Fluff
Page 1
Contents
Fluff
Copyright
Warning
Dedication
one - ACT I
Take One
Take Two
Like Unicorns
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
two - ACT II
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
three - ACT III
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
four - ACT IV
Dale
Amber
Dale
Amber
Thank You from Ms. Samuels
From Sal's Sketchpad
Books
Juliet
Kinky Sex Magic
The Initiation
Tea for Two
Grunt
She needs to escape.
AMBER
His assistant hired me on a whim, thinking I would be just what he needed. Boy, was she right. I bounced into his dressing room and discovered the famous actor held dual personalities – a nasty player and the naughty gentleman.
I won’t say which one I fell in love with but when I least expected it, the bastard broke my heart. Now, fifteen years later, the last man to break me is the only one who can save me.
His heart takes her captive.
DALE
After an intense twelve-week love affair, I lost the only girl I ever loved—all to save her—to keep her safe. What she doesn’t know is I’ve been watching her every move, guarding her from a dangerous world she knows nothing about.
Keeping secrets for so long with only a promise, the wall I built around her crumbles to the ground. In the ruins, the only question that remains is… Will she still answer to me?
Ride or die in the love affair of Mae East & Cyclone Blonde.
Kailee Reese Samuels
FLUFF
————————————
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Copyright © 2017 by Kailee Reese Samuels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of author credited, brief quotations in reviews.
KaileeReeseSamuels@gmail.com
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely and purely coincidental.
All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
E-book Edition
June 11, 2017
Cover Design by Tamara McLean
W A R N I N G S
~are like cups of tea ~
This warning is here for a reason.
This book is a work of fiction containing explicit, graphic, and violent material.
If you’re not 18+, put it the fuck down.
Please practice safe sex.
Safe, Sane, and Consensual (SSC)
and
Risk-Awareness Consensual Kink (RACK) practices in BDSM.
Communication is key and I do not believe anything should be swept under the rug - sexuality, gender orientation, race, age, or religion. If I help stir the cauldron of conversation and provide an escape for a few hours, I have done my job.
Play hard and have fun. Be good and love one another.
Enjoy the ride!
Without further ado, here we go…
This one is for all the girls who push me further.
With every letter and sentiment, they add fuel to my fire.
These women built this.
My books exist for them.
Find your truth and raise your glass to being you.
What started out as a love letter in Juliet,
morphed into something more.
I am forever indebted to show you my gratitude.
May the words continue to drip with dirty poetry.
one
ACT I
TAKE ONE
2001
“Do it baby, do it,” he whispers, “Let go…make that juicy twat cum all over me.”
The woman with her fake plastic breasts and seemingly smooth, albeit lightly bruised hips gave a grin of acknowledgment as she strides atop his eager body. Her face holds a glorious mess of over done tramp—fake eyelashes, caked on shadow and blush, not to mention well-marked enormously glossed lips. Her lips part and she breathes, moaning soft and low, a decadent purr to signal her desire.
His chiseled muscles burgeon, sweating and undulating with every thrust. His hand pops her ass as the trajectory of their romp paces towards climax. He grunts and groans as she writhes wildly about like a sexy little minx. Despite his dick enjoying the woman, he does not. Somewhat of a snobby bitch, she left any hope of real spark at the door. The kinky magic now based entirely upon the sex act itself.
No more. No less.
Hard dick of a hot guy. Wet pussy of a slutty girl.
Easy. Done. Check.
With no emotional attachment, the pieces and parts of the dynamic were easily distinguishable. Boy meets girl. Boy charms girl. Boy fucks girl. As she rocks, perched upon his cock, she releases a raspy mumble, “Oh fuck me, fuck me…yes, ram that hard dick into my hole.”
The narrative pays no apologies as to what it was or wasn’t. The man and woman participate in the fornicating act, holding tight to the steadfast of the ever-closer goal line, to score, release, and cum together. Typically, it never happens simultaneously. So when he lifts her body up from his, only to demand she suck his dick, he says nothing. With his dick hard, her duty remains incomplete.
Grabbing low on his shaft, she kneads his balls with her red talons—the dramatic sight serving the imagery well—as she wraps her lips tight around him. She fakes a gag from the enormity, but he encourages her continuation. “Come on baby, suck that dick. Take it all. You know you want it. Take it baby, take it.”
