A VERY lame porn story (+116)

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A week ago, there is this guy who’s hiding behind the nickname of Ryan456, who finds me on a site for freelancer writers, and proposes  to pay me 160$ if I deliver a 4000-word story of “adult content”within three days. I say Ok, although I have had zero experience with writing suck kind of shit, but I figure, as I am professional (otr at least I love to think of myself as such!), I can do any writing job for money. The guy sends me instructions about what he is expecting to read: role-playing, cockolding, vanilla sex, humiliation, threesome, foursome, finger-fucking, tying ribbons to people’s penises, calling guys with girl’s names… I mean, who can’t resist the temptation of writing a 7-page story based on that such a highly intellectual scenario!? At least not me, no matter that I have an IQ of 134! Who’s counting anyway? And if there IS someone who’s counting the IQ points, they’re not paying me for shit, right? How can I be picky?! I simply can’t! I mean, after all, I have chosen, in full consciousness, a very mediocre man, half my age,  for my partner, so, I guess, I am not allowed to be judgemental.

So, I am writing this story, and it takes me approximately two days to finish and  edit it to the state of pure perfection! We can go on Broadway with this script, baby, I am serious. Throughout the whole time while i’m working on this sex project, Ryan456 is regularly checking on me; he’s already seen the first couple of pages and he loves it, he wants more, or at least he says so. I suspect he jerked off a little when reading the first couple of paragraphs, which can be a certain proof of my proficiency as a porn writer. But then, on Monday, I send him the edited stuff,  and I’m very much anticipating to receive that 160 bucks, so that I could buy myself that  fancy t-shirt I saw on the window of a really expensive Copenhagen fashion store, and I’ll still have some “små penger” (small change)  left for a bottle of French wine at my favorite bar. But no, Ryan456 refuses to pay. I receive a message, saying he didn’t like the story, there was not enough sissy-name calling and humiliation going on in my scenario, so I should forget about the money. But I can try rewriting it, if I feel like it, he adds. Then, he MIGHT consider paying me.

Oh, fuck you!

I mean,  not literally, as I certainly wouldn’t like to fuck this crazy SOB at any circumstances either on this planet, or any planet else, for that matter!

Dear kids,

Here is the moral of the story: You DON’T GET AN ONLINE JOB UNLESS YOU ARE FINANCIALLY PROTECTED IN SOME WAY! Otherwise, you’ll be screwed big time, I guarantee you that. It’s a jungle-business out there and no matter if you perform to the top of your abilities, there will be always someones who’s gonna fuck you big time.

Anyway. I was fucked, I admit. But the story is written anyway. It’s hilarious, it’s a fucking cliche, and it’s so lame that I couldn’t even got aroused while writing it, and yet, I think it’s worth reading. For the fun of it.

Enjoy!

***

STEVE GOES SISSY

I first met Steve at the Christmas office party and instantly scanned his promisingly bulging crotch in the perfectly tailored Versace trousers. Back then, I didn’t know he was my friend Gemma’s husband. I mean, she’d rarely go sharing when it comes to her personal life; all we knew was that she WAS married. Nothing else. But the fact that she was married to this gorgeous man she selfishly kept to herself. And not without a reason! Steve happened to be a juicy piece of meat that could be easily stolen from any dedicated and loving wify like herself by any experienced sex voucher like… myself.  The moment he chivalrously passed me the glass of bourbon I ordered at the bar, I looked him straight into those inviting green eyes of his and realized he was ready to be stolen from poor Gemma.

We started texting; it was kind of playful and innocent in the beginning, but then he became more and more insistent, even outrageous at moments, asking me to send him a picture on Snapchat of a hardened rosy nipple, or a short video of me fingering myself while making copies of the last three- month budget report in the dark copy room. I send him the video and my head’s spinning from racing thoughts of what fucking Steve for the first time would be like. Then Gemma pops her head up in my cubicle and asks me if I’d like to grab a bite to eat with her at the lunch break, and I say, yes, of course. And as we chew our super healthy tuna-red lentils-avocado salads, I can’t stop thinking about her hubby’s last text message after seeing the video, saying he just cum in his Versace pants, only thinking about licking the finger that has just been inside my hole.

