Fleshbot

A little fantasy

/ Daisy Danger / 3 Comments

You enter me first, your hand trembles as you guide your cock into me. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, long enough that you still can’t believe it’s real. Will I feel the weight of him as he slides his cock into your ass?  He pushes into you easily, I feel the tremor deep inside of me.

We rock back and forth awkwardly for a few moments finding our common rhythm. We adjust knees and elbows, and suddenly we’ve found it, we all move as one. You fuck me on the same stroke that he penetrates you. We settle in and go deeper.

I stuff my fingers into your mouth, forcing you to lick and suck them. The sweat rolls off your neck, dripping down onto my breasts, every thrust from him echoes through you. You close your eyes, drowning in the moment.

My eyes lock with this stranger over your shoulder, we share a moment, sharing your body. Our rhythms change, we’re fucking each other now through you. We keep our gaze steady, your body is only an instrument of our pleasure. Do you even notice? Are you so completely lost in all this sensation, his cock buried in your ass, your cock slamming into my pussy?

We move as one enormous fucking beast, the bed creaks and groans against our weight. We pause, untangle, shift. Now you come at me from behind, I’m on my belly. My fingers press against my clit, you lay against my back, each of us only focused on what’s in front of us. You bite my neck, sinking your teeth in as he rams you, his hands clenched firmly on your hips, guiding you into me, guiding himself into you.

Your cock swells, filling me, your thrusts powered by his momentum. My fingers are frantic, I try to keep up. I feel your head raise up from against my shoulder, he’s grabbed a handful of your hair, now it’s the tipping point. All this energy courses through you, you’re coming, he’s coming, I’m coming and we all cry out and shudder and thrust. You’ll turn your head and kiss him deeply, not just for you, but for me too.

I answer the phone, knowing it’s you.

/ Daisy Danger / 2 Comments

I’ve been waiting. I lean back against the stack of pillows, the light from my cell phone throws odd shadows against the wall.

You tell me you miss me. I miss you too, even though it’s only been hours. By now, you’re on the other side of the state, too far away to turn around and fuck me one last time. I still catch the scent of you, on my pillows, my shirt, I will for days.

You tell me to slide my panties over my thighs, but not to take them off. Am I still wet? It only takes a moment to become wet all over again. I suck my finger and press it to my clit. I hear the cool dry flick of the lighter, the crackle of your cigarette, your slow exhalation. I imagine your smoky white halo, the black leather chair you’re sitting in right now. Continue reading →

“Smother me with your cunt,” he whispers.

/ Daisy Danger / 1 Comment

Gently, I take his glasses and place them on the windowsill. He leans back into the mound of pillows, tucking the purple one under his neck. I sling my leg around and straddle his face, palms against the wall to keep my balance.

“No,” he says, grabbing my hips and pulling me down further. “Cover my face so I can’t breathe.”

“I know what kind of porn you’ve been watching,” I say, “Filthy boy.” I crouch down lower, grabbing his head, forcing his mouth to meet me.

Stubble grinds into my thighs, a thousand delightful little pinpricks. He laps at my clit with short forceful strokes. I squirm around, then lower myself one final inch, completely burying his face in my pussy. I don’t so much hear his muffled moan as feel it, a low vibration purring against my cunt. Continue reading →

Alan makes me desperate for him, like a ridiculous drug.

/ Daisy Danger / 4 Comments

He’s strung me along for years and I fall for it every time. Sometimes it’s a day before he calls again, sometimes it’s months. But when he does, I’m here, like always, an obedient, lovesick puppy.

We’re watching nothing in particular on TV, flicking through channels of game shows and sitcoms. He’s sprawled across the battered couch, I sit on the floor next to the couch, hoping he’ll make a move, but he doesn’t. He mostly ignores me, other than to occasionally ask me to grab him another Budweiser. Just when he senses I’ve had about enough and I’m ready to leave, he says “Wanna take a shower with me?”

Alan doesn’t really give me much choice, not that I would say no anyway. He takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. The faucet squawks in protest as he turns the water on. It’s an old trailer home, so the bathtub is made of cheap molded blue plastic. The tile was white once, but it’s also cheap and it’s turned a tobacco stained yellow here and there. Every girl’s seduction fantasy backdrop, I’m sure, but it’s all I’ve got. Continue reading →

We retire to the living room after dinner.

/ Daisy Danger / 4 Comments

“Strawberry or vanilla?” Mister asks from the doorway, holding a small carton of ice cream in each hand. “Never vanilla,” coos Anya.

The three of us squeeze together on a small plaid sofa, a DVD  I’ve missed the title of plays on the television. I try to look interested, but I can’t follow the plot. The tension of the moment is giving me a headache, I wish one of them would make a move. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t invited over just to be fed. Finally, as if he read my mind, Mister leans over me, plants a hand firmly against my crotch, and kisses Anya. When Anya leans over to kiss him back, Mister places her hand on my thigh. They kiss inches from my face, neither acknowledging my presence save for their hands.