Drool slobbers out of her mouth, coating her chin and cheeks—the wetter the better. Between the lipgloss, the spit, and the pre-cum, the coalescence of fluids shimmers in the light. A sight to behold, another staple of the union expected equally by both.
His long blonde hair cascades over his shoulder, grazing against her auburn locks. As he lays there, getting his dick sucked by the woman, he reckons that she could have been pretty if the obstacles of time hadn’t been so cruel. Despite her continual push to make him cum, he regretfully can’t. He wants to be done, but that option no longer exists.
He growls, “Get up, get on your knees for me, baby….”
She pivots around as he pummels into her from behind, rocking into her like a piston drilling into the earth in search of fool’s gold. And perhaps, this is no better, this gold he seeks. The driving force behind it all residing in one simpl
e commodity—cold hard cash.
After several failed attempts to get into the proper headspace to ejaculate, he wallops her hard—probably too hard—on the ass. With his personal life intersecting this world, his cock surges forward with a newfound hardness. He could get into this if she will let him. Of course, she won’t. But it would be one way to end the race for the finish line.
He pops her once more for good measure and flips her well-used body over somewhat like a gargantuan turning a pancake as he strokes his dick off in earnest. The memories based on all those nights in the kinks clubs where his true, real needs would take precedence. The upper hand of control and power used freely in the realm of the fetish world. His Dominance brought forth the slideshow of necessary pictures to get the job done.
Hovering over her chest, he grumbles, “I am going to shoot my hot load all over your pretty little lips and tits, baby.”
Reaching out, he rolls her nipple between his fingers and rubs the tip of his dick over their peaks. She makes the appropriate moans, letting the silken mess froth out of her mouth. He closes his eyes, imagining the young submissive on her knees, submitting to his will, his way.
“Stroke that bad boy on me, do it!” She screams breathily, “Do it!”
He wishes she were gagged, unable to speak and distract him from playing the top role in his mind. He doesn’t need her commands or encouragements as his fingers jet in between her lips, forcing her to stop talking.
Continuing to pound his fist around his rigid cock, he finds the pulse to drift away with. Like a beating heart growing closer and closer with each pass of his hand, the images hurl in waves. On her knees obliging his needs, she blinks up, gentle and slow with innocent doe eyes that beg to be taken care of. Cuffed to his headboard and her legs bound by the spreader bar, his whip will exalt them both to a transparent high. Escalating even further, he will demand more of her mind and body, seeking a tranquil space for them both to spiritually reside. The deference of her position will pass easily from her lips—Yes, Sir. And there it is.
Spurting on the woman’s plump breasts and open, eager mouth, his cum glazes her in such a way as to decorate with his mark. A beautiful picturesque mess indeed as he falls back to his ass. The last thing he desires is any extended stays with this woman. There is no want for coddling, no need for bonding.
This is sex—pure, raw, and viral—as the director yells, “Cut!”
TAKE TWO
2015
“The important thing I think we need to remember as writers is we must continue to find believability in our words. Search for the truth in your characters and listen to their voices and their stories,” she says with a smile to the crowd full of fans. “Follow them into their darkness, and you will find your own light. And remember to always have a damn good time!”
The audience cheers and starts to quickly disperse as she glances off to the side at the husky bodyguard. “Have a wonderful weekend! Thank you Houston for having me! Goodnight!”
“Everyone please give best seller Amber Rosen a round of applause! Thank you for coming!”
Her peers and fans yell wildly as she steps off the stage. With his crew cut and militant demeanor, the hunky bodyguard helps her down the small staircase. Her eyes flash with a glare of – thank heavens that is over – as she whispers, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Unfortunately, the venue left little to be desired. A hotel conference room with no escape out the back, she had no choice but to make her way through the uproarious gathering. Walking past the tables of authors signing books, she opted to stay as close as possible to the bodyguard. In less than one hour, the conference would close for the night, and the fangirls were maddeningly fighting to get autographs. The frenzied excitement of women rushing to the lines made it almost impossible to move.
Her bodyguard, a six-foot-six oaf named Stanis, gazed around the ballroom, assessing the situation and peering down at his tiny employer. “We have to do something, Ma’am. They’ll swarm you if you walk through that crowd.”
For all of Stanis’ musculature, he also inhabited a brilliant perception which was part of the reason she hired him four years ago. Fast thinking with a body that made no apologies, he kept her safe through the most perilous situations including her adoring fans.
