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San Francisco Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/08/06(Wed)19:22 No. 22193 ID: e633c7

Hello all.
I've written some short stories so I'll keep this short. It's a story about loving a dickgirl and the heartache and buttache that comes with it. It's my first longstory, it's slow. It's not done yet: I want the readers to pick a cool ending. I have about 6 chapters ready to go with a few more in the draft stages. If this thread dies I will make it clear. Hopefully that doesn't happen. If you find any typos, inconsistencies or fuckups please let me know.
Hope you enjoy.

global tags: herm on male, mf, femdom, futadom, reluctance, group, kinda romancey

---

Prologue:


I gulped. It was only a natural response, when something is clogging up your windpipe you have two choices - cough or swallow or suffocate. I can’t be blamed for picking the latter can I?
“Good boooy” she goaded, one hand on my throat, feeling my hyoid bone slide gooey contents down the tube. Her other hand brushed sweaty hair out of my eyes and tears from the side of my face. They weren’t tears of pain or sadness. Okay, maybe a little bit of pain. I gasped for my first full lung of air since we started, now my throat was completely empty, if it weren’t for the sticky sides - the way it clung to the walls like fried eggs. Stop thinking about eggs I focused on her face, flushed and pleased. My eyes, only slightly defiant, stared up into hers through the dark. I could still see them glitter with satisfaction as they wandered past mine, over me to the other side of the room. Hidden under the blankets I couldn’t see what was happening there, even if I could hear it; gentle moans and heady grunts, two different voices. Bronte’s hand went from my throat to my chin and a single finger beckoned me up her body, my tongue dragging up her sweat lined skin. She giggled in response.
“You’re getting good” she claimed, pulling my body against hers once we were face to face, naked skin touching naked skin. She had a little smirk on her face that looked like ’I know you enjoy it’
She planted a kiss on my forehead and her hands roamed over my skin. “Roll over” gestured, pushing my hips slightly. I silently agreed and turned to my other side - little spoon. From here I could see where the noise was coming from -

“That’ll be you tomorrow” Bronte claimed, both her promise and my body.

------

Chapter 1: The Soul
tags: nosex

6 days earlier:
“Yeah, mushrooms grow all around this area”
I had been travelling. Discontent with how I was living I’d packed up my bags and disappeared from Nowhere, Nevada to Somewhere, Somewherelse. With me were only clothes, a sleeping bag and my guitar. Penniless, I hitched around the country. A fuzzy beard had begun to form on my 19 year old face that often grew dirty with desert dust, city smog and a lack of proper washing. Lithe muscles had grown below my dry, stretched skin and a medium mop top flowed from my scalp. I’d walked many miles, broken as many strings and built a lot of bridges. I’d made it as far North as Seattle, as far East as Nashville, as far South as the border and as far west as here - San Francisco. I’d learned I still hate cities and people were far worse off than I gave them credit for. This was moon No. 10 on the road with the same pair of boots I’d left with, with the fifth guitar and probably the millionth breath. The songs I’d written will eventually be recorded, the experiences I’ve had won’t stop now and the people I’ve met I will continue to meet until I die. One person In particular I’d met will probably be with me to that day.

Dominic was like me, thin, white, privileged. He was from Dallas but that’s all I really knew. Together we’d survived muggings, escaped from custody, stolen, been given and busked up food. We've written music that’ll be on So Fresh Summer 2018. He had long, metal hair and a twang in his voice that came out of the country world he was born into. He had a sparkle in his eye that matched his optimism and an adventurous spirit that was equally at home dumpster diving WalMart bins as it was sipping Champagne and hibiscus in a tux. He wasn’t super intelligent, but he was headstrong and resourceful and loyal.
He was sitting in a Starbucks in Seattle when I met him, sipping on the last of the cold drops people left in their cups and rolling cigarettes that had been only half smoked. We were kings of the dumpers and bumpers, dried remnants of cigs. This is how we lived now:
We forked out enough money for weed and food, we begged people for cigarettes, we played at restaurants and pubs and sidewalks, we slept where we could; broken houses, gutters, roofs, friends houses, cars, bushes, subway stations, five star hotel rooms, mosquito nets under stars, and out in the wilderness with nothing at all. We made friend after friend, some set in the same spot, some travelling like we were, high fiving each other from car windows as a universe of hippys crossed and crisscrossed past each other. And we never stopped playing. Every day we played guitar, it was an addiction.
So with cigarettes in mouth, hands on beers these are the first words that are spoken when we step out of the car, our fingers straightening into peace signs as we say goodbye to another soul. A soul who gave us beer. Until we meet again.
“Well, at least that’s what I’ve been told”
Here we were somewhere in San Francisco, 50 years too late and just like the day before, we had no idea what was going to happen the next. The heat was dangerous, middle of summer and the walls were sweating. We would soon learn that this place isn’t nearly normal, that this planet works in strange ways and that fate perhaps exists. Even if by the end of it we’d have never known.
“I guess they’d probably be in the parks or under the trees” Dominic pointed along the sides of the roads as he continued speaking. He took another swig of beer. “We were gypsies,” we’d been told “...or at least doing the gypsy thing.” Money’s not an issue, possessions in general are not an issue. Our goal was to go wherever we hadn’t been, to get ourselves in positions we’d never had the chance to be in and even perhaps never wanted to be in - just to know if those experiences don’t just exist inside of a silver screen on the pages of a books. To see how real the world could get.
I had no idea how to look for mushrooms in a place like this. There are no beef paddocks in the burbs of a west coast city. We could see golden arches on the horizon, over fields of roofing and chimneys. No beef paddocks, true, but beef is close enough. The road was cracked like dried dirt or burnt skin. The heat made it smell like it, too. You could light a cigarette by pressing it against the ground, I’d thought. The beer was cold and I took another drink. It was watery american piss, but it was cold. “How much money have you got left?” he asked me. I reached into my pockets and counted with my head. I had about 4 dollars. He had none. What’s the first thing we do when we get to a city?
Busk.

We’d picked a nice busy spot alongside a shopping strip that looked dingy enough to meet cool people yet the people were dressed well enough that it wasn’t a bad neighbourhood. It was safe to assume that we were both fairly good at this point, 8 months with everyday 6 hours a day of playing does this to do. I wanna love you, and treat you right.
Money began slipping between people’s fingers into the hat. We never looked at it, only gave modest nods, winks and ‘thanks’ to people who liked the music enough to listen or had enough to spare for a bit of silver. I wanna love you, evr’y day and every night.
We weren't poor musicians. Dominic and I had been playing hours a day, every day for months. The calluses on the tips of our left hands were leathery and scale-like. When we played it was magic. A groove our fingers plucked out of the collective mind of a crowd, strewn out on six (sometime four or five) strings. There's an intangible connection you have with someone when you're really making music, a melding of minds, both of the musicians and the audience that is borderline profound. I always remembered a jam and I never knew what someone was like until we played together. Blending reggae and funk was apparently the result. Melodies grow from absolutely nothing and yet they spread like a virus. Your aural nerves travel through the centre of where your emotions are processed. We were inspiring happiness in people. Every struck chord and syncopated beat made someone, somewhere want to move.
A big black man who’d been listening for a while stepped forward and gestured to us if he could join in. I never turn down a jam, either. I nodded and he started rapping, lyrics flowed out of his mouth like melting butter on toast; off cuff, mean flow and funny. Dominic and I sang harmonies underneath. 3 minutes of RnB improv goodness. It was like Nas met the Cat Empire.
An opportunity arose afterwards, when we shared a handshake, a hug and another handshake with words of admiration all around, he introduced himself as Zeaze; a stage manager for an established bar nearby. I nonchalantly hid my excitement and saved myself to jump at the gun.
“You wanna come play a show?” He asked after a bit of niceties. He was wearing a big tailored shirt and a small cap. I knew when to take an opportunity if it arose. He sounded legit and sounded smart and sounded sober. He also looked like a man who didn’t have much time to waste - I knew how much of an honour it was for him to play with us.

“When?” How high?
“Tonight?” Zeaze reckoned, shrugging slightly.

“Yes” Dominic and I spoke simultaneously. 
“Sweet, you want my number?”

“We don’t have phones” I responded. He laughed.

“Of course you don’t; that’s alright, where are you going now?” 
I had a quick peek at the money situation. We could afford a cafe.

“McDonalds” Dominic spoke before I could. Zeaze smiled broadly. 

“Let’s walk and talk”



We smoothed out technicalities over Big Macs and coke. Two DI’s, two mics. One hour set, $100 each. If we do well there’s opportunity for future shows at this dance/dive bar.
“What kind of stuff do you play?” he asked us between mouthfuls.

“Anything that can be played on an acoustic” I responded. He nodded.

“Reggae, folk, rock, funk…” Dominic started.

“Gypsy” I added.

“Punk”

“Jazz, classical”

“Okay, okay” Zeaze cut us off. 

“We mostly play our own stuff, and it’s usually made up on the spot”

He definitely liked that.
“That stuff you were playing out there, the song about the man on the tightrope?” He asked, hiding incredulity. I nodded. “Jessus” he shook his head. 
“Listen, my friend is playing tonight but it looks like you two guys mightn’t be here very long you said and you’re good. You’re really good. I’m gonna push him back if I can play with you guys tonight”

Dominic and I shared a quick glance. 

“What do you play?” I asked.

“Bass” 

Dominic and I shared a laugh and then serious’d up.

“Uhhh, yeah, of course you do” I responded. He didn’t get the joke but laughed anyway.

“Can you keep up?” Dominic asked, matter of factly.

“Hell yeah!” Zeaze answered exuberantly.

“Definitely, we can definitely do that.” 
The time was about midday, he told us to be at the bar at about 7. If we want to play for longer we can but from the one hour point we get a small cut of bar sales, it will probably be less than $100 an hour.

“Great business guys” he went to shake our hands as we stood up but opted for a hug when we stretched our arms out.
“See you there tonight.”
He began to walk off before Dominic reached out one last time.

“Wait wait wait wait” he called. Zeaze turned around, his eyes circling in like a dog watching someone walk past their front door. “Do you know where we can find any mushrooms?”

Zeaze laughed. “I wish man, I wish”

-



By 1900 hours we were at a dim bar with a Pabst each. The bar was carved into the wall and had a red wood bartop. The mood and lighting were low and modest but the room was huge by a dive bar's standards. The stage up the far end had all our equipment set up, we just needed to put the straps over. The staff were easy, the two dozen or so patrons there were nice and cheery, drinks and laughter and easy music playing over the PA. There was a dance floor in front of the stage and everywhere else this thin, easyclean red carpet. We leant over the bar, talking shit.
"Any country?" I asked. "You can live in any country."
"France. I'd want to live in France" he decided after deliberation. "I could imagine being a musician in France, drinking wine and smoking and spending mornings in cafe's."
"Cold" I responded.
"Eeugh I've done colder. What about you?"
"India." I said with a nod. "Get rich and move to india and learn the sitar"
"…and become a fucking ragamaster hindu god?" Dominic jiled. "Just like Harrison" he roughly tussled my hair - typical mop top.
"Nah, get fucked."
"Whatever. Perfect breast size?"
"B" I replied without hesitation, expecting argument.
"Waaaaaat?" I knew Dom wasn't really a connoisseur of mammaries, he was just a heavy eater. "D's, man"
"Too big, too distracting, too momentous"
"Two big titties" he replied with vulgarity, we laughed.

“Two gin and tonics and two Sierra’s” a girl’s voice behind me prompted to the bar. Jeremy looked aside and back at me, raising an eyebrow. He mouthed a succinct
'Bee' and pointed in the direction of the girl, probably about chest height.
“Hey!” he called out to her. I turned around on my stool and that was the end of controlling my own life.

“Do you know where we can pick mushrooms around here?” I almost slapped him for saying that but I could see where he was coming from.
She was wearing long, drapey clothing, a scarf studded with aum’s, a long, flowy, yellow and white dress and a blouse that was long and loose - tied with a string all the way to her neck which was smooth, loftly balancing her head that tipped at an angle when she looked at us. She had a soft, feminine jaw with strong edges at the back and dimples on her cheeks and a small button nose. Her hair was a bit longer than mine at the back with a straight cut fringe at the front, leaving her bright, buoyant eyes completely open. Green. She turned and looked at us with a smirk, thin pink lips pursed at the edges. She was wearing very little makeup and with a slight pause she answered

“Yeah, there’s an Andronico’s down the road” with one hand extending a finger languidly down and out the door.

“You know what I mean” Dominic continued, gesturing his hands with exaggeration.
She paused again and her other hand landed on her hip. I could see her form, now. She was built well, womanly. An hourglass figure with nice curves. She looked about 19-20, energy poured from her pores. She just exuded healthiness and energy. The way she walked with a spring, the way she looked suddenly alarmed at loud noises and the way she shot glances across a room louder than a foghorn. She was like a volcano that was constantly erupting, power pouring out into the world around her.
She was always smiling.
Her drinks landed on the bar next to her and cooly without taking her eyes off us she handed her money over. Her eyes narrowed.

“Come with me” she prompted when her change arrived. And sharing a smirk Dominic and I did just that. “What are your names?” she asked, we followed her out the door. Even though she was wearing a dress thing I could see the outline of her ass, round and squeezeable, curving nicely up to her waist and down to her long legs.
“I’m Dominic”
I didn’t answer, I was distracted. When I did pull myself together and realise what was going on it was too late. We arrived around a table at which 6 others were sitting.
“My names, Bronte” she said, louder this time.

“That’s Edwin...”
pointing to a girl similar to herself, broader shoulders, more relaxed eyes, longer hair and wider, slower grin. She had immediately noticeable large breasts even though she was wearing a T-shirt under denim overalls, covered in patches of everything from weed leaves, peace symbols, anti mining memorabilia and smiley faces. She looked and sounded noticeably the most sleepy but even so there was an allure in her eyes - the way Angelina Jolie has.

“...that’s Peace”
Bronte continued around the circle. She was a larger girl, straddling between overweight and Type 2 Diabetes overweight; she obviously loved her food. She had gorgeously smooth skin and a coy look about her, frothing with energy it seemed, like a pressure cooker. She smiled broadly when she was introduced and waved, her arms adorned with beads, bracelets and shiny things. There was something about her look, kind of cocky in the way a football player looks when he scores (or a clubber when he scores). She was wearing a shirt a little too small for her with a feminine leather jacket over it and a headscarf, letting her long hair fall down her back. Her other arm was latched around the guy sitting next to her who was

“...Marty”
Marty looked like a super chiller. He was wearing a beanie and a short sleeve T, small spacers in his ears and the kind of eyes that are hard to make contact with for a long time, they stared deeply and he didn’t blink often. He had a square cut jaw and a well built frame and his smirk exuded one of confidence. He reminded me of that quiet guy at school who was really cool when you talked to him.
“...that’s Camille and Jackson”
Camille looked exotic. Olive mediterranean skin and hazelnut eyes with long eye lashes. She had long raven hair and was wearing a nice dress. Her frame was simple, thin and modest but a drop dead gorgeous face with thick lips a few shades deeper than her skin. She looked like the kind of girl that would be difficult to control, ready to burst out and do something sporadic and impulsive but paradoxically also looked the most cool and collected out of the group; she gave a quick, nonchalant glance up from her pouch of tobacco. Jackson, her presumed boyfriend was a tall, quiet guy with a long beard. He was unassuming and gentle and anything he said was either gravely important or incredibly wise. He looked up at us with a warm, modest smile.
“She’s french, and the little one next to you is Egypt”

Egypt looked up at us with wide, warm eyes and a big smile. She was short, petite and seriously cute. She had a freckled face and long, wavy hair, splitting out of a bowler too big for her. She was wearing loose khaki jeans with suspenders over a loose, short sleeved button up that had poofy shoulders.

“She’s not Egyptian. Introduce yourselves!” she called out as she took her seat. We went around the circle shaking hands, pointing at them gently, trying to remember their names. 

I took a seat between Dominic and Bronte. He sat next to Edwin.
“Where are you guys from?” Bronte asked, looking at me inquisitively.

“Uuuuh, around” I answered, mysteriously. It didn’t work on her, she gave me a ‘yeah right’ kind of look.

“Around here?”

“Around the country”

“.... Where did you come from?” she asked, a little more precisely. 

“We just hitched from Las Vegas” I responded truthfully.

“No way. Do you hitch everywhere?” The way she talked went up and down like she was always singing. I guessed she was a singer.

“Yeah. I suppose so?”

“Are you guys brothers?” Edwin asked. We laughed.

“Nah nah, we just met in Seattle about… 6, 7, 8 months ago?”

“Yeah about 8 months now.” Dominic confirmed. “Fuck… It’s been 8 months”

“What are you doing here?” Camille asked across the table, blowing cigarette smoke everywhere, french accent thick.

“What is anyone doing anywhere?” Dominic responded, flicking his long hair out of his eyes. “I mean, we’re just having fun, thought we’d see San Francisco”

“I mean what are you doing here… tonight” she fixed.
“Playing.” I responded

“Playing what?” she asked again.

“Guitar, we’re on in 20 minutes” and I pointed to the stage.
“Oh really, what are you guys called?” Bronte asked, sipping her gin. 
I looked at Dominic. He looked as confused as I did.
“You know what, we’ve been asked that question hundreds of times and we still haven’t got an answer.”

“Did you play in Las Vegas?” Bronte asked again, ever inquisitive, looking me in the eyes, I followed them as they danced from my left eye to my right and in between, shimmering slightly.

“No, we got out of there after like, one night, it was shit” a few of the people around the table nodded and hmmed in agreement.

“Where are you guys staying?” Peace asked. I shrugged.
“Do you have a place? You can stay at ours if you want.” I didn’t know if she was jumping the gun or what but the others around the table seemed to nod.

“I.. uh yeah. Wow, haha. That would be good” Dominic responded. 

“No problem” Bronte solidified the offer. That was fucking easy - I was a little skeptical about this already.

“Thanks heaps… where do you guys live?” I asked.

“5 minute walk away” Bronte replied. They all seemed really genuine.

“I’m not gonna get stabbed or some shit am I?” I asked. They laughed, some of them a little nervously. That was odd.

“Not with a knife or anything too sharp” Bronte assured.

“Sweet… well, you guys staying here for a bit? You’ll want to hear us”

“Yeah, we’re here for soul night” Egypt piqued, excitedly. She added a “Woooo” for emphasis and did a quick jig. She looked embarrassed as I stood up and everyone had a laugh. They really were a group of chillers. Proper hippy kids.

“Well, we better get set up” I stood up.

“Yeah, but when we get back you gotta tell us where we can find some shrooms” Dominic cried. They all laughed (knowingly)

“Oh wait, Bronte.” I called back, she turned towards me with a flick of hair and for a second I was stunned. Quick pause. 

“Yeah?” She asked.

“Are you single a singer by any chance?” 
She looked conflicted.
“Nawww, not really” she responded.

“Yeah right” Edwin followed with a laugh.

“She’s a fucking good singer” Camille called out, tapping her cigarette high. The ‘k’ in ‘fucking’ accented. Everyone seemed to agree, Bronte looked embarrassed. 

“Guysss” she half whispered.

“Do you want to go out with me come sing with us?” I asked.

She looked happily surprised, then disappointed.
“No no, I don’t know any of the songs, I don’t even know what you guys sound like I’m not even a good singer”

“We make our stuff up on the spot, and we haven’t even played with the bassist before” I responded. She seemed to contemplate it.

“No.. I’m alright, really. Thanks” she said, looking a little sad, her hands collapsing in her lap like a child in a huff.

“Oh well, if you wanna come up at any point tonight, just do it”



-



Zeaze definitely could keep up. We started with a cover or two, Michael Franti and Pixies before we started our own songs. He bounced between instruments, bass guitar, beatboxing, rapping when it sounded right. All his rhymes were tight, we were thoroughly impressed as he was with us. Melodies seemed to come right up to us, funk and reggae flowing through our veins, bouncing between neurons, songs about sneaking into girls houses in Houston, about smoking and stealing with a gang of Italians in Chicago winter, about jumping out of a sketchy hitch out of Vegas... about shroom picking in San Fran.

“Hey, you got any chords that sound like scoring blow?” he’d ask us.

I’d look back confused but Dominic would just start with a sleazebox funk riff.
Apparently Zeaze used to be a pusher and had some hilarious stories in rhyme form. It really was one of the most enjoyable jams I’d ever had. Zeaze mentioned it was soul night and that we should play some James Brown.


“What?!” he cried out. “These fellas here” he yelled into the mic, pointing down at us. “They don’t know any James Brown!” he received a pliant laugh from the crowd. We shrugged and laughed with them. “Help me educate these boys” he pulled the mic away from his mouth. “Follow me” he added, picking up his bass...

-

When we were done it was nine o’clock and the bar had gotten packed. Zeaze asked us if we wanted to play some more but we were cooked, so we packed our stuff, hid it behind the stage and went back out into the crowd. We were met with adoration, people bought us drinks, high fived us. It was a really nice feeling and in a way we did feel like rock stars. It was a little bit of an ego trip, I admit. Some time later that night Zeaze gave each of us $200.

When we finally had time to sit and relax the soul had started and people were flocking to the dance floor. We scanned it with purpose and found what we were looking for, right in the middle they were, all seven of them, dancing, pumping and moving like a scene out of Step Up.

“Which one do you want?” Dominic asked, standing up, ready. “Because I want Egypt” 
I didn’t need to think about it.
“Bronte” I replied, confidently. We walked our way to the dance floor, it was packed and like tetris blocks we shuffled our way between the gaps until we were all in the same place, both physically and mentally, cheeks and chest bouncing in that four to the floor beat.
When I glanced at Bronte she was looking at me. Don’t look away. I danced towards her but she looked and moved away. Nuh uh. I moved up right behind her and grabbed her by the waist. She followed, pushing her hips into mine and sliding down my body. She was a fucking sexy dancer, grabbing my hands and lifting them above us she turned to face me and wrapped my arms around her, a smirk straddling those thin lips. I pulled her closer in and made her follow me about the floor, her skirt swishing about as she span, matching her hair which bounced around as if she were underwater.

