Revolution

revoution

It was a time of revolution, and so we holed ourselves up.  Bodies crushed together.  Naked flesh knitted to naked flesh like a finely stitched mesh.  We made love in that darkness until sweat wept from us.  Until the body was weak and we cried out from exhaustion.

The world could have ended beyond us, yet we were still here.

“I must fight now.”

“I know.”

“Think of me?”

“Always, my love.”

I hoisted my weapon as the skies lit up, not knowing when or where we should meet each other again.

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An Update and a Sexy Excerpt

Happy New Year!

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday.  I know I did.  I got some wonderful feedback on my sexy short Cuck’d for Christmas and, to my blissful surprise, got a good deal of writing done for various projects I have in the mix.  While 2016 might have been a shit storm, it was a productive year for writing.

Now it’s back to the drawing (writing?) board.

I’ve picked up my Z Saga again, the book series that kicked off my self-publishing debut.  Z is a group of POV erotic short stories set against the backdrop of a zombie apocalypse.  I like writing about sex and I love zombies, so it sounded like a win-win.  And while there are a thousand different stories raging through my brain, Z truly has my heart.  Now, almost a year after releasing book 2 in the series, I’m back to writing on book 3.

Each story is written to stand alone, though each one play in to the larger narrative.  Z follows a ragtag group searching for haven in a fort somewhere in central Indiana.  The characters are as diverse as the zombies staggering after them, and the endings will leave you chomping at the bit for more.  You can find Book 1 (Jacobi’s Story) here, and Book 2 (Camille’s Story) here.

But don’t take my word for it.  Here is a little tantalizing teaser from Book 2 to tide you over.  Feel free to rate and write a review on Amazon.  Or just drop me a comment on here.  I would love to hear from you.

Until next month…

R.

Z

Sleep rarely came easy.

I lay there on a pallet of blankets beside Nadine on the storeroom floor, listening to her soft, rhythmic breathing and wondering how she was able to sleep so soundly after the things we’d seen these past few years.  It wasn’t long before I found myself thinking about Jacobi again.  Jacobi always slept like a baby.  Or so he liked to brag.  Jacobi Jameson was a lot of things—pompous and arrogant, a self proclaimed sex addict.  Humble didn’t make the list.

I tried to push him from my mind.

He’s fine, I told myself, not for the first time since leaving him alone to fight his way out of the barn.

I remembered the way he came crashing to our rescue in Chicago, all attitude and brawn and swinging that damn pickaxe of his.  The bastard always did think he was God’s gift to the universe.  Just happened that day he was.

Jacobi never noticed me as he led our little group across his makeshift system of planks, boards, and ladders he’d used to interconnect a few buildings via the rooftops.  The rooftops!  By then it had been more than a year since he left me, back when all of this shit started.  He was scruffier than before, just as big and built as I remembered.  By the time he noticed me in my blood-stained clothes and baseball cap that hid my red hair, the greeting was every bit as cold as I imagined.

“Cunt,” he bit.

“Asshole,” I fired back.

That night we fucked as if we hadn’t missed a beat.  It was the kind of sex fueled by years of anger and raw emotion and sexual need.  Jacobi pulled my hair, slapped my ass until I was on fire, squeezed my tits until I thought they might burst in his big, calloused hands.  All while his sex railed between my legs, filling me with an exquisite heat I hadn’t felt for too long.

I could almost feel him now.  So hard, so rough…with a steely tenderness I had never found from another man, including Damon.

A new heat ignited between my thighs.  I let my hand glide over the flat of my belly, beneath the waistband of my jeans, until I found that sensitive jumble of nerves Damon had used to torture me with earlier.  God, I was wet.  Moisture gathered in the cleft of my pussy as I parted my lips, stroking my clit and sending an electric current humming through my veins—stoking the fire in my belly to a roaring inferno.  My heartbeat quickened with my breath.  My legs parted with need.  I wanted to come…needed it…again…

I sensed Nadine shift on the floor beside me.  When I looked up, she was watching me through the darkness, head propped on her fist and smiling her plastic smile.  My hand jerked out of my jeans.  It was so dark in the storeroom, maybe she didn’t see.

“I…thought you were asleep.”

“Sorry,” whispered Nadine.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interrupting,” I said, probably way too fast.  “I was just about to get up for my watch.”

Some of the heat left my pussy and filled my face.  At least in the darkness Nadine couldn’t see me blush.  I can’t believe Nadine of all people had just caught me masturbating.  How fucking humiliating!

Nadine lifted herself onto an elbow, the sheet covering her slipping down her lithe little body to expose the petite mounds of her breasts.  Our eyes met in one hungry moment, a sort of understood silence passing between us.  She reached for my hand with a warm, lover’s touch, bring my fingers to her lips and giving each digit a strange little kiss that made butterflies leap to life in my belly.

“Please, Cam, don’t let me stop you,” Nadine said.  Her voice, whispered in the storeroom, sounded sad.  “We get so few pleasures these days.  Please don’t let me stop you from feeling good in a world that is so bad.”

I found myself lying there beside her, Nadine guiding my hand back into my jeans…slowly…as if seeking consent with every inch I relented, edging my fingers closer and closer to the quiet hunger waiting between my legs.  A soft moan escaped my lips when I realized how aroused I was, how fucking wet I’d gotten from letting another woman manipulate me like this.

