie made sure of it. 

And there were no nightmares — Eddie saw to that. The girls slept better and woke up feeling more refreshed than they ever had before. They even passed the whole winter season without anybody catching a cold.

The sorority threw a party every weekend. Eddie glutted herself on the passions of youth. She fancied herself guardian angel and eternal honorary member of the sorority. It was nice to be part of something, again.

Years passed and as each set of seniors graduated, they passed on the secret to the next:

The house was haunted by a friendly ghost named ‘Eddie’, short for Edith.

You might hear her moaning in the attic, but don’t worry, she’s just masturbating.

If you find something sticky and viscous, try a little taste. You’ll have a good time.

Eddie wants one thing and one thing only — cum. 

Girl cum, boy cum, nonbinary cum, any kind will do. So give the good ol’ girl what she wants, alright?

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The Horny Sorority Ghost (Part II)

Continued from Part I

Eddie whizzed over the back wall of the house’s property to the basement of a neighboring building. She couldn’t remember ever moving so fast, or it ever being so easy for her to pass over the threshold. Usually, it cost a ghost a bit of energy to leave their haunt. Now, apparently she had energy to spare.

The ghost that haunted the basement was a cranky old poltergeist who Eddie called ‘Mister’ because he had forgotten his name. Mister had been haunting the area since long before the building had been constructed. As best as Eddie could tell from Mister’s fragmented rambling, Mister had fallen down a well nearly a thousand years ago and had moved as little as possible since then.

Eddie spiraled down through the cool stones and into the basement, startling Mister from his favorite hobby of staring at the walls and waiting for time to pass.

She said, “You will not believe what just happened to me!”

Mister grumbled. “Well, hello to you too, Edith.”

“I go by Eddie, now.”

“Like a little current that curls back on itself, causing a lot of fuss and never going anywhere? Fitting.”

“No! Like— well, whatever. I need you to tell me if you know of anything like this.” Eddie recounted her night’s experience.

Mister looked bored the entire time. As Eddie finished, Mister said nothing.

“Well?” she asked.

Mister scowled. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“No, I mean— what do you have to say?!”

“Hm. You’re done?”

“Yes!” Eddie was desperate for information. And getting any specific kind of information from Mister was always pulling teeth. 

“I thought you were going to tell me something I wouldn’t believe. Instead, you’ve just explained the basics of energy transfer.”

“The what of what now?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Obviously not! Mister, everything I know about being a ghost I learned from you. How could I know anything about it if you haven’t told me about it before?”

“Well, that’s a good point.”

Eddie groaned. Just because Mister was very old and knew a lot did not mean he was wise. “Can you please explain to me what this energy transfer is?”

Mister explained that when ghosts were first formed, they all started off basically the same. But then based off of what they did, how they interacted with the living world, they would accumulate certain energies. A ghost with no energy left at all would fade from existence. A ghost that collected enough of a certain type of energy would manifest. Succubi and incubi, vampires, poltergeists, many kinds of demons, sprites and spirits, all started off as ghosts.

As Mister finished his explanation, he remarked, “I’d wondered why you were taking so long deciding what kind of ghost you wanted to become.”

Eddie sputtered, her curiosity fighting with her annoyance. She calmed herself as best she could. “Mister, let me get one thing clear. You waited… one hundred and fifty years… to tell me not only that I could die again but also that there are different kinds of ghosts?”

Mister shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that. I thought you knew.”

Eddie sighed and put her head in her hands. If she pressed Mister further, he might not tell her anything else. Better to stick with curiosity and then go yell her frustration into the night later.

“Okay so… what just happened tonight… what kind of ghost energy is that?”

Mister quirked an eyebrow at her, as if impressed by how dumb the question was. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, for I am very dumb and require your great teaching,” Eddie said, deadpan.

Mister smirked. “Succubus.”

His smirk turned a bit lecherous and Eddie was eager to change the subject. “So how did you become a poltergeist?”

“Annoy enough people and you get better at throwing objects around. Which makes it easier to cause more annoyance, and so on. Everybody hates coming down to this basement, nothing’s ever where they remember putting it. It’s delightful.”

Eddie did not think that sounded delightful at all, but she could understand the mechanism. 

“And vampires?”

“Usually start when the ghost is exposed to human blood by some other mechanism, like a nearby murder. If they develop a taste for it, they might try and cause a knife accident for another taste. Blood ghosts love the avocado trend, let me tell you. Eventually, if they get enough blood, they grow fangs and then eventually develop a fully physical form.”

Mister continued his lecture, happy to hear the sound of his own voice. Overall, Eddie found the mechanics pretty intuitive. A ghost defending a certain tree for long enough might become a nymph. Saving drowning folks might make them a river spirit. Leading hikers into danger might make them a will’o’the wisp.

And, as Eddie had just learned herself, cum made a succubus.

As Mister tried to circle back around to that with his weird smirk again, Eddie thanked him for his help and whizzed back up from the basement. She returned to her attic, floating back and forth as she pondered.

Was becoming a succubus what she wanted? Did she even really have a choice? Eddie tried to remember her first life, as if that might have some clue, but it was little more to her now than a date she counted from to see how long she’d been a ghost.

She considered the other types of ghosts. Becoming a nymph or a sprite sounded nice, but she didn’t really want to leave her house and go searching for trees or streams. That seemed dangerous, too likely to result in her running out of energy and fading out of existence. 

Becoming a vampire seemed too violent, becoming a poltergeist too mean.

It was hard to think about what she wanted to become, but it was easier to think about what she wanted to do.

She didn’t want to take anybody’s blood, or make anybody frightened or annoyed, or live out in the wilderness. What she actually wanted, she realized as soon as she let herself ask the question, was to drink all the cum in the world.

The thought made her vibrate with eager energy.

And so Eddie decided. She would become a succubus.

Over the next week, as Eddie became bolder and participated in more and more of the house’s orgasms, she became more powerful. And as she became more powerful, it became harder and harder to hide herself.

One girl caught a glimpse over her shoulder. Another caught Eddie over her and decided she must be dreaming. A boyfriend was sure he heard another voice in the room. Chelsea heard moaning in the attic when she was sure nobody else was home.

Eddie tried to behave but she simply couldn’t help herself. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be hungry, but she was sure this was it. The need gnawed at her, hollowing her out from the inside until it drove her to whisk through the house, whispering and touching and trying to goad someone into masturbating.

She could smell arousal she could not help but move towards any sound of pleasure.

Chelsea and Amber, a brunette, discussed the situation over a breakfast of toaster pastries one morning.

“You really think it’s haunted?” Amber said.

“No, of course not,” Chelsea said. “But I do think we need to check out the attic. Somebody’s probably sneaking in, and we don’t have a lock on the attic door. If it’s one of the girls, I honestly don’t give a shit, go fuck in the attic if you think it’s hot, right? But like, if it’s randos? That’s not gonna fly.”

“And the reason you haven’t already checked it out is…” Amber grinned mischievously.

“Because it might not be safe—” Chelsea started.

“Because you think it’s haunted,” Amber spoke over her.

Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“I’ll come with you though,” Amber said. “I’d honestly much rather it be haunted than have somebody sneaking in, that’s creepy as fuck.”

“Right? If anything looks out of place, we’ll just call in to get a lock on it or something.”

What they found in the attic was quite a few things out-of-place, but not in the way they expected.

Chelsea edged forward carefully with her flashlight, cautiously poking some fresh ectoplasm with the tip of her sneaker. “What the fuck is this stuff?”

Amber wrinkled her nose, still standing on the ladder, only half of her body in the attic. “Some kind of slime mold? Gross.”