I’d just gotten into the groove before she took me by the hand and let me off and to the bar.

“You’re good at guitar” she started, calling the bartender over yelling over the music.

“You’re good at dancing” I retorted

“Are you coming back to ours tonight?” She asked, matter of factly. God what's the catch?
“Naah, I was thinking about getting really drunk and passing out in a ditch somewhere”

“Drunk I can help you with” she laughed, handing me a beer “and I’m sure there’s a comfortable ditch at ours” One hand brought the glass to her mouth, the other was limp atop her wrist, her elbow pressed against her hip. Her legs were straight together.
“Your bed isn’t a ditch” I threw my line into the sea.

“How do you know?” She turned slightly from side to side.
Gonna let me find out? I was about to say. But instead we just gazed at each other, her eyes lidded, her teeth pulling at the side of her mouth.

“Bronte, babe” a voice called out. It was Edwin, she had a smooth alto. The way she talked was like driving over country hills, the way she moved her lips looked very deliberate - even if she wasn’t being. “Can you get me a drink?” Bronte nodded without taking her eyes off me. Edwin looked at me, then back at Bronte. She bit her lip a little. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom” and she slid against me, squeezing through the crowd, slyly whispering “Careful, she’s d-” before she slipped out of hearing.

Bronte smiled, bearing teeth this time. “Dance?”



2 posts omitted. Last 50 shown.
>>
San Francisco Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/08/17(Sun)18:28 No. 22301 ID: 8d40c1

Chapter 2: The Blues

tags: blowjob, orgasm denial



By the time we left The Knockout it was well past midnight and we were all pretty drunk. The walk through the streets of Bernal Heights was as any inebriated stagger home should be. A five minute walk became a 30 minute walk as we fell over, stopped to admire old buildings, waited far too long for cars to pass and waited for Dominic to have quick spew, Edwina was the only one sober enough to hold his hair back before he sprang back up.

“Alright I’m allsweetnow” he proclaimed, back on his feet and stumbling safely. Edwin pulled her arm around his waist to keep him straight. Bronte and I leaned on each other for support, playing grabass like kids playing tag. Camille and Jackson held hands and walked behind us, mostly in silence, hearing them only when they laughed. Somewhere along the way Marty had given Egypt a piggyback and they rolled around us, running across the road and under streetlamps. Peace walked with Ed and Dominic, helping them when they needed it.

“He doesn’t usually do this, seriously” I assured them every time he stumbled or stopped. “He’s usually pretty good with liquor”

“Must have been the shots” Ed summed. Those were the shots I avoided, I wasn’t a big big drinker. “They’ll always get you”

“I had way more than he did and I’m fine” Peace piqued.

“He’s just a massive pussy” I called out to them.

“Fuck you” he chuckled.

“Or maybe he just has one” Edwin joked, sounding… predatory? I was too drunk to care or know for sure. They all laughed. 

“What’re you going to do about it?” I heard Camille call from far behind. 
Ed didn’t respond, she just laughed lowly.

Marty whizzed past us suddenly, jumping into a hedge with Egypt screaming with laughter on his back. They tore straight through and kept running. 
I looked up expecting to see stars but saw just the orange reflection of street lamps on the low clouds, seeded from millions of particles of soot and pollen and sea spray. In a few hours the clouds would sink even lower and fog would cover the streets in the low areas. From up here the sight was sometimes beautiful, the Golden Gate breaching upward like rusty whales, frozen in time.

“Are you alright?” Bronte asked me. I looked back down at her, her soft skin, her drunk but alert eyes, darting around my face, inspecting every wrinkle and hair on it and all of it becoming a blur. I wanted to kiss her, but the timing didn’t seem right.

“Yeah.” I answered simply.

“Ahh, you’re poking into me” Marty called out as he fell out of the bush. 

“That’s not me that’s a stick” Egypt yelled back. We must have been waking up a few people on this street.

“That’s not a stick” Marty defied. “I know what a stick feels like and I know what that feels like”

“Yeah he does” Peace holla’d. Egypt looked tomato-tier embarrassed. 

“What are you guys talking about?” I yelled out at them.

“Nevermind” Bronte quickly suggested. “Nevermind never mind” she suddenly had a spring in her step. “How long are you staying in town?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet, if I like the place I’ll stay.” She stayed silent. “If it continues like this I might damn well move here” Bronte smiled and kept walking, not looking at me.

“How long have you ever stayed in one place” she asked.

“Besides home? Seattle.” I responded. “I tried for months to join a band there but it’s all pretty elitist.”

“Is it as beautiful as they all say it is?” She asked dreamily, as if I was talking about Paris or some shit.

“Who says it’s beautiful? It’s cold and polluted, the people are unhappy, no one owns their own soul there, those belong to CBS, Starbucks and Citibank… and the music, despite the city’s history, is pretty bland” I ranted. “The snow is watery and sharp, rats look up at you from the street and those people who’d normally be our friends anywhere else look down at you”

“Why did you stay there so long then?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” I responded truthfully.

“Because you’re making it sound beautiful” she responded with truth. “Because it sounds like a place you could make good music in… because you met cool people there and because even though the place was shit that usually brings people together. It’s in the worst place people are often at their best” her words lingered, the way a camera flash lingers on your retina.

“You’re drunk” I slurred at her.

“Says you” and she grabbed my ass again.
"This place is much more beautiful" I said, loving the way her neck swivelled and shifted as she swallowed saliva.
"It can get pretty scary some times" she mused.
"Should I have reason to be scared?" I asked. She looked up at me, her eyes narrowing. Was the answer yes?

“Hooommme!” Egypt called down the street, knocking us back to the present. Marty ran through the front gate. Their house was a terrace, 3 stories tall with a basement. It was white with the window frames (there were 4 nice large windows) painted a woody red. White paint was flaking from the plaster and various plants were growing from the windows, some potted and some weedy (but no actual pot or weed). A verandah with an ornate railing hung over the front door from the second floor and the front door was tall and green. A gate in the thigh-high iron fence opened to a small path that wound it’s way gently through a scuffled garden, up a few steps which lead to the covered door. An arrangement of shoes, pot plants, skateboards and a few kids toys allotted the front porch. The bottom story consisted of 2 bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. The house was welcoming, it was warm, it had high ceilings with ornamentation and prayer flags and posters along the walls.
“This is my room” Egypt said with a smile, opening the first door on the left once inside. Unlit candles and figures lined the window panes and leather lounges and large cushions donned the walls. The ground was a soft green carpet. Gig posters of indie bands plastered the walls. We were shown the kitchen and the bathrooms.
Camille and Jackson’s room was on that floor, too. They didn’t show me their room, but Jackson showed me his guitar. A beautiful thing, Luthier made, deep rosewood fretboard, inlays of zirconium which glittered in the light, an action smoother than a womans touch annd… I’m getting carried away.
Second floor was one big bedroom and a big living area. This is where everyone came and sat together. The lounge room was strange in that there weren’t any lounges, just mattresses and cushions all along the ground with a coffee table in the middle and a big drape hanging low from the four corners of the ceiling, making the whole room seem close and intimate. It was red and coloured the light so. It was a very warm room. On the other side of the room were large glass doors which opened to the verandah. Camille and Jackson were already heading out there to start their cigarettes. 
“This is our room” Bronte motioned behind us to a door hidden between two bookshelves.

“What do you mean ‘our’?” I asked suggestively.

“Ed’s and mine, we sleep in the same room.”

“Oh” I responded stupidly. “That makes sense.”
It was a huge bedroom, almost another living area. There was a gentle halfway mark of curtain-like bedsheets hung from a string. Big double beds on either side with a shared wardrobe in the middle. Couches sat around the room lazily with tables and little pieces of memorabilia scattered about the room, speakers set up with a record player with a cabinet with what looked like hundreds of 33’s and 45’s. Kaleidoscope lampshades covered the lights hanging from the ceiling and paintings and hand drawn art work were pinned to the walls - friends’ work.

“Where’s Peace’s room?” I asked. Bronte pointed up.

“It’s gonna be a long night, she got so drunk. She and Marty are gonna be up till dawn” she said with a groan. That was already confusing me, Even though Marty was a foot taller than her, Peace would’ve easily weighed 40 or 50 pounds heavier than him. What was his deal?

“Why does Marty go out with her?” I asked, drunkenly sounding sharp but no doubt was insensitive as fuck. 

“Why does anyone go out with anyone?” Ed answered, coming through the door behind me, Dominic in tow. Her words echoed mine from earlier.

“No it’s because she’s a gifted little fairy.” Bronte said with a chuckle “And they’re not going out”

“Whatever” I responded, leling as Dominic fell onto Edwin’s bed, passing out.
My eyes turned to Bronte. Her eyes fell on mine. Kiss me. They were a forest green, even in the red light. I stepped over to her bed which she was laying on, my hands landed either side of her head and I stopped centimeters from her face. Her mouth was partially opened, her eyes lidding slightly, sparkling. I kissed her, lightly at first. She bit my bottom lip quickly, sucking on it, pressing my buttons - drunk face smashing into the mattress. Her arms wrapped around me and pulled me into her and I started kissing her neck and she began moaning low.

“Jesus christ you guys” Ed laughed. Bronte cringed a bit, it seemed like she forgot Ed was here. Ed opened the door to leave. “Normally I’d be sweet, but" she motioned towards her bed "he's a brick now. Give me a yell, lovelies” she sang as she closed the door behind her.

We lay kissing for a while, moving up the bed taking off clothing piece by piece until she and I were both topless. She had nice breasts, not very large, but nice, hand size and perky. She had sensitive nipples, my tongue dragging over the small pores around the nub, making her shudder, moving up to kiss her neck. Her hands were curling their way through my hair, pulling slightly. My hands played with the fabric of her skirt and dove themselves under the hem, grabbing at her legs and ass. She had the soft skin of someone who ate organic food, it felt like the way mercury looks when you pour it from a beaker. My hand slid it’s way to her front, searching for a snatch to rub but she rolled onto her stomach. She opened her eyes and looked into mine coyly. It felt like we were back on the dance floor again and she was just testing to see how much I really wanted it but I was wrong.

With a sharp exhale I felt her slender hand down the front of my my pants and when her fingers found it she giggled slightly - her eyes lidded in the supreme picture of ‘hnnng.’ She undid my button and undid my fly swiftly and with one hand and leaned in forward for a kiss. Her fingertips grazed gently against my balls…. my shaft…. my tip. Her tongue grazed gently against my tongue… my teeth… my chin… my neck… 


My hands gently guided her down, letting her kiss my chest and tongue my navel before she reached it. I looked down at her and she looked up at me, she could see precum beading at the tip as I tensed. Bronte dabbed her index finger on the very top and swirled it around, wetting the whole head, causing me to shiver. She pulled it away and as a string of it reached from my dick to her finger she licked her digit, sucking it all off in a show of supreme eroticism. 
She went in closer, shuffling herself forward, opened her mouth and… blew on it. She didn’t blow it, just blew air on it. It was maddening, she giggled again when I tensed and groaned the air going cold against the head, stealing blood, sensitivity increasing, making me go crazy in that order.
Her tongue came out of her mouth, a wet, soft, mat to rub against. She brought it up against the head of my dick and lapped at it while holding it at the base with two hands, like licking an ice cream before she slid it down my shaft, right to the base. Her hand came forward and toyed with my balls as her tongue creeped back up the underside, her bottom lips meeting it, too, her hot birth swirling around me. Then her tongue darted against my head, the tip of it swirling around my head, under and over my foreskin, sending me shivering. She sucked hard and pulled away with a wet pop!

I looked back down at her, unaware that I’d closed my eyes and she was still looking at me, I didn’t need to brush hair out of her eyes, her giant eyes, looking so sweet and innocent. She knew exactly what she was doing and she was fucking good at it - she was amazing.

“Holy shhhhhhit” I exclaimed. 
She just raised an eyebrow. And then she dove down. Her lips pursed and pressure built, her tongue danced and I shook. I actually shook. She giggled against my dick, sending waves of pleasure through it and started bouncing. Her soft gagging noises and sucking sounds and tears in her eyes were sending my mind goddamn rabid. My breathing got heavy and sooner than I’d liked I felt myself coming to a close. I tried to warn her by moaning intensely, and muttering something like “Oh shit shit shit” but she mustn’t have understood because she just stopped.
“How’s it feel” she asked, a cough brewing in her throat.
“Annnnnghhh” was my response. Do I really need to say?. She let out a few gentle coughs, sounding cute as anything.


She smiled and pushed her tongue against the underside of my dick, pressing into it hard and slid slowly, slowly up. The whole way up felt like icing sugar dissolving into saliva. Her tongue pressed against the head again and did a small dance, flicking the bottom of it, gliding against my urethra. I was still so close… so close. She must have seen it this time because she suddenly stopped.

I looked her dead in the eyes with a look I hope said “If you weren’t sucking my dick I’d kill you”
I never found out if that’s what it did look like because she looked back at me with those demure eyes, shining like dewdrops hanging from a fern, not giving away anything. Her hands squeezed my balls gently, testing them, feeling how they churned and tensed when yet again I could feel myself getting close. It was like almost jumping off the edge of a dizzying cliff but skirting out time and time again. It felt like pussying out. She went down as far as she could, the meatus knocking on her fleshy chamber door as it were, prodding her gullet. She gagged and quickly pulled out again spit trails connecting her mouth to it. 

“Hnnnnf, goddamnit, let me come” I squeezed out, frustration peering through the edges of my voice, threatening to overtake it.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her voice sultry and low, she pushed her back up and started rubbing her nipples against the end of my dick, getting them moist with spit and precum. I was Tarzan.
I arched my back, then relaxed it again, trying hard to rub my length against them as hard as I could. She pulled back a bit, letting it glaze across her chest like feather duster and she giggled in response. I’d had enough - I went to grab it, my hands gripping the base but her slender fingers held them aside, prying my fingers from my pleasure. As annoyed and turned on as I was I let her do it. She pushed my hands into the bed and stuck her tongue out again, lapping at the tip like a cat laps at milk, looking at me the whole time like a cat watches it’s prey. 
It was tortuous but I lay there as still as I could, writhing about until I felt the grip of her palm around me.
Then she stopped… and looked alert…

“Shhhsh, hear that?” she asked. I went dead silent. There was a soft thumping coming from the walls, male and female moans coming from somewhere. Bronte giggled a little and pointed up. ‘All night’ she mouthed at me and clenched her fist tighter around my length, making me mewl. She turned her attention back to me. “Want to finish?” she asked, like she needed to. I nodded meekly at her, face flushed. She gripped me hard and pumped half a dozen times before I felt myself welling up.
“Oh god” I moaned out. My muscles tensing, my heart racing, my pelvic floor slackening and gripping in turn. One more tug and I’d reached the point of no return, fluids flowing, ready to explode and then she just…



stopped.



I tried to look down at her with anger but instead I kind of dribbled. I could feel myself cumming that was for sure but it wasn’t shooting. When I could open my eyes and look down I could see myself actually dribbling out, semen sadly squeezing itself from me. I watched her staring at it with blurry vision, still cumming slowly. She watched me try and tense with satisfied eyes and a bitten lip. It felt nice, don’t get me wrong, but it still felt so unsatisfying. Like decaf coffee or tofu.

And so little of it, too. It was a confusing mix of pleasure, desperation and humiliation. 
“Uaagh… are you serious?” I droned.

“Awww” she cooed as she crawled up my body, leaning in for a kiss, her breasts dragging along my chest. She planted her lips on mine. She tasted… saltier. Oh shit I realised, she’d just been

I went to pull away but she pushed her lips harder into mine, her tongue, still tasting of precum pushed into my mouth as the back of my head mushed into the pillows. I decided it wasn’t really important and I was still too horny to really care that she was kissing me. So I wrapped my arms around her. She pulled her head back for a second, a look across her face.

“Gotcha” she whispered into my mouth as we fell side by side, just kissing for a while. I thought now would be the time for me to return to the favour so my hands began sliding down her back and slipped under the waist of her dress. She was kissing with laziness now, enjoying the sensation of my hands on her. 
I meant to go further, I really did, but the mix of alcohol and 3amness meant I got lazy too, the feeling of her smooth flesh against my hands, squeezing and toying with her ass was kind of addictive. Eventually she turned over, fell back into me and started humming and making that throaty crackling sound people make when they’re tired, I kissed her along the neck. She yawned and because yawning is addictive I yawned too. I found myself drifting off.


“Do you want to stay in San Fran long?” she asked again.

“I’m not sure” I grumbled… “Not at this rate” I laughed.

“Oh don’t worry” she assured me. “There’s plenty more coming.” that could’ve been a good thing or a bad thing, I thought.

“That could be a good thing or a bad thing” I said out loud this time.

“Hmm, we’ll see. Probably good” she grabbed my hand and pulled it under her neck and the other around her stomach and chest, I played with her nipples gently, falling asleep, my erection still pushing into her plush ass. Then she peeled herself off me.

“I’m gonna have a cigarette. Want one?” she asked sleepily.

“Nah I’m good” I responded eyes staying closed. She kissed me on the nose cutely before putting on a shirt and opening the door quietly. I turned over once or twice and slept like a baby to the lullaby of high pitched moans, throttled grunts and a bed head banging softly all muffled into the walls.


>>
Anonymous 14/08/18(Mon)02:00 No. 22303 ID: ef56dd

moar


>>
Anonymous 14/08/18(Mon)02:06 No. 22304 ID: ef56dd

Do you keep an archive of your work anywhere?


>>
Anonymous 14/08/21(Thu)22:21 No. 22325 ID: 8aeaa3

This is so good


>>
Wazzles+!JUD7F1CtU. 14/08/25(Mon)08:43 No. 22343 ID: 0246d2

Chapter 3: Folks
tags: nosex

Water vapour
Ripping paper
Feeling spontaneous
Whisper in my ears
Tearing to the cheers
"Careful, she's -"




My dream was cut in half - I awoke to the sun burning directly into my eyes.

“Aaaaaaaah” I groaned, my hand raising above my face, covering my delicate morning eyes. “I’m blind!”

“Nnnnnhhm… chill out” a close feminine voice croaked. Bronte shuffled in my arms. My left arm was dead, tingling, feeling like it was about to fall off. I gently hauled her waist up and saved my arm from sure destruction, leaving my eyes exposed. The sun was literally pouring directly onto the head of her bed.

“You’ve got to move your bed” I commented. She didn’t respond. “Or move the sun”

“I like the sun in the morning” she hugged her pillow a little more.

I leaned over and licked my lips a little in preparation, kissing her on the cheek. She smiled, keeping her eyes closed. Jesus she was cute. Even in the morning her skin was blush, flawless without makeup, dimples in her cheeks as she smiled. Girls come in different flavours; the girl who sits on her computer in the corner of the room with glasses and a scarf is pretty. The girl who runs past you when you're walking your way home 6am wearing yoga pants and buds in her ears is hot. The girl with red lipstick and demure eyes in a low-lit, high noise club is sexy. The quiet scene girl who has a pokemon purse and bundles herself in her blankets is cute. Bronte, the girl who's skin is cream cheese and who's voice is melting butter is beautiful. Natural, unrefined beauty.
She opened her eyes and turned and looked at me and I realised I’d been staring at her. Haaaa, aw shit. She tilted her head forward a bit looking slightly confused.

“What?” she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.

“My…” I started, the pause going longer than expect. She looked at me a little expectantly. “...balls hurt” I finished with a laugh. Edwin chuckled sleepily from across the room. Bronte made a little ‘Oops’ face and darted forward, pecking me on the lips. With a sly hand she pressed against my pants and copped a handful morning wood and blueballs. She looked directly at my lips, had a quick shiver of delight? and shook herself off, smiling at me disarmingly.

“Breakfast?” she asked. 

“Are you offering or…” I looked up and down her body, looking at her lips this time “asking?” 
She gave me her expert ‘Yeah, right’ look.
“Offering” she said deliberately, her bottom lip flying and staying forward as she enunciated the word.

“Worth a shot"

“Is that a yes?” she prompted.

“Menu?” I asked.

“Edward?!” she called across the room, still looking at me. 

“Yeh?” Edwin replied quickly.

“Do we have any more flour?” 

“Yeh” she replied quickly again.

“Pancakes!” she said with a smile and leapt out of bed, letting me fall into the pillows. I looked at the little pendulum cockclock next to her bed. 8o’clock. I had had 4 hours sleep. Fuck.

My gaze went over to Bronte who had been wearing a thin, tight velvet top and had taken off her dress. She was sifting through the clothes rack and I could see her side-on silhouette.

I couldn’t help but notice something seemed off about her body.

I couldn’t work it out.
I was too tired.

Or something.

But something wasn’t right.

And as I lay there, watching her pull the drawstring on a loose pair of silk hippy pants I knew that would pester me all day.

My eyes narrowed, but it didn’t help.

“Can you roll?” she asked, stepping up to the end of the bed, hand on hips, legs apart.

“Yeah” I responded. She pointed to the bedside tables’ bottom drawer.
“Roll a doobie, I’ll cook breakfast”

“..sure!” I responded, still tired, dreams coming true. She smiled and twirled out of the room. I heard whispering from Ed’s bed.

I leaned over and opened the drawer. Inside were a pack of long papers, a grinder and a little bag of weed with varying pieces of memorabilia. I guessed there were about five or sexsix grams of leafy bush in there. I got to work, grinding, rolling a roach, mixing tobacco. Spinning is a win/lose art and you’ve got to be careful when doing it with new people. 50-50 plus or minus 10% is usually the go-to. I tried to get close to that, mixing and rammingrolling. I was about half way through the roll, having nearly distracted my mind from Bronte's god-given lips when a sleepy, croaky Dominic piqued up.