My breath hitched when I felt Nadine’s hand close gently over mine through the layer of my jeans, guiding my fingers into my pussy like the cock I so desperately needed.  My mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure, my hips rocking off the floor as Nadine began thrusting the palm of her hand gently against my crotch, fucking me with my own fingers.  Through a glaze of sweat I wondered if she sensed me come.

“Nadine, I…”

Before I could say more, her lips closed over mine, swallowing whatever I was going to say next.

And then we were kissing.

Until that moment I had never kissed another woman—had never even thought about it.  Nadine was gentler than Jacobi.  Softer than Damon.  I could only lay there, her breasts heavy against me, kissing her back.  Our hands moved in tandem, my hips thrusting greedily as she continued to fuck me, fueled as much by the new climax rising in my groin as Nadine’s eager tongue in my mouth.

I tumbled over the edge so completely I thought the moan rising in my throat might meet my lips.  My thighs snapped shut as the orgasm pounded through me, my free hand sandwiching Nadine’s over my jeans as I came for her again.  I collapsed in a breathless afterglow on the floor beside her, Nadine’s head resting on my shoulder.  She was watching me again, chewing her bottom lip like a flirting school girl.

I laughed.  “What?”

“See now,” she grinned.  “Don’t you feel better?”

I hated to admit it, but I did.

“Thanks,” I whispered, kissing her forehead.

When I looked up, Damon was standing in the door, silent and dark as the shadows that hid him.  I scooted away from Nadine, equal parts startled and mortified.  If Damon had seen us, he gave no sign of it.

“Your watch, Camille,” was all he said before climbing into the cot to sleep.  Like an obedient lapdog, Nadine climbed in with him.

 

 

Cuck’d for Christmas: A Preview

It’s live!  My new erotic short story Cuck’d for Christmas is available for purchase on Amazon, and to celebrate here is a sexy little excerpt.  Enjoy!

cuckedforchristmas

Marissa gazed down at her husband’s head tucked neatly between her silken thighs, spread just enough on the bed to allow Thom access to her hungry pussy.  Thom’s brow wrinkled beneath the beads of sweat forming there, nose nestled in Marissa’s smooth mound.  His committed tongue stroked little starbursts of pleasure across her clit, eliciting tiny whimpers from Marissa’s throat that begged for more…more…

…far more than Thom could give her.

More than once Marissa found her gaze drifting back to the TV Thom insisted on always keeping on in their bedroom.  The Weather Channel had promised a white Christmas and they had delivered on that promise a day early.  Christmas Eve, and the moving storm front, promised to stall holiday traffic across the county.

“You okay, babe?”

Marissa gave a little start when she realized Thom was watching her beneath heavy-lidded blue eyes.  She found herself looking him over as she so often did these days—his sandy blond hair swept sweatily to the side of his clean-shaven, almost boyish face, his broad shoulders and lean, ropey muscles that rippled as he pawed hungrily at the insignificant organ between his legs.

Thom waited on bended knee like a puppy waiting for a command, forever concerned about her pleasure.  Ordinarily he did wonders with his tongue and mouth and fingers, making Marissa cum until she trembled in orgasm before satisfying himself with her cunt.  How could she tell him that tonight he simply wasn’t enough?

“Babe…?”

“I’m fine,” Marissa said, grateful for the excuse of a police siren that lilted distantly on the icy night outside.  “I just can’t remember if I locked the door or not.  Could you run down and check for me?”

She wondered if her husband put voice to the lie, if he sensed the undulating need swelling in the pit of her belly.  But in typical Thom fashion he just sighed and rose naked from the bed.

“Sure, be right back.”

Good old, predictable Thom—non-confrontational, non-aggressive, a pacifist in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.

When she was alone Marissa threw herself back on their bed.  What the hell’s wrong with me?  She told herself it was the stress of the holidays that kept her from focusing on their play, but Marissa knew it was much more than that.  Five years or marriage and Thom had never made her come, at least not with that puny thing between his legs—more veins and head than any real meat.

Thom knew it, too, and that only seemed to make it worse, to add to his masculine shame.  Sure he stepped it up other ways sexually, but in the end Marissa was never quite sated.  And tonight all of that pent up need seemed to pool in the pit of her belly like overflow from a flood.  If Thom ever asked her what she wanted for Christmas Marissa might have said, “The most mind-blowing fuck of my life!”

But Thom never asked, and Marissa could never bring herself to tell.

Marissa looked down at her naked, thirty year-old body, her tits heavy and flushed with the need burning her from the inside out.  Long black hair curled in ringlets around her breasts and she gave one of the silver rings spearing her nipples a harsh tug she felt deep in the folds of her cunt.  Her back arched.  Reaching between her legs she found her slit, still wet with Thom’s saliva, excruciatingly empty.  Not for the first time Marissa imagined someone other than Thom filling that void.

A strange scuffling noise downstairs pulled her from her fantasies of bigger cock.

“Thom?”

When he didn’t answer Marissa reached for her discarded robe on the floor, too aware of the sticky dampness coating her thighs.

“Thom, I swear to baby Christ you’d better not be fucking with me.”

What am I talking about?  Thom never fucks with anyone.

Marissa padded barefoot down the hall, robe swinging open behind her as she descended the stairs.  She always went all out for Christmas—garland, lights, presents, and, the show-stopper, the fresh cut Christmas tree she and Thom had picked out together a few nights before, fully loaded with ornaments, ribbon, twinkling lights, and displayed in full-view in front of the bay window.  The smell of pine needles and fresh-baked gingerbread cookies still cooling on the kitchen counter filled her nose when she rounded the corner.