The course of events inevitably leads to start seeing each other. Super secretly, of course, as we agreed that we both adore Gemma and we don’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, she is the most faithful, the most loyal woman I’ve known. Besides she is sexy as hell with those irresistible plump boobs of hers and her exquisitely shaped little mouth – so fresh and juicy- like a ripe peach… She definitely doesn’t deserve this – losing her husband to her best friend. It will be such a worn-out cliché! And yet, I deserve to be happy, too, and at this moment, it is possible only when I am with Steve. Although he is a little too sissy for my usual taste for men and sometimes I catch myself thinking of how much I want to make him my little slut. Since I was little, I have this thing for school girls – I love the way they smell, and the way they are capable of radiating perversion through their pretended childish innocence. I guess I’m simply drawn to that shit, but what can I do?!

Of course, Steve and I can’t meet neither at my place, as I live with this dorky roommate who is constantly home, and grouchy, and cooking spicy, smelly Oriental food, nor at his – for obvious reasons. So, we are left with no options but to have occasional sex in all kind of awkward places, like the dusty stockroom of a Korean restaurant, while waiting to pick our take-away order, or the good old copy room, whenever he pretends to have come to the office to bring Gemma a sandwich or something she must have left home. It’s always a quicky, of course, and yet, it’s satisfying enough, as I grow absolutely mad about his hot tongue working slowly over the hard nub of my clit, while I sit on the top of the copy machine, my decent grey skirt rolled indecently up to my waist and my legs resting on Steve’s shoulders.

Then, one day, it’s a Friday morning, my roommate announces with a solemn voice coming as if from the bottom of her cereal bowl that she’ll be leaving for the countryside for the weekend to see her parents. Or ride a herd of horses, or extract honey from some beehives – I am not quite paying attention to what exactly she is saying, as all I can hear is that she won’t be dragging herself around the apartment for two whole days. Destiny has finally granted me the perfect opportunity to have some real sweet sex in a real bed with my one-hundred percent real lover.

But wait a minute, shouldn’t I be more resourceful and make something more beneficial and creative of this glorious upcoming weekend?!

I finish my coffee, say a civilized and almost genuinely cheerful “Have a good one!” to my roommate as she’s closing the door behind her, and as soon as she’s gone, I instantly text Steve the following message, “Saturday evening, 8 sharp, my place, bring your cock!” Then I text Gemma: “How about a glass of wine and a girl talk plus a movie with Ryan Reynolds at my place Saturday evening, say 8:30?” And then… I somehow become inexplicably mischievous and catch myself texting the same massage (skipping the girl talk and the Ryan Reynolds movie though) to my all-time favorite BBC buddy Jeremy, whom I know from the Yellow Submarine Pub. I hang out there sometimes after work, especially when I’m extra pissed off with my boos, Josline, the bitch, or when I just need a couple of shots and a soothing talk with the cute Jeremy. After that, if I’m lucky and his shift ends soon, he takes me to his shitty apartment in the western suburbs, and fucks me really assiduously, but somehow in a compassionate, friendly way, but I am perfectly OK with that, because this is exactly what my aching body craves after a fucked-up day at the office with Josline spitting her venomous superiority attitude on me and everybody else, for that matter.

For my greatest satisfaction, everybody confirms they are game for Saturday evening, so I guess I have something like a triple date tomorrow. Can’t be more excited. So, after work I go to my favorite lingerie store and buy equipment I’ll definitely be needing shortly.

Less than 24 hours later I am undressed to impress. When I open the door to Steve, he sees me in my full sexy splendor: Under my short black kimono robe I’m wearing ruby-red, unlined curve-loving teddy that is voluptuously revealing every single pore of my shaking with anticipation body. Steve hasn’t bothered to bring me flowers and not even a can of Coke, as he knows pretty well what this rendez-vous is all about. And yet, he doesn’t. For when he starts kissing me right there, at the doorway, with the door still wide open behind him, I gently pushed him away, saying with a cunning smile, “Don’t be that rude, babe! Let’s have a drink first. And maybe read some Tolstoy! I keep some high-quality volumes on my book shelves, you know!”

“Who are you fooling, Katie? You are certainly not dressed like a fucking librarian! Come here!” He draws me toward himself and kisses me on the side of my neck. His hot breath sends shivers down my spine, covering my body in goose-flesh, but I need to stay cool, as I have a mission to accomplish tonight, which requires that I resist these first thrills of arousal.

I take Steve, pretty much against his will (and his apparent boner!) to the room my roommate and I call the “Interrogation Chamber”, as it is separated for God-knows-what reason from the living room with a one-way mirror. All in all, the room is pretty unusable, so we just put stuff in there like old IKEA desk-lamps, empty suitcases, boxes with all forgotten, out-of-fashion purple suede boots, and … this old, dusty matrass with a really creepy duck print on it, which we never cared to throw away.

