Work it – Erotic Fiction by Scanderella
We are delighted to welcome Ella Scandal back to our blog with a delicious bit of fiction for Wankuary!
***
Toby is working out. Right here in the front room. His yoga mat is on the carpet, his dumbbells are in his hands, and his eyes are fixed on the trainer on the TV screen. I know this DVD as well as I know my favourite movie, I’ve seen it almost as many times. Going by the current segment, he’s been at it for almost an hour but he’s showing no signs of slowing down. Total powerhouse.
As usual, my arrival doesn’t warrant even a two-minute break. He just grunts and half raises a weight in my direction as I skirt his mat and slither onto the sofa. It’s been a while since I just sat and watched him. Usually, I’m up too. Lighter weights, heavier breathing, but giving it as much effort as he does.
As I watch Toby curl a weight toward his shoulder, a memory flashes in my mind. Last time we did this session together it went, quite literally, with a bang. The scents and sounds in the close room make the moving images in my head seem all the more real. The smell of old leather, the tang of a glucose drink, the hint of fresh sweat. Fast paced music, gruff trainer yelling encouragement, Toby’s grunts of exertion.
I was just about to eat lunch, but my appetite has forsaken me. Well, the appetite for food has. Now I’m hungry for something else altogether. I’m not going to tell Toby, though. I’ll let him figure it out for himself.
Shifting around on the sofa, trying not to make too much noise, I reach for my zipper. The metal stings my cold fingers, but I manage to get it all the way down. Already, my cock is uncoiling behind the navy-blue cotton of my boxers. It’s so warm down there. I run my hand over the semi-hard lump behind the fabric, straightening it out, massaging it, making it grow.
Any other day I’d watch it harden, watch the tip push, lift, then peek out over my waistband. But today my eyes are all over Toby. When I’m turned on, I seem to develop a kind of hyper-focus, and I see so much more than I usually would. Bluish veins bulging in Toby’s biceps. Sinews straining in his neck. Sweat running down the side of his face and his knuckles turning white.
Fuck, I wish he would turn around and notice what I’m doing. I know that he would abandon his training if he caught sight of me rubbing my hard cock through my boxers. I tug on it, squeeze it, instinctively know that the tight stroke has forced a few drops of precum out of my slit. Another stroke and I’ll probably feel it. Toby loves precum, almost as much as he loves full on spunk. He likes to smooth it over his lips, coat the inside of his mouth with it using his tongue.
With a bit of shoving and jiggling, I get my hand fully down my pants. I was right, plenty of precum that’s now streaked up my forearm. Shivers make me shrink away from my own hand when my fingertips skim over my balls. I tickle them, move them around, give them a little squeeze. A few sharp pulls on the pubic hair that covers them makes the base of my cock pulse and my arsehole twitch.
It’s a sensation that reminds me of how it feels to have Toby slap my balls. Arousal fucks with the chemical balance in my brain, making something that should cause me untold pain bring me closer and closer to euphoria. He hurts me, tortures me, and I fucking love it.
So much so, I forget that I’m supposed to be having a stealth wank. I lift my bulk from the sofa, yank my jeans and shorts to my feet then throw myself back down. The leather creaks, the crap on the table beside it rattles, but I don’t care anymore.
I see Toby glance over at me, do a double take, then match the rhythm of his lifts to the music again. He’s smiling, though. A filthy little smile that turns my insides to liquid and my cock to iron. I close my eyes, knowing that he’s going to keep stealing peeks, that if he manages to hold out until I shoot my load, I’ll be the receptacle for all of his pent-up frustration later on. My arse aches just thinking about it.
Breathing is becoming a struggle. I’m gagging on my own gasps, choking on my own cries. My shoulder is burning, my wrist is aching, my cheeks are clammy with tears. Toby loves that I cry when we fuck and I’m sure he’s gone quiet because he’s watching me.
I can feel it. Everything is tight, I feel like a coiled spring that needs to be released. I do need it, I want it, I’m shaking with it. Even if I wanted to hold it back now I couldn’t, it’s going to come spilling out of me, covering my hand, my wrist, my belly.