Marissa froze.

Standing in their living room near the fireplace was a man.  Firelight twinkled in his dark eyes as he drew Marissa in with his gaze.  He looked Latino, a head taller than her husband and thick with muscle that bulged beneath the orange jumpsuit he wore.  One powerful arm hooked around his throat held Thom’s naked body at bay.

“No sudden moves lady or I’ll snap this vato’s neck right here.”

Marissa couldn’t move if she wanted.  Panic threatened to cripple her right there in the living room.  Danger crackled on the air like electricity, sending a cold chill rippling through her.

“Take anything you want.”  She struggled to keep her voice level.  “Just don’t hurt him.”

“Fresh clothes,” the stranger growled, his voice tinged with an accent.  “Rapita chica!  Go!”

Marissa raced back upstairs, arousal replaced by adrenaline as she tore through the dresser drawers looking for something that might fit the intruder.  He was so much bigger than Thom, especially through his chest.  None of Thom’s shirts would fit.  In the end she settled on a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.

A flash from the television caught her attention.  Clutching Thom’s sweats to her chest, Marissa eyed the words emblazoned across the bottom of the screen.

Manhunt Underway for Escaped Inmate

 

Holiday Greetings, Some Catching Up, and a Little Flash Fic…

It’s been a rushed few months for me.  The holidays usually are.  Between work, cramming for tests, and rushing to get a short story published by Christmas it has been a busy few months.  So I wanted to drop in to say I haven’t forgotten about you few loyal readers who grace my little blog, and wanted to leave you something that will leave you feeling full until next month when I give you a little snippet of my new short story.  Until then, happy holidays!

face-to-face

Face to Face

R. F. Lange

Is there a better way for two men to bond?

Face to face, sitting in two opposite chairs so close our splayed knees touch, our hairy male genitals on display for the other to see?

I can feel you examining my maleness and I chance a look between your legs, too. What I see shoots straight to my already erect penis and makes me masturbate faster.  You are already hard, your thick column of vascular flesh with its pronounced mushroom cap leaking fluids like honey from a comb.  Your testes hang like ripened fruits that bounce against the ring of your hairy anus with each stroke of your pumping fist.

Another part of your anatomy that fuels my cock.

I lean forward and stroke the puckered flesh beneath your balls with a single finger. You say nothing even as that private patch of male flesh responds to my touch.  You are the man I’ve ever felt comfortable to touch this way, yet another way for us to bond.

I am suddenly kneeling in front of you.  I don’t remember moving, and yet there I am, eyes transfixed on your penis as I stimulate the most intimate part of your body.  My face is so close I can smell the male musk clinging to you.  I know you are watching me, eyes riveted, awaiting my next move.  You know what I want, what I need when we are together like this—separated from the rest of the world by a slab of wood and a deadbolt. You are always willing to accommodate those private urges of mine.  As if anticipating them, your legs spread and I watch as your male trench opens to give me more intimate access to you.

There is something about the secrecy of our relationship, the closeness of it all that makes me feel closer to you than any other person in my life, including my wife.  Ours is a bond that surpasses most peoples’ understanding, which is why it remains between just us to.  Two heterosexual men lost in each other, celebrating male need.  It is the reason I say little and do so much, my friend…because what I need is you.

I feel the shudder that races through your body when my nose teases your sphincter.  My tongue darts out to taste you, stroking wet bursts of pleasure into you anus.  Your fist, like my own pumping hand, never stops stroking as you watch me lick your clean hole from the inside out, giving it deep, wet kisses like it’s your mouth.

You say nothing when you feel my pronounced tip at your tight opening.  You understand what I need. You need it too.  For you, your anus acts as another sexual organ to be stimulated, much the way you are stimulating your cock now.  I still remember the way you drenched us in male fluids the first night our bodies locked together, coming without ever touching yourself as my penis stroked you from the inside out.  You still get that same look on your face whenever I am about to penetrate you.  Your eyes lose focus.  Your mouth grows slack.  It’s as if your entire consciousness is consumed by the maleness filling your body.

You tense when I press myself into you, my engorged head stretching the ring of your anus around its pronounced ridge, making your own penis spit up a fresh puddle of fluid on the flat of your belly.  I lean forward, tongue dipping into your shallow navel to taste the salty syrup I’ve just caused you to produce. Your taste surges through me, makes me throb inside of you.

My face looms over yours and I dip my tongue between your sweet, cherry lips, offering you a taste of your own body.

It is all so very…natural.

I feel you relax beneath my masculine weight and I gather you in my strong arms, easing myself into you inch by agonizing, erect inch until all you can feel is the fullness inside you.  Your legs—so strong, so masculine—wrap around my waist as if you cannot fathom the idea of my sex ever leaving your body.  I feel your heartbeat against my chest as if it was my own heart pounding out my need.  Our eyes meet and I cannot help but kiss you again, invading your lips, suckling your wet tongue, tasting you.  No female has ever kissed me with so much passion.

You moan into my mouth as our hips begin to rock in tandem with one another.  Your hole is so wet, like a woman’s cunt, stroking smoothly up and down my thick shaft.  I pull away from our male kiss to look into your eyes…that beautiful face.

You have barely touched yourself since I entered you, and yet your cock feels wet as it wedges between our sweaty bodies.  Your hole flexes like a puckered little mouth sucking at me.

You are close.