I pushed him on the matrass (so thoughtful of us not to have thrown it away!) and say, “Stay here wait and watch! It’s gonna be fun, I promise!” He is so entrenched in the moment that he seems petrified. So does his erection!

“While waiting, I need you to change your clothes!” I gesture at a big plastic bag I intentionally left in the Interrogation Chamber an hour ago. “When I’m back for you, I want you fully dressed in those clothes…sissy boy! No objections accepted! You hear what I say and you do it, otherwise I’ll never gonna suck this little sissy winkie of yours again!”

I leave Steve with his boner and his total confusion and go to the kitchen, pour myself an ample glass of pinot noir, and wait for the door bell to ring again.

Jeremy arrives – like a knight in shining armor – he is 6’4” and every muscle of his splendid body can make your head spin of excitement. Jeremy doesn’t waste time talking when he is off duty, so he just pulls down my kimono and as one of my tits pops out of the brand new lace teddy, he immediately sucks on it and slides his fingers between my already moist pussy lips.

“Not that fast, stud!”, I say panting, while clumsily trying to tuck my boob back into the lace thing.

“What’s up, princess? Thought you were hungry for a big black cock?” Jeremy doesn’t sound offended, he’s just a bit surprised, as I have never pushed him away before.

“It’s not that, you know that I LOVE your cock. It’s just that I’ve prepared a surprise for you. Just be patient, it’s coming soon.”

“Now you got me interested, baby doll. Is the surprise coming on two legs?”

“Yep.”

“And are they as sexy as yours?”

Before I can answer the question, the doorbell rings again and here comes Gemma – her beautiful skin gone rosy from the chilly November wind. She seems a bit embarrassed by the way I’m dressed, but I promptly explain that I feel more comfortable in my underwear when I am home alone.

“But… you are NOT alone!” says she, as she notices Jeremy, who’s sitting on the sofa, broadly smiling, his legs spread apart, as if welcoming his surprise, which he must have instantly recognized in Gemma.

“Mmmm, no, I’m not, you’re right. I invited over a friend, whom I’d like you pretty much to meet and…well, get to know.”

Jeremy waves to her in a friendly manner and gives her even a broader smile. Now Gemma looks completely perplexed, and her embarrassment grows bigger when Jeremy rises from the sofa, approaches her and takes her coat off in a respectful gentleman way. As he touches her shoulders, I can see he gets the hardest boner ever.

“You can see, sweetie, Jeremy is REALLY happy to meet you!” I nod toward the giant bulge in his jeans and Jeremy waits no more but takes Gemma’s hand and places it on his crotch. She tries to get her hand free from his firm grip, but he won’t let her go.

“What do you think you are doing, mister? I am happily married! What is this?! Is it some kind of a set-up?” Her voice rises with indignation. “Katrina, what the hell…?” But her voice cracks in the middle of the sentence as Jeremy reaches under her skirt with his free hand and starts fingering her pussy through her tights and panties. Gemma rolls her eyes in an instant blissful ecstasy, but quickly gets back to her senses and fights back with even more exasperation than before. I’m trying not that much to comfort her, but rather to help Jeremy drag her to the sofa. As I am unbuttoning her shirt and delivering her huge soft breasts from the prison of the stripless violet bra, Jeremy is tearing holes in her tights, for I can see he is impatient to get to the real thing as quick as possible. Gemma is fighting and kicking, and I could sense with the back of my neck her husband’s growing shock and panic from behind the one-way mirror wall, as, no doubt, he’s been watching the whole scene from there.

Gemma starts begging us to let go of her, she wriggles and twists her body as a trapped gazelle, her hair becomes all messy and her cheeks are burning with desperation, but also with what I could certainly tell is pure arousal. I’m trying to silence her by putting my hand over her mouth, but then I stuck my middle finger between her plump lips and order her to suck  it as it’s my dick. She kinds of calms down and obeys. Meanwhile, Jeremy has already succeeded in brutally tearing apart both her tights and her tiny panties and is fulltime working on her clit. Her screams become more and more muffled and soon turn into moans and orgasmic snivels. As I am pretty wet myself already, I can’t wait to get some action myself, so I eagerly help Jeremy to unleash his monstrous dick. My God! Every time I seem to forget how big it is! When Gemma sees it, her eyes are about to pop out of her head. And my black friend surely knows how to advertise himself…

“Oh yes, baby, you are looking at 11 inches of real black power and believe me in just few minutes you gonna feel that power stretching apart your tiny white pussy.”

Gemma’s body slides down the sofa and as if boneless, and in a trance, she starts licking his giant penis from the base of the shaft all the way up to its fat head.