Anya radiates longing, but she isn’t sure what to do with me in the middle. Mister grabs a handful of her hair, she moans, I try not to whimper.  I know his firm grip, how Mister pulls my hair just so, how that hard tug means I’m nothing but a possession to him. I moan again from the memory. He finally looks at me, but it’s a dismissive flicker before he turns his attention back to Anya.

“Bedroom,” Mister suddenly decides. “Both of you.” We silently untangle ourselves from the couch and go into the bedroom. Neither of us wants to be the first one to sit on the bed, the hierarchy is unclear.  Continue reading →

I bend over the kitchen counter.

/ Daisy Danger / 2 Comments

Some glitch has left the digital display on the microwave permanently dimmed, so the only way to read it is to get up close. We’re getting ready to make dinner. He’s standing behind me, looking at the contents of the cupboard.

Suddenly, the world turns white. A plastic shopping bag crinkles loudly around my head. My shorts and panties slide down my thighs, I step out of one side, leaving the other side to pool around my foot. His feet nudge my legs outward. I spread for him. My shirt lifts over my tits, he squeezes them hard after he exposes them.  Continue reading →

It’s hot, one of those sticky, sweaty days you dream about in the dead of winter.

/ Daisy Danger / 2 Comments

We’re flopped on the couch, watching movies, but even following the plot seems like too much effort.

“If it weren’t so damn hot, I’d wanna fuck,” Nick says, tilting the fan to blow across our faces.

“Me too, I answer, “But ugggggh.” I get up to refresh our drinks.

“Lots of ice this time,” he calls out.

I return, handing Nick his drink, the glass already dripping with condensation. A dribble falls on his belly and slides down, disappearing under the waist of his shorts. I’m suddenly mesmerized.

I fish one ice cube from my glass and hold it between my fingers. I place it on his neck and he shudders with pleasure. I drag the ice slowly along the top of his shoulder, it melts into a little cascade down his chest. I grab another.  Continue reading →

Your ferocity unfolds, a dangerous blossom with petals made of knives.

/ Daisy Danger / 1 Comment

Blood lust boils to the surface, emerges as you pin my shoulders to the bed. All cruel things, all dark intents are given fresh life in your eyes. Channeled down from your brain to your hands to my body, your thoughts become my reality.

I want to ache from your whims. Wrap your fingers in my hair, compel me to be still. Hold the vibrator to my clit until I’ve spent every last drop of fluid, then force me to come again. Fingers, cock, dildos, fists, cram it all in, stretch me to the limit. Fill me with you.

Restrain me. Make my hands useless little clenching butterflies. Pin me to the bed like a specimen to be opened and examined. Tie the ropes tighter. Make me ache to wrap my legs around your waist, to pull you closer.

Leave me a drooling, mewling mess. Let my cries and screams and moans be muffled. Watch me choke on your cock, tears rolling down my face. Hold my head tight against your groin as your dick tickles the back of my throat.

Clamps on my nipples, my breasts, the tender inside skin of my wrists. Make the clothespins on my cunt clatter as you fuck me. Blindfold me, take away my sight. All your movements become meaningless blurs and shadows. Noises sharpen, even familiar sounds amplify, create equal fright and longing.

I want my suffering to please you as much as my coming. Shower me with little kisses. Wipe away the drool and the snot and the come and tell me I’m your good girl. Such a good girl.

I love it when you masturbate.

/ Daisy Danger / 7 Comments

I ask if I can watch and you blush and shyly say yes. You still aren’t used to someone who doesn’t get mad when you touch yourself. You search for porn on the laptop, turn it on and look at me one more time to make sure I’m really not mad. I smile and tell you how beautiful you are, sitting there with your cock in your hand.

You turn your face to watch the screen, but you leave your body in profile for me. Leaning back in your chair, you relax, cupping your balls, the first tentative strokes increase. Images flash on your laptop screen: cocks of all sizes, pink pussies, gaping assholes, boys fucking boys, girls fucking boys with fists and strap-ons. The people in the videos moan and yell, slap and fuck. The sound of your breath quickens, your ancient office chair creaks, the lube on your cock is wet and thick.

I’m hypnotized by your hands. I follow each practiced stroke up and down your shaft. I love the contrast of your strong hands against the smooth pink of your cock. You glance at me to see if I’m still watching from across the room. Sometimes I touch myself too, but I prefer to watch you, losing yourself deeper and deeper in pleasure. Continue reading →

I can’t move my upper arms.

/ Daisy Danger / 3 Comments

Nick has bound them tightly to my sides with a long sheet of plastic wrap. My breasts are squashed flat against my chest. I try to inhale deeply, the plastic tightens and prevents me from moving. He winds the plastic around and around, then tears it along the edge of the box.

Nick is taking an unusual delight in restraining me. He doesn’t understand why someone would want to be tied up, but he does it anyway, for me. His eyes are distant, I can see him thinking of possibilities. He tells me to get on my knees. Nick wraps the plastic around my wrists, fastening them to my thighs. I’m left unable to move my arms or hands, save for my fingertips.  Continue reading →