You don’t have to say it. In fact, we exchange precious few words when we are together this way. It’s as if our proximity to one another speaks the volumes we never feel like we can say out loud.  But I know you and you know me and our bodies just respond to each other.  I can feel the muscle in your thighs trembling as they clamp around my waist, pulling me deeper inside of you.  My big hands slip to the small of your back as it arches off the chair, my cock stroking sharp breaths from your lips that lick at my face like the heat of a fire.

You come without touching yourself, flooding our chests with your warm seed.  Your hole twitches and convulses around my cock as you begin slamming it around me, milking me, throwing me over the edge.  My mouth crushes to yours, pulling your bottom lip between my teeth as an animalistic growl erupts from my throat.  My cock swells and pulses inside you, your hole working each spurt of my semen out of me and into you.

We lay there a long while in sweat and cum, the hairy erection still locked inside you unwilling to let you go.  You stroke my back softly, kissing my shoulder, rocking yourself gently back and forth on me.

I love you.

We never say it, at least not out loud, but I know we both feel it.  How could we not?  My lips close over yours, pulling you into my mouth again, feeling the way your anus responds around my cock.  I have to go but I don’t want to.  Not yet.  Life could wait as long as we were locked within these four walls.

“One more time?” you breathe, the words hot against my face.

You look utterly spent, and yet I recognize that need in your eyes.  I smile, kissing you roughly as I feel your fingers curl into the mounds of my ass, and I begin to stimulate myself all over again with your male body.

Is there any other way to bond?

 

Invaded

ufo

Invaded

R. F. Lange

 

“It’s dead,” Max said, letting his car coast to a stop before trying the key again.  The ignition clicked, but was otherwise silent.

Jenna shot him a coy smile.  “You’re kidding me, right?”

They had been dating officially for six months, having sex for a lot longer.  Max should know he didn’t have to use some outdated pickup line to get into her panties.  She looked at him in the driver’s seat, dashing in his zoot suit and fedora.

“I didn’t even think people still used that old ‘Oops, my car died’ line anymore.”

Max couldn’t help but laugh, knowing how it must sound.  “No line,” he said, trying the key again to no avail.  “We’re officially broken down in the middle of nowhere.”

Jenna looked out the window at the dark countryside.  They hadn’t seen a house for miles.  She was suddenly regretting her choice of costume—a sexy low-cut flapper skirt with spaghetti-straps that accented her breasts.

“Don’t you have AAA?”

Max lit up.  He’d forgotten all about the AAA membership his dad had bought him for Christmas last year.  Until now, he hadn’t needed to use it.  He pulled his phone.

“Shit.”

“Let me guess, no signal,” Jenna said, studying her own phone.  “Me either.”

Max smiled sheepishly.  “Guess we’re walking,” he said.

Jenna sighed.  Her heels weren’t made for trekking down a gravel road in the dark.  She’d have to give Michelle shit for moving so far away from civilization.  Hopefully, they weren’t too far away from Michelle’s new farmhouse and the Halloween party she was throwing.

They climbed out of the car, the chill of the night immediate against Jenna’s exposed skin.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a piss,” Max said, crossing to the side of the road.

“Well hurry up,” Jenna said, rubbing her bare arms.  “I’m freezing.”

Max smiled to himself as he took a leak.  He and Jenna hadn’t been dating long, but he thought things were going well.  Until tonight, that is.  He knew he’d hear about his car troubles all the way to Michelle’s.  He wondered what made his car die.  Whatever it was that had stalled the engine would have to wait until morning.  Depending on how far away Michelle’s house was, that might be how long it takes them to get there.  He glanced up at the cloudy night.  It looked like rain.  Hopefully, it would hold off until he and Jenna at least got somewhere dry.

Something bright caught his eye.

An orange-glowing orb about the size of a tennis ball, flitting across the sea of black above them.  A quick look back at Jenna showed her staring up at the sky too.

“What is it, Max?” she asked, her voice a quiet whisper on the night.

Max shrugged.  “Shooting star, maybe?”

“It’s moving too slow,” Jenna said, studying the objected as it listed lazily, stopping and starting again like a hummingbird buzzing from one stamen to the next.

It was definitely getting closer, flashing now, as if trying to communicate with them.  Max felt Jenna clutch his arm, gathering beside him as they watched the object drifting toward them.  Jenna felt the urge to run back to the car, to lock the doors and wait the thing out.

“I’m scared,” she whispered to Max.

“Why?” Max laughed, a strained sound on his lips.  “It’s probably just a weather balloon or—whoa!  You see that?”

The light was directly above them now, splitting into thirds, each glowing orb flashing in tandem with the others, floating into a triangular formation in the sky.  Max gaped in wonderment.  Were they really seeing an honest, true-to-god UFO right now?  The lights stopped moving and were just hovering over them, almost like they were watching Max and Jenna below.

“I want to get back in the car, now,” Jenna said, shivering.  Her skin had gone icy with goose bumps.

“We’re fine,” Max said.  “There has to be an expla—”

Night turned to day suddenly in a pulse of blinding white light that erupted over the black countryside.  Heavy, almost palpable, Max and Jenna recoiled at the brightness that washed over them.  When they opened their eyes again, everything had gone dark, and the skies were empty.

Even as his eyes adjusted to the new darkness Max saw that Jenna was white as a sheet.  She was still gazing up at the sky, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.  Jenna felt funny…different somehow.  Heat coursed through her like a generator and her breasts felt heavier, fuller.  Moisture wet her thighs.  Had her pussy ever felt so empty before?

“We need to get the hell out of here,” Max said, taking Jenna by the arm and trying to get her to move.