“Didn’t get to finish?” he started, chuckling. “Gonna play some serious blues today!”
“Stop it.” Ed laughed out. I didn’t respond, only laughed a little. Dominic started singing the 12 bar:
“My baby, she can’t satisfy

My baaaabeeeh, she can’t satisfy

She take me half the way there and leave me haaaaayaaangin’ drai”


“I…” I started, stopped and paused as I licked the gum of the joint. “..I’ll tell you about it later” We all laughed a little.

“Remember, I told you she was dangerous” Edwin called.
"No you never" I was focussing on the final part of the roll.
"Yeah I did" She claimed.
"Okaaaayy..." I stopped listening as I focussed on the joint. "One smoking medium. You can only pick one" I asked as I finished rolling the joint.
"Joint" Dom replied.
"Joint" Ed repeated.
I nodded at them and held it up. "Joint" I responded.
“Great, let’s go downstairs” Edwin directed. I jumped out of bed, put on a shirt and headed downstairs with Dom and Ed. Dom looked like he was having a bit of trouble with balance.

“Arruuugh, I’m so hungover” Dominic complained. No one answered. He was fighting his own battle.

As we filed into the kitchen to the sound of flipping flapjacks, Edwin banged on Egypt’s door.

“Princess!” she waited for a reply.

“Yeahhhh?”

“Doobie”

“Luuuuussh” I could hear shuffling in Egypt’s room before she popped out. She definitely didn’t seem like a morning person, eyes puffy. She looked like she was literally dragging her feet as she sauntered into the kitchen, I was handed a lighter.
"The roller lights" Ed directed. So I complied. It was going to be a nice, lazy day.


We smoked the doob, recounting the previous night, the best tracks, the songs we played, the friends they remet and the ones we’d be seeing. 

“What’s the plan today?” Egypt asked as she handed me the last of the joint. Bronte was finishing up the last pancake, hazelnut spread, butter, frozen fruit and maple syrup were pulled out. 

“Park? We should go picking mushrooms before they dry up. Then we can go to Mezzo P’iano” Bronte offered.

“Mezzo Piano?” Dominic begged the answer.

“It’s a cafe, a few of our friends work there.”

“Camille would be there right now” Egypt continued, excited.

“So would Alai” Bronte added.

“Where the hell did all these names come from?” I asked, genuinely interested. 

“Long story. Let’s go to the roof!” Bronte commanded as we all held plates of food and cutlery.

Up the last flight of the stairs was a little corridor. On one end were two doors to two rooms. One was Peace’s bedroom, her door was open but the interior was dark. The other was a small bathroom. Directly in front of us was a fire cupboard and on the other end was an alarmed fire door. It wasn’t alarmed anymore, though as they pushed it open and into the brisk morning air the only sounds were car engines and birds. Most of the houses around this part of town were this height, but you could see far, far down the hill we’d walked up last night and towards Bayview. You could see water both east and west from here and far in the north, yes, you could juuuust make out the tips of Golden Gate, Oakland hidden behind wisps of morning summer fog. There was a table and an assortment of chairs outside. 3 full ashtrays were aligned on the table. Someone went back inside to wake Marty and Peace for breakfast. Only Peace emerged. She’d already showered.

“Have you slept?” I asked her as she came out.

“Yeah man” she assured as she did her hair up. She was wearing a tank top and a skirt, her stomach peeking out from between them like a mushroom. She slapped me on the ass as she walked past. “Like, 3 hours.”

I gave her that look as she strutted past me. “What about Marty?”
Peace laughed harder than I thought she should’ve. She was already sponging pancakes onto her plate.
“He won’t be moving for hours. Proper reaming.” Her eyes were like spears.

I had no idea what she meant, even though I thought I did at the time. I looked closer at her arm and to my surprise there were the tell tale up and down, back and forth ridges of scar tissue. Razor slices from a past marred by emotion and confusion. I was and I am still terrible at noticing red flags.

I sat down on one of the chairs and began spreading fruit and sauce onto some pancakes. They were thick and sweet. Bronte sat down on my lap, grinding her ass into my groin, hiding her grin as she felt me swiftly harden. Feeding me bits of her pancake and taking some of mine in turn. She was cutely romantic and looking at her in the morning sun, the way her eyelashes perforated the sun against her eyes, shimmering in them, I felt the beginnings of that dreaded feeling. The one that makes you lose control, the one that begins with a single cell and infects your whole day, sleeping and waking. The kind of feeling that with enough fuckluck turns into an emotion that turns into a lifestyle, when you can’t remove someone from your head. I’d known her for one night, I hadn’t even cum properly, hell, we didn’t even fuck, and this. I thought I’d seriously found someone special. This was a hellish place to be. She caught me staring again and leaned in for a peck, her breath a mix of maple syrup and heaven.

Or maybe it was just the weed and raging erection.


-

We’d made it to Bernal Heights park. This was apparently one of the highest parts of San Francisco. It sure didn’t look like it. But they assured me again and again.
“You can see so far”

They’ve never been through the rockies, I'd thought. 
I was singing songs about the rockies while we were there, we’d smoked even more joints, Bronte and Egypt were doing some kind of acrobatic stuff. Dominic and I were writing new material, jumping off each others’ ideas like acrobats catching each other mid air, twirling about the fretboard. 
We stopped for a second for a cigarette. 

“Man, last night was… hffffff” I started. “Fucked!”

Dominic laughed. “Yeah I heard”

“She was giving me gobbies man, and everytime I was close she just stopped.” 

“Hectic”

“And right at the end just as I was cumming she stopped” 

“Hectic”

“So I just.. like… half came” I looked at him with the most confused face I could muster.

“... hectic bitch” he finished.

“And the weirdest thing about it all is I think I really like her” 
He looked directly at me.
“Like… like her like her or like her like her?”

“Like like her like her” I responded. He looked at me very seriously.

“Are you sure?” he asked, even more seriously.

“No I’m not sure.” There was a long pause and he looked over at them. Edwin was reading a book in the shade and Peace, Jackson and Marty were watching the show, praising them when they did cool shit. Bronte was out in a lunge and had Egypt balancing on her knees and stretched out backwards.

“There’s something weird about them” he started. He knew I felt it too.

“Yeah but I don’t know what it is” I added.
“Where are they from?” 

“Edwin was saying something about all her Yosemite friends…” he let that idea hang in the air for minute. They definitely had an accent twanged with something else. Was it Yosemite? I couldn’t be sure. “And last night Marty said they were going back to Santa Rosa sometime. Who fucking knows?”

“Who fucking cares?” I finished as I flicked my cigarette into the bin and picked the guitar back up. “Should I tell her?” I asked him. 

“Not yet. She doesn’t exactly seem like a one man type just yet. She latched onto you pretty quick”

“But that’s because I’m fucking stunning” I joked(?)

“Get fucked” 
We started jamming again, leaving the conversation to hang, leaving it for another time. I started playing a Leonard Cohen piece, Suzanne. We were singing lowly, lightly. I heard a third voice in the distance.
Bronte was singing, she sang the whole piece.

We didn’t find any mushrooms but none of us cared. I’ve never fallen that fast for someone.

-

Mezzo P’iano was an italian cafe owned by a guy called Pieranno. The girls’ knew him very well. This was 'their' cafe. It was on the corner of two major roads and sat in a little courtyard, old apartment buildings on all sides so only the midday sun hit us, we basked in the heat and ordered a mixture of coffees and chais. Dominic always had a double shot espresso. Bronte ordered a flat white.

A young girl with long, curly hair served us. Her name was Alai and seemed to be a long time friend of these girls. She had what seemed like a very flat face, her features staying close to her skin, with wide, light blue eyes and a wide grin that showed a lot of her gums but rather than being weird it added to her charm. She was extremely laid back, shortening words here and there, moving with natural fluidity. She seemed extremely competent in anything she looked like she was doing and was always on people’s wavelengths, though she always sounded kind of vague, like she wasn’t sure of herself, it betrayed her actions. She had excellent proportions - some of the most pleasing to the human eye one could imagine. A slim, trim build without looking skinny with well rounded, large breasts. She wore a modest summer dress with a belt, an apron over that. Camille was there, too and brought us drinks and menus.

“See Alai, there?” Bronte asked, moving her face beside mine. I nodded. “She plays guitar and sings, too.” Interesting.
“Any good?” I asked.

“Yeah, great” she responded.

“I want to play a show here.” I responded.

“Talk to her about it” Bronte went back to her drink. We’d ordered a palette of breads, pestos and antepestos and most of us were busily munching down.

I watched Bronte as she wiped a bit of oil off the side of her lip with her finger, sucking it clean, licking her lips, the curve of her neck like the meniscus of an oil bath or like the sweep of strings during a crescendo.

“Bronte?” I asked. She turned and looked at me, swallowed her food and nodded quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Go out with me?” I asked, straight out. She bit her bottom lip a little, nervously, looked to the side quickly, then down at her feet and then back at me, they wanted to focus on something that wasn't my face for a second. Her eyes were singing but her face looked scared. She shuffled in her seat and bit the side of her mouth thoughtfully, then looking at me in the eyes, inspecting my intentions… staring into my soul the way only a young girl can.

“Are you asking if you want to be my boyfriend?”
I nodded.
"You've known me less than 24 hours" she pointed out
"Does that matter?" I asked. I knew the silent answer was 'Yes. Of course[i]' but she didn't say it.

“Are you staying in town for long?” She asked. Time to decide.

“The answer to both our questions are the same” I responded. 

“Then yes” she said without skipping a beat. “You can be my boyfriend.” She had a childish smile as she said it. “Besides, I want to show you San Francisco and tonight…” she stopped. Her eyes went suddenly wide. Excited.
“Oh shit you don’t know we didn’t tell you!” she yelled.

“What what didn’t tell us what?” Dominic talked through some turkish bread.

“We’re going to go see The Brian Jonestown Massacre tonight” 

I was happy enough that she’d said yes.

“They’re playing at The Fillmore”

Nevermind they were one of my favourite bands

“And we’re all going and you guys should come.”

“They're sold out” Camille informed bluntly as she walked past with a stack of plates. Bronte looked deflated.

“Don’t worry about us” I assured, shooting Dominic a look. “We’ll get in.” Dominic nodded.

“What… hoooow?” Egypt asked, looking suss, a wry smirk growing.

“Nevermind… did you say yes?” I asked Bronte. She nodded again at me. “Let’s go somewhere then.”

She thought about it a second, finished the last of her drink in a gulp and lifted her chin quickly.

“Let’s go.” She said quietly. “Guy’s we’re going down to the park on the corner for a little while, you’re gonna be here?” 

Most of them said yes so we borrowed some boards and rode the short way down the hill.



-



This park had a giant tree. I don’t know what kind of tree it was but the branches started low and stayed strong right to the ends of the limbs, the trunk was thick and the leaves bright and round. It looked wise, the way Gandalf was wise. I hauled myself up easily and lifted her up. We climbed as high as we could and watched Saturday people walk and run and drive on by. We found a nice spot to sit for two of us and kissed for a while, the sun streaking in between leaves, bouncing off her skin the way the sun bounces off the ocean. We noticed, scratched into the bark of the tree, right where we were sitting were dozens of paired names - a vetted lovers roost.

“Tell me something” she spoke in a moment when we were just sitting, idly playing with each other’s skin. “Promise me it”

“What?” I asked. 

“Promise me”

“Promise you what?” I was confused.

“You have to promise it before I tell you” she sounded shy.

“What?” I was still confused. Her hand leant across my lap and then against my groin, rubbing the outline of my dick in my pants against my leg. It was already hard from the kissing.

“You have to promise me first, and then I’ll say” she assured. Her eyes looked deep, sincere, almost hurting.

“Okay. I promise” I reluctantly tore between my teeth and tongue. She kissed me again before she spoke. 

“Pretty soon, you’re going to find something out about me. You can’t be angry or freak out or anything when you find out” she said with concern.

“But.. wait. What is it? Why can’t I be angry…? When will I find out” [i]So many questions


“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. And you’ll probably find out soon. I don’t know when… but soon. Just. Please don’t be angry. Anything else, just don’t be angry” her voice sounded shaky and anxious. “You promised” she added with a chuckle. She seemed so sincere, so scared about whatever it was that she needed to be as vulnerable as possible. It was kind of endearing in a way, but not as much as it was concerning. I couldn’t possibly imagine what would be so important that I had to promise before she told me, probably because I'd only known her for the shortest time. There was nothing I could imagine that I would actually be angry at.
She was seeing someone else? 

She was leaving the country soon?

She was an undercover cop?

“Hey. Hey, yeah. I promise” her eyes looked up at me as her face crane downward and I hugged her. We kissed for a while longer.

I couldn’t have imagined that she wasn’t actually a she, though I can imagine why I'd be horribly angry at that. I had a feeling it was going to be a bright, short romance.



----



“Dude, we’re playing” Dominic said, flatly, straight faced looking at him in the eye. I kicked my guitar case for good measure. He looked at us suspiciously. Dominic looked back annoyed. “If I’m gonna have to call Jackie about this shit” Dominic continued, frustrated. 
“No, no it’s sweet man. Have a good show.” The security guard buggered off. If anyone from a band asked who we were we we worked in the theatre, if anyone from the theatre asked, we were in the band. Not exactly a good plan but it works well. You need to leave a lot of space for improvisation and whatever you do, don’t be timid. The show didn’t start for another hour so we walked through to the bar area and ordered a drink each, chilling on our own.

The doors opened and we watched people stream into the theatre, old and young. When the faces we were looking for found our faces we waved our hands and they wove theirs. Bronte was wearing stockings and a lacy skirt and a thin turtleneck top that showed her stomach, a little bit of tummy sticking out. She had this underwear top that were like striped thighhighs for your arms, dainty fingers curled into cotton gloves. They squeezed their way through the crowd and found us. She grabbed my hands and pulled them down, pulling me into a quick kiss. She smelt like desert mornings and gin. They all were pretty drunk and had all smuggled varying amounts and kinds of alcohol in, I shared gin from a steel canteen with Bronte and a leather pouch full of wine with Camille. The band were great, I’d never seen them before and I think a lot of the younger crowd were expecting them to be like what they’d seen on Dig! but they were old now. They’d played these songs hundreds and hundreds of times but everyone knew them all, the whole crowd sang all the songs and danced the way we should’ve. We were right on the front railing, security forming a barrier between Us and Them. The peons from the Gods, if gods played tambourine in front of strobe lights and 600 watt speaker cabinets.

I found myself inebriated, singing with my hands above my head.

So say, hey, you run with me
Bronte stood behind me, grabbed me by the hips

And in a day or two you’ll see, understand
She pulled me into her and her fingers arched up my back under my shirt.

We’re gonna change our lives today

Her fingers curled, fingernails finding flesh. Not hard, just enough to scratch, she dragged them slowly down my back before her fingernails rested on the elastic of my pants. They slipped below and she began feeling up my ass - her hands reaching around and pressed down on my hip bones, pulling me gently into her again. I turned around and did the same to her, kissing neck at the same time, my eyes caught those of Edwin’s, face flashing in frames of laughter from the strobe light, her hands around Dominic’s stomach as they ground into each other like layers of granite, far beneath the earth’s surface - preparing to explode and split California in two.



-----


>>
San Francisco Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/09/09(Tue)21:06 No. 22408 ID: 6ef906

Chapter 4: Whiskey Bar

tags: f/m, femdom, cunnilingus,

-----

Distrust
Whiskey will only bring pain
Kiss the lips. Dig your own grave
On a beach. Sunrise.
Fire in her hair and liquor in her name.
Kiss the lips. Try, and lose, her game.


Squint. To avoid light hitting the eyelids. It was too early to wake up, my body hurt too much. I wanted to sleep forever. I opened my eyes, the muscles hurting as I squinted in the sun. What time was it?
I had woken up in Bronte's living room, surrounded by cushions with a bucket (empty) nearby. Just a dream? It certainly felt like a dream.
"You're up!" a voice cried. It was Dominic. I groaned and rolled back over.
"No I'm not!" I cried back.
"It's three in the afternoon, dude"
I groaned again. "Where is everyone" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"Egypt's downstairs but everyone else is out, Mezzo Piano I think."
"I had the weirdest fucking dream" I yelled. "I met some chick somewhere who'd met Bronte and Ed and…" I paused, trying to remember details. "Dude, dude, dude. Bronte had a dick" I yelled a little too loud.
"Hectic" he replied automatically, but he seemed distracted.
There was a long pause. I could sense it was awkward.
"Moderately quiet?" I asked Pun intended. He nodded. "Alright, lemme get some water, then we'll go"

We walked our way to Mezzo Piano. Every cell ached. My head was diseased. It felt like a team of pastry chefs had just kneaded by whole body, bruising internal organs. I was unconsciously conscious. I was on fire. When we finally reached the cafe we left our guitars on the ground and looked for the girls. No one was there, there were a few nondescripts but no one we knew except for Alai working so we ordered some coffee and breakfast and took a table in the courtyard.
"What happened last night?" I rubbed my temples.
"Saw the BJM, got drunk, went into the city came back." Dominic consolidated the facts. "But you went back home with Bronte"
I laughed a little, confused, then affable.
"I can't remember a thing but I had the weirdest dream: I was with this girl at the beach we were talking about the girls and Bronte had a dick and it was all over the place."
"Ed and I ended up getting drunk on the streets and talking to homeless people in the city." Dominic admitted. "We got a taxi home."
"I got so… so drunk" I groaned. Alai brought us our coffee. We sat in silence for a moment and I tapped my pockets, thinking I'd forgotten something and I pulled out my phone.
My phone
"You have a phone?!" Dominic yelped, surprised scared? I shot him a confused look, I swear I just had deja vu. Technology was something we'd always done without. I needed coffee.
"Probably stole it off someone at the show I was so drunk" I reasoned, straining the words, but gears inside were starting to turn. Drunken memories began attaching themselves and detaching themselves from dreams - stringing into one narrative.
It was a fancy phone, with a touchscreen and one button. It wasn't apple, though. "Hey I have one unread message!" I realised, perhaps a little to ordinarily before it dawned on me how confusing this whole thing has been.
"Read it!"

From: Whiskey.
Time: Mon 0704.
I had fun last night. Thought you could use a phone my numbers alredy[sic] in there. See you around.
Whiskey.

My hands shook and it wasn't just the headache. Neurons fired a hundred times the same way in a second, new patterns made.

-----

The next thing I remember is sunrise on the beach with Whiskey.
Sigur Ros was playing from somewhere. "That…" I started a sentence, the rest of it sounded better in my head. "… can't be your real name" I said out loud anyway. There was a sweet sound in the air mixing with the music. I tilted my head, admiring the new perspective. Laughter.
She flashed her almond eyes at me. I am fifteen years old getting put on detention with my crush. Somewhere - hidden beneath her hair and layers of shiny gelatine and little muscles, was coyness. Your eyes were locked now. No backing down.
The surf was nice.
I rubbed my hands.
"It is" she replied slipperily. For a second I thought she was talking about the surf and I realised I'd daydreamed.
"Prove it" I demanded, slurring simple sentences. She darted her eyes quickly down and reached for her purse around her waist. For a second I wondered where I was.
When she pulled out her drivers license my eyes took a while to focus, a legitimate Californian drivers license and written in bold:
WHISKEY MACLEAD
"Mac… lead?" I repeated skeptically.
"Ma - cloud" she corrected, some rich twang in her accent. I grabbed it off her to look at it closely, angling her face next to her own. Staring at 2 bottles of whiskey on the shelf. Those eyes were unmistakable, I darted to and forth for a sec, and then just mostly just forth and then just at her. Her hair was caught in the sun breaking between the buildings behind us. It was red. Pinky red. Loveless Red.
"Irish?" I drunkenly ask for clarification.
"Yes" she replied, surprised this time. She was singing with Jonsi.
"So one night 21 years ago your parents decided to get fucked on Jameson's at the pub." I started. Her eyes thinned the longer I spoke. "Raised her on Cocteau Twins and Talking Heads." Her eyes thinned more. "And you got sick of them and left Beverley Hills to live a hippy life here?" Her smirk widened. She had some lip-coloured lipstick on and it was sticking her lips together ever so slightly at the edges as she spoke.
"I'm no hippy, man. I work." She claimed.
"For greenpeace?" I quipped. Why do I think she's a hippy. She shot me a look that gently straddled pissed off and turned on. Her lips slid together as she thought for a second.
"Secretary. At a law firm actually."
"You work for The Man!" I cried heresy. She shrugged like she didn't give a fuck, her shoulders of her shirt coming into light, a bright green.
She dipped her head but kept her eyes on me for a second -
and then she darted her eyes away. I realised I'd been unintentionally staring at her for a while, and quickly looked away. Giant cumulonimbus over the sea began glowing in the orange morn.
"And it's South Central" she corrected again "Not Beverley Hills" she looked a little proud as she said it. "Do I get to see your license, I hardly believe your name anyway" she coyly suggested. I played along, and pulled out a very expired drivers license from the folds in the holey sleeves of my wallet.
She inspected it.
We were sitting in the car, one I'd never see before. Sunlight hit the whole top half of her body. She wasn't even dressed like a hippy. Just casual.
Casually fucking sexy.
I had a quick chuckle.
Fuck I'm a funny cunt