“I guess if anyone were breaking in, we’d see footprints in this stuff… but ew.”

Amber frowned. “So wouldn’t we also see if someone had been coming up here to fuck?”

Chelsea’s brow furrowed. “Yeah…” She stepped carefully around the ectoplasm, surveying the border of the attic. There were no windows, no ways in or out, no loose boards.

Eddie watched them from a shadow, quickly zipping out of the way of Chelsea’s flashlight beam. 

Previously, Eddie couldn’t have been visible at all without quite a bit of focus. Now, it was the opposite — she was only fully invisible when she was trying to be. And it was getting more and more difficult.

As Amber and Chelsea assured themselves that nobody could get in or out of the attic, they did not seem to become more comfortable.

Amber chuckled wryly. “Y’know, if I believed in ghosts… I’d say this stuff looks like ectoplasm…”

Chelsea snorted. “And if I believed in ghosts, I’d say one was creaming itself up here on the reg.”

They caught each others’ eyes and didn’t laugh.

“But I’m sure it’s just slime mold,” Amber said.

“And I’m sure it’s just a trick of the wind or the vents or something,” Chelsea said.

And then, despite the heat, both girls shivered and they left the attic as quickly as possible, slamming the trapdoor shut behind them.

Eddie flickered back into visibility in the corner. That had been close. Very close.

The mold guy came and said it wasn’t mold, but he didn’t know what it was, so he recommended they run a fan to air out the attic and to keep an eye on it.

Chelsea and Amber did so, hauling up one of the cheap oscillating fans that they’d bought for every room after being unable to figure out why it was so hot all the time.

Eddie had no idea what was going to happen, but she was very curious. She hadn’t made ectoplasm before the sorority had moved in, and she suspected it was somehow part of her gradual transformation into a succubus. She had no interest in asking Mister about this part, so all she could do was watch and find out.

The ectoplasm did dry fairly quickly, so where it wasn’t fresh, it just appeared as part of the dust that was otherwise expected in an old house like this one.

As Amber plugged in the fan, the cord just barely stretching from an outlet in the hallway to the edge of the attic floor, that dust billowed up in a massive cloud.

“Gross!” Chelsea spat, covering her face with her shirt and scurrying down the ladder.

Amber winced and dashed over to the window in the hallway, opening it. She pulled her shirt over her face too as the dust flowed down into the hallway.

The two girls grimaced and jogged down the stairs, only uncovering their faces once they were in the kitchen.

“Bleck,” Amber said. “Next time, we’re making maintenance do that part.”

“No kidding, I got a whole face full!” Chelsea frowned. “The grossest part is, it tasted sweet, like when you’re making a protein shake and you inhale some of that erythritol stuff? Ugh, it probably is some kind of weird mold.”

“If you get sick, my dad will help sue,” Amber said. 

“Appreciate it.”

“Let’s wait outside,” Amber said. “Later, we can get one of the freshmen to vacuum and put it all back together.”

“Seems fair enough to me,” Chelsea said.

But, as she and Amber reached the back door of the house, Chelsea hesitated.

Amber had no idea why, but Eddie did. Chelsea was, very abruptly, feeling incredibly aroused.

“I’ll meet you in a sec,” Chelsea said, “Gotta use the ladies room.”

“Sure.” Amber stepped outside. 

Chelsea ducked into the bathroom and before the door was even latched, her hand was down her pants. 

She propped her other hand against the door frame and leaned heavily against it, barely managing to stay standing.

Her arousal was building quickly. Eddie’s ectoplasm had this kind of effect? Even just the dust of it?

Eddie could not possibly stay invisible with this much energy vibrating through her, but Chelsea’s eyes were squeezed shut so it was as safe as it would ever be.

Chelsea fought to contain a scream of ecstasy as Eddie slipped her fingers inside. Chelsea squirted as she climaxed, once, twice, a third time.

Eddie soaked it all in, dizzy with power, certain that she was clearly visible but having a hard time forcing herself to care about it.

As Chelsea’s hand finally slowed and she sighed into the door frame, Eddie dropped into the basement with not a moment to spare before Chelsea’s eyes flicked open.

Even on the other side of the floor, Eddie was now in a similar predicament to the one she had caused Chelsea to be in.

The basement had been turned into a proper living space in the renovation, and the sorority had added a ring of couches, tables for pool and ping-pong, and a kegerator.

The room was fully open except for a row of closets on the back wall that were stuffed with holiday decorations and party supplies, and there was no bathroom.

Eddie was wary to float back upstairs, visible as she was, but she was also wary to release herself here, where the ectoplasm would be obvious.

And her capacity for problem solving was greatly limited by the intoxicating arousal.

The best that she could do was slither under one of the couches, just in the nick of time. She quivered in the shadows, unable to keep from moaning, a puddle of ectoplasm expanding underneath her.

Then there was the flick of the light switch and the basement was bathed in light.

Footsteps down the stairs. Amber’s feet, hesitating on the last step. “Jess, is that you?”

Amber leaned back and forth, trying to survey the whole room without stepping onto the floor. “I promise I won’t judge you for rubbing one out, we’ve all been there…”

Eddie remained silent.

Amber bounced on the balls of her feet. “Fuck, maybe this place is haunted…” She jumped up the stairs two at a time.

Continued in Part III

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The Horny Sorority Ghost (Part I)

[WP] Haunting a large abandoned house for the last 150 years has been pretty boring. But, it seems the local college just bought your building on the cheap and intends to turn it into a sorority.. from DirtyWritingPrompts

Content Warning: This story is playful and light. However, I wanted to provide a heads-up that our horny sorority ghost does not ask permission before instigating her sexual mischief or peeping on the house’s residents.

All characters are depicted as 18 and older and all human/human interactions are enthusiastically consensual.

Edith had been haunting the same Tudor-style mansion for the past 150 years. Though, she had been going by ‘Eddie’ lately, after the new ghost across the street had told her that ‘Edith’ was an old lady name.

Edith had asked, “How can it be an old lady name if I’m twenty?”

“How long have you been twenty?”

Edith had frowned. 

The other ghost just smirked. “I’ll call you Eddie instead. Chicks with guy nicknames are hot.”

Eddie didn’t like them, but she did like the new name. She even just liked that it was something different, something new. 

The house had been abandoned for the past fifty years, even as a lively urban center had sprung up around it. Prospective buyers complained on the front stoop. The owner was a hold-out, paying the property taxes with family money while they waited for the market to boom.

It seemed like it finally had, and before the real estate agent could even put the sign in the front, the house was sold.

Eddie had watched with immense curiosity as the contractors had come to renovate her house. It got new floors, replacement windows, shiny appliances and a fresh coat of paint.

Eddie worried a bit that she might be somehow exorcised by the changes. Only when the new residents came through the front door would she believe that it wasn’t too good to be true.

Or so she thought. Because when the gaggle of sorority girls rolled up to the house with their crop tops and leopard print suitcases, Eddie couldn’t believe it at all. It was WAY too good to be true.

It was a myth that ghosts were always cold. They could be warm, too. And Eddie was feeling very, very hot.

A blond girl stepped further in, Eddie just managing to dart out of her way. She was completely invisible, but humans still noticed when they passed through a ghost.

“It’s like a sauna in here!” the blond complained. “Come help me get the windows open!”

As the sorority girls unpacked, the heat got to them and they were soon sweating. And then that got to Eddie, and the house grew hotter. And then the girls stripped off their crop tops and their jean shorts and unpacked in bras and underwear. Eddie was loathe to leave, but she whisked back up to the attic lest she give any of them heat stroke. 

She must be dreaming. Except ghosts didn’t dream. So either she was finally becoming one of those crazy ghosts, or it was really happening.