Jenna didn’t budge.  Panic gripped at her belly, threatening to cripple her right there on the side of the road.  Not because of what they’d seen, but because of the mounting need filling her to the core.  Something far deeper than the physical.  This need was visceral…something altogether primal that paralyzed Jenna in its hold.

She needed to fuck.

Now.

Max felt it too—a quiver in his abdomen that made his balls pull tighter between his legs.  It terrified and excited him.  If Jenna knew about the erection swelling in his pants she’d probably call it quits with him.  How could he think of sex at a time like this?  The thought was fast consuming him, though, making his whole body feel hot despite the chill in the air.

“What are you waiting for?” Max said, and his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth.

Jenna watched him hungrily, brushing a hand up his arm.  Heat radiated through his shirt.  She could almost smell his arousal, the pheromones coursing through his veins, the fear stuck in the back of his throat.

Jenna went for his crotch.

“Jenna, w-we can’t…”

Max wanted to push her away but instead found himself guiding Jenna’s hand to the bulge snaking down the leg of his zoot suit.  Deft fingers worked open the buttons, reaching in to draw his cock out into the open air.  Jenna had never seen him so hard before.  The veins on his erection were distended and throbbed in her hand.  The smell of male musk was an electric jolt to her cunt, driving her to her bare knees in front of him.  Bits of gravel dug into her as her tongue slipped across the salty fluid spilling from the tip.  Jenna’s pussy practically drooled between her thighs for its own taste.

“Fuck me, Max,” Jenna whispered into his cock.  “Fuck me right here, baby.  I need you right now.”

Something was wrong.

Max could feel it even as need drove him to lift Jenna bodily from the ground and plant her firmly against the hood of his broken down car, slipping her skirt up to reveal the black, lacy panties beneath.  He wanted to tell her, to stop it all as he tore the lace free from her smooth cunt, but the heat of her stoked his own fire, driving his hips forward in greedy thrust.

Jenna moaned, back arching off the hood of Max’s car as he drove his full length between her drooling walls.  Max felt bigger than ever, as if he was fucking her with some other man’s cock.  She could feel it swelling bigger and bigger inside her, locking itself so close to her cervix her hips jerked up to meet his as the first of her orgasms crashed through her like a tidal wave.  Her hands thrashed wildly at Max’s shirt, ripping the buttons open and clawing as the sweaty, muscular chest underneath.

Max couldn’t speak through the animalistic need driving his hips back and forth, deeper and deeper, running him closer to the edge.  Jenna twisted beneath him, eyes squeezed tight as another orgasm pounded through her, lips curling over a silent moan—or was it a scream?  Her legs coiled like two pythons around his waist, pulling Max deeper into Jenna’s sobbing pussy.

Something’s not right.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through Jenna, stealing her breath and making her shudder against the hood of Max’s car.  She couldn’t stop coming, couldn’t stop fucking.  Her hands went to Max’s chest in an effort to tell him to tell him to stop, that she wasn’t sure how much more she could take, but the feel of him made her hips lurch hungrily for more of his cock.  So she let herself explore the smooth chest bearing down on her, the swell of Max’s belly.

Odd.

Max had always been so well-built, but now…

His hips pumped in tandem with Jenna’s until their sweaty flesh clapped in adulation, urging them on.  Even if he wanted to stop Max didn’t think he could.  It was too late.  A hunger unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life filled his belly.  Max looked down in horror to see that he had started to swell, his belly distending between his and Jenna’s entangled bodies.  His eyes shot up to Jenna.  Her tits had fallen out of her top and looked huge, her nipples purpling into two stiff points.   Her belly looked bigger too, almost pregnant.

Jenna’s stomach was in knots.  Tears burned her eyes as she watched their ever-expanding bellies.  What’s happening to us?  Terror filled her gut, along with a burning hunger.  Another orgasm stabbed through her, driving a moaning scream from her lips that lilted through the night.

Max’s garbled moan filled his mind as he pounded himself closer inside Jenna’s Needy cunt.  His belly was almost a perfect orb between them, making him look as pregnant as Jenna.  Jenna’s fingers stroked the curve of it almost maternally, the distended flesh rippling beneath her touch.  Her legs tightened into a vice around his waist.

“Not yet, baby,” she managed as Max hurried her toward the cleft of another orgasm.

Max almost wept with need, but he knew she was right.  It wasn’t time.  The sight of his distended belly excited and terrified him in equal parts.  It felt like his insides were on fire.  Max felt something trickle from his nose.  He wiped the distraction away, hips grinding against Jenna’s wet pussy as he teased the edge.  He wanted to come…needed it.

Jenna coughed, tasting something coppery on her tongue.  She took her hands off Max and stroked her own growing belly, the flesh rippling as another orgasm surged to the surface of her smoldering body.

It was time.

Max knew it too.  Eyes flashing wide, he drove himself over the edge with one last powerful thrust, cock pulsing, undulating as spurt after spurt of copious semen poured out of him and into Jenna.  Her belly gave a loud groan, or perhaps it was her own horror finally escaping her throat.

Max fell away like a discarded sheet as the thing tore through his belly with a sound of ripping flesh.  There was no blood.  No viscera.  The creature had consumed all of Max’s insides to give itself new life.  Eight black eyes blinked down at Jenna from a hideous, beaked face, eight pincers clacking like hellish applause.  A harsh buzzing filled her mind as the thing’s wings spread and it flew off into the night.