It’s pulsing from deep inside me, my body is wracked with ecstatic sobs. I know I’ve come on the sofa, on the floor. Somehow, I’ve even managed to jizz in my own face and hair, too. I’m covered in it and I can’t stop myself from sighing in contentment and sinking further into sticky leather.
Toby is laughing quietly. Smiling, I open my eyes, expecting to see him standing on his mat, watching me. But he isn’t. He’s right beside the sofa, shaking the last few drips of come from his cock. Ah. So that’s how I got spunk in my hair.
Not My Suitcase of Sex Toys by Quinn Rhodes
We are delighted to host another piece of deliciously sexy erotica on our blog. This time we are welcoming Quinn Rhodes to our site with her story of summer holidays and swapped suitcases.
***
Not every summer holiday features golden sands and turquoise seas.
Sometimes it’s about booking a last-minute flight north, and a brand-new suitcase full of books and sex toys. I needed to get away for a bit, and the peace and quiet of the barren islands appealed. It didn’t hurt that it was cheap, either.
Most, though, don’t involve you grabbing the wrong bag at the airport.
The plane that had flown us there was tiny, as was the airport we arrived in. On reaching my hotel room, I found that the red suitcase I’d taken was older than mine: battered, worn from travelling. It’s not that which alerted me that it wasn’t my bag, though. It was the fact that when I opened it and reached for my Doxy – which should be on top, wrapped in a t-shirt and ready for me to christen my home for the next few days with an orgasm – it isn’t there.
They usually include changes of plans…
Plans to spend the week in my hotel room, getting over my break up with frequent masturbation and science fiction novels quickly vanish. While I can get off with my fingers, there’s not the same variety as fucking myself with different toys. Thus, I end up venturing out into the small town. Standing stones, buried settlements… I’m glad my camera was in my hand luggage. It’s been a while since I’ve tried my hand at non-erotic photography, but the beautiful landscape quickly helps me regain my skill.
… but they don’t often feature detective work.
I can’t help looking through the other suit case I’ve ended up with, just once or twice. I tell myself I’m looking for clues, in the hope I can spot whoever has taken my bag in the cobbled streets. The denim jacket covered in pin badges is helpful in that respect. A ‘Queer As In Fuck You’ badge, a Hufflepuff patch, a badge declaring that it’s wearer uses them/they pronouns, and a non-binary flag pin. These make me like them, as do the non-toxic, body safe toys in the case. There are sketch books as well – I flick through them quickly, wishing I could justify examining the drawings more closely.
They probably shouldn’t involve wanks with sex toys that aren’t yours.
I don’t mean to use the toys; exploring keeps me busy, and photography gives me something to focus on. But neither satisfies my desires, and after two orgasms and an evening of audio porn my fingers aren’t enough to push me over the edge a third time. I borrow the ultra-violet pink and silver-grey Adam dildo, slip a condom over it, and give myself a generous squeeze of lube. I fuck myself hard and fast with the toy, and come with a drawn-out groan, picturing that they were watching me squeeze my cunt around their dildo.
Very few people end up meeting a real-life cute-as-fuck genderqueer Teddy Lupin on holiday –
I call the airline, who inform me they’ll get in touch when they track down my luggage. When they contact me the next day, and I carefully repack the suitcase and lug it to the airport, I know instantly who I’m meant to be meeting. They’re wearing dungaree-shorts and stripy tights and have a pencil stuck behind their ear. They have short, tousled, green-blue hair – which they later describe to me as Teddy Lupin turquoise – and a clusterfuck of freckles. The biggest clue, of course, is that they have a red suitcase at their feet.
– and even fewer end up making out with them two hours later.