It was really happening.

And then it all got so much better as the girls settled in. There were naked in the shower and then in sports bras and panties, they were giggling with each other and then heading to bed, they were watching porn and masturbating and complaining that the whole house was so very, very hot.

“Maybe it means the heating bill won’t be so bad in the winter,” the blond, whose name was Chelsea, had offered at breakfast.

Eddie felt a bit bad, but she couldn’t help but watch. And she meant that. She had tried to not to! But in 150 years she’d forgotten whatever manners she’d ever had, and it was all so new and delightful, and if they didn’t know, it couldn’t hurt them, right?

But she still wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. She could not possibly stay this hot and bothered forever. Or even for one more day, really. 

The girls heard moaning from the attic as Eddie relearned how to masturbate. As a ghost, the trick seemed to be just fantasizing until she felt overwhelmingly aroused, and then her whole manifestation quivered with energy and pleasure, and then she finally felt a deep and profound release, and when she was finished she found not a small amount of ectoplasm around her.

The next morning, the girls rejoiced that the house had finally cooled off. They talked about the moaning in little clusters, and Eddie was relieved to find that they each blamed a girl in a different cluster, leaving nobody suspecting an otherworldly presence. 

A month later, the first boy entered the sorority house. He climbed up the outer trellis to Chelsea’s room, more to show off that he could than for any real fear of judgement from the rest of the sorority.

Eddie smelled him before he was even inside and drifted into the upper corner of Chelsea’s bedroom to watch.

He was broad and muscular and soon dripping with sweat.

He grunted as he stripped. “You should get a window AC.”

“But then you couldn’t climb in through my window.”

“Oh. Good point.”

Chelsea stripped off her clothes and stood before him, glimmering with sweat, and he had no more complaints.

He fondled her breasts and then sucked on her nipples. She stroked his shaft and then kissed him hard.

It was not long before he was fucking her doggy style, moaning softly with each thrust.

Chelsea gasped with pleasure, her fingers circling over her clit. “Y-yes, that’s my spot!”

His grunting deepened.

“Wait! You have a condom, right?”

Eddie saw the look of confusion on his face and the unopened condom on the nightstand.

“Y-yeah,” he grunted, “of course.”

If he’d been lying instead of dumb, Chelsea probably would have kicked him out. But as it were, she returned to her clit. It didn’t seem like he was going to last long enough for her to come, and Eddie didn’t appreciate that either.

Eddie had to do something. And much to her surprise, her body, incorporeal as it was, knew exactly what to do.

She drifted into the bed, her head passing through Chelsea’s body as she aligned her mouth over the boy’s shaft.

How it felt to have a ghost pass through you varied, and based on Chelsea’s gasp and shamelessly loud moan, the feeling was pleasant for her.

“I d-don’t know what you’re doing,” Chelsea said, “but whatever it is, don’t stop! I’m c-coming!”

Chelsea’s orgasm and the tingle of a ghostly presence around his shaft sent the boy over the edge. With a grunt, he thrust into Chelsea one more time and then came.

His cum puddled on Eddie’s tongue, contained in her ghostly mouth. 

As the boy withdrew, Eddie followed. Chelsea shivered with pleasure as Eddie made sure all of the cum stayed on her tongue.

Once she was floating in the air between them, Eddie swallowed.

A surge of arousal and power quivered through her and if it had not surprised her so much, she herself would have come right there, squirting ectoplasm everywhere.

And then Eddie saw that the boy saw her. Eddie looked down — the surge of energy had left her ever so slightly visible. She quickly vanished again.

He blinked and shook his head.

“That was incredible,” Chelsea said, rolling over. “What did you…” And then she saw his naked dick. His empty hands. “Where’s the condom?”

“Oh! Uhhh…” he looked dumbly at himself, but glanced back to where he’d seen Eddie.

Chelsea’s expression turned to anger as she saw the unopened condom on the night stand and shook it at him. “Rick, seriously? You asshole!”

“Shit, I really thought I’d put it on!”

Chelsea put her head in her hand and shook her head. “Oh my god, you are such an idiot. Lucky for you I’m on the pill or else you would not be leaving here with your dick intact.”

“C’mon, babe, it’s not that big of a deal…”

Chelsea frowned, stood, and crossed her arms. Even naked as she was, the posture was intimidating and her voice cold as ice. “Get the fuck out of my room, you prick.”

“So uh, Thursday…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, dude. We are never hooking up again.” 

Now he was starting to get angry. “W-well if you think I wanna hook up with you after you’ve been such a bitch…”

Eddie decided to have a little fun. She drifted around behind Chelsea, matched her posture, and then allowed herself to become visible again for just a moment.

His eyes went wide. 

Chelsea glanced over her shoulder, but saw nothing. 

“T-this place is fucking haunted!”

Chelsea snorted. “Are you high?”

“I’m gonna tell everyone this place is fucking haunted!”

“Go ahead, free advertising for our Halloween party.”

He scrambled down the trellis, fell the last five feet, then scurried off into the night. 

Chelsea rolled her eyes and flopped back into her bed. She pulled out her phone and Eddie drifted over her shoulder to peek. Eddie still marveled at the magical little tablets. She remembered her first life in only bits and pieces, but she had a feeling that the printing press had just barely been new when she was alive. 

Chelsea typed, Figures that when the guy’s a piece of shit, the sex is amazing…

The reply from Amber bubbled up, Sry babe, u deserve better. What happened?

He ‘forgot’ the condom

WTF!

ikr

did u kick his ass?

haha yeah, he’s not coming back

rip ur sexy times

ikr, though telling him off kinda turned me on, ngl…

The reply was just the symbol, 😈

Chelsea smiled wryly and flopped back into her pillows, letting her phone fall to the side. 

Chelsea tentatively reached a hand down to her vulva. She sighed at the pleasure, relaxed, and started to rub circles around her clit.

Eddie was transfixed and feeling uncharacteristically bold. She reached her hand out and placed it over — or more accurately, within — Chelsea’s.

Chelsea moaned. “Ohhhh fuck…”

Something deeply instinctive overcame Eddie and she curled her fingers around and pressed them inside of Chelsea. 

It was not long before Chelsea was gasping with ecstasy and Eddie was buzzing with energy.

Sweat beaded and ran down between Chelsea’s breasts, down her waist, down her thighs. Eddie felt so very, very warm.

And then, somehow, it escalated even further. Chelsea gasped and a clearish, viscous fluid squirted out of her and landed on Eddie’s palm — landed, and did not fall through. Eddie had no idea what was happening except that she wanted more of that.

Two, three more times, Chelsea moaned and wriggled and squirted. And then her head tipped back with abject pleasure and she climaxed, filling Eddie’s hand with her fluids.

Eddie’s whole form was quivering with the most intense energy she’d ever felt. The fluid soaked into her skin and filled her with a surge of power.

Chelsea relaxed back, eyes closed.

Eddie realized that she was no longer invisible, and quickly floated up through the ceiling and into the attic.

It only took the shortest moment of remembering Chelsea’s intense climax to send the waves of intense pleasure and release quivering through Eddie’s form. And even after, she felt more alive than she ever had since she died. She could not just settle in for the night. She needed to understand exactly what had happened to her. 

Continued in Part II

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Hunter and June

Hunter was tall, dark, handsome, pretty, good at tennis, bad at cooking, finally starting to make money at freelance photography, deeply fond of cats, allergic to eggs, a hopeless romantic, and intersex.

They really felt that the ‘intersex’ part was low on the list of interesting things about themselves, but Hunter hadn’t been able to find many people who agreed, which made the whole ‘hopeless romantic’ part difficult. Navigating in-person encounters had become such a chore that they’d been keeping to long-distance hookups, lately. 