"Long way from home." Whiskey whistled. "What are you doing in San Francisco cisco cisco cisco?"
Then it came flooding back. Where's Bronte? Where am I?
"I… don't know" I answered slowly, my mind trying to catch up.
"Are you staying with Bronte and Peace and those girls?" she asked.
Uuuuh "Yeah!… well… I don't know. How do you know them?" I answered and asked incredulously, sliding around words. "Sorry, but did I tell you that before?" stopping her before she said anything. Am I dreaming?
"We met at Brian Jonestown Massacre last night… whatever" she responded. "I know those girls."
I have no memory of meeting Whiskey there.
"I don't…" I started but she cut me off this time.
"We've had this conversation earlier."
How much did I say? "Ahh, that's why I thought you were a hippy"
"Probably. They're all childhood friends of each other, though I've only met them here" she recalled.
"How well do you know them?" I asked, trying to skirt around the issue.
"Pretty well" she shrugged. "Couple of years or so." The sentence petered away and there was silence for a while - giving her the chance. "Why aren't you staying with them anymore?" she asked knowingly.
"Surely you know the answer to that." We looked each other in the eyes, her eyebrows twitching as she inspected my face. She sighed.
"Shots?" she asked, and pulled a steel hip flask from her purse. Whiskey drank Vodka, it was rough. Hangover will be the death of me.
"Did you like her?" she asked suddenly.
"Yeah" I replied. "I asked her out yesterday… She said yes" I must sound morbid.
"Do you still like her?" She asked. Yes
"I dunno" I lied. I mean it was a pickle. Nothing, not even a big dick could swipe away the chemistry, the smell of her.
"Are you going to go back there?" she asked.
"I've… got my stuff there" I found an excuse. "It just freaked me out that's all" I opened up. "And maybe I just freaked out" Whiskey nodded sympathetically as I spoke. "But don't get me wrong there was no way I'd do anything with her, not with that. It's just not me" I began rambling. "And it's not even like I liked her that much I think I just caught up in the moment… and you can't tell jack shit about feelings from one day. But it's probably all just because I'm horny" You are so drunk, you idiot
"Shut up" I talked to myself - she thought she'd been spoken to.
Whiskey just glared at me. "You've spent two hours talking to me about her dimples, how she stacks things on her fork to eat it, how she talks when she's excited, how she blows smoke out… You're drinking with me now, more drunk than a teeny, because alcohol glues broken heart." She looked at me surreptitiously. She was right and as I turned to tell her something I stopped and just looked at her because we looked rather similar in a way. She hid sombreness well, but it takes one to know one.
"I didn't tell you about stacking things on her fork" I realised, my eyes thinning. What an odd thing to remember
"Oh… well… yeah you did" she claimed unconvincingly.
"You've been with her before" I noted. She nodded.
"Yeeaaah." She seemed sad about it. "It's not hard to like those girls, it's getting them to like you back"
"Bronte seems to like me" I retorted.
"That's because you're a skinny white boy. Skinny white boys are her jam" the words hurt a little. "…And she's their cream" she added salt to the cream.
"Do you have a dick too?" I drunkenly asked. She shook her head.
"A girl can dream, though" she wistfully finished. She looked out to sea, then back at me. Her golden almond eyes taking on new colours in the sun. We were completely lit up now, her skin radiating goodness into the world, her laugh swimming like fish in a stream through the air. Her eyes demanded contact - her skin demanded touching. She was wearing short shorts and a little jumper, her long hair under a beanie. She had long, long legs, the way a palm tree has a long trunk down to a root system of bare feet, dainty toes digging into the sandy soil absently. She had intense eyes, you could get lost in the veins and valleys of her iris and fall right into her pupils. It was like they talked to you:
"Fuck me"

I don't think I'd ever been pushed onto a bed before. Maybe a little but I'd never been pushed. The bed didn't spring back up when I landed on it, it just slowly eased, firmly pressed into my back as Whiskey landed on top of me, her hands pressing into my shoulders, pressing me back down as I sat up. Our lips collided the way Venus' and Mars' would've though Whiskey was definitely the goddess of war and I the god of sucking at love. The back of my head pressed into the bed, her arms against my shoulders and her legs around my waist. I was about to wage war on this girl, not bother to waste time didn't - pulling her clothes off article by article, more and more skin bearing itself as my reward. Her lips were soft the way you imagined as a kid how soft clouds would be be and they smeared a thin layer of lipstick on me. She kept her eyes open as we kissed, starting deeply into mine while I stopped and was overwhelmed at the first layer or two of hers. They smiled as I unhooked her bra strap, orange hazel orbs like a japanese autumn forests. They matched the orbs beneath: Her top was bare and her breasts bounced in the air as she began tugging at my clothes. Jacket, shirt and pants disappearing off the edge of the world (her bed). Our skin started grinding.
I grabbed her ass and pulled her hips into mine, horn rubbing hole. She gasped as I pressed into her, underwear sticking.
Whiskey's arms moved around my neck and pulled herself down into me, she moaned into my mouth as I dry humped her, her breasts pushing into my chest and her back arched high. She began playing with the fabric of my underwear, feeling me up on the inside, enjoying the way I writhed and whimpered beneath her. A slave to her touch. Whiskey tugged them quickly down, though and I kicked them off as she began playing with my toy. A giggle welled up from her as she felt me tense in her hands, responding with great sensitivity; my balls full and aching.
"Someone's hn, someone's close" she goaded.
"It's been 2 days like this" I added breathily, kissing her neck, bruising her skin. She smiled and gave me a look like she was saying 'Is that for me?'
"Good to see she hasn't changed" Whiskey moaned and suddenly I couldn't get Bronte out of my head. I imagined Whiskey's hair shorter, her hips wider, her ass plusher. Whiskey's hand reached around my full balls, forming a ring around the top of them with her thumb and finger, tugging gently. It was Bronte's voice when she talked, going up and down like a parrot in flight. "This is going to be a big one" Bronte noted. Her hands moved themselves to the base of my dick and slowly began pumping. My moans were soaked in honey, her lips digging into my chest, sugar and sucking.

There was no hope in lasting any longer, not with my mind the way it is, not even with all this alcohol clogging up my veins. As my back arched and I groaned hoarsely and lowly we brought a whole new definition to Whiskey dick. She giggled as the first shot spat out and then laughed an impressed laugh as the second one cannoned up my chest, hitting us both. It was like opening flood gates, like opening a bottle of coke on a hot day, like popping your ears under 12 meters of water.
A third, fourth and fifth all landed somewhere on my chest and stomach. I'd never fire like this again I'd thought, I moaned some more as she squeezed me more, pushing the last of the white goo from my horn. I sighed as it bubbled from me.
"That was… quick" Whiskey giggled, wiping a bit of semen from her stomach and wiping it on me. I sighed heavily, relieved, thankful… slightly in love. She wrapped her legs around me a bit, avoiding the wet streaks on my torso.
She didn't need to say anything.
"I can't thank you enough for that" I chuckled.
"Seemed a little inhumane. The UN might have to give Bronte an audit into accusations of torture" she added with a laugh. "Speaking of…" she leapt up, kneeling on the bed and without any heads up one leg flipped over my head and she was straddling my neck, pressing her weight down onto the top of my chest.
Head's up I thought. Her smell was strong and covetous. Her smell was a hypnotists charm, a direct order from an officer. There was no choice; her body opened mine like a key. Her eyes, lidded over, intense, stared into mine with a mix of child-like possession and teenage, red hot lust.
I arched my neck forward and kissed her stomach, but after one or two pecks her fingers curled through my hair, pushing my hair and head back into the mattress, forcing me to look at her eyes. I was getting lost in the forest as it filled with shimmering opals, her pupils huge, her pulse fast, she shook her head as she bit her lip and lifted herself of my chest. One of her hands pulled the bottom of her underwear to the side, exposing at last her pussy. Her lips were the pink colour of her lipstick, they were small and packed tight and the edge of skin shimmered with her anticipation. A single bead of moisture dripping from her like the first drop of the monsoon season. My eyes darted back up - past her stomach, firm and flat - between her breasts, perky and fat - to her face.

Her head was tilted, an eyebrow raised, her lips pouting, silently saying "Get ready to kiss." Her fingers balled into a fist in my hair as she landed on top of me. My tongue immediately lapping at her insides. Her breath immediately shifted gears - short and sharp, gasping at each flick. She stayed still at first, letting her weigh freely over me, pushing my tongue as deep as it would go. I curled it upwards, trying to hit more tender spots and she shifted her body, her eyes glazing over every little while as she exhaled a gaspy moan. She was a wet girl and soon I was drinking Whiskey. Sweet and salty whiskey. Just as I was getting tired she pushed her knees up and the bottle was off my lips, strands of saliva and poon juice webbing between her and my mouth, chin and nose. I took a few deep breaths as she organised my hands under her knees. I stared at her face the whole time and a very turned on girl looked back down at me. She kissed the air at me. Keep kissing. Then she dropped on top of me again, my nose crashing into her clitoris and my tongue drinking from the well, lapping against her lips this time, spreading them and swinging my tongue in between and around them, nibbling at them with my lips. We were kissing.
She slid forward and my tongue had new terrain, rubbing against her clitoris, tastebuds grazing against the surface and the hood hard, like sand dunes shifting in fast motion. Her spine was stretched now, her arms supporting her arched back, pressing into her feet and forcing her weight onto my mouth and hands. I wasn't sure, in my drunken state, if I would be able to actually get out. I didn't care. I didn't want to. Who even was this girl? Where the hell did I meet her? I wrote her name into her puss, letters flicking across her clitoris the way cougars flick their tails. WhiskeyWhiskeyWhiskeWhoskeWroskeWronkeBronkeBronteBronte. Her moans and gasps were quick and sharp and were so sexy to listen to - she rarely repeated a sound. "Ahhh, ooooh, ah, ahh, ah, hmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnnnno oooon" she cried out, her eyes dropping again down at me, her mouth stuck open as she sat down harder into my face, suddenly looking determined, like she was trying to beat me, like she was trying to choke me.

I could feel her legs shaking, shivering as her moans began dribbling from her mouth, pouring over her bottom teeth like dry ice pouring from a cup. She was sublimating, turning to steam. Her movements started slow at first grinding gently up and down, clitoris catching my tongue as it's tip hooked and hardened - her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her moans grew shorter and sharper and then she stayed still, her hand reaching forward and holding my head still as her snatch tightened against my tongue, denying entry and stopping movement. Her stomach clenched and ridged, her body shivered, her pussy clenched, relaxed, clenched, relaxed and her voice thin to a silent scream of pleasure. Her whole body spasmed in waves.

Then all was still.
Her body clenched from time to time.
But she was still, her eyes were closed, her breathing was deep and my tongue was calm, not wanting to push her into pain. Her chest rose and fell steadily, starting to shine as sweat began secreting from the pores in her skin. Then, like a switch her eyes opened, as hungry as ever, they locked onto mine. 'Again'
Without warning this time her weight grew and she began thrusting, pushing herself against my face mashing my lips with hers. She wasn't holding back on the moaning, looking directly into my face as I moaned back. I just poked my tongue and kept it hard as she rocked her clitoris against it. Her eyes looked at mine, then at my forehead, the pillow, floor, centre of the earth - everything was blurry. Her feet and legs began shaking again and an open, expressionless mouth moaned out again, both her hands pushed on the back of my head, pulling hair and my head with it, guiding me to her pleasure. In one long, final stroke she pressed into me and ran her slit against my tongue. Her legs slackened and she let her body weight rest into me as she came again, shivering with delight.
She sounded satisfied, gasping and moaning, even harder than the last time, her breath was short and her skin was now slick with sweat, mixing with her juices, sex saturated saltiness in my mouth. I stayed still as my vision started fading and a pain grew in my chest. I began struggling against her knees and making urgent sounds.

It took her a while to respond, her mind still tingling and glittering.
"Oh shit sorry" she slurred before she lifted herself off me again. I took a massive gasp of air, my chin and cheeks sticky with her juices. "I just… hmmmmm" she didn't bother finishing her sentence; I knew what she just. Whiskey pulled back a bit, freeing my hands and landing with a soft tap on my chest. Semen squelched from under her legs and mixed with her own pleasure. She tried to get her breathing under control.
"Mmmh, you've got a silver tongue, there" she admired.
"Yeah well I was going grey for a second, too"
"Sorry" she moaned as she leant back down to kiss me, not caring that her snatch sap was all over the bottom half of my face and deep within my mouth. "I just got a bit lost there"
"Yeah, you couldn't see straight" I pointed out.
"I couldn't see" she corrected with a giggle. She kept her eyes open as she locked onto mine again. They didn't look any more satisfied, no matter how sugar soaked her voice was. They still looked hungry.
"You done?" I asked. She shook her head slowly, her hair brushing the side of my face.
"Again?" she asked, her lips at my ear, hot breath. I gave it a short think. There was no reason she couldn't. I nodded my head slightly.
"Good!" she leapt up happily and stood up on the bed, pulling her underwear down her legs and turning around. She gave her flame-lick hair a quick flick as both her feet landed either side of my head. She looked down at me as she pulled her hair behind her ears and smirked a possessive smirk. "Because it wouldn't have mattered either way." She was very good at pressing buttons I wasn't even aware I had, she kneeled back down again and straddled my face.
Her pussy, wet and pink was an inch from my face, unmoving but glittering. She rocked her hips up and down gently, letting the flesh of her ass wobble a little.
"Tongue out, boy" she ordered to which I happily complied. She slowly sat her ass down onto my nose, my tongue like a magic carpet spread across her slit, travelling only where the human mind can go. She moaned heavily as my tongue hooked into her. Even if she were the one who wrangled me in I was the one doing the eating and though I was so intoxicated and oxygen deprived my mind was very certain of one fact: Me and Bronte were not going to be done for a long time and as she looked back and down at me her eyes flashed peacock green.


>>
Welp shit Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/09/11(Thu)12:22 No. 22415 ID: 1f1258

I've just realised I've missed the whole first quarter of the last chapter and I can't delete the post. It's a pretty vital scene, too.
Can I request a mod to delete it for me or something or do I just continue?


>>
Anonymous 14/09/15(Mon)21:24 No. 22434 ID: 8593af

>>22415
There a 'delete post' button at the bottom of the screen.


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/09/16(Tue)18:06 No. 22444 ID: 4c73b2

>>22434
Didn't set the password, it has since changed. Do I really need to go through with troubles with IRC?
Whatever for now I'll just repost the whole, complete chapter.


>>
Chapter 4 - Mk. II Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/09/17(Wed)20:35 No. 22450 ID: b62ff3

Hey guys, I missed the first part of the last chapter. My bad. Here's the full chapter, ignore the last post if you want or just read the start of this one or read the whole thing again or go to bed.
You can only choose one.

----

Chapter 4: Whiskey Bar
tags: herm, f/m femdom, cunnylingus



Fingers are made for fingers. You ever find something that tessellates perfectly? A pattern in a ceiling or a stained glass window? Or a beehive - honeycomb hexagons fixing perfectly together in an endless, infinite web?
Fingers are like that, they fit together and when they’re together they stay together. Friction and desire keep digits curled around knuckles. We held hands, fingers linked together when we left the show, when we got into the taxi, when we walked through the front door and they were still together by the time she had my hands pinned to the bed, moaning into my mouth.
Her body was pressed against mine and she lay in between my legs, pressing her stomach into my crotch, lips on my neck, ripping my clothes off like cocaine on christmas. 

“You’re not gonna, nhm, last… long” she breathlessly foresaw, feeling the way I was tensing against her stomach. She was speaking the truth - leaving me like that from last night. It had been years since I was this drunk the room was spinning, kisses felt like slaps of pleasure on my chest.
She looked up through my eyes, her smile wide. I pulled her down next to me, lying away from me on the bed and pulled her arms behind her, holding her like that, leaning forward to kiss the back of her neck. She started giggling which grew swiftly into a laugh as I started licking down her back. I let go of her hands and she kept them behind her back, crawling below my stomach line into my underwear. Her laugh devolved into a humming as her hands caressed my soon-to-be satisfied hardon. As her hands pulled around the full length she looked back over her shoulder at me. Her face was flushed, her eyes drunk and shining, pupils huge, her mouth open and breathing heavily. I pulled her closer into me and kissed her again, her mouth smelling like sex breath - her saliva was dense with hormones. It was turning me on more than I could imagine.

My hands pulled up her dress and played with the flesh of her ass again, she helped me pry off and pull down her underwear, flicking them off her feet with mine. I stuck my dick between her cheeks and rubbed gently, pushing her ass around me. She seemed to enjoy that, rubbing into me, moaning softly. Her arm reached behind her and she grabbed onto my length, tugging the skin softly.

I was close, that much was obvious but Bronte wasn’t clumsy - her dainty fingers gripping lightly. With a hand free I slipped a hand under her ass towards her snatch and with gentle fingers I found it. She didn’t do anything to stop me and lightly I grazed over her lips with the tips of my fingers like skipping stone, hearing her breath shift gears. My fingers plumbed a little, pushing inside her the tiniest amount, trying to coax fluid out. My fingers were soon drenched and her heart was beating into my chest.
She was hardly playing with me and yet I could feel it beginning already, my breath shortening, her mind racing, keeping up and she let go again. 

I groaned in frustration.
She giggled in joy. 
My hand swapped around to the front, I wanted her to get close, too, so my hand pushed against her dress and pulled at her legs. She pressed them together tightly Nuh uh and her hand squeezed me hard. Oh fuck. My hands slid between her thighs and gently eased them apart while I bit the nape of her neck, moaning into her skin. She’d stopped moving, seemingly tensed up but I was juuuuuuust on the edge. When her legs parted I dipped my hand beneath the waist of her skirt and found something hard.

My hand grabbed it for a second, my drunk mind crawling to work out what it was. It was fleshy and hot and firm and it’s a dick.

It was a joke. It had to be a joke.
So with her hand firmly around my dick and my hand firmly around hers I started laughing. She joined in laughing nervously… very nervously. I stopped laughing and focused, my hand did some exploring. I felt veins and nubs over it and a heat that was heady. And then I felt a heartbeat. A pulse.
It's alive. It was a dick.

I stopped, shocked, blood drained from my face. I pulled my head up over her shoulder and looked at her face. She was cringing, her teeth clenched, her eyes shut tight like she were cowering from a German bomb. Her skin was wrinkled around her cheek and her dimples were sharp - her flawless, feminine skin tingling with worry, anticipation… arousal…
…
I looked for something to say. 


You bitch!
You’re a dude?!

What the FUCK?!

Is that real?

IS IT REAL?!

What the fuck?

What the FUCK?!

Instead I just looked at her face, frozen in fear, begging mercy and I stammered. Stumbling over words, stopping and starting them again like a head on collision at 100 miles in slow motion. I was silent for God knows how long. I let go of her, mentally shaking the feeling from my hand yet it remains impossible to forget

“You promised you wouldn’t be angry” was all she whispered, her face still clenched closed, tears forming at the edges. She pulled her dress against her skin nervously, her free hand bundled beneath her face.

I did promise. That much was true… but this is pretty extreme.

I stumbled over a few more sentences.
“But… if. Yo- hmmm. But…” I got up from the bed.

She quickly sat up and watched me, tucking her knees against the bed, pushing her skirt down nervously, trying to cover herself with blankets, the bulge against her leg now as present and obvious as a wrong note or a forest fire.
I just looked at her for a while with an expression I never want to make again, standing in the soft light of her room, erection (both of ours) hidden beneath clothes but standing out. I just laughed instead, a small chuckle. It was cloaked in pain and confusion more obviously than her dick.
 Her dickHer dick
I shook my head and started picking up my clothes.
“Where are you going?” she asked, concerned scared?
“I don’t know.”

She didn’t respond. In a moment I'd pulled my clothes on.
I just wanted to scream at her. I wanted so baldy.
“You fucking bitch, you held this off till now?! You have a… what the FUCK?!” I screamed in my head instead on my way down the stairs.
Grabbing the last half bottle of wine from the kitchen counter I rocked out the door.


-----


Distrust
Whiskey will only bring pain
Kiss the lips. Dig your own grave
On a beach. Sunrise.
Fire in her hair and liquor in her name.
Kiss the lips. Try, and lose, her game.


Squint. To avoid light hitting the eyelids. It was too early to wake up, my body hurt too much. I wanted to sleep forever. I opened my eyes, the muscles hurting as I squinted in the sun. What time was it?
I had woken up in Bronte's living room, surrounded by cushions with a bucket (empty) nearby. Just a dream? It certainly felt like a dream.
"You're up!" a voice cried. It was Dominic. I groaned and rolled back over.
"No I'm not!" I cried back.
"It's three in the afternoon, dude"
I groaned again. "Where is everyone" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"Egypt's downstairs but everyone else is out, Mezzo Piano I think."
"I had the weirdest fucking dream" I yelled. "I met some chick somewhere who'd met Bronte and Ed and…" I paused, trying to remember details. "Dude, dude, dude. Bronte had a dick" I yelled a little too loud.
"Hectic" he replied automatically, but he seemed distracted.
There was a long pause. I could sense it was awkward.
"Moderately quiet?" I asked Pun intended. He nodded. "Alright, lemme get some water, then we'll go"

We walked our way to Mezzo Piano. Every cell ached. My head was diseased. It felt like a team of pastry chefs had just kneaded by whole body, bruising internal organs. I was unconsciously conscious. I was on fire. When we finally reached the cafe we left our guitars on the ground and looked for the girls. No one was there, there were a few nondescripts but no one we knew except for Alai working so we ordered some coffee and breakfast and took a table in the courtyard.
"What happened last night?" I rubbed my temples.
"Saw the BJM, got drunk, went into the city came back." Dominic consolidated the facts. "But you went back home with Bronte"
I laughed a little, confused, then affable.
"I can't remember a thing but I had the weirdest dream: I was with this girl at the beach we were talking about the girls and Bronte had a dick and it was all over the place."
"Ed and I ended up getting drunk on the streets and talking to homeless people in the city." Dominic admitted. "We got a taxi home."
"I got so… so drunk" I groaned. Alai brought us our coffee. We sat in silence for a moment and I tapped my pockets, thinking I'd forgotten something and I pulled out my phone.
My phone
"You have a phone?!" Dominic yelped, surprised scared? I shot him a confused look, I swear I just had deja vu. Technology was something we'd always done without. I needed coffee.
"Probably stole it off someone at the show I was so drunk" I reasoned, straining the words, but gears inside were starting to turn. Drunken memories began attaching themselves and detaching themselves from dreams - stringing into one narrative.
It was a fancy phone, with a touchscreen and one button. It wasn't apple, though. "Hey I have one unread message!" I realised, perhaps a little to ordinarily before it dawned on me how confusing this whole thing has been.
"Read it!"