When you know there are sex toys in the cases you’re exchanging, it is easier, somehow, to get over any awkwardness. A few minutes of conversation, complete with punning and complimenting each other’s taste in sex toys, leaves me feeling warm and I ask them if they want to grab coffee with me. We continue talking, swapping stories and teasing each other. Soon they’re grinning and making me blush as they tell me sternly to put my purse away and insist on paying. They ask me questions and I end up sharing kinks and fantasies that make me squirm in embarrassment. And before I know it, they are pressing me against the brick wall of the alley beside the coffee shop and sucking a hickey into my neck.
Summer holidays frequently include fucking, sometimes even of the kinky kind.
They insisted on dinner that night, though I’d have happily turned the alley-way make-out into more straight away. They make me scarlet with gleeful shame and dripping wet with the words they whisper to me. We negotiate and flirt and laugh and work out what we’d like to do together. Humiliation and orgasm control are not topics that I feel comfortable about in such a busy place, but the gleam in their eyes tells me how much my stumbling confessions are turning them on. They pour filth into my ear while holding my hand as we walk back to their hotel, and the door has barely shut before they’re ordering me to strip.
However, I’m pretty sure getting pissed on by someone you’ve known less than 48-hours is slightly more unique.
I’m not sure that sleep happened that night. They fuck me with their strap-on, telling me I cannot come. They tie my hands behind my back and make me watch while they fuck themselves with their Godemiche dildo I’d used the other day, then make me use my mouth to clean it. When I lick my lips to taste all of them, they decide that I should use my mouth to make them come. Later they sit on my back, pressing my face into the pillows and jamming a powerful vibrator against my clit so I come – not once, but three times, until my body is shaking uncontrollably.
It takes a brilliant perv to bring a bicycle ride with a butt plug into your holiday.
They persuade me to come with them to visit the tiny chapel built in the 1940s. Partly because I want to spend more time with this funny, clever artist who fucks me so well, and partly because they tempt me with the idea that I could take some naked photos of them, I agree to hire bikes for the adventure. And agree to wear a butt plug while we ride down. I feel the plug push deeper inside me every time I cycle over a dip or bump on the single road and blush every time they grin knowingly at me. They examine my cunt when they remove the plug before our naked photography session, and tease me for being so wet.
Maybe no other summer holiday will ever end with your panties in your new fuck buddy’s suitcase, not to be reclaimed until you meet them in a few days, when they’ve promised to stuff them into your mouth and lead you back to their flat gagged with your own underwear.
I can’t wait.
The Lion and the Unicorn by Ella Scandal
Watching Aaron painting his corkscrew hair is one of my favourite pastimes. When we first met he’d blushed when I caught him converting a patch of grey back to his natural black. After a few months, he’d just smiled sheepishly when I commented on how good he looked with a few highlights. But now? Now my eyes are flickering around as if I’m in the middle of REM sleep, watching his deft hands fly over his locks with primary coloured chalks, powders, and glitters.
Today isn’t just our first Pride event as a couple. It’s Aaron’s first ever. We met just after last year’s, in a café on the high street. I’d just thought he was a hetero guy. A straggler from the gig that had gone on at the university. It was his band tee that had made me assume, you know? I’d been worried that he was about to start something, with the way he kept staring at me. But when he did open his mouth it was to confess that he’d spent all weekend on the periphery of our colourful celebrations, all constricted and closeted and not knowing how to get out. Even today, he’s still half in, but that’s all about to change in the hugest of ways.
See, this year’s event will be televised. My sister, Syd, had called us brave this morning when we said we weren’t put off by the idea of cameras. I’d been so fucking proud when my usually meek boyfriend looked her square in the eye and said, “You’re calling us brave for going about the every day business of living our lives? You sure you’re an ally?”
The way he’d pulled back his shoulders and lifted his chin… it was the first time I’d ever seen him look so sure of his own identity. Damn, it had made my dick so hard. And now, thinking about how ferociously we’d fucked in the kitchen when Syd left is making me hard again.
As I watch Aaron finish blending a bright purple stripe of hair with a neon pink one, he shifts his gaze. He holds my eyes but doesn’t stop. He just switches to a different brush and starts to blend in some red. When his lips quirk into a smile I know he’s noticed. At this stage I’m only wearing a thong and a multi-coloured chain chest harness, so he knows what’s what.