Phone sex was easy, it was nice. Hunter didn’t have to explain anything. Not that it was that difficult to explain. They had a penis. It didn’t really get hard. No, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. It responded just like any penis attached to an estrogen-rich bloodstream did. Yes, they could still orgasm. Yes, they still ejaculated. No, it wasn’t like male ejaculate. 

It was the follow-on questions that really got to Hunter. No, I can’t fuck you. No, I’m not going to put on a strap-on for you either. No, I don’t want you to fuck me. Yes, my genitals are real. Yes, my breasts are real. No, I’m not trans. No, I don’t have any interest in changing my pronouns. No, I don’t want to go on T to ‘fix my dick’.

So, Hunter liked phone sex. They could do exactly what felt good to them, enjoy some intimacy with the person on the other side, but generally not have to worry about intrusive questions. And if anybody got inappropriate, Hunter just blocked them. It was much easier to ghost someone when you never had to worry about bumping into them at the grocery store.

But there was a problem with Hunter’s plan, and her name was June.

June was short, brown-haired and freckled, cute, feisty, good at video games, great at cooking, roommate to two tabby cats, not allergic to anything, cisgender, and pansexual.

They’d had phone sex every night for the past two weeks and it had been, to put it simply, _very hot_.

Hunter was starting to feel like they could tell June almost anything, and so Hunter’s avoidant attachment style was starting to panic. Hunter was glad that they had met June in this phase of their life, and not earlier. Even a year prior, Hunter would have found some excuse to withdraw and ghost her. But this time, they managed to just exist in the discomfort.

Hunter was feeling quite proud of themselves for how they were coping, but June could never let anything be easy for long.

“Hey, so I was thinking…” June said, during their evening chat. “I know you said how you like things to be long distance, but… I just found out I have a work trip next month and I’ll be in town!”

June paused, clearly waiting for Hunter’s response.

Hunter’s mouth was dry and they couldn’t find words.

There was a shuffling sound from the other side of the phone. “No pressure, of course. I know it’s kind of fast. And to be clear, I’ll have a hotel! Work is paying. So we could just get dinner. But I’d… I’d really like it if you came to my hotel room, maybe. Okay, I’ll shut up now.”

Hunter took a deep breath. “I— um, I have to tell you something, first. You might change your mind.”

“I highly doubt it, but go for it.” June’s ‘just try me’ smile was audible.

As succinctly as they could, Hunter explained their sexual anatomy. “D-do you have… any questions?” Better get everything out of the way, first. And Hunter had a glimmer of perverse hope that June might react poorly, and then Hunter could block her and be on their way, inner feelings still tidily repressed.

“Just one,” June said. “What feels good to you?”

Nobody had ever asked Hunter that before. They did their best to answer. June asked clarifying questions. Which quickly devolved into dirty talk. Which quickly devolved into phone sex.

At June’s request, Hunter narrated everything that they were doing to themselves. 

June loved it. Hunter loved that she loved it. It was their hottest and heaviest session yet.

And so it was decided. They would indeed meet over June’s work trip.

At risk of chickening out, Hunter had tried to think about the upcoming moment as little as possible until they were standing at the entrance to June’s hotel room.

June opened the door and greeted Hunter with the biggest smile and an even bigger hug.

June was a head shorter than Hunter and her cheek pressed against Hunter’s breast. A thrill of hot excitement shivered down Hunter’s spine as they pulled June close.

June invited them further in to the room. There was a queen sized bed, a desk and two chairs, a mini fridge, a bathroom.

“Sorry it’s not the Ritz,” June said. “I tried to get a king but corporate budget cuts.” She shrugged.

Hunter just nodded. They wanted to say something about it being nice to just be in the same room as June at all, but the words got all tangled between their head and their mouth. God, she was pretty. And she smelled so good. Like flowers and coconut.

When June turned and smiled at them again, Hunter’s heart skipped. She said, “I thought it might be a bit overwhelming… so I, um, just planned a night in. I have board games! And Mario Kart! And wine!” She bent over the mini-fridge to fetch the beverage.

Hunter’s eyes gravitated towards her ass.

As June stood, she caught their eyes. She grinned. “Or we can skip right to it, if you prefer.”

Hunter blushed. “Maybe some wine and a board game?”

Three quarters of the way through the bottle of wine and halfway through the game, the board was pushed aside and forgotten.

June made the first move, leaning into a kiss that Hunter eagerly returned. They moaned into each other, hands exploring, learning, grasping.

Hunter could have stayed like that forever, except for that June’s hand found their member from over their jeans. Her fingertips circled gently just like Hunter had said they liked, and they gasped and moaned.

June teased them like that for a long few minutes, and the heat of Hunter’s arousal built and built until they couldn’t imagine doing anything other than undressing with June.

June was thinking the same thing and she broke the kiss to pull her shirt and bra off over her head, her breasts now hanging freely. She wiggled out of her pants and hurried Hunter along to do the same.

Hunter had no chance to worry about June’s reaction because they were already so aroused, because June’s eyes were so wide and kind and shining, and because June’s hands were already down Hunter’s pants.

Hunter moaned again at the feeling of her skin on theirs, of another’s touch in one of their most sensitive areas. It felt so vulnerable. But they trusted June. 

Once Hunter’s pants were off, June pushed them to the edge of the bed and then kneeled on the floor between their legs.

Hunter was transfixed by June’s eyes looking up at them, and then their half-erect member was entirely in June’s mouth.

“Oh, fuck!”

June paused and gently withdrew. “Was that okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No! Not at all, fuck that feels good.”

June beamed and then enveloped Hunter’s member again.

Her mouth was so hot and soft and slick. Hunter’s member pulsed with their heartbeat and June swirled her tongue over it to the same rhythm. June sucked gently and Hunter gasped. 

June moaned her appreciation and the vibrating sensation made Hunter’s mind go blank with pleasure. June noticed the positive reaction and hummed even deeper, and soon Hunter was trembling with ecstasy.

Hunter may have climaxed just from that, but June was not done exploring. She gently pulled Hunter’s shaft from her mouth, wiggling her tongue underneath all the while. 

She caught the soft shaft in her hand and swirled a fingertip under Hunter’s frenulum as she dipped her mouth a bit lower and licked at Hunter’s balls.

“Oh fuck! June, that feels so good…” Hunter reached down and brushed June’s hair back from her face. “You feel so good…”

June hummed triumphantly and Hunter’s eyes rolled back with pleasure.

Only June’s pause brought Hunter back to conscious awareness.

“I want to suck on them,” June said, licking her lips. “Is that okay?”

Hunter nodded emphatically and then June did as she’d said. It was incredible. The heat of her mouth, the tingling coolness of the air on their member, the insistent teasing of her fingertip at their frenulum, the pleasant tug of the suction.

After giving each of Hunter’s balls ample attention, June slid her tongue all the way up from Hunter’s perineum, along their soft shaft, and enveloped them in her mouth again.

The sensation was even more intense, even more overwhelming than before. June was building up Hunter’s arousal in every possible way and then some. They were going to come so hard. But what about June?

Hunter mustered their wits. “June this is amazing, but… I feel a bit selfish.”

June looked up at them with her big, brown eyes and Hunter nearly fainted.

She leaned back and worked their member in her hand again. “Don’t. This is really turning me on.” She dipped a hand down to her vulva then reached up and pressed her fingers to Hunter’s lips.

The smell of June’s flower was spicy and sweet and Hunter pulled her fingers between their lips, sucking at them.

June gasped and shivered. “Yeah, see, you put that tongue on my pussy and I’m gonna come in like two minutes, so you’ll have ample opportunity to reciprocate, k?”