I leave them in the middle of sucking and moaning and go back to the Interrogation Chamber to check on Steve. I find him goggling through the mirror, his mouth wide open and his hand clutched on his crotch. I can see he is not fully dressed as I commanded, which enrages me big time, and I start violently pulling his t-shirt over his head. He is sensible enough not to fight me because he knows he is a lot stronger and if he makes any move to confront me, he’ll hurt me. So, he just stays there, having this defeated look written all over his face, and silently listens to me calling him names.

“You are just a pussy who cannot satisfy his beautiful wife, and that’s why she is sucking this big man over there, you know! You are nothing but a girl, who doesn’t know what to do with another girl, so what you need is to dress like a real girl, like a bride, in fact, and you marry a real guy, not like the one you pretend to be! Here, let’s try this dress on you! Come on, baby-girl, stand up! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Lose the pants! That’s right. Good girl! U-u-u-u, what we’ve got here –  a little girl with a little dickie! Let me see if the dickie is not a fake one, because girls like you aren’t supposed to have dickies. The only dickies they ever see are the ones real men stick in their tiny soaking wet pussies.”

The wedding dress I’ve carefully picked up for my pretty little girly boy is a rental from the vintage store on the corner of our street, and it fits just fine his slim body, nicely shaped by the Sunday tennis games and the jogging in the park. First, he refuses to put it on, says I’m crazy and that he’s never been so humiliated in his life before. But since I keep on insisting with the most domineering voice I am capable of to stop arguing and be the pretty little wife he should be, his eyes kind of become vacant and he stares impressionlessly at me. I took the chance to start applying lipstick on his semi-opened mouth. Then, comb his fair hair and strap it with a pink velvet ribbon.

While I am performing all those beautifying procedures on Steve, the action in the living room is in its full swing, and we both could enjoy it through the one-way mirror wall. Jeremy is delivering one of his best performances – he’s been now fucking Gemma’s face for more than ten minutes, and she is moaning and wriggling, and rubbing her clit just like a mad person.

“See that, sissy boy?” I lift Steve’s chin and turn his head towards the direction of the fuck action in the living room. “See that big black guy over there? I’m gonna make you his pretty little wife and teach you how to satisfy him. For it ain’t gonna be easy, sister, I’m telling you – a dick of this size is hard to put up with! Or to put it anywhere, for that matter!” I laugh at my own stupid joke.  Meanwhile, it seems that Jeremy has just exploded in Gemma’s mouth, as she is trying to swallow, but the cumming must have been too fast and she’s choking on his sperm. As she continues coughing,  he covers her face and hair in a sheet of cum.  Steve is on the verge to cry. Tries to avert his eyes from the scene in the other room, but I keep holding him firmly by the chin, so he cannot move his head.

Still hard, Jeremy places his hands under Gemma’s arms and lifts her off the floor. He lowers her down on the sofa and starts working on her pussy.

“I guess it’s time to take care of YOUR pussy, little girl!” I say and push Steve on his face on the duck-patterned matrass. I stick my hand under the wedding dress and for a few seconds I have to fumble through dozen of layers of taffeta in order to reach his genitals.

“Now spread your ass cheeks for mamma, baby girl!”

He obeys and I shoved my finger inside him. First, I can feel a little pressure, but then his muscles relax and my finger slings effortlessly all the way into his ass. While I am doing the fuck motions, I am playing with my puffy pink nipples. I can’t remember being so horny and aroused in my life! Under me, Steve squeals and squirms like a girl being forcefully taken by a cock. I pulled him by the hair and make him watch Jeremy holding his wife’s ass, bouncing her up and down on his monster cock. She is now calling out loud the name of Jesus, which encourages Jeremy to try even harder to satisfy her, because, no doubt, Jesus is  watching and he doesn’t want to disappoint either of them.

Although he must feel really humiliated, Steve can’t help himself, lets out a loud moan and starts moving his ass around trying to help my finger reach even deeper.

“Don’t hold back! You’ve got a horny ass, don’t you, Stevie? I know it feels really good for you.”

I carefully slide another finger and, I don’t know, it can be either the finger-fucking or the way I’m talking, but Steve loses control and moans out loud while hampering my two fingers harder and harder.

“Do you like my dick inside you, ah, sissy boy? Sure you like it, because your pecker is so tiny I should use a magnifying glass to find it!”