All it takes is a sharp move of his desk chair for me to know what he wants me to do. There’s room for me now, under the table that’s littered with pots and powders. I don’t walk to him. I crouch, fall forward and let my hands slap against the floorboards, then crawl. I prowl across the room, chest so low it’s almost skimming wood. Even though my head is pulled back I still have to look up at him through my lashes.
Aaron pauses in the middle of smudging orange into the red stripe and groans, “Jesus, every time you look at me like that I just want…”
When I reach him, I smell him. Patchouli, black pepper, and vanilla. His signature shower gel. It’s faint at his ankles. His giggle when I lick his instep isn’t, though. It’s loud and it reverberates through me, making my eyes roll as I run my tongue up his shin bone, as I drag it through the rough hair and wrinkle my nose against the tickle.
As soon as I reach a patch of soft, smooth skin I start to suck. Aaron widens his legs and I see an opportunity. His cock is only half erect, but not for long. God, I can barely breathe. I’m about to do something that’ll make him purr and I know the sound will have me fucking the floorboards. I twist my neck, push my face into the hollow at the back of his knee, and bite.
“Fuck!”
A make-up brush bounces off my hand and rolls under the desk. I bite deeper, form a seal with my lips and suck so hard I know I’ll leave a lingering mark. But I won’t stop. I can’t stop, because Aaron’s heels are digging into my shoulder blades and he’s squirming so much his chair starts to roll over the floor.
I follow, still latched on, and as soon as the chair hits the bed I shift. Hands on Aaron’s soft thighs, pulling myself up, dipping my head to kiss and nibble my way over his skin. His goosebumps almost make me laugh, but my mirth fades when I catch another scent. The patchouli and pepper are stronger here, but there’s something else layered beneath them. It’s the scent of Aaron. Of his crotch. The natural fragrance that always clings to his pubic hair no matter how well he washes.
He’s supposed to be the big cat today, but I’m the one roaring. I’m the one losing my shit, lunging at his cock and taking it to the back of my tongue before I’m even ready. I gag. Splutter through my nose. Feel my eyes watering and don’t give a fuck about mascara tears because Aaron is already grabbing my hair and pumping his groin.
I love this. Love having his cock in my mouth. Its taste, its size, the feel of his foreskin moving beneath my tongue. The stretch of his over pronounced head pushing past the last barrier in my throat and sinking into my oesophagus makes my arse spasm.
Holding my head still, Aaron fucks my mouth. His balls slap of my chin. We’re not even on the bed and the springs are squeaking. I’m going to cry. Puke. Pass out. Come. Fuck, I’m so close to coming and my cock hasn’t even been touched.
Aaron must know. I don’t even realise he’s withdrawn until he’s on his knees in front of me, shuffling closer until our chests are touching. He grabs my cock and mashes it against his, shaking his wrist and wanking us both at the same time. I’d love to help, but I’m so overcome with desire it’s rendered me useless.
And this is what Aaron loves. Me, so fucking delirious with need for him that I become nothing more than thrusting hips, a ravenous mouth, and animalistic growls.
In a desperate bid to keep myself upright, I grab the edge of the desk. Aaron gasps, a sure sign that he’s about to blow, and my sack tightens in response. My balls ache so much I realise I’m afraid of this orgasm. How fucking intense is it going to be?
So intense I throw my head back and holler at God. Is that my spunk or Aaron’s splashing my Adam’s apple? Why do I want to get back on all fours so that he can fuck me? My head drops forward and I open my eyes. What the fuck? Aaron is laughing, and I immediately see why. A rogue pot must have rolled off the desk when I grabbed it and spilled its contents over our dicks. Mingled in with our sticky come is the cutest iridescent powder.
“Well, you did say we just have to be ourselves today,” Aaron says with a grin. He grabs my headpiece off the bed and fits it just above my sweaty forehead. “I wouldn’t be a lion if I didn’t have my rainbow mane, and you wouldn’t be a unicorn if you didn’t jizz glitter.”