It was the last sound she heard before her own body split apart, and spilled new life upon the Earth.

 

Under Lock and Key

lock and key

Under Lock and Key

R. F. Lange

The key glinted with the flickering candlelight.  Laced at her waistline by a thin gold chain, the tiny silver key bejeweled her mound like a diamond.

His freedom.

The cage hugging his crotch grew more uncomfortable. It had been weeks since Teta had allowed him to come, longer since she’d utilized the maleness between his legs.  Instead, Hunter’s services had been used to service her.  Kissing and sucking on her pussy.  Fingering and toying at her delicious cunt until her head flailed back and she painted her orgasm across his face.

The thought made Hunter ache for his own release.

Seeing her lying there in their bed didn’t help.  Teta had stripped down to a sheer, black bra concealing her heavy breasts, no panties.  She spread her legs just enough to expose the pink of her lips.  Moisture glistened on her slit, in the soft mound of her dark pubic hair.  Had she already been teasing herself?  Were his services needed again?

“I’m horny, baby,” she purred, dipping a hand between her thighs.

Her voice was soft, laced with her arousal. She tugged on the tiny metal key around her waist, smiling down at the thickness filling Hunter’s cage.  His mouth felt suddenly dry, his tongue heavy.

“Shall I pleasure you, my love?”

Teta gave him a come-hither motion with one finger.  The way she bit her lip always gave her an air of innocence.  At the same time, her dark, almond-shaped eyes shone with mischief, like she enjoyed taunting him.

Like she wanted him to beg.

He’d given the key to her himself the day they were married.  Teta had slipped a silver ring onto his finger with her vows. Hunter had given her a key…

“…to my heart,” he told the questioning faces of family and friends watching the ritual from the church pews.

Only the two of them knew the true meaning behind the key,  that beneath Hunter’s well tailored suit was a stainless steel cage that hugged his cock and balls, making it impossible to touch himself.  Only Teta had access to him; Hunter preferred it that way.

Hunter crawled onto their bed on all fours like an tiger on the prowl. The chastity device made his sex feel overwhelmingly heavy. It laced around his thighs like a jock strap, exposing the round globes of his smooth ass.  Teta reached for one exposed mound and gave it a healthy slap that made Hunter’s fair skin blaze red.  Hunter’s cock pulsed in its too-small cage.

“I love your ass baby,” Teta said, grabbing the cheek she’d just slapped and squeezing tight.  “Remember when I made you come just by playing with it?”

How could he forget?

It was the last time Hunter was allowed to come.

Teta had teased at the starburst of his anus before slipping one long, lubricated finger inside him, stroking his prostate until Hunter’s long cock jerked and spasmed thick ropes of semen across Teta’s new silk bed sheets.  He’d felt like he was pissing his load everywhere.  Teta had not been impressed.

She hadn’t let him come since.

His cock felt like it might burst from its cage by the time his nose nuzzled against the tiny key so close to her cunt. Tonguing her pussy, Hunter traced Teta’s slit until he found the nub of her clit hot and swollen, teasing and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves until Teta squirmed against his face.

“Mmm baby,” Teta moaned. “That feels good.”

Hunter bowed his head to continue but Teta’s fingers coiled in a fistful of his blonde hair, forcing Hunter to peer up at her from between her smooth thighs.

“What are you doing?” Teta said, her tone sharp.

“Pleasing you, my love,” Hunter said, worried he had done something wrong.

A smile teased at Teta’s lips.  “And you will,” she promised, stoking his cheek.  “But I need to feel you tonight.”  She fingered the key.  “All of you.”

Hunter’s cock gave an impulsive lurch in its cage.  The thing felt impossibly small, his sex contorted inside.  Hung as he was, Teta had purposely caged him in something a shade smaller. She wanted Hunter to be uncomfortable, to watch him squirm.  She wanted him to know he was hers.

“Kneel up, baby.”

Rising to his knees on the bed, Hunter presented her with the cage between his strong thighs.  His heart thundered in his chest as he watched Teta pluck the little silver key from its chain.  She was almost cruelly methodical in the slow deliberate way she took the lock fixed beneath his navel, cradling it tenderly in her open palm before slipping the key inside, turning it…

Click

The cage fell away, nine inches of thick male sex finally freed from its prison.

Hunter took charge then, scooping Teta up bodily and slamming her back on the bed. Forcing her knees apart he sunk himself wholly inside her silken cunt.  Teta gave a sharp gasp at the sudden fullness of him, clawing at his shoulders, his ass, her hips rocketing greedily to meet each wild thrust Hunter delivered.

“Mmm, god baby,” Teta moaned.

Hunter kissed her, filling her mouth with his tongue and tasting the whimpering cries of pleasure vibrating against his lips.  He found the small of her throat with one hand, fingers clasping tight around Teta’s long neck.  Hunter reveled in the small, startled gasp that skipped from Teta’s lips, how her eyes glazed over with lust as he drove harder into her, choking her…fucking her.

He sensed Teta about to come, her pussy practically drooling around him.  But Hunter wasn’t finished with her yet. Not after making him wait so long.  Hunter wanted to make this last as long as he could, to give her just a taste of the exquisite torture she’d put him through these last weeks.

Rising like a Goliath over her, Hunter lifted Teta from the bed and put her onto her knees. With one hand he shoved her face into the pillow, muffling her moans as he slammed himself back into her swollen cunt.  Hunter decided he hated her bra and ripped it from her chest. He’d pay for it later, he was sure.  Teta was particular about her things.  But it was worth it to see her breasts flushed and swaying beneath her with each powerful stroke of his cock.