Amber Rosen lounged at the top of the best seller lists since her first book dropped shortly after employing Stanis. Writing a romantic fiction memoir called American Girl, she detailed her characters life in a broken home and her uplifting journey to finding love. The book sold like hotcakes, and Amber’s new career was born. She wrote crazy numbers – up to ten books a year – and her devoted fans followed. The flip side of all the adoration came in the undercurrent of jealousy and hatred from her peers.
“I need you to trust me little lady,” Stanis rumbles. Swooping his gargantuan arms around her tiny frame, he placed her up on his shoulder, making his way through the crowd. He wouldn’t let them grope her—not today or tomorrow. As they approached the lobby, he sat her carefully down on her feet.
“I have to run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” Amber whispers, pushing her long auburn hair away from her face.
The huge bathroom held a number of stalls and Amber made her way to the end, hoping they might be cleaner. She took a deep breath, dropping her pants and sitting down. Hearing a couple of rowdy women walking in, she crooned her ear to the wall, eavesdropping on the conversation.
“I don’t know who she thinks she is, coming into this business with all her hoopla.”
“I heard she is talking with some big producer about turning American Girl into a movie.”
“I have been in this industry for over twenty years, and this little overnight success is hurting my business.”
“Lydia, I will agree she is a bit of a stuck-up cunt, but the one thing she isn’t doing is hurting your historical romances.”
The incomparable Lydia Baker ranked as one of the best in her genre, but also inhabited a very big mouth. Known for gossip and smack talk, Lydia found much the same in her fan group – the Baking Bitches – full of bullies. Banned from every social network for their harassment and juvenile tactics, the Double B’s cult-like following moved to a privately hosted website in the last year.
“Maybe not, but she has damn sure hurts your sales Judith.”
Shaking her head in the privacy of the stall, Amber bit her tongue—hard.
Judith Plight had it in for her since day one, serving as the primary reason she rarely attended events. Pushing the limits with her hardcore erotica, she made Amber’s sales look trivial. None-the-less, a quiescent turf war existed between Amber and Judith since American Girl ousted her Get Down With It series books for number one.
With her bitching in overload, Judith scoffs, “Believe me, I know. Half of my girls joined her group when her smut released. They started raving about it, but the mods put it to rest with another fabulous Plight giveaway. I spent several grand getting my fans back in line.”
Finishing up, Amber opens the stall door and averts her eyes away from the women primping at the sink. She washes her hands and hurriedly escapes as they gawk on with bulging eyes.
“I told you she was a real bitch!” Lydia exclaims. “Whore!”
Judith adds, “Fucking cunt doesn’t know a damn thing about this industry!”
Like unicorns—
an argument is made that fluffers do not really exist.
They are magical illusionists working in mere makeup.
But just because you don’t see them
Does not make them any less real.
DALE
THE PETITE WOMAN rushing out of the bathroom catches my eye as I stand at the coffee machine. With her long chocolate locks cascading to her plump little butt and over-sized breasts heaving in a tight brocade long sleeve bustier, my eyes relish in her delightful candy. Fighting with the vending machine, she mumbles a slew of curse words through a sniffle of tears.
“Motherfucking
machine just give me my damn drink!”
Listening to her continued battle, I know enough about women to not inquire as to why she was crying, but acknowledged my hefty physique could at least quench her thirst. Strutting over to her rescue, I smile. “Here, let me help you.”
My fist pops the machine, dropping her can as I reach down and hand it over, catching her eyes. I recognize those eyes—the unmistakable clear blue ocean held by the most perfect upturned shape.
“Thank you so much,” she says, touching my arm. “I’m having a rough evening.”
Taking a tissue out of her purse, she wipes underneath her eyes and the top of the can. She pops it open and takes a little sip. Glancing around almost nervously, she blinks up and nods as she proceeds to swallow the rest of the energy drink in one gulp. I eye her curiously, lifting a brow as she guzzles it down like a champ and hands it back to me. With a subtle grin hidden underneath a fuzzy mustache, I crush the metal, tossing it at the trashcan.
“Score!” she giggles, “Are you a model?”
It seemed a fair question to ask. At six-four, I prove a good looking brute. “Not anymore, I used to be in the biz.”
Acknowledging my words politely, she asks, “Big fan of romance?”
I lick my lips as the blush rises up ever so slightly on my full round cheeks. Shaking my head, I scan the petite little doll, perfect for capture in my vast hands. My cock awakens, but I ignore the demands as we pace back to the lobby.