An Easter Tale
Eric tried to gather as much seasonal good cheer as possible for the coming spectacle. The very staid affair of suits, ties, church services, and dealing with his father-in-law. Things he had to do to keep the peace, but made the holiday difficult to tolerate.
It would be hours of listening to a lecture on doing better in his corporate job and getting a bigger house. It would culminate in talk of children. Eric plucked at his collar, feeling the weight of the coming day settling on his chest.
“Are you almost ready, Olivia?”
He walked into the room and was stopped in his tracks. His wife was face down in the bed, ass in the air, wearing nothing except a white bra. She spread her legs when he entered, showing him her fingers as she played in her cunt and the white bunny tail plug nestled between her cheeks. Her favorite dildo, a multi colored cock that glittered in the light, lay wet on the bed near her lips. Fucking hell.
“Just about.”
Her voice was a breathy whimper that made his cock harden painfully.
“Olivia…”
He approached the bed and trailed his fingers along the curve of her butt. She shivered under his touch, arching so he could see more of her fingers thrusting. Eric grasped the tail, pulling and pushing so the bulb teased the flesh of her anus and made her moan deep in her chest.
“We’ll be late for service.”
Even as he said that, he was unbuttoning his dress pants to free his cock. His eyes shifted from her cunt, her labia fat and wrapping around her fingers as she thrusted, and her mouth glossed to a high sheen. Eric could bump her plug as he fucked her, adding a teasing sensation to his own pleasure. But her mouth…
It was nothing to grip her coiffed hair and guide her mouth to the head of his cock. He pulled her forward as he pushed deep into her throat. A hard slap to her ass caught the tail and elicited the most erotic moan that reverberated up his cock. He grit his teeth as his balls tightened. A shudder breath and he was back under control.
He took up a steady rhythm then. His hand landing in a loud clap that made her tail jump and his cock thrusting into the warmth of her mouth. All the while, her fingers worked to find her climax. Just the fact that they were going to turn up to Easter service late, her cunt soaked and her belly full of his come, had him riding the edge after only a few moments.
“You’d better come quickly or I’ll be sending you to mass with that tail on under your dress.” He yanked until her eyes were on his. “Then I’ll tease it all through dinner until you beg me to fuck you in the bathroom while your family devours hot cross buns.”
That sent her into an orgasm so intense, he had to keep hold of her head so his cock stayed buried in the heat of her throat. Her plug bounced with the buck of her hips, the fluff waving in air. The way she groaned around him, a low hum that seemed to move through his whole body, sent him plunging over the edge. He was forced to lock his knees to keep his trembling legs from failing him.
Olivia released his softening cock with a sigh, her eyes glazed and her lips glossy with spit and come.
“Guess I’ll get dressed before dad wonders where we are.”
He grabbed her wrist, halting her movements, and brought her wet fingers to his mouth. The taste of her on his tongue was better than any Easter chocolate he’d taste today.
“Leave the plug.” Eric patted her bottom as he stepped away. “I’ll want to play with my little bunny later.”
Suddenly, the prospect of spending Easter with his father-in-law didn’t seem so bad.
Yes, Miss
She watched me twirl the panties around my finger. As I approached the bed where she lay splayed open, her eyes skipped from the flash of the panties as they spun and the bounce of my naked breasts.
“Open those legs wider for me, little girl.”
Obedient little thing. The way she moved the moment I spoke made my cunt hum.
She bent those long legs up and then spread them so the lips of her pussy parted. Wetness dampened the hair that decorated her mons and around her vulva. The fact that she didn’t wax or shave, that the musky scent of her intensified, turned me on so much I wanted to lick her from clit to asshole. Later, I’d taste her and the thick cream she’d produced just for me. After I’ve fucked her.