Hunter’s lips turned to a grin around June’s fingers and they sucked harder, rolling their tongue under and between her fingers.

June whimpered and shivered again. “Okay, okay, let me suck your dick!”

Hunter laughed and released her.

June hesitated. “W-was that okay, that I said—”

“It’s hot as fuck,” Hunter said, and they meant it.

June’s smile made their heart skip again. “I know you said you don’t like anal, but how do you feel about fingering? No wrong answers. I just want you to feel good.”

“Um…” Hunter already felt so good, they struggled to find any words. “One or two fingers is good. I like rimming and my prostate’s pretty sensitive.”

“Roger that.” June dipped her fingers into her flower again, getting them nice and slick.

Hunter’s heart pounded with anticipation.

June grinned, took their shaft in her mouth again, and placed her fingertips at their rim.

Hunter nearly jumped out of their skin, it felt so good.

June circled her fingers gently around their rim.

Hunter moaned and melted back onto their elbows on the bed, shifting their leg to give June a better angle.

“Oh, you like that?” June said.

“Yes…” The pleasure was electric, all-consuming, overwhelming.

June teased them for a bit longer, keeping the pace slow and careful as she pressed first one, then two fingers inside. She curled her fingers towards herself, pressing against Hunter’s prostate from inside and their perineum with her thumb from the outside.

“Oh holy shit, June…”

“You think I can make you come this way?”

“I, uh, yeah… probably… e-especially if you keep up that pressure and hum with my shaft in your mouth again…”

June grinned. “I’m gonna make you squirt so hard!” She took Hunter’s shaft into her mouth again, this time with purpose.

Hunter moaned at the mixed arousal and pleasure of June’s words and actions. Now, with their shaft in her mouth, one of her hands at their balls, her other hand up their ass, her words buzzing through Hunter’s mind, she was really stimulating them in every possible way.

Hunter wanted it to never end and yet could not bear another moment of it without release.

This was everything that Hunter had told June they liked and more. Hunter was quite sure that their shaft could have been big, small, hard, soft, nonexistent or anything else and June would have showered them with this same loving attention.

As it were, Hunter loved the way that they could be entirely within her mouth, her lips pressing against their base, with no fucking or choking or straining required. They loved the way their blood pulsed through the half-hard member, the way they could feel it flowing, the idea of June feeling the same with her tongue.

They loved June’s fingers up their ass, the overwhelming sense of her around them, and in them, running through their blood, entangled with their body.

Most of all, Hunter appreciated that June hadn’t tried to approach their anatomy like a pussy or like a cock, but neither had she treated it as alien. Instead, she treated it exactly as it was — Hunter’s own unique configuration of more or less the same parts that everybody had.

And God, it was hot.

Urgency built inside of Hunter, heat flaring in compounding waves, a dizzy pleasure in their head. Their ass clenched around June’s fingers as they panted and moaned. Their breathing became deeper, quicker, as the first flickers of pre-orgasmic pleasure darted through them like sparks.

“June, don’t stop!”

June’s moaning redoubled and the sensation pushed Hunter closer to the edge.

“J-just like that… yes…” The humming, June’s tongue swirling, the tugging at their balls, her fingers pressing at their prostate, it was all so intense. Hunter’s muscles tensed and did not release, preparing for the climax. 

The last moment between the edge and the fall was the feeling of heat flowing through their shaft, the start of their ejaculation. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me… June, yes, yes, fuck, yes!”

Each wave of pleasure rippled through Hunter’s whole body, bringing a pulse of their cum onto June’s tongue as she sucked it out of them, again and again. Hunter lost track of how long and how many and they may have even come a second or third time and it all flowed together into overwhelming minutes of bliss.

Finally, June noticed Hunter’s heightening sensitivity and she gently withdrew.

June looked up at Hunter and licked her lips. “You taste so good.”

Hunter moaned as their over-stimulated body tried to react to June’s words with renewed arousal. “You feel so good…” Hunter collapsed back onto the bed, floating in the afterglow.

By the time June washed her hands and returned, Hunter was ready to return the favor. A bit inspired by June, they asked her what she liked instead of trying to guess. She was all too happy to assist and true to her word, she came within two minutes.

June snuggled in next to Hunter and they curled into each other, warm and content.

As the lovers finally stirred, Hunter caught June’s eyes. “Hey, I was thinking… I’ve always wanted to do a shoot in Chicago. Mind if I visit you next month?”

June beamed. “You better!”

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Acardoc’s Instant Aphrodisiac!

[WP] Uh-oh, those grey-market aphrodisiacs came with side effects. Roll 1d6 to find out the details… (Table enclosed!) from DirtyWritingPrompts

[Rolled a 1!]

Chelna Leygard knew that she should not be buying anything off of one of the shifty merchants that skulked at the edges of the market, let alone an aphrodisiac. But she was a bit desperate.

Work as an adventurer had been particularly tough this week, and she really needed to wind down and relax. But the more stressed Chelna felt, the harder it was to get in the mood, the more worried she was that she’d never be in the mood, the more stressed she was.

It was a viscous cycle that she’d experienced before and there was no better cure than a proper, sloppy self-love session. An aphrodisiac let her cut right to the chase.

And so after she exchanged coins for a phial with an oily-haired man at the edge of the market, she jogged back to the in and took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor where her room was.

She stepped into her room, locked the door behind her, and downed the bottle. She was desperate to be desperate for sex.

It never kicked in quite as quickly as she wanted it to, so she fussed around sorting bounty papers while she waited, fretting that the merchant may have sold her a fake.

Just when she was getting ready to march back down to the market and show the merchant the pointy end of her sword, it hit her. Like a hot, desert wind washing over her.

And then a frigid, arctic chill right behind that.

Wait, what?

The heat of arousal blossomed in Chelna’s sex, and at the same time, her skin prickled to gooseflesh and she shivered.

Chelna’s heart pounded faster, half from the effects of the aphrodisiac and half from startled concern.

Her shivering intensified as a chill crept down her spine, and she grabbed at the bedspread and wrapped herself in it. It helped, but only barely.

Hoping for any clue as to what was happening and whether she needed to rush herself to a healer, Chelna scooted in her bedspread cocoon over to take a closer look at the vial that she’d left on the table.

Acardoc’s Instant Aphrodisiac!

New Limited Edition Flavor: ICY-HOT

Works on all sorts of aches and pains! 😉

Before she could examine the vial any further, the aphrodisiac’s effects intensified. Chelna’s look of confusion melted into bliss as she shivered and her sex clenched with pleasure.

As the aphrodisiac took full effect, Chelna still felt bizarrely cold, but the chill became more and more enjoyable. As she shivered, she moaned. As her skin prickled with gooseflesh, it tingled with pleasure. As the chill deepened, the fire in her brightened.

Still wrapped in the bedspread, Chelna readjusted until she could brush her fingertips over her vulva. She moaned with pleasure at even that light touch. As her fingers pressed further between her folds, her moaning intensified.

The skin of her sex tingled with a burning chill. The sensation was mind-meltingly pleasurable, completely taking over her thoughts, focusing her entirely around the goal of just touching herself.

As Chelna wiggled in the bedspread, pleasure sparked in her nipples, as if someone were holding an ice cube on each of them. It felt amazing. And so cold.

The more aroused she became, the colder she felt. The colder she felt, the harder she shivered. The harder she shivered, the more aroused she became.

She trembled violently in the bedspread, her fingers hooked around to her spot of inner pleasure, her own shaking doing all of the work of rubbing herself.