From: Whiskey.
Time: Mon 0704.
I had fun last night. Thought you could use a phone my numbers alredy[sic] in there. See you around.
Whiskey.

My hands shook and it wasn't just the headache. Neurons fired a hundred times the same way in a second, new patterns made.

-----

The next thing I remember is sunrise on the beach with Whiskey.
Sigur Ros was playing from somewhere. "That…" I started a sentence, the rest of it sounded better in my head. "… can't be your real name" I said out loud anyway. There was a sweet sound in the air mixing with the music. I tilted my head, admiring the new perspective. Laughter.
She flashed her almond eyes at me. I am fifteen years old getting put on detention with my crush. Somewhere - hidden beneath her hair and layers of shiny gelatine and little muscles, was coyness. Your eyes were locked now. No backing down.
The surf was nice.
I rubbed my hands.
"It is" she replied slipperily. For a second I thought she was talking about the surf and I realised I'd daydreamed.
"Prove it" I demanded, slurring simple sentences. She darted her eyes quickly down and reached for her purse around her waist. For a second I wondered where I was.
When she pulled out her drivers license my eyes took a while to focus, a legitimate Californian drivers license and written in bold:
WHISKEY MACLEAD
"Mac… lead?" I repeated skeptically.
"Ma - cloud" she corrected, some rich twang in her accent. I grabbed it off her to look at it closely, angling her face next to her own. Staring at 2 bottles of whiskey on the shelf. Those eyes were unmistakable, I darted to and forth for a sec, and then just mostly just forth and then just at her. Her hair was caught in the sun breaking between the buildings behind us. It was red. Pinky red. Loveless Red.
"Irish?" I drunkenly ask for clarification.
"Yes" she replied, surprised this time. She was singing with Jonsi.
"So one night 21 years ago your parents decided to get fucked on Jameson's at the pub." I started. Her eyes thinned the longer I spoke. "Raised her on Cocteau Twins and Talking Heads." Her eyes thinned more. "And you got sick of them and left Beverley Hills to live a hippy life here?" Her smirk widened. She had some lip-coloured lipstick on and it was sticking her lips together ever so slightly at the edges as she spoke.
"I'm no hippy, man. I work." She claimed.
"For greenpeace?" I quipped. Why do I think she's a hippy. She shot me a look that gently straddled pissed off and turned on. Her lips slid together as she thought for a second.
"Secretary. At a law firm actually."
"You work for The Man!" I cried heresy. She shrugged like she didn't give a fuck, her shoulders of her shirt coming into light, a bright green.
She dipped her head but kept her eyes on me for a second -
and then she darted her eyes away. I realised I'd been unintentionally staring at her for a while, and quickly looked away. Giant cumulonimbus over the sea began glowing in the orange morn.
"And it's South Central" she corrected again "Not Beverley Hills" she looked a little proud as she said it. "Do I get to see your license, I hardly believe your name anyway" she coyly suggested. I played along, and pulled out a very expired drivers license from the folds in the holey sleeves of my wallet.
She inspected it.
We were sitting in the car, one I'd never see before. Sunlight hit the whole top half of her body. She wasn't even dressed like a hippy. Just casual.
Casually fucking sexy.
I had a quick chuckle.
Fuck I'm a funny cunt
"Long way from home." Whiskey whistled. "What are you doing in San Francisco cisco cisco cisco?"
Then it came flooding back. Where's Bronte? Where am I?
"I… don't know" I answered slowly, my mind trying to catch up.
"Are you staying with Bronte and Peace and those girls?" she asked.
Uuuuh "Yeah!… well… I don't know. How do you know them?" I answered and asked incredulously, sliding around words. "Sorry, but did I tell you that before?" stopping her before she said anything. Am I dreaming?
"We met at Brian Jonestown Massacre last night… whatever" she responded. "I know those girls."
I have no memory of meeting Whiskey there.
"I don't…" I started but she cut me off this time.
"We've had this conversation earlier."
How much did I say? "Ahh, that's why I thought you were a hippy"
"Probably. They're all childhood friends of each other, though I've only met them here" she recalled.
"How well do you know them?" I asked, trying to skirt around the issue.
"Pretty well" she shrugged. "Couple of years or so." The sentence petered away and there was silence for a while - giving her the chance. "Why aren't you staying with them anymore?" she asked knowingly.
"Surely you know the answer to that." We looked each other in the eyes, her eyebrows twitching as she inspected my face. She sighed.
"Shots?" she asked, and pulled a steel hip flask from her purse. Whiskey drank Vodka, it was rough. Hangover will be the death of me.
"Did you like her?" she asked suddenly.
"Yeah" I replied. "I asked her out yesterday… She said yes" I must sound morbid.
"Do you still like her?" She asked. Yes
"I dunno" I lied. I mean it was a pickle. Nothing, not even a big dick could swipe away the chemistry, the smell of her.
"Are you going to go back there?" she asked.
"I've… got my stuff there" I found an excuse. "It just freaked me out that's all" I opened up. "And maybe I just freaked out" Whiskey nodded sympathetically as I spoke. "But don't get me wrong there was no way I'd do anything with her, not with that. It's just not me" I began rambling. "And it's not even like I liked her that much I think I just caught up in the moment… and you can't tell jack shit about feelings from one day. But it's probably all just because I'm horny" You are so drunk, you idiot
"Shut up" I talked to myself - she thought she'd been spoken to.
Whiskey just glared at me. "You've spent two hours talking to me about her dimples, how she stacks things on her fork to eat it, how she talks when she's excited, how she blows smoke out… You're drinking with me now, more drunk than a teeny, because alcohol glues broken heart." She looked at me surreptitiously. She was right and as I turned to tell her something I stopped and just looked at her because we looked rather similar in a way. She hid sombreness well, but it takes one to know one.
"I didn't tell you about stacking things on her fork" I realised, my eyes thinning. What an odd thing to remember
"Oh… well… yeah you did" she claimed unconvincingly.
"You've been with her before" I noted. She nodded.
"Yeeaaah." She seemed sad about it. "It's not hard to like those girls, it's getting them to like you back"
"Bronte seems to like me" I retorted.
"That's because you're a skinny white boy. Skinny white boys are her jam" the words hurt a little. "…And she's their cream" she added salt to the cream.
"Do you have a dick too?" I drunkenly asked. She shook her head.
"A girl can dream, though" she wistfully finished. She looked out to sea, then back at me. Her golden almond eyes taking on new colours in the sun. We were completely lit up now, her skin radiating goodness into the world, her laugh swimming like fish in a stream through the air. Her eyes demanded contact - her skin demanded touching. She was wearing short shorts and a little jumper, her long hair under a beanie. She had long, long legs, the way a palm tree has a long trunk down to a root system of bare feet, dainty toes digging into the sandy soil absently. She had intense eyes, you could get lost in the veins and valleys of her iris and fall right into her pupils. It was like they talked to you:
"Fuck me"

I don't think I'd ever been pushed onto a bed before. Maybe a little but I'd never been pushed. The bed didn't spring back up when I landed on it, it just slowly eased, firmly pressed into my back as Whiskey landed on top of me, her hands pressing into my shoulders, pressing me back down as I sat up. Our lips collided the way Venus' and Mars' would've though Whiskey was definitely the goddess of war and I the god of sucking at love. The back of my head pressed into the bed, her arms against my shoulders and her legs around my waist. I was about to wage war on this girl, not bother to waste time didn't - pulling her clothes off article by article, more and more skin bearing itself as my reward. Her lips were soft the way you imagined as a kid how soft clouds would be be and they smeared a thin layer of lipstick on me. She kept her eyes open as we kissed, starting deeply into mine while I stopped and was overwhelmed at the first layer or two of hers. They smiled as I unhooked her bra strap, orange hazel orbs like a japanese autumn forests. They matched the orbs beneath: Her top was bare and her breasts bounced in the air as she began tugging at my clothes. Jacket, shirt and pants disappearing off the edge of the world (her bed). Our skin started grinding.
I grabbed her ass and pulled her hips into mine, horn rubbing hole. She gasped as I pressed into her, underwear sticking.
Whiskey's arms moved around my neck and pulled herself down into me, she moaned into my mouth as I dry humped her, her breasts pushing into my chest and her back arched high. She began playing with the fabric of my underwear, feeling me up on the inside, enjoying the way I writhed and whimpered beneath her. A slave to her touch. Whiskey tugged them quickly down, though and I kicked them off as she began playing with my toy. A giggle welled up from her as she felt me tense in her hands, responding with great sensitivity; my balls full and aching.
"Someone's hn, someone's close" she goaded.
"It's been 2 days like this" I added breathily, kissing her neck, bruising her skin. She smiled and gave me a look like she was saying 'Is that for me?'
"Good to see she hasn't changed" Whiskey moaned and suddenly I couldn't get Bronte out of my head. I imagined Whiskey's hair shorter, her hips wider, her ass plusher. Whiskey's hand reached around my full balls, forming a ring around the top of them with her thumb and finger, tugging gently. It was Bronte's voice when she talked, going up and down like a parrot in flight. "This is going to be a big one" Bronte noted. Her hands moved themselves to the base of my dick and slowly began pumping. My moans were soaked in honey, her lips digging into my chest, sugar and sucking.
There was no hope in lasting any longer, not with my mind the way it is, not even with all this alcohol clogging up my veins. As my back arched and I groaned hoarsely and lowly we brought a whole new definition to Whiskey dick. She giggled as the first shot spat out and then laughed an impressed laugh as the second one cannoned up my chest, hitting us both. It was like opening flood gates, like opening a bottle of coke on a hot day, like popping your ears under 12 meters of water.
A third, fourth and fifth all landed somewhere on my chest and stomach. I'd never fire like this again I'd thought, I moaned some more as she squeezed me more, pushing the last of the white goo from my horn. I sighed as it bubbled from me.
"That was… quick" Whiskey giggled, wiping a bit of semen from her stomach and wiping it on me. I sighed heavily, relieved, thankful… slightly in love. She wrapped her legs around me a bit, avoiding the wet streaks on my torso.
She didn't need to say anything.
"I can't thank you enough for that" I chuckled.
"Seemed a little inhumane. The UN might have to give Bronte an audit into accusations of torture" she added with a laugh. "Speaking of…" she leapt up, kneeling on the bed and without any heads up one leg flipped over my head and she was straddling my neck, pressing her weight down onto the top of my chest.
Head's up I thought. Her smell was strong and covetous. Her smell was a hypnotists charm, a direct order from an officer. There was no choice; her body opened mine like a key. Her eyes, lidded over, intense, stared into mine with a mix of child-like possession and teenage, red hot lust.
I arched my neck forward and kissed her stomach, but after one or two pecks her fingers curled through my hair, pushing my hair and head back into the mattress, forcing me to look at her eyes. I was getting lost in the forest as it filled with shimmering opals, her pupils huge, her pulse fast, she shook her head as she bit her lip and lifted herself of my chest. One of her hands pulled the bottom of her underwear to the side, exposing at last her quiffmachine. Her lips were the pink colour of her lipstick, they were small and packed tight and the edge of skin shimmered with her anticipation. A single bead of moisture dripping from her like the first drop of the monsoon season. My eyes darted back up - past her stomach, firm and flat - between her breasts, perky and fat - to her face.
Her head was tilted, an eyebrow raised, her lips pouting, silently saying "Get ready to kiss." Her fingers balled into a fist in my hair as she landed on top of me. My tongue immediately lapping at her insides. Her breath immediately shifted gears - short and sharp, gasping at each flick. She stayed still at first, letting her weigh freely over me, pushing my tongue as deep as it would go. I curled it upwards, trying to hit more tender spots and she shifted her body, her eyes glazing over every little while as she exhaled a gaspy moan. She was a wet girl and soon I was drinking Whiskey. Sweet and salty whiskey. Just as I was getting tired she pushed her knees up and the bottle was off my lips, strands of saliva and poon juice webbing between her and my mouth, chin and nose. I took a few deep breaths as she organised my hands under her knees. I stared at her face the whole time and a very turned on girl looked back down at me. She kissed the air at me. Keep kissing. Then she dropped on top of me again, my nose crashing into her clitoris and my tongue drinking from the well, lapping against her lips this time, spreading them and swinging my tongue in between and around them, nibbling at them with my lips. We were kissing.
She slid forward and my tongue had new terrain, rubbing against her clitoris, tastebuds grazing against the surface and the hood hard, like sand dunes shifting in fast motion. Her spine was stretched now, her arms supporting her arched back, pressing into her feet and forcing her weight onto my mouth and hands. I wasn't sure, in my drunken state, if I would be able to actually get out. I didn't care. I didn't want to. Who even was this girl? Where the hell did I meet her? I wrote her name into her puss, letters flicking across her clitoris the way cougars flick their tails. WhiskeyWhiskeyWhiskeWhoskeWroskeWronkeBronkeBronteBronte. Her moans and gasps were quick and sharp and were so sexy to listen to - she rarely repeated a sound. "Ahhh, ooooh, ah, ahh, ah, hmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnnnno oooon" she cried out, her eyes dropping again down at me, her mouth stuck open as she sat down harder into my face, suddenly looking determined, like she was trying to beat me, like she was trying to choke me.
I could feel her legs shaking, shivering as her moans began dribbling from her mouth, pouring over her bottom teeth like dry ice pouring from a cup. She was sublimating, turning to steam. Her movements started slow at first grinding gently up and down, clitoris catching my tongue as it's tip hooked and hardened - her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her moans grew shorter and sharper and then she stayed still, her hand reaching forward and holding my head still as her snatch tightened against my tongue, denying entry and stopping movement. Her stomach clenched and ridged, her body shivered, her pussy clenched, relaxed, clenched, relaxed and her voice thin to a silent scream of pleasure. Her whole body spasmed in waves.

Then all was still.
Her body clenched from time to time.
But she was still, her eyes were closed, her breathing was deep and my tongue was calm, not wanting to push her into pain. Her chest rose and fell steadily, starting to shine as sweat began secreting from the pores in her skin. Then, like a switch her eyes opened, as hungry as ever, they locked onto mine. 'Again'
Without warning this time her weight grew and she began thrusting, pushing herself against my face mashing my lips with hers. She wasn't holding back on the moaning, looking directly into my face as I moaned back. I just poked my tongue and kept it hard as she rocked her clitoris against it. Her eyes looked at mine, then at my forehead, the pillow, floor, centre of the earth - everything was blurry. Her feet and legs began shaking again and an open, expressionless mouth moaned out again, both her hands pushed on the back of my head, pulling hair and my head with it, guiding me to her pleasure. In one long, final stroke she pressed into me and ran her slit against my tongue. Her legs slackened and she let her body weight rest into me as she came again, shivering with delight.
She sounded satisfied, gasping and moaning, even harder than the last time, her breath was short and her skin was now slick with sweat, mixing with her juices, sex saturated saltiness in my mouth. I stayed still as my vision started fading and a pain grew in my chest. I began struggling against her knees and making urgent sounds.
It took her a while to respond, her mind still tingling and glittering.
"Oh shit sorry" she slurred before she lifted herself off me again. I took a massive gasp of air, my chin and cheeks sticky with her juices. "I just… hmmmmm" she didn't bother finishing her sentence; I knew what she just. Whiskey pulled back a bit, freeing my hands and landing with a soft tap on my chest. Semen squelched from under her legs and mixed with her own pleasure. She tried to get her breathing under control.
"Mmmh, you've got a silver tongue, there" she admired.
"Yeah well I was going grey for a second, too"
"Sorry" she moaned as she leant back down to kiss me, not caring that her snatch sap was all over the bottom half of my face and deep within my mouth. "I just got a bit lost there"
"Yeah, you couldn't see straight" I pointed out.
"I couldn't see" she corrected with a giggle. She kept her eyes open as she locked onto mine again. They didn't look any more satisfied, no matter how sugar soaked her voice was. They still looked hungry.
"You done?" I asked. She shook her head slowly, her hair brushing the side of my face.
"Again?" she asked, her lips at my ear, hot breath. I gave it a short think. There was no reason she couldn't. I nodded my head slightly.
"Good!" she leapt up happily and stood up on the bed, pulling her underwear down her legs and turning around. She gave her flame-lick hair a quick flick as both her feet landed either side of my head. She looked down at me as she pulled her hair behind her ears and smirked a possessive smirk. "Because it wouldn't have mattered either way." She was very good at pressing buttons I wasn't even aware I had, she kneeled back down again and straddled my face.
Her pussy, wet and pink was an inch from my face, unmoving but glittering. She rocked her hips up and down gently, letting the flesh of her ass wobble a little. "Tongue out, boy" she ordered to which I happily complied. She slowly sat her ass down onto my nose, my tongue like a magic carpet spread across her slit, travelling only where the human mind can go. She moaned heavily as my tongue hooked into her. Even if she were the one who wrangled me in I was the one doing the eating and though I was so intoxicated and oxygen deprived my mind was very certain of one fact: Me and Bronte were not going to be done for a long time and as she looked back and down at me her eyes flashed peacock green.


>>
Anonymous 14/10/02(Thu)21:12 No. 22518 ID: 4ef454

I gotta say, I'll cry if this story dies right in the beginning like this


>>
Anonymous 14/10/03(Fri)13:45 No. 22520 ID: f5b1c2

>>22518
Barely two weeks and you're calling it dead?


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/10/17(Fri)06:31 No. 22578 ID: 614b8e

Chapter 5: Answers
tags:slow, futa on male, blowjob, reluctance

"What what what" Dominic asked as my face flashed from confusion to fear to realisation to anger to reprise to repeat. The same logic routines bounced about until all of last night was in one order.
"Those dreams last night" I realised slowly and even if it was like recounting a dream "I don't think…" I continued, voice going thin and breathy. Was I hyperventilating? Am I blacking out? Deep breaths, come on. My head throbbed. Big sip of coffee. I struggled to remember important parts of the nightin that hangover haze.
"I must have met Whiskey at the show, I can't remember that though... then went home with Bronte.” Realisation “When I left the girl's house"
"Why did you leave?" he asked.
"Bronte…" I started, not wanting to finish. "Bronte has a dick, man"
He looked at me very seriously. "Hectiiiiiic"
"Then I think I must have ran into her around the streets and she took me to the beach where we chilled and then she took me back to hers where we fucked. Or maybe we didn't, I can't remember but it turns out she gave me a phone" I stared at it. It stared back at me, Whiskey's mysterious words ionise argon over a million LED's and I let the pieces fit together themselves.
"How did you find her on the street?" Dominic asked but our food was here.
"Hey, Alai" I asked as she leant over to hand bacon and eggs onto our table. Two big plates of protein. She looked back at me, almost with concern, with those bright blue eyes. "Yehea?" she asked.
"Do you know a girl called Whiskey?" I didn't expect a positive response, meeting a random on the street.
"… yeaaaahwhy?" She answered, little embarrased.
"No reason" I answered, truthfully.
"Yeah right" she answered back.
"Is Bronte a girl?" I asked suddenly, capitilsing on the moment, hoping to get a startled "Yes" or "No". She looked taken aback but took back her cool.
"What are you doing today?" she asked me instead after a calculated pause. I shrugged. "I finish in about 20 minutes. Walk me back to mine and you can ask me all the questions you want." She managed to make it sound casual without making it sound sexual. A hand landed on her hip as she put the plates down. She looked ultracas[ual]. "Enjoy the food." she took my silence as an agreement "Pieranno makes the best prosciutto."
When we were alone and eating Dominic spoke up.
"Do you still like her? Bronte, I mean." He darted his eyes to and from Alai's bodacious booty.
Yes
"No" I responded.
"Well then I guess we should go get our stuff tonight" he sounded calculated and melancholic "and find a new place to stay."
"No wait" I started. "We can still stay there” straws being clutched “they're cool people, we don't have to do anything with them, we can just sleep on their couch a few nights?" I looked into his blank eyes, like I was speaking drunk turkish. I tried to make him understand. "They're just girls, friends' exes or cousins or some shit. We can stand a bit of tension and then aww fuck it you're right!" I conceded. The hangover wins again.
"No no no, I think you're onto something." He consoled. They probably wouldn't mind us just sleeping on the couch a few more nights. I think we should pack our stuff… just in case."
I hmmd in agreement, eating egg.
"Did you touch it?" he asked after a long, degustatious pause. I stopped eating for a second, leant my hands on the table and dropped my head into them. Dominic laughed and laughed.
"Mate, I had my hands wrapped around the thing for like, a full ten seconds." Dominic laughed more. "I thought it was fake at first!"
"Was it big?" he asked again, laughing harder.
"I…" Just a moment. "…hmmm" Just a moment. "I can't remember" I've just picked up a fault in the AE-35 unit. "I don't think I was in a fit mental state to judge that" I answered robotically.
"Look" he started. "We can stay on their couch for a few nights at most" he started and then he looked over his shoulder and moved in closer across the table, motioning me to do the same. "But I've found something we can't not do" he whispered excitedly. "It's a place to stay but we've got to check it out tomorrow morning."
"What kind of place?" I asked.
"Wait and see" he answered back, now at normal volume. "Wait and see"
We'd finished our food, time was up so we paid our bill, said goodbye just as Alai had finished up, coffee in hand, hair blowing in the breeze, eyes wide and awake, brain swimming with caffeine.
"I'll meet you back at the girls' " Dom farewelled.
“Coming?” she chirped, my brain was clogged with jelly-like alcohol.