I stepped into the panties, sliding them nice and slow up my thighs to settle them on my hips. They’re comfortable against my skin, the crotchless back let cool air tease my cunt as I bent over her. The band is thick and lays flat against my tummy. I considered grabbing a vibe to put in the secret pocket near the front, but disregarded that idea. I didn’t need any help coming.
Her eyes are on the panties now. I fingered the O-ring, enjoying the way her brown nipples tightened to harder points. She reached up to tease those trembling peaks just I reached the bed. I batted away her hands and slapped one breast.
“Did I tell you that you could touch yourself, little girl?”
“No, Miss.” Her long lashes swept low to hide her eyes, but she opened them quickly.
I stepped up on the bed, prowling over her body so I can lay a kiss on her lips. Her mouth is soft and tasted of the moscato I’d given her earlier. I deepened the kiss, tasting all that sweetness with my tongue until she started panting.
The dildo I picked is a vibrant pink color, opposite to the almost understated nature of the panties. I pull it from bedside table drawer and tap her lips with it.
“Open.”
Those full lips parted and I slipped the dildo into her mouth. She started sucking, her eyes holding mine as she took it deeper. Her tongue swirled around the head as I pulled it out. I pushed it back in, loving the way she gagged on it. She never once took her eyes off of me even as tears blurred her vision.
I’d never thought about having a penis, but the way her lips sealed around the fake cock had me thinking of her wet mouth in a different way.
The dildo slid into the O-ring with ease. Unable to stop myself, I moved up to straddle her chest. She knew exactly what I wanted, opening her mouth again so I can push into her throat one more time.
“Get it good an wet for me.”
Such a good girl. Her eager mouth and tongue worked the dildo again. She released it with a pop that made my clit throb and gave me the look of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
I grab the lube off the bedside table and move me down between her spread legs. If it’s possible, she’s wetter than she was before. Her thighs tremble as I run my nails from hip to knee. Her clit pokes out from between and I tap it. The way her hips thrust up seeking my hand makes me chuckle. She gave a little whine.
“Tell me what you want? Use your words.”
Her breath hissed from her as I dipped one finger in her hot cunt.
“Please fuck me.”
I drizzled lube on her clit and her hips thrust up again. Grabbing the base of my cock close to the panties, I tease her with the head. She whimpers and tries to push so the head slips in.
“Uh uh. Beg me, little girl. Beg me for my cock.”
It was my cock. The way I held it, teased her with it, and the way it laid against my body so close. This was mine to wield and use on my girl.
She bit down on her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Please, Miss, I need you. I need your cock inside me.”
The quiver in her voice pulled me in. I tapped the head on her clit, slid it down, and then pushed inside. Even though I couldn’t feel it, not her wet heat or the squeeze of her body, the way she gasped and trembled beneath me had me close to coming in an instance.
It took a few thrusts to figure out the rhythm, the movement foreign. Once I caught the tempo of it, I found myself gripping her hips and fucking her with rolling thrusts.
“Oh god.” Her whimpers turned into full blown cries of pleasure as I pulled her into me.
Her hands gripped my wrists, her short nails digging into my skin. She moved with me effortlessly.
I glanced down, watching as the pink dildo, my cock, entered and exited her cunt. She’d covered it in her juices, the surface glistened in the light.
“Oh. God.” Her words were desperate, snapping back to her face contoured in pleasure. “I’m going to come.”
“Come on my cock, little girl, do it.”
She gave a harsh cry and arched her back. I knew her cunt was squeezing for all it was worth. Her breasts bounced in the most enticing way. I leaned forward, careful to keep my thrusts steady, and latched on to one of those tempting nipples. Every bit of her tasted sweet.
When she relaxed, I slowed to a stop, leaving the dildo seated inside her. I kissed her lips, loving the dreamy look on her face.
“May I fuck you with the strap on next, Miss?”
Her cheeky smile was back and my cunt gave a spasm of agreement. Such a naughty little girl.
***
This piece was inspired by this beautiful image of Monkia wearing a RodeoH harness which was taken to celebrate the launch of us selling Rodeoh products.