Yes, this was what she had wanted! To be desperate for sex, so carnally overcome by it, so utterly swallowed by it. The pleasure was all she could think about.

Finally, heat started to overwhelm the cold. She went from shivering to shaking. And the heat grew and grew and grew.

The climax hit her so hard that she screamed, loud enough for the whole inn to hear. But she didn’t care, she was finally coming!

Several thick, heady waves of pleasure washed over her, followed by softer ripples reverberating in her body.

Her breathing slowed as she gradually relaxed, all the tension of the past week finally draining out of her. So no longer felt, hot, cold, horny, or stressed. Just, content.

It was exactly what she’d needed.

Well, except for the icy part. She’d have to pay closer attention to the flavors, next time.

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Professor’s Predicament (Part II)

Continued from Part I

A man’s voice, “Hey professor, I really need some extra tutor— oh.”

The warm voice, the smile lines at the eyes, the classic haircut, the knit cardigan. It wasn’t a student. It was her husband, Bradley.

He quickly shut the door behind himself and locked it.

Julia blinked. “You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing there?” he said.

“It was an accident.”

He surveyed her from head to toe. Her flushed cheeks, her firm nipples, her gooseflesh, her sopping wet vulva, her curled toes.

“Uh huh,” he said. “An accident.”

“Really!”

“Looks like I got here just in time, then.”

“Why are you here, though?”

“We’d planned to get lunch together, remember? I know you’re busy so I just graded papers, but then I realized if you’d forgotten to meet me you’d probably forgotten to eat altogether, so…” He lifted a bag from the college food court that he’d carried in and then set that on the desk.

Julia flushed with appreciation and renewed arousal.

Next to where he’d set the bag was a little remote, and he lifted that and considered it. “This is the part you forgot, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Can you let me out?”

“No.” Bradley’s grin curled into a kind of mischievous smirk that would have shocked his students. In the classroom, he was always so mild-mannered. Bashful, even. Not so in bed.

He set the remote back on the desk and stepped over to evaluate Julia more closely.

“You’ve gotten yourself in quite the bind, haven’t you?” he said.

“Oh god, Bradley, not the puns…”

“What are you going to do about it? You’re all trussed up and nowhere to go.”

“Bradley…”

“C’mon, don’t be tongue tied. No need to restrain yourself.”

“Shut your stupid, pretty mouth and fuck me!” Julia wiggled against the bonds as hard as she could, gasping at the increased pressure on her vulva and the tingle of electricity.

“Not yet,” Bradley said. “You know how I love a captive audience.”

Julia was too aroused to complain this time.

He leaned his face down to hers and kissed her, then bit her lip, then nibbled her ear.

Julia shivered and moaned, no longer capable of forming words.

He pressed his finger against her lips. “Shhh. Someone might hear.” And then with a cruel glint in his eye, he pinched her nipple.

She squealed with pleasure.

“Shhhh…” He pinched her other nipple.

Julia bit her lip and struggled to hold in another moan. “N-not fair! Meanie!”

He trailed his fingers from her shoulder, down the dip of her waist and over her hip. “You like it.”

She shivered, wetness spilling from her vulva and down the side of her thigh.

He traced his fingertips over her breasts, her stomach, her ass, her feet.

She gasped and wiggled and shuddered and did her best to stifle moans.

Finally he leaned back and she was both relieved and disappointed.

There were footsteps in the hallway.

Bradley grinned and stepped behind her.

“Wait, the fuck! Bradley! What are you going to do?” she hissed.

He didn’t reply.

There were twin shadows under the door, the feet of the approaching student. The doorknob rattled, but didn’t open. The student knocked.

Bradley traced a fingertip across Julia’s swollen, wet, aching vulva.

“Ah!” She couldn’t hold in the moan of surprised pleasure.

“Oh!” said the student at the door. A young woman from the morning section. “Professor?”

Julia’s mind struggled to surface from the pool of heady pleasure.

“Professor? S-sorry, you’ve left the door locked…”

Bradley circled his fingertip over Julia’s clit. She squinted her eyes shut and bit her lip to hold in the moan. 

Bradley leaned over her ear from behind and whispered, “She’s waiting for an answer…”

“T-terribly sorry Courtney, I’m just a bit t-tied up at the moment…”

Bradley grabbed each of Jula’s ass cheeks in a hand, spreading her open. She knew he was looking at her sopping wet mess of a vulva and that it was making him hard. God, she wanted his dick in her so bad.

“Oh,” Courtney said. “Should I… come back later? I’m just having some trouble with the figures for tomorrow’s problem set…”

Julia took a deep breath and gathered her wits about her, though just barely. “If you could be so kind, please. So sorry for this being awkward, I’ve done a poor job planning for the grant deadline so I’ve locked myself in her until I finish. I’ll be extending all this week’s homework deadlines since I won’t be able to grade anyway. I’d drafted an email but, well, in classic style I’ve just realized I forgot to hit ‘send’.”

“Oh! That’s no trouble at all. So sorry to bother you. See you tomorrow!”

Julia took a breath to answer, but then Bradley’s fingertip pressed between her labia and she gasped.

Courtney fretted at the door a moment longer, then walked away.

Julia turned to frown at Bradley. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made me disappoint her!”

“What I have done,” he said, “Is saved her from the trauma of walking in on her favorite professor naked. And what I am doing now is collecting my reward.”

He pressed a second finger inside her and it filled her with the most delicious heat.

“O-okay,” she said, “T-that’s a good point…”

Her arousal swelled in anticipation of him getting ready to fuck her properly, but he withdrew again and left her frowning and searching for him.

He came around in front of her, another cruel glint in his eyes and another wicked smile on his pretty lips.

Julia gulped.

First, he shrugged of his cardigan. Then, unbuttoned his oxford one… by one…

Julia trembled, wanting to see him naked already, but knowing that if she protested, he’d go even slower.

His erection throbbed against the front of his khakis, but he didn’t undo his belt yet.

Instead, he left his unbuttoned oxford on his arms and leaned down to untie his left shoe, then his right. Julia had never seen anyone remove their socks so slowly, so alluringly, as Bradley did just then.

Then he stood and put his fingertips to his belt.

She quivered with expectation.

He let her shake for a moment before feeding the loose end through the buckle and slowly pulling the two ends apart. He slipped the belt out of its loops and set it aside.

He rubbed his erection through the front of his khakis, moaning quietly, leting his expression show his pleasure.

Julia shook, forgetting her earlier resolve to not beg. “Please…”

Bradley paused, as she knew he would. “Please, what?”

“I don’t even fucking know, you’re driving me crazy…”

Bradley smiled and laughed. His eyes always looked so kind when he laughed. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Alright, I’ll show some mercy.” He unbuttoned his pants, stepped out of them and his boxers, and stood before her naked. His shaft was already hard and throbbing.

Even through her haze, Julia knew that it was partly mercy and partly Bradley’s own excitement getting away from him.

But he did not do what she had so desperately hoped and come around to fuck her.

Instead, he looked down at her and started to stroke himself.

Julia whimpered. “Please… Please, fuck me!”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Why?!”

“Because seeing you like this has got me all hot and bothered and I would last about two seconds. And that’s no fun.”

“W-what about my fun?”

He smiled at her, knowingly. “This is your fun. You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Julia pouted. “I mean, yes, but you don’t have to call me out like that!”

“Yes, I do. It’s part of my fun.” He kneeled next to her and reached around her ass and fingered her again.

She moaned and writhed in pleasure, but it was all too short.

He returned his soaking wet hand to his shaft and started stroking in earnest. He moaned a bit louder.