----

"So is Bronte a girl?" I asked again as we hit a stride. It was late afternoon, sunlight still hitting us most of the walk, leaves glowing green as we passed under liquid ambers and boxes that lined the streets in these places.
"That's… a difficult question" she squeezed the words out like lemon juice. "Bronte doesn't mind either way."
"Well what do you usually call her?"
"We have a whole bunch of names for us. Heshes, Roses, Porchlights, fruitbearers…" each euphemism making her smile larger. "Daughters of Aphrodite and Sons of Hermes" she broke out into laughter the same way a dandelion breaks away in the wind. Us?
“Us?" I asked.
"You don't know?" she asked.
"That you're a daughter of Aphrodite?" I asked.
"Me, Bronte, Ed…"
"Edwina?" For a second I wished Dominic had a phone. "Dominic doesn't know!" I cried.
"I'm pre sure he knows" she added, her voice accentuating 'pr.' "Just trust me"
The question still remained; is Bronte a girl.
"What does she like to be called then?" I asked more specifically, taking a page out of Bronte's book.
"Bronte doesn't mind. Girl or boy, she's easy. She likes boys and girls. She just dresses as a girl because she looks like one."
I thought for a long while, we walked in silence. She answered my next, unanswered question.
"Ed really prefers to be called a boy, though" Alai continued. "She never admits it but she wants to be a boy. She only like boys though so maybe she's gay?" Alai laughed, confused in a comic way. “She really likes getting called Edward but Egypt gets really offended if you call her anything other than a girl." she continued, recalling "I think she's gonna get surgery or something."
"Why do keep calling Ed a 'she' then?"
Alai shrugged. "Habit? We've done it since we were born and its just normal. It's for simplicities sake." Nothing here was simple

“Egypt too?” My mind was like the end of a tape reel – spinning, spinning. These girls were some of the most feminine people I’d ever met. They acted like girls, talked like girls, liked girly things. How did something like this happen? How did this go under the radar? Spinning, spinning. Alai nodded. "How did something like this happen?" I asked.
"Aaah, who is John Galt?" she quipped.
"And how many of them are you" I waved my hands about in the air. “Camille? Peace? What about them?”
"I dunno" she lied mischievously "you're gonna have to ask them." It sounded like a challenge.
"You really think Dominic knows?" I asked, changing the subject slightly.
"Can't tell for sure" she answered. "Ed doesn't hide it the way Bronte does."
"What about you?" I asked. She stopped and looked at me. Her blue eyes like mirrors - they made you self conscious, they made you think about what you were looking at. The colour around her pupils looked like planets. Spinning, spinning.
"What do you mean?"
"What do you like to be called?" I asked.
She paused and looked thoughtful. "Daughter of Aphrodite" she said with another warm laugh. We passed under the shade of another tree, bringing a fresh chill down on me.
"Now, my turn." she said suddenly. "Do you know a girl called Whiskey?" she asked. I nodded. "She's dangerous" Alai said straight out. "And I'd recommend not going near her. She's not nice and she always gets what she wants" there was a tinge of pain in her voice, the kind I didn't want to press.
"And do you still like Bronte?" she asked.
Yes
"No" I responded.
She gave me a long, hard look. "Say it again?" she asked.
"No" I repeated
"I don't believe you" she replied flatly and sped her walking up.
"She has a dick!" I yelled out.
"Still don't believe you" You're wrong "Here, this is my house."
It was a brick townhouse with a small porch and a big letterbox. Each window at the font had bamboo fronds or multicoloured shutters or some other zany hit from the 80's there.
In front of the garage were about 20 bikes in varying states of operation and there was a small garden with peas and tomatoes growing up long, thin sticks. Painted on the facade was a massive, wall size piece on the wall; the numbers 2 4 8 were spraypainted in a massive mural on the front. On a background of yellow and blue leaves were the caricatures of a slender, wide hipped girl, frizzy hair and long dress, catseyes and an acid tab on her tongue, poking out. There was a skinny white guy with headphones as big as his head nearby and the simple rotoscope of a black guy in a hoodie painting the thing into existence.
"Two four eight?" I asked.
"It's the address" she answered, pointing at the letterbox. 
“Is that you?” I asked, pointing to the girl on the mural. 
“Yeah. They guys inside painted it, I live with Edward’s brother. Tea" she asked, offering me inside.
"No thanks, I better go find Dominic.”
She chuckled. “Ha. No that's his name.”
I laughed with her a little.
“But yeah I get it, their house isn't far from here. You can take a bike if you want” and she pointed to the pile of rust.
Spinning, spinning.

-

By the time I'd rode the distance back to the girl's(?) house it was getting dark. I knocked on the front door and Egypt quickly answered, bearing a big grin underneath her mesh of hair over her face. She was wearing her bowler again, it’s brim comically large on her.
"You're back!" she grinned, her voice mixing fragility and excitement. She happily hugged me as I kicked my shoes off. She only came up to my chest. She backed away a little as we broke off. "You smell funny" she noted like a child, though she knew the smell.
"Yeahe, I need a shower" I responded with embarrassment.
"Here" she darted into her room. "I'll get you a towel" I tried to catch a glimpse, to get some proof to see if what Alai said was true but I couldn't. It's hard to pull of glancing a girl's crotch and she didn't wear clothes that made it obvious. As I was walking to the bathroom I realised something - none of them wore clothes that made it obvious. They all wore loose lower wear - skirts, dresses, hippy pants. And as I turned on the shower and stripped down I realised that they hid it well. I wasn't just a fool, they're smart and they knew how to hide in plane sight. I'd later discover that they all tuck and pack very well and when in public they're always slightly uncomfortable. They can't do many activities for the fear of being embarrased.
Water broke apart on my skin, spinning into steam or falling to the floor, taking dried semen and Whiskey with it. These girls were hardline goo hoarders. So much goo in the shower. Shower goo, face goo, shamgoo, moisturegooser, goo for your hands, congootioner, shaving goo.
I'd never understood this phenomenon - I only ever used soap. A simple bar of soap. Sodium Sterate lined my skin, this time taking the top layer of dead cells with it, too. Night time was swiftly approaching.

Stepping out of the shower and upstairs I noticed Dominic had packed both our bags by the stairs. Bronte was in the living room reading. She pretended not to notice me. I grabbed clothes out of my bag and I went to go into Bronte's room to change.
"I wouldn't go in there" Bronte warned. I stopped for a moment to listen and heard only rustling and ruffling of sheets. "They're being very quiet but they're in there" she noted, turning a page.
So in carelessness I just changed right there, quickly throwing on some underwear, feeling her eyes glance at my back as I was naked and then back down at her book.
"Hey there" she greeted, flirtatiously. "…by the way."
I slipped on a T shirt and went over to the couch to join her "Hey." I took a seat and she put her book down.
Silence.
"I'm not angry" I started straight away "let's get that cleared up first." She looked at me with doe eyes. "But couldn't you have told me?"
She looked nervous, biting the inside of her mouth "How?" she asked. "I mean, I didn't want it to happen like that, sure but it's not exactly something you can say to someone"
I looked down at the ground. "Surely there-"
"And it's not everyday I meet someone I like like the way I like you" she sweet talked, almost blushing. "I'm sorry that it happened the way it did but it's done now" she paused a moment. I went to speak but she stopped me again. "Don't worry I've talked with Dom about it, you guys can stay here a while... though it seems like you mightn't be staying here for much longer…" she left me hanging.
"I'm sorry?" I confessed.
"It's alright.”

“No no no, what did you mean about us not staying here much longer?” She looked confused first, then a pompous smirk appeared. 

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon” she said mysteriously.

“Can I be angry this time?” I fired.

“You won’t be."


Dominic and Edwin appeared out of the room, they didn’t look like they’d been doing much and if it weren’t for the dove eyes they dropped towards one another through the night I wouldn’t have guessed a thing. We smoked and drank and talked for a while, Egypt made some curry dish and we had dinner. It was nice but it still felt off - I caught Bronte staring at me a few times and she caught me, too. Eventually, due to a mix of tired, hangover and weird vibes and a sexual tension that could’ve fused atoms in the space between me and Bronte I went to bed early on the cushions on the ground.

-

Her dick was like a hand grenade.
Though I didn't feel any pain when it exploded in my hands.
I didn't have any hands left.
They were hers.
I was doomed.


"Why the fuck is my bag so heavy?"
"Shut up and stop asking questions"
"Where are we going?"
"Maybe"
Did I ask the question I thought I had?
"…What?"
Dominic sighed. "Look, all you need to know is that it might be incredible"
I shook my head and kept walking, my head down. "You don't make any sense"
It was early morning and it was already starting to get hot, we'd been walking for about half an hour. "How far have we got to go?" I asked, exasperated.
"Holy shit! Shut up!" he laughed, but he was getting angry. "Trust me"
I'd known Dominic for long enough to know that when he says 'trust me' you trust him. He truly was asking for trust. So I shut up.
He flicked his long hair out of his eyes as he used it as a hat, covering his face from the sun. "There it is!" he pointed a little down the street. I followed the vector of his finger and saw what all this excitement was about.
"It's a hotel?" I replied flatly. "Can we go back now?" I asked.
"Not just any hotel" he promised.
We walked up to the facade, it was a very large hotel, it's doors locked, its windows shut. It was 3 stories tall with a limestone front, window sills painted green and flaking, its roof high, high above. Big doors were locked at the front and there was a high wall around one section next to the hotel. No one was there.
"It's a closed hotel" I said even more flatly.
"Not quite" Dominic answered with a smile, peering through the ground windows. I did the same. I couldn't see much, the lights were off and the inside of the windows were dusty but I could see a few chairs and tables and a bar area. It looked very closed. But trust I did.
"Alright, come on" he gestured and started walking around the side. There was a vehicle-wide alleyway down the side, next to the courtyard with a small door on the side. "Turn around" he ordered and as I did he opened my bag and pulled out one or two things.
"You know Edwin has a dick, right?" I asked as he shifted things about in my backpack
"Yeah. Keep a lookout" he replied dismisively as he walked over to the door. He was holding a crowbar.
"Soooo… what's going on?" I asked him. He cracked the lock of the side door quickly and as quietly as he could and we quickly darted into the courtyard.
"Nothing" for some reason I didn't believe him. The courtyard was a wreck, tables and chairs, old fences and broken glass were piled up in a corner like a Hunnic pile of Roman houses. The building itself looked even more daunting from this location, huge red brick walls towered up. We were standing in the old beer garden and a passage lead into the bar area inside. The doors between were locked with a big lock and chain but there was a side door which was unlocked. We moved into the building slowly, as quietly as we could. There was some broken glass out of some windows, the lights were all off and the air smelt thick with dust. I realised:
"It's abandoned"
Dominic smiled at me. "And remember what we said, man. They're just girls."
"I dunno about that" I responded, taking in the room around me. "I talked to Alai and she said Ed kinda wants to be a guy."
“Yeah”

The ground floor was a big bar area with big windows leading out into the street and a high ceiling. Tables and chairs lined the walls in neat stacks, covered in dust. The bar itself was made of hardwood and was long and looked like it was in working condition. One of the doors led to a small room under the central stairwell and through there was the bistro kitchen.
"Listen man" he stopped as we were climbing the stairs. "I don't think I mind that much. I don't know what that means, but I don't think I mind." The most striking thing about that was nothing at all.
Upstairs there were apartment rooms, several small ones and a few medium ones and one really big one. There were at least 25 rooms and a plethora of cupboards, crannies, cabinets, holes, spare rooms and other interesting shit. It was an amazing place to explore. As we went into one room, just to try it out Dom flicked a light switch. It took us too long after the light had turned on to realise we had power. We tested other things soon after. The place had power in its power points and its lights, running hot water, gas for the kitchen and heaters and tonnes of food in the freezers that were still on. This place had truly been abandoned - there were still receipts in the chef's booth.
"This place is amazing" I drawled, carrying mattresses up the stairwell.
"This place is amazing!" Dom repeated. Immediately we recognised this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. A hotel, still with all its utilities hooked up the middle of a suburban hive of activity and culture was sitting unused, unlocked and free for use at the perils of the law. We felt like we'd just received our Hogwarts letter, like this was the first day of a strange new life.
"And there's no one here!"
It was truly abandoned, it seemed they had just shut the place down immediately after a day of work. Was it going to be knocked down for apartment blocks? Was there a criminal element involved? We didn't care. It had obviously been out of use for months, there was evidence of taggers here and there but we were the first ones in a while.
"And there's food!"
Big box freezers half full of schnitzel, mince, hot chips and other food. There were boxes and boxes of awesome spices and in one cupboard; cans and cans of weird shit like capers and pickled onions. And it's not like it was locked up or anything, in fact there was an industrial kitchen, gas still running.
"And it's so big!"
There were rooms and rooms and rooms, some small shoebox sized ones that could barely fit a bed and a cupboard and some big, big rooms. There was so much potential here, for people to move in and create something. Blank white walls begged for paint. Wooden floor and high ceilings needed microphones and a mixing console.
"This can't be real" I mused. "It's surely a dream." Dominic didn't agree, he knew real and this was very real.
"We're living here. We have no option. This is the universe giving us something amazing" we agreed. Yes, this was truly a once a lifetime occasion. Who knew what would happen to us if we moved into this place? I knew at that moment if I denied taking this opportunity, knowing full well if we did it could end in tears and pain, it would be a big, big regret.
"We need to christen the place though." I pointed out to an approving Dominic.
I pulled out my phone. Hello Dave

-

"This place is amazing!" Bronte half screamed as she came up to the second floor. We spent the day cleaning, sweeping floors, dusting surfaces, cleaning the kitchen, moving furniture. We'd made a tea room on the eastern side of the building and organised our own bedrooms, two of the medium sized rooms on the top floor. We invited everyone into the tea room. There were the girls and a few of their friends, the people from 248 and about five other people we hadn't met before. A few of them were holding instrument cases.
"Explore." I told them all. "Seriously, explore. We haven't even checked the whole place out yet." So some of them did, left to their own devices.
"I brought paint" one of the guys half asked.
"Paint" I responded and he started shaking a can.
Alai introduced me to her roommates. There was a short, tiny girl with deep, svelte skin who's name was Aida. She was wearing some sort of hijab that covered the top of her head. All her skin but her face, hands and bare feet were covered. She was middle eastern for sure but the way she let her silky black hair down and the way she spoke made me think she wasn't a practising muslim. There was an intensity in her eyes. She'd seen friends die. She also had bells on her calves.
The black guy who started painting was Mudd. He was from Chicago and we shared brief stories about where we'd stayed and how we lived when we were up there. He looked sure footed, the kind of guy you'd want with you if you were arrested. He left his skateboard by the door as he came in.
The other thin fella was like all those people you see at Internet Cafe's coming down off speed. He had short black hair and sunken eyes, like he never got enough sleep. He was always smiling though, always laughing and he always [/i]always[/i] had a big pair of Senheissers around his neck.
"That's Tea" Alai pointed out. "He writes psytrance. And Mudd paints… evidently"
"Cool" I replied.
"And Aida is from Afghanistan." Alai checked to see if she was out of hearing range. "She survived a carbomb and an airstrike when she was 9" she whispered. Heavy.
Soon people were coming and going from the tea room, checking out the bar, the top floor, breaking locks and opening windows. I heard a quick yelp of a scream from downstairs. Not a pained or scared scream - it was coupled with laughter - an excited scream. I heard footsteps charging up the stairs soon enough and Dominic burst into the tea room, hands shaking with excitement like he'd seen God.
"Dude, we found the cellar"

-

The barest eyebrow movement. That's all it took. My mind was lost in deep green, as cool as the forest itself. And while I was overthinking things because I was too drunk she'd made up her mind.
"Raise to three" her lips parted like a knife through whipped cream. I was so drunk I forgot her number. My eyes darted quickly to her forehead where rested a playing card. There were seven diamonds printed on it. Did I have more than a seven? I resisted the feeling of the card on my own forehead, heating my skin, begging to be looked at.
"Call" I replied. A smile parted on her lips, her eyes cheeky.
"Call" The girl next to me called.
"Fold"
"Fold"
"Call"
The game was Indian Poker. Whoever has the lowest card drinks, the twist is you cant look at your card.
There were 4 people left in this round, Bronte, Egypt, Mudd and me. They had a seven, six, seven and ? respectively.
"Everyone happy?" I asked. Everyone nodded and there was a brief pause while we quickly looked at everyone's card and added them to volatile memory. We threw them down on the table.
Six. What are the chances? Egypt and I clinked glasses and took 3 big gulps each. The cellar still had bottles and bottles of alcohol. In unopened boxes we found at least three dozen bottles of hard liquor and kegs and kegs of cider. Whiskey, Vodka, Bourbon and a lone bottle of Midori accompanied glass pitchers and schooners, some empty, some well on the way to it. We were truy going to become alcoholics.

I watched Bronte as she watched me drink more. She had a knack for getting me to drink, it seemed, we had played through more than 20 hands and I can't remember her getting her once. It also meant that I was getting more drunk than I aught to. That's an excuse, right?
The cards were shuffled and dealt to the ten people in this hand. I licked the back of the card and pushed into onto my forehead. I darted a look around the table. Dominic had an Ace which was the highest and Bronte had a five which was the lowest.
Someone started the bidding. "One drink" Mudd called out. A range of people folded and called.
"Fold" Dominic left it. "Doesn't feel right" he took the card of his head and nearly hit himself when he saw an ace.
"3 drinks" I upped, looking Bronte in the eyes.
Her eyes darted around the circle, judging the situation, resignation flashed across her face for a second. "Fold" she bailed.
As the circle went around some more it was left at three drinks, the five remaining players threw their cards out. I had an eight, not too bad but so did Mudd and we were the lowest. So we cheers'd again and had a big swig. I was getting more and more drunk, I was about a 7/10. If Bronte had stayed in she'd have done the drinking. She knew it, too. A silent "Ha ha" echoing between my retina and pupils.
The cards were dealt another time and dealt. Edwin started the betting. "One drink" she offered.
"Two drinks" Bronte replied, she had a 4.
"Three drinks" Marty one upped.
"Fold"
"Fold"
"Call"
My turn. "Call" I tapped the table for good measure.
"Call"
"Call"
"Five drinks" Edwin upped, she had a nine.
"Eight drinks" Bronte went even further. She looked Edwin in the eyes and then back to me.
"Fold" Marty left.
"Call" Egypt stayed, shrugging.
"Ten drinks" I yelled exuberantly.
"Call" Mudd
"Call" Camille
"Fold" Edwin conceded.
"Blowjob" Bronte's eyes could've flashed red. What did you just say?. I thought it was a joke so I started laughing. Her face was calm and serious.
"What?" I asked, chuckling.
"A blowjob" she repeated matter-of-factly
"A blowjob?" I still didn't believe her. She nodded pertly.
"You joking?" Dominic asked. She shook her head, still looking at me and there was a quick pause as people worked out that they hadn't misheard and that she wasn't joking. She'd clearly said blowjob, she wasn't being cheeky and (more importantly) she'd said it to me. I blinked a few times like I'd been hit with a stun grenade. In fact everyone was stunned a little. Bronte slid the tip of her tongue between her lips, wetting them.
"Fold" Egypt squeaked, breaking the silence which was met with a tense laugh from the table.
My turn.
I'm not exaggerating when I say my hands were suddenly sweating.
"Wait wait wait" I started. Edwin started trying to hide laughter and Bronte looked at me patiently.
"Yea?" Bronte asked, impatiently. I gave her a long look.
"So you take ten drinks and then I get a blowjob?" I played.
"We'll both finish our drinks and then..." she paused a second, making sure she eyefucked me really good “...I'll drown you” Her eyebrows raised but she did it quick, her expression unchanging. "Big boy" she added. Dare you to say yes. There was a silence as everyone tried to get over the fact she'd just offered a blowjob. She only had a 4 after all and I looked around the table. Mudd had a two on his head. I ignored the burning sensation the card made on my forehead, it was screaming for me to look at it, to remove doubt. I gave a pained look.
"Are you serious?" I asked her. She nodded at me innocently, her smooth face not betraying anything. If I were less drunk I probably would've given it some thought but I was young and reckless and instead I got distracted by her lips again as she licked them shiny. In hindsight she was probably distracted by mine, too.
"Call?" I didn't mean to make it sound like a question. There was a small gasp around the table, Edwin started laughing hard, looking very guilty doing it, covering her mouth and hiding her face.
"Fold" "Fold" the two people next to me were very quick.
Oh shit I'd realised too late what I'd done. She opened her mouth, exhaling pheromones I'd never realise I'd ever smell or ever smelt, her eyes grew wide, pupils dilating in preparation. This was a no-lose situation for her. Me? Me? I still had massive reservations at the time. I'd hardly seen another guys dick let alone sucked one and if it went ahead - if I lost, everyone would know. I'd always be remembered as that guy who sucked Bronte off. Memories of the last half hour flicked before me, every time she'd made me drink (lots) and all the times I'd made her drink (none). She pulled her card off her forehead slowly and looked at it a long while. She let out an aggravated sigh and looked slightly defeated, only the tiniest amount. I won? The next moments went by so slowly, my heart felt like it was beating along to Brian Eno as Bronte stood up and leaned across the table with one hand reaching out to my crown, her other hand pressing down for support on the table, her cleavage hanging braless in her shirt, her back arching like a ballet dancer or a cheetah, her eyes smiling like a sun shower and her tongue between her bottom lip and her top teeth like an excited child. She peeled it from my head and showed it to me.

