"How do you like this ass, Daddy?" I purred as I glanced over my shoulder, watching him drool. I then reached around to move my cheeks open so he could see my most secret place.
"I like it very much," Paul managed to mutter, the pace of his pumping picking up now.
"The women you cheated on Mom with... did they ever let you partake in any backdoor action?" I asked as I flashed him a mischievous grin.
"A few," he replied, grinning right back at me.
"What about you, sweetie?" Daddy was suddenly brave enough to ask.
"Do you like taking it up the ass?"
I moistened a finger in my mouth and showed him just how much I liked it. Seeing me do something so intimate and private seemed to electrify his lust even more.
"Abby, I can hardly believe what we're doing right now... sharing what we're sharing," Paul said breathlessly, clearly still in awe.
"Well, believe it, Paul," I assured him, my eyes glued to his boner, which was about to blow.
"Go on, Daddy, beat it. Let me see you cum," I chanted, trying my best to contain the urge to jump on top of him.
"Okay, here goes..." said Paul as he shut his eyes and threw his head back. He let out a sexy howl - like a fuckin' wolf - as streams of his seed came gushing out of his rock hard cock. He was shooting it all over his abs and chest, that nasty man!
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Excerpt from My Boyfriend Has TENTACLES! by Sarah Sethline:
My face reddened slightly as I observed the collecting pool of wetness on the chair. Look how turned on simply imagining the things it could to do me had made me…
I laid back and allowed my breathing to naturally progress from deep inhalations to faster, more sensual breathing. Even though the touches hadn't yet changed, they were still enough to maintain my newly heightened arousal. My back was slowly beginning to arch and my thighs opening farther apart…
I was a bit taken aback by how I was now willingly surrendering to this creature, offering my body as a plaything to do whatever he saw fit. A stronger me would have never allowed for questionably consensual, non-human sex.
But in that moment it is the one thing I wanted more than ever.
I tried to just relax and not get my hopes up; to take this "much-kneaded" deep massage at face value and nothing more. The soothing tendrils of the creature were indeed, still doing a phenomenal job at efficiently stroking my muscles to butter softness, while also administering the kind of "good" pain one could experience at the hands of a Thai masseuse.
My more intimate areas were still being avoided, yet I still found myself growing hotter with each passing moment. Why was he being so kind, but at the same time so cruel? Surely he could sense the changes in my body temperature and breathing; feel the wetness seeping between my thighs, if not flat-out read my mind!
My sexual frustration was peaking and about to burst.
Finally, I had had it with all the tentacle teasing, and so without really thinking, I shook free from the creature's mass of massaging tendrils. He let go somewhat reluctantly, still reaching for me as I broke free, but not wrapping back around to ensnare me like he so easily could (and had before).
I grabbed the bottom of my top and yanked it off, pausing for only a small second before reaching down and shucking off my crotch-dampened bottoms. The many tentacles did nothing to assist nor delay this process, instead swaying around me like tufts of seaweed in an ocean.
Now totally naked, I retreated back into the embrace of the ghostly limbs, parting my own wide and to both sides. If this didn't send the message that I was ready for anything, I don't know what would.
A blanket of tendrils surrounded my arms once again, flowing over them up to my shoulders with a heightened feeling now that my skin was completely bare. A few reached behind my head to cradle it as I pressed back into the chair, settling myself. My breathing was again deep, with moans of frustration on the near horizon.
Again the tentacles were all over me - almost. My muscles were like putty at this point; my skin mushy, flushed and spotted with redness from the many touches. Still the tentacles smoothly slid over, everywhere but my hot spots. It was maddening, really, how he could be tending to all areas but the ones that truly needed it most. It seemed confirmed that he was indeed tormenting me, this time through the denial of ultimate pleasure.
I'm not going to beg for it. I'm not going to beg for it.
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===> Or click here to view Sarah Sethline's COMPLETE naughty catalog
*** Keep reading for a surprise BONUS STORY to follow… ***
+++ About the Author +++
Sarah believes that variety is the spice of the hot and spicy. She writes shorts that suit a multitude of different kinks (with a special focus on the TABOO), as she wants every reader who finds her stories to be satisfied. She also writes from a variety of perspectives (male, female, and third-person POV), further keeping things fresh and kinky.
All of Sarah's erotica is light on the fluff but ***heavy*** on the hot and heavy. In other words, she won't waste your time in order to get you off. If you're looking for a VERY dirty read, look no further.
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>>> Thank you for reading!