“Oh baby you’re gonna make me come.”

Her usual commandeering voice was now breathy and raw.  Hunter sensed her hand shift between her legs, stroking her clit and hurtling herself toward climax.

“Oh…babe…oh fuuuck…”

Hunter waited until he felt the first pulse of her orgasm spasm around his cock, for the arch in Teta’s back as it ripped through her.  He pulled out.  Fast.  Teta’s juices dripped from his cock, slicked his thighs.  Hunter slammed himself back inside her, except this time it wasn’t her pussy he was after.

The force of his cock drove a deep grunt from Teta’s lips.  Hunter’s fingers dug into her hips, flesh slapping against hot, flushed flesh as he drove himself deeper inside Teta’s tight pucker, barreling him closer to the brink.  Hunter reached under her to feel her heavy tits, to tug at Teta’s pert little nipples.

“Oh, shit baby!” Teta screamed in shock.  “You’re…going…to make…me come…AGAIN!”

Her hole clenched hungrily around Hunter’s cock when she came, flexing like a little mouth trying to suck him off.  Hunter couldn’t hold it any longer.  With one last thrust he emptied himself inside her—weeks worth of pent up sexual need filling her ass until Hunter finally felt drained.

They collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs, basking in the afterglow of some of the best sex Hunter had ever experienced with his wife.  Teta stroked his chest sleepily while he played with her hair. A fine sheen of sweat covered them both.  After awhile, Hunter drifted into a sated sleep, Teta’s head resting on his shoulder.

His eyes snapped open when he felt himself stuffed back into the cage.

Teta was straddling him, peering down at him with a coy little half smile, already clicking the lock back into place.

It felt like home.

“It would seem you can’t be trusted, baby,” Teta said, giving one of his nipples a rough little pinch.  “For now I think it best to put my toy back where it belongs.  It’s safer under lock and key, don’t you think?”

Hunter could only nod.  He watched as Teta picked her ripped bra off their bed, eyeing it with a frown.  Hunter knew there’d be consequences for being so rough, but they were consequences he could deal with.

She was worth it.

Manscaping

Manscaping

Manscaping

R. F. Lange

Vinnie looked himself over in the mirror.

He needed to do something about all that hair.

“So what we doin’ for ya, pal?” the barber asked, eyeing Vinnie’s naked body.

He was a big man, older, with a handlebar mustache and long hair pulled into a ponytail behind his head.  Vinnie felt weird letting another guy look at him like this. It reminded him of all those physicals he had to endure in high school before he could play sports.

But what choice did he have?

Tonight was his first real date with Ziva, and something might happen. Vinnie had been picking up all the right signs up until the night they kissed for the first time. Ziva’s lips had crushed to his. Her tongue making laps around his mouth.  Vinnie knew she could feel his cock swelling against her.  Ziva didn’t seem to mind.  Instead, she began grinding her hips against the growing bulge in Vinnie’s pants, her breath heavy as they kissed.

She seemed as ready to fuck as Vinnie was…until she reached under his shirt and felt the coarse hair dappling his chest.

Ziva hated body hair.

“Want me to leave the two of you alone?” the barber laughed at the way Vinnie looked at himself in the mirror. “What’s it gonna be buddy?  A trim or a shave.”

Vinnie eyed his body hair. The way it spread across his chest, trickled down the flat of his belly, collecting in a tangled black mound around his cock.

“Take it all.”

“You’re the boss,” the barber said.  “Take a seat.”

Vinnie sat in the barber chair, unable to get comfortable despite the chair’s recline.  He shifted on the cool leather beneath him.  The hot towel the barber placed over his chest was a welcome relief.  Vinnie tried to relax.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect going to a place called Manscapes.  His buddy Jon had suggested it to him after Vinnie told him about his misadventure with Ziva.

“You’ve got to check this place out,” Jon said, pulling the lip of his running shorts down to show Vinnie his smooth-shaven crotch.  “I don’t even try to shave my own pubes anymore.  Fuck that.”

Vinnie had tried once to shave his own pubic hair.  Between irritated skin, razor burn, and the itchiness, Vinnie decided never again.

That was before Ziva…

Now that he was here, Vinnie watched as the barber looked over his tools.  He breathed a sigh of relief when the man chose the electric clippers.  The straight razor on the wall looked like something from Sweeny Todd.

The barber removed the towel from Vinnie’s chest and laid it flat over his lap, and Vinnie was grateful for the reprieve of modesty.

“So first time letting a guy shave you down, huh?”

He was basting a warm, fragrant shave cream onto Vinnie’s damp chest with broad strokes.

Vinnie shifted in the chair.  “That noticeable?”

The barber laughed. “Relax, pal.  You’re not the first guy to wander in here needing his coin purse trimmed.  That’s why I started this place to begin with.  Women have places they can go to get waxed and shaved for their partners. Men don’t have as many options.  So what brings you in today?”

He wiped his hand on a towel hanging over his shoulder and started the clippers.  Vinnie jumped at the buzz that filled the barber shop.

“There’s this girl…”

The barber barked a laugh.  “Ha!  Isn’t there always?”

Vinnie’s eyes were glued to the clippers as the barber lowered them to his chest.  The vibrations sent goose bumps exploding up and down his arms and legs as the barber sheered a swath of cream from his chest in a thick landing strip.

Another swipe.

Another.