-

"Which way to your room?"
I was stunned. I just couldn't speak. I wish I were blind so I could claim ignorance to the 3 black clubs in front of my eyes. An unsettled feeling began growing in my stomach, nervousness, alcohol poisoning… who knows?
"Uuuuh" I responded stupidly. The table erupted in pained laughter.
"Well?" Bronte stood up straight, her hand on her hip which was popped out to the side, her head tilted looking at my stupid face. Stupid stupid stupid
"It's uhm" I gathered my thoughts. I shook my head a lot, forced myself to think straight. "Upstairs" I responded.
"Great" Bronte started stepping around the table, moving deftly until she was right behind me. "Want to show me the way?" she met fearful gazes, impressed gawks and blank stares all with inebriated coolness, even as she grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet.
"Wait right now?" I asked. The crowd was silent.
"Yeah right now." She sensed my hesitation. "You're my boyfriend" She had a brief look around the table, and then smiled with confidence as she pulled me out the door. "This is what my boyfriend does."
"Told you she was dangerous!" Edwin laughed out.
"Good luck dude!" Marty yelled out to us as I was stole away from the safety of the group. The second we were out of sight of everyone at the table, hidden around a corner she had me against a wall, necking up fiercely the way only drunk teenagers can. She made no attempt at hiding her bulge beneath her skirt, in fact I think she was rubbing against me on purpose. It felt hot, and it felt dangerous, like a stolen diamond she was about to hide in my mouth. The only thing going through my head was how I was going to get out of this. How are you going to get out of this?[i] I thought.
"You're not.. hng" she talked into my lips "going to get out of this" moaning breathily. Apparently I was thinking out loud. This may or may not have been the case but there was still some drunken part of me that wanted to preserve some dignity, I didn't want to give up the fight just yet.
My hands curled into hers and she coiled her fingers with mine and I mustered the courage to hold her hands behind her back. She knew I didn't just want to hold hands with her, though. [i]Ew gross, not like that
. She peeled her face away and gave me her coy look. Yeah right[i] it said and she pulled off me, letting our hands join at the front as she walked backwards towards the stairs. She led (read: hauled) me up the stairs, down the hall and to my door. Against one of the doors was Peace trying her luck on one of the guys there I hadn't met - coaxing him onto Dominic's bed. She grinned as she saw us.
"Did you get your blowjob?" she asked with a laugh.
"About to" Bronte sang back excitedly. [i]You planned this?

We got to the door and I struggled opening it, blood had drained from my head, I was feeling ill. She was kissing the back of my neck as I did, pulling my hips into her. For a second I remembered the Brian Jonestown Massacre and what she must have been imagining, dancing behind me. She'd probably been thinking it ever since Dominic asked for mushrooms. I'd never seen her this passionate and I'd never felt something so hard poking me in the back.
"I don't feel too good" I started as the door opened.
"I wonder why" Bronte replied with sarcasm. "Don't be a pussy" she seemed suddenly aggressive. It didn't sound like it was put on either or like she was pushing me. She just sounded really, really horny and drunk – a deadly combination. We fell onto the mattress with her on top, grinding into me with gentle moans. "Besides" she started as she began taking off my shirt. "You're drunk."
I was drunk, too. I was helplessly drunk. That's an excuse. Right? Right?! I thought this is how girls must feel when they've had too much to drink and they can't find the words to say no because deep down they want it, because they don't want to be easy. Even though I knew I'd regret it later I just rather let it happen. I wanted it to happen. I bet they forced themselves to think that, too.
"No I mean I don't feel well" I complained. Was this the best defence I could muster? "I feel ill" Did I really not care this much? Would I rather let her have her way with me? …. Suddenly she was close to my ear, her lips touching them.
"Take those words out of your mouth" her fingers curled against my back, dragging down and leaving pinky-white trails like razor scars on my skin "because you won't have room for me <3"
Her words were like chilli and honey. She kissed my neck again, sucking hard on my flesh, bruising my skin with temporary tattoos saying ‘Private property, trespassers will be fucked.’ Something about this situation felt very permanent. She stayed on top of me, holding my hands against the bed as she continued biting my neck and ears until my resistance disappeared. Eventually I was as still as s starfish, reluctant, subordinate.

She turned me over and gave me a fervent kiss, biting my lips as she dragged away and then she wrapped her arms under me and rolled us over so she was on her back, my knees straddling her waist when I straightened my back. How she could still perform like this while this drunk eluded me though she was an acrobat, after all. Her breath was dense with odourless aphrodisiac and against her body my desire to lose arousal was hopeless. My mind was like an OR gate, no matter how clear the knowledge that she had a penis was in my mind, no matter how much I tried to not enjoy it and make it as laborious for her to enjoy - only one switch needed to be flicked. I tried to ignore the firm bulge she gently rubbed into my ass but it was like trying to ignore a hornet just after it had stung you. She hadn't stung me, yet, though.

I remember her clearly taking off her own shirt as we were kissing, I wasn't paying attention and my hands were idle. I just wanted to skip to the end, like I were in denial or something. She was unbuttoning buttons with drunk deftness until she wrested open the front of her shirt (still tucked into her skirt) and bared her breasts. They were rising and falling as she breathed deep and fast, her small nipples pointing upward out of her small, pert mounds. I didn't have much time to look at them, though - as soon as she'd pulled apart her shirt she wrapped her arms around my neck and head, kissing me some more before giving me the gentle nudge downward. I didn't bother protesting as my tongue began smearing saliva across her nipples. This was known territory. I seen breasts similar to these before and I knew what to do with them. My lips and tongue just touching her skin, gently grazing ever so gently before sucking them. She giggled lewdly as her fingers curled in my hair. I went from breast to breast, nibbling gently at the nubs, enjoying the way they grew firmer - not enjoying the way she got firmer against my ass.
She enjoyed it, yes but I knew where she wanted to see me. She wanted to see me further down, she wanted to see my mouth full. She pressed down on the top of my head again, harder this time, impatience turning into a force vector south.
"C'mon" she goaded at me. "I'll take you to the candy shop"
Nya naa naa naaaaa. How did I know the lyrics to a 50 cent song? Why was she singing them?
"I'll let you lick lick my lollipop."
It was enough to make my eyes roll. Her crystal voice was lolling around the words more humiliating than a big black man could ever hope to achieve - the contrast between her voice and the writers more striking than Bronte's lower and top halves. Her hand on my head was like a weight hung from my feet as I fell beneath the waterline and under her skirt which she started pulling up to her hips.
"Go 'head girl, don't you stop"
It was a shame annoyance didn't overwhelm my shame. The siren was singing to him, hypnotising him, debilitating him. She knew exactly what she was doing and she loved it, her eyes were smiling down at me while her fingers smiled in my hair and my truculence slipped away.
"Keep going till you hit the spot"
She'd pulled her skirt up to her bellybutton and her underwear were in full light and full vision, her grey boyshorts were packed and stretched, the pink letters of the brand-name warped as she filled the cotton. I had genuinely forgotten how big she actually was. I liked to think I forgot due to a 0.1 BAC but it was probably from shock but now I realised why I'd forgotten it - she was shockingly hard. It's surface was smooth, devoid in small veins but it was straight, perpendicular to gravity, debasing me just by its mere presence. And it was big. Bigger than what I'd seen before. Though, with terror I note, I'd realised I don't think I got a good idea of how big it really was with the darkness and the angle… or perhaps, like a small child, my mind was just filling the darkness with my worst nightmare. She pushed the tip with down with a finger, closer and closer. And with a whimper I realised something within me: Jealousy.
She was shockingly hard, and I was in shock because of it.

"C'mon" she requested again. I wasn't moving, I was stunned, I was hoping the one eyed monster's vision was based on movement. Letting out a huff of frustration she slipped her hands under her briefs and pulled them down, her legs brushing the sides of my face. She lay a thigh on my shoulder and her other foot curled behind my neck, latching to me. She slowly stroked it in front of me; wrapping and unwrapping the meatus in slow motion. I could hear the soft squeeze of precum and its heady scent. If I wasn't turned on before there was no way my mind could've defended against this sensory hail mary. Sweat, mucous, musk and bodily fluids soaked into my olfactory senses. The chemicals met their transmitters and lit up my stupid reptile brain, sending signals flying everywhere. I could see her entire package now, her dick starting at a pink, fleshy meatus. Her finger pressed into it and made it seem as soft as the skin of her breasts. Her foreskin had gently folded between her head and shaft, pulled completely and her shaft was slightly thicker than the head, long and tensed with soft vein lines. Her pubes were completely smooth - waxed or shaved to baby skin levels. Hanging close and large were her balls her balls which were about peach sized, smooth her balls and hairless her balls HER balls. HER. BALLS.
This was apparently the best time I could choose to make my position clear. "Look, I don't know how I feel about this" I started, accidentally sounding like I was starting to bargain my way out.
"Oh come on, don't pussy out now" her words were attacking my pride on purpose. Her hands brushed my face gently and her legs started curling…
"I've never done anything nearly like this before" I began stumbling over words already - eloquence gone faster than she got me to this room. "And I really don't know how to feel. I'm so drunk I…"
"…feel like you're being taken advantage of?" she finished my sentence like a teacher would - completely wrong. Her hands began cupping my chin.
"…don't think I want to do this" I corrected. I tried to judge her reaction. Her lips curled into a piteous simper.
"If you hadn't of wanted this you would've done something long before we got to your door, you're not that drunk." My eyes narrowed but mostly out of pain. Was it true? It was hard to tell with the way her voice messed with your mind, the way it danced around your brain sending off dopamine receptors. She made you believe her not because she was a genuine kinda dude but sheerly through her dancing voice and the way she moved.
She brought me closer, hands and foot pulling my head forward until my lips tapped… it.
She pulled me forward a little more but I wasn't opening my mouth.
"Oh your such a tease" she said sarcastically. "Don't start thinking you're gonna get out of it, now. You mightn't know what know what you want to feel but I do" and she pulled gently on my chin, lips parting, teeth parting, white flag raising…
"Wha?" and as I walked haplessly into her trap I could speak no more.
The first thing I noticed was the sweetness, that evanescent, fleeting sweetness of a dry red. Before I noticed the saltiness, the bitterness, the pressure or even the understanding that I was sucking dick I noticed the sweetness. Not just any dick, either; the dick of the girl who I'd fallen head over heels for not only 2 days ago.
"This" she moaned.

This is a very strange time in my life.

Oh Christ what am I doing?
It was too late now, though. I'd done it and it was happening. I was doing it, I was sucking her -
She was moaning gently now, I could feel her tense in my mouth, taste her fluids on my tongue, see her keen eyes on the far end of her writhing body and her body on the far end of her dick. Should I stop now? Should I push off? I felt her tip hit the start of my throat and began gagging. Should I bite?
No.
Anything I thought was a good idea was a bad idea. Before I really understood what was happening she'd began a slow rhythm, her hands on the sides of my head. I had to ride it out now. I'd gotten myself into this, I was going to get myself out of this, even if that meant getting her off during this. I just had to swallow my pride (and probably swallow something else, too). I tried pushing down further onto her dick, swallowing saliva and precum cautiously. Oh god she was actually really big. It felt like it was as round as a golf ball at its thickest, my teeth scraping against her head and shaft amateurishly. It was about as long as a water bottle and very straight, very hard and yet somehow very girly. The skin was smooth like her leg's and the veins were soft and easy to depress, even if the muscles were denser and tenser than my achilles. She still tasted like a girl and as I felt the head of her dick press against my uvula, painting it with sweet and salty sauce, I came upon a shocking but logical truth.
She's bigger than me! I gagged hard, feeling something come up. I tensed my throat quickly and tried to squirm away but Bronte's hands were strong. I darted my eyes up at her pleadingly.
"Shh shhh" she calmly motioned. "Just relax." It was probably good advice but there was no way it was working. I was trying to get what was going on in my head, besides dick. She brushed the hair away from my eyes with her fingers. And as we looked in each others eyes her face softened a little, her eyes sparkled a little more as mine began to tear.
"Aww" she cooed, her voice with a horse's libidohoarse with libido. "You look so… vulnerable." My eyes narrowed, but it mustn't have been very defiant what with a quart pound of meat in my lips and her fingers on my cheek feeling it. "Seriously, so cute" she kept teasing, but she was smiling daintily as she said it, right before she pulled my head in as deep as I could go again.
"Keep going" she pouted her lips and kissed towards me, half way between "see you after work, babe" and "kiss it, bitch."
I started bobbing my head, trying just to keep her in my mouth. Have you ever tried to fit a golf ball in your mouth? I began a gentle rhythm that kept up with my breathing. The half of her dick my throat could reach was soon covered in saliva and mucus… shiny.

"Ugh, no teeth" she winced as I rubbed over her head with them. "More tongue"
I tilted my head up and continued slurping, tongue running around her tip getting rewarded with giggles, gasps, moans and occasionally the wince of her fingernails in my shoulders or arms. As I felt my submission to her slipping in and out of my mouth I watched her gasp and her body flex like a guitar string. Her eyes were lidded closed, only opening from time to time slightly, rolling back in pleasure or focussing on me. If I ignored the fact she had a hammer that could tenderise most other meat and that I was slobbering all over it, she actually looked beautiful. The hand that wasn't in my hair squeezed her nipples, her gentle moans were girlish and her feet gently padded my back as her legs twitched, bent knees shuddering like shivering jelly.
"Lick there a bit, down, down… uooohthere" she moaned. She did this often, giving little bits of advice to aid me and please her, her hand ever present on my head guiding me. "Suck harder" her commands while being pleasured were like tool tips, like the paperclip on MSWord.
My jaw was getting saw, I'd never opened it this wide for this long ever and eventually lactic acid buildup got the better of me. Taking a deep breath as her cock left my mouth, I pulled away. She looked down at me with a smirk.
"My jaw *cough* hurts" I conceded. She looked sympathetic, motherly.
"Take a break then" she cocked her head to the side as she said it and I felt her hand pressing me down into the mattress in front of her balls, licking distance. These looked bigger than mine too. I felt an immediate pang of envy which melted away into injustice, anger even. A girl. Her balls smelt sweaty, but there was sweetness, too, smelling like the way sugar dissolves into saliva. Body chemistry was always a mystery, how salt, water and hormones secreted through the skin were more a formidable a tool of love and sex than even a big pair of tits. There was something unexplainable about this girl, the way she tasted. In the time it took to move an inch closer and my tongue to smear against her balls anger and injustice melted further into a puddle of adoration. A puddle sitting in between sugary tastebuds that were now warily massaging her baby makers.
"Oh god" she whimpered. I grew bolder, pressing my tongue against her skin. Her balls were soft and smooth. Unless Bronte is a genetic freak like that X-men movie and grew no pubic hair she had been expecting this, planning this.
"You knew this was going to happen didn't you?" I asked, muffled by her balls.
"Shut up and…" she grabbed onto her shaft with her hand, jerking it as I kept licking her balls, she was truly moaning now, not holding back on the noise. She was a very noisy girl.
And it was then that I was reminded she was a girl, as I moved her balls about with my tongue I caught a glimpse and a taste of her snatch, hidden like a jewel beneath heavy, boulderous balls.
"Get back up here" she prompted, lifting my chin up. "Break time over."
And before I could protest I was slurping on her dick again, the parts my lips couldn't reach she was massaging with her hand. There was no way I could imagine getting the whole thing down my throat as I was already gagging and spluttering profusely - all of which Bronte seemed to be ecstatic to see and hear. She was moaning very sharpish now, with urgency, like we were walking home again.

She grabbed the back of my head harder and I knew it was happening, you just know. Funny, because up until that point I'd kind of assumed it wouldn't happen, or forgot that it would happen - she was still a girl in my head, even if I'd been sucking on her fertiliser for the past 15 minutes. She held my head still so that her head was still between my lips, licking her as her arm pumped harder and harder. Her eyes were shut tight, her back arched and her muscles whitened along her arms and thighs, which were pressing down into my shoulders and it was silent except for a soft thwack thwack thwack and her deep panting.

She exhaled heavily, a moan washing the walls of her brain like a cigarette and about to wash the walls of my mouth like white paint. Her mouth was open slightly, her eyes were lidded and lost in pleasure and her breathing was heavy. She pulsed in my mouth and looked into my eyes losing themselves - flat and blank like dopamine overdose. That's it. From this point there's no going back

It still took me surprise. At first the taste got me; salty, bitter tartness, filling my mouth and covering my tongue like a cocoon. It stuck to the walls, and mingled with my saliva in solid trails. I could feel it pool in my mouth and even though it was poison to me I was harbouring her gunk. It was a horrible first experience with someone else's semen. I had no idea if her semen was different from others or normal so I just assumed it was; that metallic, bitter taste. She was still cumming, and with another rock of her body and flex of her stomach another thick shot fired into my mouth with mutant force, hitting the back of my throat and dripping down my windpipe. Before I could catch on I coughed up; her genetic material splattering down my chin and onto the mattress. She covered her eyes but she wasn't in my blast radius. When I stopped coughing she looked back through her fingers, back at me gasping for breath through her cum and she put it back on her dick. She was squeezing the last of her pleasure out of her as I coughed it out, tittering. "I got the magic stick, I'm the love docta" she was still singing 50 cent.
"You have no idea how silly that sounds" I slobbered out. Semen coagulated into all the nooks and crannies in my mouth, making me sound infinitely sillier.
"Have your friends teasing you bout how sprung I got”
"Did you plan this?" I asked after wiping my mouth.
“Plan what?” She asked, innocently.
“Blow*cough*job”
"I cheated" she said straight out, still toying with her dick, now kneeling lazily on the bed. My eyes were drawn to it as it softened, clear fluid still beading and dripping off the end. It really reminded me of those thick german sausages full of cheese. She squeezed it between her fingers and I could see the veins dilate and block as she did. It dangled between her legs like a guillotine.
"What?" I asked, confused, distracted.
"Edwin was telling me if I had a higher or lower card" she handed me the remainder of her drink. I was stunned. "Just your card, though." She lifted up her arms to tie the back of her hair up, letting me see her flex her body. I took a few sips of the sugar and alcohol mix. It did a better job at getting rid of the taste than water. But nothing could get rid of the bitter taste of derision.
"Y- You" I wanted to be angry. I wanted so bad to be angry; to tie her hands together and give her straight back what she'd given me. But I didn't. Instead she shuffled forward and grabbed her drink back off me, arching her neck upward and taking a
big
gulp.

I could see her neck rise and fall as she did it, pulling flesh with it, her breasts rising and falling again gently.
"You know exactly what happened" she sounded so satisfied saying that. Probably normal considering I was swallowing her satisfaction right now. She was telling the truth, too and it actually pained me to realise that she was right; that the warning signs were all there, all the options to escape were out there - she'd just played her cards (and my cards) right. She'd gotten exactly what she wanted and I was just stupid.
I wanted so bad to be angry.
"You're such a dude" I glared at her "and 50cent sucks"
"No, you suck" I rolled my eyes. "You suck badly" she continued, lifting herself up in front of me, leaning forward. "But don't worry" she sounded like the devil would. She kissed me pertly on the cheek and spoke into my ear; "You'll get better" 
She leapt up off the bed and towards the door, I thought she was suddenly leaving to gloat or something but instead flicked the lightswitch off and bounded back into bed under the covers. Then she joined me on the side of the bed that had no wet spot where she started spooning me, pulling my hips close to her. I could feel her soft, wet dick against my leg and her tight breasts against my back. She felt my hardon through my pants and I realised something else extremely unsettling.
I think I'd been hard the whole time.
"So I guess you'll be staying in San Francisco for a while, then" she nuzzled into my back.
I suppose at the time I thought there was no way out. There was some strange defeatist side of me that awoke at that point. And even though it had already lost long ago and because I was still proud, it wasn't going to advertise itself. It was going to stay silent in its resignation. I wasn't aware of it, but it was aware of me. I'd lost already and I just didn't know it or I didn't want to admit it.
"Yeah" I responded after a long pause. She sounded like she let out a soft purr, but it could've been a vicious snigger.
The last thing I remember was the strangeness. There wasn’t anything further from reality I could imagine that was what I was living. An abandoned, operational, food and alcohol filled hotel was my home, my best friend was more or less a clone of me, instead of an address I had a music book and my girlfriend was a boyfriend. I also remember the strangeness of hearing loud fucking from across the hallway – Peace's loud squeals of delight echoing between the walls.
I dreamt of Bronte.


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/11/17(Mon)15:02 No. 22808 ID: 2369e5

This might be my last chapter before the new year. A lot of plans are coming up and my drive got brick'd at some point so I lost a bunch of draft. I'd love to get a bit of feedback from anyone reading this... if anyone is.. reading this. What do you think is going to happen? What do you want to have happen? What do you want to see more of? (The Fuck is coming, do not worry)

Enjoy.

-----

Chapter 6: One Of These Days

tags: herm on male, blowjob, size comparison, little bit of SPH

Bronte stood at the entrance to her house
and smoothly strode inside.
I followed, caution, fear without
to a place by fireside.

Warmth.
All the doors were closed and the lights were out
But you were soft and sighed
I knew that I was to be your spouse
Yet locked I was inside

I felt like I was home, but that I would never leave
And that I am happy to be trapped.