SURPRISE *FREE* BONUS STORY, "IN BED WITH A BADASS"
I've included this free, full-length steamy story as a THANK YOU to fans like you who've read this title to the end. ENJOY!! <3
***************
In Bed with a Badass
Copyright 2014
by Sarah Sethline
SYNOPSIS: Avril is one of "those" girls -- the kind who sleeps around, gets bored easily, and isn't looking for a commitment. She's made a game out of being with every type of guy: The Nerd, The Gamer, The Christian Grey. But out of all the men she's been with, none have been able to satisfy her quite like Blane has.
He's not just a badass. He's not just a great fuck. He's her knight in shining leather... and he's come to steal her heart away.
***************
When it comes to dating guys, I guess you could say that I like to experiment. Most women try to claim it's just one man they're after -- a man to take vows with, to share a home with, to have babies with -- and when they inevitably get all of that, it always ends the same. She ends up taking him for granted (or vice versa), and the illusion they worked so hard to create together crumbles.
For years, I've been watching friends run themselves ragged in pursuit of one very specific type of guy and one very specific type of life. Studying them made me determined to never be like that -- to be tied down, to settle. Just thinking about the regret I would feel 10 years into a marriage going nowhere has always been enough to give me chills.
While I can definitely comprehend the potential merits of a life shared with one singular person, let's face it -- most of the so-called benefits rarely live up to one's expectations.
That person who is supposed to be your "best friend"? They can become your enemy in an instant, over the pettiest of issues. Couples can be familiar with all the Dr. Phil techniques in the world, yet still be unable to communicate for shit.
If you were to question anyone in this podunk town on what they considered my final fate to be, I don't doubt most would tell you, "Oh, Avril's a good girl at heart. She's just going through a phase. She'll settle down one day, you'll see."
But they'd be wrong.
You see, it's not just that I like to experiment when it comes to men; I'm lite
rally on a mission to date every kind. Those articles you see in women's magazines -- "Five Men to Date, Not Marry"; "10 Guys You Shouldn't Take Home to Mom" -- those are like gospel to me.
I really feel life's too short to stay tied down to just one type of personality. A personality that can actually change for the worse the longer you're with someone. Experiencing various men truly serves to broaden my horizons on so many different levels.
Especially in the sack.
So far, I've dated and/or fucked: The Nerd, The Gamer, The Emo, The Christian Grey, and The Jock. A sizable chunk of the type of men I would consider to be on my "bucket list", with one key exclusion: The Badass.
Yep. That's right, I'll admit it; like any weak-in-the-knees female, I'm a sucker for a hardcore bad boy. I think it boils down to biology, really -- the need to feel protected. And who better to protect me than a ripped, rugged mass of pure testosterone... a chiseled Adonis of unfiltered aggression?
Alas, such a specimen, thus far, had alluded me. You don't find many rebels dripping of pure sex in podunk towns, after all. My dream of losing all control and being dominated in bed really seemed like it would remain just that -- a dream.
That is, until the day my knight in shining leather rode in on his hog...
***************
Usually I'm the one on patrol for my next conquest; very rarely do men approach me. I think it's because they're aware of my racy history (people talk) and are intimidated. It might also have to do with the fact that as I get older, the pool of available guys gets smaller, as more and more succumb to settling down.
A deep restlessness was definitely stirring inside me when I decided to stretch my legs during a walk that fine May morning. Every part of my body felt needy, calling out for something that -- thus far -- couldn't be found in Petite, Oklahoma.
Particularly my pussy.
I hadn't been paying very much attention to my surroundings up until that point, meandering fairly aimlessly, just enjoying the feel of the sun on my face. All of that changed the second I heard a noticeable rumble in the distance. It was growing both louder and closer, making quick work of tightening the gap between us.
Just as I felt the urge to glance behind me, a big blur of metal and black whipped past me, tousling my hair wildly and warming my body with a distinct mechanical heat. I stared in wonder as this chiseled piece of machinery sped away in front of me, carrying an even more chiseled man.
The sounds the Harley was making were echoing down the entire street, as if commanding it with their dominance. I could feel the vibrations being emitted from the hog shaking through my body, rocking me to my core. Just being in the passing presence of something so powerful had me quivering from head to toe.
To my amazement, I watched the motorcycle turn on a dime and start to circle back around, the sexy stranger and I now face-to-face, though still several paces apart. As his muscular form came into better focus, I noticed he wasn't just a man on a motorcycle, but a biker on a bike. And he was beginning to slow his speed, almost as if he were going to stop!
Sure enough, a few seconds later, the biker's powerful horse roared to a halt as he pulled up right beside me, causing me to stop instinctively in my tracks. I was now able to make out every inch of this mysterious, dangerous rebel, and god, did I like what I saw.