I’m being a total bitch with him right now, I realize that, but I simply can’t help it. Steve is, of course, crying, faced down, his sobs are muffled by the dirty matrass, and the mascara smudged all over his face.   It’s hilarious how he looks right now – wailing and drooling, with a finger stuck up his ass, unable to move even a hair. And that is because I commanded so! But, on the other side, I start feeling sorry for him; I can feel his agony when seeing his wife being ploughed by a tireless black cock. And now she is again on her knees, squeezing her big white tits around Jeremy’s cock.

I remove my finger from Steve’s ass and command him to stand up and get ready to meet his new husband.

“Now, Stevie-girl” I say adjusting the velvet ribbon on his head, “I have to be sure that you know how to satisfy your guy, otherwise he will go on fucking other women, like this poor little wifey in the other room. Do you want that to happen?”

Steve shakes his head no.

“Ok then, let’s go there and see what you gonna do about it!”

We leave the Interrogation Chamber to find Jeremy and Gemma cozy huddling and kissing like two middle-school sweethearts. And if till now Steve has been watching everything from behind the mirror pretending it was just a dirty movie, the second we enter the living room, the reality of the situation hits him really hard and his whole body starts shaking uncontrollably with sobs. Gemma looks so shocked by his sudden appearance and especially by his bridal attire that for some seconds she freezes with her mouth wide open in awe.

“What do we have here?!”, cheerfully exclaims Jeremy, who doesn’t seem to be bothered at all neither by Steve’s look, nor by the fact that he’s been caught naked and with his dick erected AGAIN!

“I… I…” Gemma has finally come to her senses and is trying in an awkwardly clumsy way to cover her bare breasts with an embroidered cushion. “Steve, how …? Why?”

“You know that girl, sugar pie?” Jeremy asks her and bursts out in uncontrollable laughter.

“That’s my husband,” whispers Gemma and bows her head in shame.

“No, no, no, no, in-cor-rect!” I step in and push Steve toward the sofa. “This is Jeremy’s husband now. Ooops, wife, I beg you pardon, madam!”

“This is what I call a fucking great day full of surprises!” says Jeremy, still laughing, and strokes his penis, which is obviously ready for action again.

“Any ideas what I should do with my girl on our wedding night, Katie?”

“Whatever you want, daddy! She is already pretty wet and ready – checked myself a while ago,” I say and push poor Steve a little further to the coach.  Jeremy stands up, takes his “bride” by the hand and lays her down on the sofa, next to Gemma. Then grabs her by the ankles and slides her a bit lower, so that he could have an easier access to what’s under the taffeta layers. Gemma seems totally lost and speechless, so I bend over her and start tracing her ear with my tongue. Then I slightly force it into her mouth. She doesn’t pulls back, but her whole body feels tensed. However, after ten seconds of tongue-kissing, she relaxes and even places her hand on my boob.

Meanwhile Jeremy throws the bridal dress over Steve’s head, exposing his wide spread legs and his tiny drooping penis, shrivelled with humiliation and horror. As my black friend slowly pushes his thick piece of meat into Steve’s asshole he says, “When I finish with you, faggot, you’ll never want anyone’s little white pecker again!”

“Yeah, baby, fuck this little princess, so that she’ll know who her daddy is!” In between kissing Gemma and rubbing her clit, I heartily cheer for Jeremy, although it doesn’t seem that needs any encouragement whatsoever to continue what he’s been doing to my poor lover-boy.

I bet that right in this moment, Steve is having serious regrets that he once laid his brazen green eyes on me while passing me that bourbon at the Christmas party. I, however, get more and more absorbed into our small theatrical play and at some point, I am so much carried away in all that smooching, and licking, and fucking, and name-calling that I don’t notice when the front door wide opens.

It is only when Gemma freezes in the middle of getting her next in row orgasm, that I realize there is a fifth person in the room. Bonny, my dorky roommate is standing there – her cheap hippie bag on one shoulder and a pot with dragon tree in her other hand.

“Hi, Bonny? Your weekend ended sooner than expected?” I say, popping up my head from between Gemma’s legs.

“A-a-a… y-y-yes,” she stutters. “I brought us a plant.” She holds out the pot as if to illustrate what exactly she means. “It’s…it’s indestructible…they told me at the flower shop. And since you’ve always somehow manage to kill our plants, I thought that maybe…”

“Sweet mother of Jesus!” Jeremy jumps on his strong muscle feet and raises his arms as if in a praise of God. “Surprises never seem to end tonight! Come in, come in, sweety, let me help you take off your coat, “ and he rushes toward Bonny with his dick happily flapping.

 

And seriously, if you are a minor, meaning younger that 116 years of age, do’t you even think of reading any further! Or I’m gonna tell your mom!

***

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