Every nerve in Julia’s body tingled with heat.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to fuck you like this…” Bradley’s arousal was quickly building, his face overcome with pleasure. “Just seeing you like this is making me… oh fuck, Julia…”

There was another reason that Julia only allowed her students to call her “Professor” or “Doctor”. It was because from the very first time that she had ever heard her name from Bradley’s tongue, from the very first time it had rolled between his lips and come to meet her ear, she had known that she only ever wanted to hear her name in that way, she wanted it to only ever come from him.

Julia trembled desperately. “Bradley, please! Please come on me and fuck me, please—”

Bradley’s eyes rolled back with pleasure, his breathing quickened. “Oh Julia…”

“Yes, please, yes yes, yes!”

With a barely-stifled moan Bradley’s balls spasmed and he pumped rope after rope of cum onto Julia’s breasts.

It was so warm, her skin was so sensitive, her mind was drowning in pleasure, she felt on the edge of climax but there was no release, only growing, swelling, aching, panting urgency.

Even as Bradley’s climax tapered off, he did not soften in the slightest.

He put his hand to her cheek and met her eyes, and she knew. She knew her release was coming. Her body quivered with anticipation.

He wasted no time in coming around behind her, lining his tip up to her swollen, wet entrance and pressing inside.

Julia moaned loudly.

Bradley clamped one hand over her mouth and pressed the other over her pubic mound, fingers curling around to her clit from the front.

And then he fucked her, pulling her down onto himself as he thrust into her, the angle putting his tip right against her G-spot, his fingers running circles over her clit.

Julia could not think, she could only feel. Every nerve in her body was hot, electric sensation. She could have stayed like that forever. Except that she was desperate to come.

And she was so close. A pre-orgasmic wave of pleasure. Her moans deepened. She nodded into Bradley’s hand.

He kept up his exact pace.

She slowly approached the edge. She was breathing so quickly. There was so much of Bradley’s skin against her skin. If it had been up to her, she would have been far over the edge, but as it were she could only surrender to Bradley’s ministrations.

And it was this perfect, slow, incredible explosion.

The heat blossomed and every muscle in her body contracted together, the muscles of her sex squeezing around his shaft, the electric tingle of the restraints digging deeper, air forced out of her lungs, throat tight and shaping it into a scream. Bradley’s hand over her mouth made it quieter, but not by much.

Then a second clear wave. Then a third.

And then as the contractions of pleasure continued, her body started to relax. First her throat, so that her screams became moans. Then her arms, and her legs, and her ass, melting into Bradley’s embrace. For a minute or more, the contracts of her climax pulsed through her body.

It was not just the anticipation of the past fifteen minutes that flowed out of her, but also the stress of the grant writing, the tension of the week. It all drained and drained and drained until she was completely relaxed and utterly content.

Bradley wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, then brushed her hair back from his face.

He was still inside of her. He hadn’t climaxed again, but he was relaxing with her. His shaft throbbed as it softened, and she loved that feeling.

He nuzzled his cheek into the back of her neck. “God, I love it when you come when I’m inside you…”

Julia was too dizzy in the afterglow to form words, so she just nodded.

They fell asleep together there, for some unknown amount of time. Julia really would have to replace the batteries in her clock.

They both stirred and Bradley finally went over to the desk and triggered the release. The fibers went slack around Julia and she was finally able to move again. He helped rub the blood back into her muscles — though he spent a disproportionate amount of time on her ass for obviously selfish reasons — and then they dressed again.

Julia finally checked the clock on her phone. It was evening.

“Better get back to work,” she sighed.

Bradley put his arm around her shoulder, his cardigan soft against her cheek. “Actually, I was thinking,” he said, “that since you ghosted me for lunch, you have no choice but to come get dinner with me.”

Julia took a deep breath and put her phone away. “I’m just worried about the grant.”

He kissed her cheek. “I know. But, love, you’ve been done for days.”

“Are you sure?!”

“I am very sure because you’ve asked me to proof read it eight times.”

“But what if…”

He poked her in the ribs. “Jesus Christ, Julia, I’m an English professor for God’s sake. If I say the paper is good, it’s good.”

Julia rolled her eyes, but snuggled further into him. “Okay, okay. Fine. I guess dinner won’t hurt.”

He kissed the top of her head. “That’s a good girl.”

Julia’s heart fluttered like a crushy school girl as Bradley took her hand and lead her up and out of the basement.

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Professor’s Predicament (Part I)

[WP][TT] A feisty inventor who teaches engineering at a college does her best thinking nude. Unfortunately, today she accidentally sprung a device she was working on designed to "restrain" intruders. Why did it have to be during open office hours where any second… from DirtyWritingPrompts

Julia Casey allowed her students to address her in two ways and two ways only. Their options were “Professor” or “Doctor”. She had worked hard for her PhD and for her tenure track, dammit.

That was not to say that she did not enjoy teaching. She made it a point to learn all her students’ names. Students who sat quietly in the back of other classes asked questions and offered opinions in hers, and she was damn proud of that.

The main reason that she insisted on being addressed as “Professor” or “Doctor” was that otherwise, her students and even her peers tended to forget that she was brilliant. And eccentric. ‘Absent-minded Julia’ would be quickly written off. ‘Absent-minded professor’ was a statement of positive regard.

It was not that her mind was absent, strictly speaking, so much that it was in so very many places at once. When she was trying to think, really think, her mind expanded to absorb every possible idea, every present stimulus.

An unfortunate side-effect of that was that she would become acutely aware of the rub of her pants against her skin, the stray tag in her shirt, the elastic of her bra digging into her sides.

When she was trying to think, really think, Professor Casey needed to be naked.

This was one of the reasons that she’d insisted that one of the old workshops that was now too small to fit a class would become her office and workshop. It was in the basement of one of the older buildings on campus and while the lack of windows would have annoyed another professor, it was quite perfect for Julia. She could think however she pleased, whenever she needed to.

And today was a day when she needed to do quite a bit of thinking. The grant deadline was nearly upon her and she could feel it tightening its claws around her. She was onto something, she really was! But she just needed to put it in the right words, the words that would convince the committee to give her further funding. She had a working prototype and everything!

So Professor Casey paced, back and forth in the cluttered little workshop, wondering how she could possibly explain to the small-minded grant committee just how important her invention truly was.

Women were at a disadvantage when it came to personal protection, you see. Not just in the obvious ways. Tools could be used to overcome physical disadvantages — tools like firearms and pepper spray and tasers — but there was one very direct issue with these tools when used for home defense. They required that your ‘fight’ instinct be triggered.

Professor Casey knew plenty of happily violent women, but she also knew plenty of women and men who were much more likely to ‘flee’ or ‘freeze’. So, she had set out to create an autonomous home protection device. Most importantly, it needed to be non-lethal, so that it could err on the side of being over-protective.

And she had created just such a thing. It really worked! She just needed more time and a bit more money to refine the design to replace some of the more expensive and complicated parts.

As she paced, Professor Casey remembered that she’d spent a late night in the lab a couple days back and had scribbled down some ideas for the grant and crammed them in one of the back shelves. Eagerly, she hurried over towards them.

There was a soft snap, a whoosh, and then Professor Casey was on her side on the floor, the wind knocked out of her, and her limbs fully restrained.

She had forgotten that she’d left the prototype live. She’d tested it many times before, but always with the release in-hand. Now, the release was ten feet away on her desk. Or, was it in her bag? No, she’d left it on the bookshelf?

The clever bit about this invention was the detainment device. It was created from a special polymer that would become firm or limp depending on how much electrical current passed through it. It was folded into the ejector in such a way that as a pulse of electricity first activated it, it spread into a net. Then, specially timed pulses of electricity manipulated it to maximize the tangling coefficient. Once it was completely tangled around the target, the current would stay live to ensure that it was stiff and inescapable. Once de-activated, the fibers became limp and the target could extricate themselves.