His hair was dark and flowing, on the long side and left to hang free. It wasn't so long as to warrant the use of a ponytail like with other bikers, but had enough of a length to it to manage one of those sexy hair flips as he slipped off his helmet.
Fuck, how I wanted to run my hands through it...
With his helmet off, I could make out his face now, and it completely shattered my assumptions of how a biker "should" look. This guy wasn't old, or fat, or bearded, or even very greasy -- he had damn-near model features, in fact.
I watched as his wandering eyes scanned the length of my own body, studying my curves with a hunger, a hunger that excited me. Other girls might have felt violated when his gaze lingered on my tits, thinly veiled behind my almost see-through top... but really, his admiration thrilled me.
When he finally lifted his strong, dreamy eyes to meet mine, they stole my heart in an instant.
"Not bad, baby," he grunted, casting my body a quick nod of appreciation.
"Not bad at all."
Somehow finding the courage, I said defiantly, "I'm not a piece of meat, you know!"
Who was I kidding? I totally wanted to be HIS piece of meat.
"I'm... I'm Avril," I said more coyly, my eyes running the length of the powerful machine that sat between this man's legs.
"That's French for 'April'."
"Blane," grunted the biker.
"That's nothing for I don't give a damn."
I knew I should have been taken aback by his brazenness, but instead it intrigued me.
"Are-- are you new in town?" I gathered the courage to ask, secretly hoping that he was here to stay.
"Just passing through," he replied with a grumble, quickly crushing my world of possibilities.
"Well, that's not entirely true..." I said with a lustful smirk, lightly tracing a hand down my décolletage.
"You stopped, didn't you?"
Blane gave me a sexy, knowing smile, appearing pretty pleased with me egging him on.
"How 'bout you, baby? You from around here?"
I loved hearing him call me "baby".
"Sadly, yes. No riding the open roads for me," I told Blane.
"But... I try to find excitement where I can."
I reached out and gave one of his tight guns a good squeeze, shocking myself.
"Good to know, baby. Good to know. I like my women like I like my bike: hot, fast, and trembling between my legs."
Oh, god. I was trembling between my legs just hearing him say it!
"You ever been on one of these bad boys?" he asked.
Blane was referring to the beautiful piece of machinery sitting under his tight, leather-clad ass, but I couldn't help but notice the double entendre.
I shook my head slowly, nervously.
"Well there's a first time for everything, baby. Get on; I'll show ya what you've been missing."
I could feel my own natural heat starting to radiate throughout my pussy. Here he was, The Badass -- the sexual experience I'd been searching for long and hard... Granted, there was no guarantee that by climbing onto the back of his bike, I'd soon be climbing into his bed... but the opportunity was there, no doubt.
Despite my growing lust, I still felt apprehensive about hopping right on. Mama always said not to get into cars with strange men -- and I'm pretty sure climbing onto the back of a motorcycle counted. Blane was most definitely a strange man, and by the looks of it, a dangerous one at that.
"I don't... I don't think I should," I tried to protest, struggling to maintain some semblance of better judgment.
Blane twisted on the bike's handlebars, revving its engine. I think to show me just how powerful it really was. The sound made me jump in my skin and shot bolts of excitement straight to my groin. My pussy was flushing with heated arousal; my most sensitive bits swollen and wet.
"C'mon, baby. Don't be like that," grunted the sex god, his strong grasp finding its way to the underside of my chin.
Tilting my face up, he continued, "I promise to make it the ride of your life."
Maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to hear, but it really sounded like he was implying something more... something sexual. Something that I wanted more than anything, even if others found it wrong.
A shy smile crept across my lips, my mind made up.
"You better," I replied seductively, approaching the back of Blane's bike tentatively but determined.
Blane slid forward in his seat just enough to make room for me to squeeze in. I hesitated for a moment or two upon reaching the start of the metal casing. I was about to put myself at risk for I-didn't-even-know what.
I suppressed that inner voice of warning, the part of me
that "knew better". I was catering to a much more primal voice now.
As I slipped that first leg over the side of the hog, a thrill like no other coursed through my body, and I found myself having to grab onto one of Blane's taut shoulders to steady myself. As I lowered myself into the bike's hot leather seat, I couldn't help but notice my legs were now spread wide open... and that my pussy had no place to go other than to be pressed into the biker's lower back.
"Hold tight, baby," he growled, taking my arms and commanding them to wrap around his broad, muscular chest. I was careful not to touch the cut emblazoned on his black leather jacket, knowing there'd be hell to pay if I didn't give it the respect it was due.
Sharing the Hucow Page 4