Smooth flesh soon peeked through the remnants of the frothy shave cream where a few moments before his chest hair had stood dark and matted.  As the clippers trailed down his belly, Vinnie gave himself over to the goose bumps, the barber’s steady hands.  He was surprised how relaxing it was to let someone else shave him.

The clippers cut off.

“Can I get you to spread your legs for me, buddy?” the barber asked, hiking the chair higher off the floor.

Vinnie’s face heated.

He’d never let another dude anywhere close to his junk before.

Vinnie’s heart was banging against his chest as he let his legs slide over the sides of the chair to dangle loosely above the floor.  The barber snagged the wet towel from his lap.  Beneath it, the nest of pubic hair below his waist was mangled and damp.  The barber combed his fingers through it.

Vinnie felt himself go rigid, fingers digging in to the arms of the barber chair.

“Relax, pal,” the barber grumbled.  “Don’t need you jerkin’ around when I’m so close to your personables.”

“Right…er…sorry.”

The clippers hummed to life again, tearing through the male hair beneath Vinnie’s waistline.  Vinnie tried not to flinch—to relax, as the barber said—but the barber’s steady fingers were suddenly on his cock.  Feeling it up.  Pushing it this way and that as the clippers mowed off the thickest tufts of hair from Vinnie’s crotch.

Sweat beaded on his forehead when the barber lifted his sack, exposing the hair on Vinnie’s taint.

Vinnie gripped the arms of the chair again.  He’d never felt more vulnerable in his life. All the same, the vibrations from the clippers sent an electric jolt of pleasure through him that surprised him.  Goose bumps rippled across his skin.  Vinnie was mortified to feel himself getting hard in the barber’s hands.  He laid his head back and crushed his eyes shut, trying to will his thickening cock soft again.

The barber worked in silence, saying nothing of the erection between Vinnie’s legs.  When he was finished he stood up to examine his work.

Vinnie opened his eyes, looking down at the hard-on jutting conspicuously between his thighs.  He was surprised by how much bigger it looked.  A thin layer of stubble remained where a mess of male pubic hair had been just a moment before.

“Almost done,” the barber said.

He laid the clippers down, reaching for something that made Vinnie’s adrenaline spike—the straight razor.

The barber eyed the tool, running a thumb carefully along the blade’s edge as if to test the sharpness.  Folding the razor in on itself, the barber set it aside as he applied more shave cream to the stubble between Vinnie’s legs.

Vinnie’s cock was almost throbbing, it was so hard.  He could only watch as the barber tugged down on it like an obscene gear shift, flattening the skin of his pelvis.  A thick drop of fluid pearled at the tip.

“Shit!” Vinnie blurted.  “Sorry man.”

The barber swiped the towel across Vinnie’s wet head and threw the towel back over his shoulder.

“No worries, pal,” he said.  “Lotta fellas don’t know what to expect when they come see me.  Don’t know how good getting a haircut can feel…specially ‘tween the legs.”  He chuckled.  “Least ya didn’t shoot your wad all over my chair.”

Vinnie eyes went wide when the barber opened the straight razor again, the edge gleaming in the light.

“Now let’s finish you up and get you back to that girl you’re trying to impress.”

Vinnie’s hands clamped over the arms of the barber chair, eyes riveted on the barber’s hand as he moved the razor closer to Vinnie’s cock. Visions of mishaps and slip ups danced through his mind. His cock pulsed in the barber’s hands.

The barber ignored it, touching the razor’s edge to the base of Vinnie’s cock and giving the shaving cream one slow, methodical swipe.

The barber was right; Vinnie didn’t know what to expect.

Fireworks exploded all over his skin, his cock suddenly rigid.  Somehow, the razor felt better than the clippers.  The barber shaved another swath of stubble.

“Mm.”

The sound came from somewhere deep in Vinnie’s throat.  His fingers loosened on the arms of the chair.

“Told ya,” the barber smiled.  “Feels good.”

Vinnie relaxed then, more so than he felt he’d relaxed in weeks.  Nestling back in the barber’s chair, he watched the other man work.  The soft, sure fist closing around his thick shaft.  The scrape of the razor as the barber shaved him, working it down his pubis with long, steady strokes.

Vinnie felt a flutter in his groin at the barber’s hot hand on his cock.  His own arousal by it all had startled and excited him at first.  Now, for the first time in his life, Vinnie wondered if he could ever do it with another man.  He closed his eyes and imagined holding the barber’s cock the way he held Vinnie’s.  Stroking it.  Opening his mouth and taking it down his…

“All done.”

Vinnie opened his eyes. The barber was cleaning the razor, returning it to its pristine sheen before hanging it back on the wall.  He squirted some sort of masculine-smelling ointment on his hands and began massaging it into Vinnie’s chest, his stomach.  Vinnie’s cock gave another awkward twitch when the barber reached between his legs again, massaging his newly smooth pubis.

“So what do ya think?” the barber asked, washing his hands.  “Think that girl of yours’ll approve?”

Vinnie stood up. His knees felt weak, like he’d been sitting there for hours.  Thankfully, his cock was going soft by the time he turned to look himself over in the mirror.  He checked out his body, smooth and glistening.  He looked more defined, somehow, his lean physique more muscular.

Vinnie smiled at himself in the mirror.

“I think so,” Vinnie said.  “But even if she doesn’t, I feel great.  Isn’t that what matters?”

The barber barked another laugh and slapped Vinnie on the shoulders.  “Ha!  Nothing else matters in the world, my friend.”