It was incredibly effective. Nearly infallible.

Professor Casey struggled against the fibers, to no avail. The slight current of electricity within them raised the hairs on her arms, on the back of her neck.

She didn’t have time for this, the grant deadline was approaching! She—

Her phone dinged a reminder tone.

Wait, what was that about? She thought she was clear for the rest of the afternoon? She wiggled around so that she could see the clock over her door. It read 6am. Fuck, she’d forgotten to replace the batteries.

Julia wracked her brain. It was Tuesday afternoon, and on Tuesday afternoon, she had…

Open office hours.

And here she was, completely naked, tangled up in her own invention in the middle of the office floor.

She’d set the reminder for five minutes before office hours. Or was it ten? Or two? She didn’t usually cut it this close with her thinking time, but this grant deadline had her all out of sorts.

Her heart raced, her body preparing itself for fight or flight, though neither of those was an option.

Had she been able to crawl over to her phone, she could have used her nose to phone another faculty and request a rescue. But she couldn’t so much as wiggle. 

That was the genius thing about her invention, actually. The fibers formed a sort of perfectly molded cage from head to toe, holding her arms against her sides, her legs together. She couldn’t even bend at her hips.

And though it covered enough of her to totally restrain her, her breasts and her ass were still totally exposed.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Not in the slightest.

The worst of it was actually that her heart rate rising, the heat flushing through her body, the tingling in her fingers and toes, wasn’t really fight or flight. It was abject arousal.

One of the electrified strands lay across her nipple, subtly stimulating the area. Another wrapped under her ass, digging into the skin and muscle and pulling tight enough that it just brushed the edge of her outer labia. That contact became firmer and firmer as her labia swelled with arousal.

Julia gulped, her mouth watering.

This was another one of her eccentricities. As her friend Emily, a professor of sexual health, had explained: most people were turned off by stress. Some people were turned on by it. Julia was really turned on by it.

But she needed to get a hold of herself. What if a student walked in?!

And that very thought aroused her further, worsening her predicament.

Thank god all of her students were legal, at least.

The more aroused she became, the more difficult it was to think.

And the more difficult it was to think, the more sure she was that she was going to be found like this.

And the more sure she was that she would be found like this, the more aroused she became.

And the more aroused she became, the more her labia swelled into the electrified fiber. And it felt good. And the better it felt, the wetter she got. And the wetter she got, the more the electricity tingled through her vulva.

The same hypersensitivity that had lead her to get naked in the first place filled her senses. She was so aware of every place the fibers pressed into her, of every electric tingle, the prickle as her hairs raised, a shift of air over her naked skin.

She was breathing heavily now. Her students would find her worse than naked. They’d find her naked and so aroused.

But then, a logical thought cut through the haze and she relaxed a bit. She always locked the door when she was thinking. So, they’d just find the door locked and think she’d forgotten about office hours. That happened often enough, they wouldn’t think too much of it.

There were footsteps in the hallway.

Julia’s heart skipped, sweat beaded on her upper lip. She licked it off, liking too much the way her tongue felt against her skin.

She had locked the door, right?

The handle turned.

She had not locked the door.

“Oh fuck,” she said.

The door swung open.

Julia froze.

Continued in Part II

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Shorts

Moody Milking

[WP] A goth cowgirl is almost too moody and brooding to enjoy a good milking… But only ~almost~… from DirtyWritingPrompts

The spots around her eyes look like smudgy black eyeliner. She has a button nose, her black hair is pulled up in twin pigtails, and her full lips are painted black. She’s adorable, but you’d have a horn in each eye the moment you tried to call her “cute”.

Her breasts are swollen and straining her ripped black t-shirt. She crosses her arms under them, trying to look aloof, but she’s clearly trying to relieve some of their weight.

As you approach with a bucket, she rolls her eyes. She says, “This again?”

You remind her that this happens every day.

“Tsk. Whatever. I’m over it.” The wet spots over each nipple are just barely visible on the black fabric. As she shifts her arms under her breasts, the wetness widens.

You offer to skip today, if she’d prefer.

She rolls her eyes again. “Just get it over with already.” She reaches down to the bottom of her shirt and strips it off, her breasts bouncing back into place as she throws her shirt to the side.

Her nipples are swollen and leaking, her breasts heavy on her chest.

You remark that she doesn’t look like she could have waited until tomorrow.
“Fuck you, pervert. Hurry up!”

You reply that you’re not quite sure if you should be staying or going.

She huffs, crossing her arms under her chest again, and the discomfort is clear on her face. She blushed, then glances up at you.

She won’t say it, but it’s the same old song and dance every time. She’s ready to be milked.

You approach and she looks away but turns her chest towards you. You place the bucket at your feet and then cup each of her breasts in a hand.

Gently, you start to massage.

She gasps and closes her eyes. She bites her lip, and her composure starts to slip as you apply your gentle touch to her sore breasts.

You give her a little extra foreplay today. She relaxes into it but then starts glancing towards you, clearly yearning for the next step, but unwilling to say so.

“T-taking your sweet time?”

You remind her that you can’t rush perfection. But, you offer to move on.

“F-fine. Whatever.”

You kneel down and she follows, the bucket between you. She leans forward slightly so that her breasts hang over the bucket.

You bring a hand up under each breast and lift slightly. Her fullness is heavy on your palms.

Gently, you circle her areolas with your fingertips.

She shudders, biting her lip, as milk beads on her nipple.

Before she can protest, you take her nipple in your hand, squeeze gently, and tug.

She stifles a moan as a stream of milk flows out of her. She presses her breasts towards you with her hands.

You ask her why she’s now so eager.

“Eager to g-get this over with, obviously.”

You tug on her nipple again and she holds back a gasp at the next stream of milk. It proceeds like this for a few moments, her trying to hide her gasps and moans of pleasure.

Then her cheeks flush redder. Her eyes, which had been glancing sidelong, flutter shut. She stops biting her lips and they part with a little moan.

She starts rocking her hips on her heels, stimulating her flower. She must be a aching with desire.

You milk her, alternating breasts, her moans growing louder and louder and the streams of milk growing thicker.

She no longer attempts to hide her pleasure. She moans openly, grips her breasts in her hands to squeeze more out for you.

Finally, her desire becomes irresistible and she drops a hand to her flower.

The wet sounds of her fingers over her vulva join her moans and the splashing of the milk in the bucket.

“Ohhh fuck…” As her breasts empty into the bucket, the fluids from her flower drip onto the floor. “Fuck…”

You put a hand to each of her nipples, squeezing and tugging steadily, giving her the sensations she craves.

She alternates fucking herself with her fingers and rubbing her clit, her aroudal steadily building.

“Oh, fuck… holy shit…” Her body trembles, her milk comes in spurts. But you know that this is not all. This is just the edge.

Her eyes flash open. They lock onto yours, and they are nearly black with arousal. She sees you, with no pretense, no pretending. She gasps, “Milk me!”

And then her eyes roll back and her body shakes with pleasure. Her milk spurts into the bucket, her fem-cum onto the floor, pulse after pulse after pulse.

Finally, she starts to relax.

You milk the last few drops from her breasts. The bucket is nearly full.

Her breasts are much smaller now, the shirt that could barely contain them before would now hardly need to stretch. But she doesn’t make any moves to clothe herself.

She flops backwards onto her ass, eyes hazy with the afterglow. She turns her gaze up to you and gives you an appreciative blink and a sigh.

You pick up the bucket and promise to see her tomorrow.

“W-whatever,” she says, but she doesn’t look mad about it.

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