I woke up next morning to an almost dark room. The fire must have gone out
"Sorry"
As sunlight hit the troposphere and reflected down at the earth it caused a dark blue glow all across this line of longitude. A few rays of it passed by San Francisco and some of it passed through my window, casting a silhouette against the white, flaking walls. Their refraction of it through my eyes were hazy as my brain warmed up, finding a focal point – the curve of her neck.
"I didn't want to wake you" It was a song in fast motion. "I have work soon." The sun wasn't even up.
Bronte wasn't lying in my arms, she was already dressed, down to the scarf. She knelt on the edge of the bed as I rubbed my eyes.
"Naw, it's sweet" I croaked. I took a deep breath and let out a deeper yawn. "Where do you work?" I wasn't even aware she had a job.
"Gym" she responded, chirpy as a magpie.
I stretched the morning stretch, arm above head, spine degassing and de-greasing, toes pointed, voicebox tensing… big yawn again. Bronte had her knees on the foot of the bed and was looking at me. I couldn't see her eyes, beautiful though they are - they don't glow in the dark. I gave my mouth a few swirls, trying to wet it. Bronte started falling and she suddenly landed on me with a fwomp and immediately I wrapped my arms around her. I could feel my body hungover a bit, my brain beating the inside of my skull in time with my heart, my muscles rusty and creaky but even this wasn't the source of the most pain. I brought my hand to my jaw and rubbed it, trying to soothe discomfort.
Bronte's head nuzzled into my chest and she hmmmmed.
"So, do you like the new place?"
"Yes" she muffled her words into my chest.
"Yes?"
"It's amazing" I still had to double take; she wasn't exaggerating about this place - it was all pretty unbelievable. "Literally a-maze-ing, it'll take for ever for me to solve. This place has been abandoned for months and no ones done anything about it. It IS a maze." There was a short pause as I made sure I hadn't dreamt the last 24 hours. "And it makes a head in your maze, too." We let breathing take over the conversation for a while as I realised the brilliance of the definition of 'amazing.' "How long has it been like this?”
I shrugged.
“And how come we haven't heard of it before?”
I shrugged again.
“It's crazy amazing. I love it." She shuffled slightly as I played with the skin between her shirt and skirt. "Did you like last night?" she asked with spice. For a long time I tried to think of something extremely witty but instead I just rubbed my eyes. There was the feeling of her hand, under the blanket, under underwear: It was morning, I hadn't cum for days and had been hard for hours previously without release. Erect was an understatement.
"That's a yes" she beamed while I was thinking. Too slow
"That's not fair" I groaned. She kissed me on the chest.
"Then lets make it fair"
I gave out a pliant groan as she pulled the skin of my dick all the way back. My body was glowing in early morning attention and my hands curled around her waist and through her hair. In this dreamy state I could convince myself quite easily she was a girl; Bronte looked fucking gorgeous, especially through thin, blue morning light that made her skin glow violet. She slipped down my front and took the blankets with her looking up at me. I could begin to see the outline of the hint of smirk. Her hands pulled my underwear steadily south, letting my dick spring outward and upward into the cool air. Quickly her tongue was against it - hot breath.
After dragging the wet muscle from the hilt up to the tip she went straight down, suction and roses in her cheeks. She started bobbing gently and her hair bobbed with her, my hands running through it. I felt the warm burn of morning head, the kind you only feel when giving breakfast in bed. Nnng fuck she's good I gave another groan and she giggled into my dick - little vibrations bouncing between super sensitive receptors, setting so much serotonin off I could sweat it.
She didn't slow down or ease up and already, so soon, I could feel myself coming close. I tried not to make it too obvious this time but I turned from exasperated to desperate as she began to get slower and slower
and slower
and slower still.

Like a cyclist running out of strength right before the mountain peak - she'd jussst stopped. Again.
"Hnngggg, come on!" I gasped out, my eyes were clenched, my mind reaching for the orgasm, grabbing so tightly to the fleeting moment that it slipped out of my hands like a bar of soap.
Soft lips tap the bottom of the meatus. A giggle.

And Bronte was crawling back up my body, her soft lips bit at mine, licking my teeth, making me taste me.
"I've got to go. See you later today?" she looked so innocent, eyes wide and awake.
"Can't stay a minute longer?" I tilted my head slightly, I sounded whiny.
"Hmmmmmnnno" she answered, launching off me and grabbing her bag. "And no finishing in the shower." She pointed at me "No cumming" and she looked straight at me, as if I were shaking hands. Now it was just light enough to see the colour in her eyes and you can't refuse that.
"That's not fair!" I called out as she hopped through the door.
"See you later today?" she asked, turning around in the doorframe. She stood straight, legs together, fringe straight and short.
"Yeah" I responded, only a little reluctantly. She smiled and twirled out the door, her footsteps pittering away.

-

Frustration.
It had become impossible to sleep. I tried several different positions and none balanced my brain well enough to get Bronte out of it. It's not safe for humans to live like this - with so much thought and dedication to one thing. Surely it's pushing other important things like logic and survival to the side. It's an insane, backward, primal state of mind. I literally couldn't stop thinking about her, anything I tried to get to sleep failed. My imagination took my deep breathing and made it gentle moans and took internal exploration into the forest of her eyes. What made it even more frustrating was the unshakeable knowledge that I'd fallen so hard to someone who wasn't even a girl, even someone who was more masculine than myself. Every corner I took to escape her taking over my mind was met with something else about her. Everytime I remembered something about her that made me anxious my heart skipped a beat because it was also something I loved about her so my heart was skipping more beats than it was beating. She was, I regret to say, girlier than some girls I'd slept with and many orders more attractive. She had guys staring at her all the time I knew it and she knew it too. She knew the influence she had and how to use it. Despite all this she had a dick that was bigger than mine, a virility bigger than mine and an ability to talk her way into anything she wanted.

How could I not fall in love with someone like that?
How could I not fall in love with someone with that much power?

Frustration.
I put on a long coat and sauntered out of my door - sunlight still hadn't hit and it was still pretty dark in the hotel. I crossed the hall to where Dominic had chosen his room to be and I knocked tentatively.
No response.
I knocked a little harder.
No response.
So I turned the handle slowly, quietly and peaked inside. It was hard to make out what I was looking at at first. At first I thought there were two people on the bed but I squinted harder and saw that there was just one big person. I stepped inside and looked at Peace, sleeping in her underwear on Dominic's bed very close to a bottle of vodka. She'd curled up in a ball and looked very happy sleeping, snoring. She actually looked really cute like this, hair draped across her face, blanket pulled up to her chest. She definitely was overweight - her thighs were as thick as a 45rpm but somehow she pulled it off, probably in aid of her gigantic tits.
There was something off, though, something smelt off; the room stank of sex.
"Hey, dude" I heard someone whisper from the door. I freaked a little and darted my eyes over that way - it was Dominic.
"Me and Tea are going to the roof to watch the sunrise." He walked into the room. We have a joint" Sold. I pointed to Peace in the bed and looked at him with a confused face. He just shrugged.
"Me and Ed slept downstairs" he ratified. "Coming?"

Getting upstairs required a ladder to the attic and opening up a locked door to a service stairwell. It opened out to a brisk wind and killer view about 20 meters up. We sat out at the edge with our feet dangling, smoking and watching morning people go by far below, sun just about to burst above the rest of the city and the hills, far away.
"I can't believe you called on the blowjob" Dominic piqued.
"Yeah that was ridiculous" Tea backed him up, still smiling a dopey morning smile. He crossed his legs as he sat and pulled each foot ontop of the opposite knee, headphones and cord dangling from his neck.
"You know she cheated?" I asked them.
"Huh?"
"Edwin was telling her if she had a higher card"
"Her?"
"Bronte"
"That sounds like something they'd do" Tea shook his head. “They always pull tricks like that?”
“Tricks? That was cheating” Dom jumped to my defence. Tea just kept shaking his head. Obviously we didn't understand.
"How was the blowjob, anyway?" he asked with a chuckle. I rubbed my jaw, still aching.
"Unfinished" I responded. They laughed, but didn't understand. I whet their confusion. "She finished, I'm unfinished."
"What?" Dominic was still waking up too, it seemed. I massaged my jaw a little harder.
"She gave me head this morning and didn't let me finish. Again."
"God she's a serious ballbuster." Tea added but didn't finish.
"How do you know her?" Dominic asked.
"I'm Ed's brother" he replied simply. I looked at Dom who's eyes were suddenly wider. "I've known most of these guys since we were tiny." We hmmed in response. The sun was threatening to come out, light bending with gravitational lensing behind the hills and suburbs in the east.
"Do you…" I didn't know how to phrase the question "…have-"
"A pussy?" he finished matter-of-factly.
"Yeah" I responded. No point beating around the bush it seemed. Pun intended.
"No no no. For some reason wasps always grow up to be girls."
"Wasps?"
"It's our name for 'em, if they've got both… ya know." There was a way he stressed the word 'our' like it was their word for them - kinda like how you'd treat the word 'nigger.'
"So you know Bronte well?" I asked tactfully.
"What do you wanna know?" he asked.
"You're a very to-the-point guy, eh?… you're a very to-the-point people" I insinuated. He seemed to take it as a compliment and smiled even more broadly.
"No point trying to be sharp when I'm not." He laughed this time.
"How is she with guys?" I asked.
"Whaddya mean?"
"Like… has she…"
"She's had lots of them, if that's what you mean.” He paused a bit to find the right words. “She's not exactly monogamous so try not to get too attached." He spoke. I wish he hadn't. I felt weird about it but that really bummed me. "And girls, too. She's had lots of girls." Goddamnit. Great waves of inferiority threatened to wash over me at any point should I let them.
"But she told me it's 'not everyday I meet someone I like the way I like you' "
"Yeah more like every week. Just be careful with her, alright." I took Tea's warning seriously. "Serioulsy." But not too seriously. "She's more fickle than an actual girl"
"You've been with her as well!" I pointed at him.
"No no” he laughed again “with being Ed's brother and all. She got really angry at Bronte once for trying and she's never tried since. I did have a thing for her though and she got with a few of my friends at the time.” He seemed thoughful but never removed the smile, even if it was one of sentimentality. “Like we're all over it now but there was a bit of bitterness here and there”
"Is she always like… well, like this?" I asked.
"Like what?" Dominic asked politely. He seemed to be more polite upon realising Tea is Ed's brother.
It took me a long time to think about a description of her. She was divine in one sense, feminine, girly without being a princess. She listened to Pains of Being Pure At Heart and Bright Eyes and drank a small flat white. She wore clothes that made sure you knew it was summer without looking easy. She had class and eroticism both in spades yet equally. Bronte reminded me of those 16th Century Italian portraits but if she decided you were going to get to know her she was mischievously dominant. The very words she used in her questions were picked precisely. She cool and desirable. She was in control but most of all she knew all this. She was aware of how she was and because of this and because that was her nature, she used it all as a weapon.
"Like James Bond" I responded. They both laughed. "But with tits"
"Yeah she can be pretty perfect sometimes" Tea wistfully added. He laughed. He reminded me a lot of Alai.
"Is Alai still here?" I asked, reminded that there was a party here last night and I missed out on most of it.
"Yeah I think she passed out downstairs with us. We slept in a big pile of cushions and sleeping bags."
"What about you and Ed?" I asked Dom. "Peace was sleeping on your bed"
"Did she have anyone with her?" Tea asked quickly.
"Uhhhh, yeah I think so?” My memory was not too good. "I dunno."
"Hm, good on her" Tea laughed.
"What's her deal?" I asked. Tea just shook his head.
“I don't know. I don't think I know her well enough to say” I could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth.
"Anyway…"
"We joined the cuddle puddle downstairs" Dom answered the question with a dopey grin.
"What about Ed?" I asked just for curiosity's sake. "What's she like when it comes to guys." Dominic shuffled in closer.
"She's only had one long term boyfriend before which ended… badly. Since then she's had one or two girlfriends as well but she likes boys. She's been looking for a long term boyfriend for more than a year, now." He turned towards Dom "You might be in luck, man." Dominic smiled, an inside, reserved smile – the kind girls call cute. "She only started really wanting a boyfriend after realising what Bronte was doing - that there was actually a 'market' for guys like you's." He handed me the joint and the water in his breath condensed with the smoke in big billows of steam. The air was so crisp you could clean your teeth with it.

"Still can't believe you called on that blowjob" Dominic laughed. Tea laughed with him. I shook my head, half in shame half in disbelief. "Was she big?" Dominic asked. Why did he always have to ask? He was fascinated by it, surely. Tea chortled knowingly a little as I hesitated to answer. I made a length between my hands about the size of the short side of an A4 piece of paper, then a little smaller, then a little bigger.
"Something like that" I dismissed. As I did it I was remembering something Bronte sang that night. "Have your friends teasing you bout how sprung I got ya." All I really remember and all that mattered to me was that she was bigger than me. There was something off-putting about that and it didn't sit comfortably with me. I always thought I'd been pretty at peace with that part of me, no esteem issues. But there was something about her and that notion; it made me feel anxious. I handed the joint to Dom.

"Well then who have you been with?" I asked Tea, questions relentless.
"Alai" he answered surely, confidently. "It's good living with her because it's pretty consistent… but you can't pin her into a relationship. She sleeps with whoever she feels passionate with"
He sounded like he was a bit disheartened about it. Like a football grand final he lost. He played with his headphones a little.
My phone beeped. I had to start getting used to that.

From: Whiskey
Time: Wed 0620
Doing?

"Why is Whiskey always up so early?" I chuckled.
"Whiskey?" Tea seemed bewildered. "How do you know Whiskey"
"We just met one night, when we saw BJM I think" I responded.
"That can't just be a coincidence, lemme check your phone." I handed my phone to Tea and he pressed a few buttons.
"What can't be a coincidence?" He didn't answer and just scanned his eyes through my phone a few minutes.
"She's bad news, man" Tea handed it back to me. I looked for the message, it was gone. I looked for her number, it was gone. I looked for her calls, they were gone.
"What did you-"
"Blocked her number" he responded.
"You what?!"
"You heard. If you want at all to have a chance with Bronte you never met Whiskey. Trust me" Who the fuck is Whiskey
I was angry that he'd just do that, but it must have been important. I decided to drop the subject entirely and just not think about Whiskey again at that point, warnings from two different people about her perhaps are actually grounded in reality. I did however learn how to lock my phone properly after that.

-

On the ground floor, right in the middle of the main bar area people had combined mattress and cushion together to create Big Mat, there were duvets and sleeping bags abound, covering the sleepers who called Big Mat their home last night. In the middle of the donut was a burnt-out candle and bong and some other shit, bottles and glasses stayed on the outside, though. There were about a dozen people down there, some were awake, whispering or rolling about. Sun had just began streaming between the buildings into the ground floor windows - the thick dust in the air reflecting and streaming the sun like an aura.
Edwin was awake and on her phone, with Aida, they were talking quietly. They saw us coming over, Edwin turned over and smiled at us as we made our way over, arms stretched out, waiting for a hug. We all slumped into the group, finding gaps in the bodies and finding spare blanket to lie in.
"Where's Bronte" Edwin asked.
"She had work" I claimed.
"Oh yeah that's right… how was the night?" she asked after a short pause, simper forming already.
I just stuck my middle finger up at her and she broke into a quiet giggle. Edwin had this way of laughing - like a schoolgirl.
"And fuck you for conspiring with her" I denounced, too seriously to be taken seriously. She laughed again.
"You wanted it" she sang, falling back into Dominic as he climbed in next to her and we all linked arms and legs in a pile of bodies. As people began waking up and rolling about and groaning, sunlight boring through dilated pupils they all greeted each other. A lot of them knew each other - Bronte and Edwin's friend's - but a lot of them only met last night, too.

A lot of them had taken comfortable quantities of acid and become very attatched to Big Mat. Big Mat was the name they'd given to the collection of blankets, pillow, sleeping bags, cushions and matresses all over the floor. Small girls had wiggled themselves into snug gaps in Big Mat and lanky guys sprawled their limbs out like a sunbathing spider all over Big Mat. They talked to Big Mat like they would a person, but they all found it funny. It was endearing as fuck. They began spooning and maxing out on the floor, lighting cigarette's and morning joints and drinks. I thought perhaps last night they'd had an orgy down here but that didn't seem the case. Their affection for one-another wasn't sexual, no matter how much skin contact there was - they just loved the feeling of being loved, of touching and being touched by someone else. There was something amazing about these people, wherever they came from, they loved life and (more importantly) other people's lives. They had no problem with showing and receiving affection, gender irregardless. Truly sexually liberated. Hippie kids

-

About 10 of us rocked up to the cafe right on opening hour. Camille was working and Jackson was there already and we all huddled into the courtyard and drank coffee, smoked cigarettes and talked - mostly shit. As minutes turned into hours people left and left until there were just Jackson, Mudd, Alai, Camille and me. Mudd and Alai were talking and kinda flirting on the side and Jackson and I were already in deep discussion about human sexuality. With a smaller focus - mine.

"See I've never had this problem" he noted. "I've grown up with the rose garden as friends and never gotten involved with them." He seemed a little perplexed by my state of mind. I made a mental note of the hilariousness of calling them 'the rose garden'. "It's never been in my mind. I've only ever liked girls."
"Yeah well, you're a lucky one, then" I scoffed. "What about Camille?"
"She's french. She's a girl" he responded simply.
"What is it about them? Or at least Bronte?" I groaned.

"There were guys like you in our year at school. They thought it was cool to get with them" he sounded confused but sure of himself in this dichotomous way. He knew what the words meant but didn't know why people would think that. "And they started scoring points." He made eye contact with Alai at that point and they shared a warm, almost semtimental smile. "But plans like that never work with people like Bronte and Peace and Edwin." I listened. "They're very intelligent those girls. We're all very intelligent, but Bronte is people-smart, too. She's manipulative." He looked straight at my eyes. His gaze was deadpan, but very serious - like Cristoph Waltz'. I think he knew that I wasn't completely understanding what he was saying. "She's good at making people like her and want her"
"Surely their growing up was pretty hectic" I mused.
I tried to imagine their school life and how hectic puberty would've been. If they couldn't keep it secret then they'd have to have been strong. They probably lashed out at each other and caused a lot of pain in teenage years. They probably were called a lot of names and did a lot of shit to keep themselves in the clear. I imagined the pain they put themselves and others through as waves of confusion and hormones took them over.
"Nah, they had a pretty normal life, I guess." He responded, dashing my thoughts, losing the daydream. "But seriously, she's good at… people. I love her to death but try not to skip blindly in"
"Does Bronte like me?" I asked.
"Yeah she does" Jackson responded without a pause but with strange inflection. "She just… she likes intensely, and for short periods." His words were just reinforcing confusion in my mind. "And she's very good at people and knowing people very quickly. She likes playing with people and I've seen her play with boys the same way she's playing with you now." I felt like a fish in an aquarium. I felt like a tally on the bedpost. "And she gets picky and fickle and gives people the cold shoulder out of nowhere." He looked into his coffee. He was having trouble telling me this, kinda like when a cop needs to tell someone bad news on all those T.V shows.
"Why?" I asked, kinda hopelessly. I looked at him confused.
"I don't know" he started. "I think it has something to do with respect, one loses her's very quickly and without warning." He sighed again. "It's just… so many guys who want to be her boyfriend so much just try too hard and give up too quickly. I dunno. Nevermind"

I stared into my empty cup for a long time until Camille came and cleaned it up. She and Jackson had a quick french exchange of words and then a quick french exchange of saliva.
"Doin tonight?" he asked me, without changing his tone of voice at all. Like the last 20 minutes of conversation were completely normal to him. He's probably had the same conversation with 20 other people before me Don't think like that. You're better than that
"Palace, still have dozens of bottles"
"Palace?" he asked.
"That's what we're calling it."
"Nice. I think we're all heading back there" he raised his voice a bit so Alai and Mudd heard "and we'll have our instruments. We should have a jam."
"I like the sound of that" We stood up to leave.
"Camille finishes in a little over an hour so I'll join you then"
"Ja whol."
I picked my shit up and headed back home.
"Haha" I laughed to myself as I left. "Home." I hadn't had a home in over 6 months. Now my home was an abandonned hotel.

-

The people who were left over were cleaning up once I got back. There was Dom, Ed and two people I'd never met. One was introduced as Jaiden - he was an Australian travelling through the US, tall, lanky fucker and the other was Sequoia, she was one of these lifelong friends of the group, she was short and boyish with short and boyish hair and when her and Ed talked together it sometimes sounded like a secret language. She was very thin, too, borderline anorexic but wore big, pouffy shirts and jackets and leggings. She was jittery and nervous a lot of the time, on the verge of being outrageous. I had difficulty imagining her drunk. Peace was downstairs in the kitchen, cooking morning lunch.
Shit got more fucked than I thought last night - there was a broken door and overturned tables and cards and glass bottles everywhere. One room had a floorful of broken glass, the cement wall on one side dinted where the bottles would have dashed into it. No one knew how it had happened. I got a phone call as we were sweeping glass.
"Hey" she greeted.
"Who is this?"
"It's meee," It sounded like Bronte
"Bronte?" I asked
"I finish at midday" Straight to business.
There was a long pause. "And?" I asked.
"I'll be around shortly" she replied presumptuously.
"Yeeaha, Bronte. I dunno"
"I do"
"I wanna have a jam with the guys for a few hours. I wanna get used to the place" I remembered what Jackson said about respect, about not giving up too easily.
"You can get used to me, too!" She danced.
"I…" for a second I remembered the taste as she blew in my mouth, impossible to get used to.
"Byee!" It was all happening too quickly, I felt like I was driving a three wheeled car and I wasn't nearly in control "…don't think it's possible."
But she'd already hung up. Bitch
Yep, completely out of control.

Within the hour Jackson, Alai, Camille and Mudd showed up. They'd brought a Cajhun (which is kind of like a box drum you sit on) and two more guitars and we all moved to the the largest room: right on the outer corner of the second story - just above a busy intersection. There was little ambient noise due to the thick walls but the wooden floor and high ceiling made for amazing acoustics. There was a marble bench above a fireplace and the wooden floor was polished smooth. Everyone in the room not playing listened as Mudd spent some time on a piece on the wall, painting silently.
Jackson, Alai, Dom and I all sat in a circle and began playing some real Northern pacific folk - Alai and Jackson already had beautiful harmonies. They sounded like Fleet Foxes. Eventually I thought nice melodies to add in.
A gentle fire glows within
The ground seemed to swell with the music, the walls seemed to breathe. I was remembering my dream this morning.
Bring me home, warm cabin
More voices appeared out of the woodwork, spiralling together the way pine needles do.
Snowmelt frees the scents of burwood furs
I recognised the voice. It sounded like clouds disappearing in fast motion. It sounded like the midday sun during a cold, cold winter. It sounded like we were exploring the forests of Washington and BC.
Bee hives grow and the cougar purrs
It was Bronte's voice
and I opened my eyes to look at her to find myself, strangely, not in a log cabin the hills of Colorado or in her eyes but in a squat in the suburbs of a western city. She was looking away, at the ground and at nothing in particular. They were glazed over, staring through the floorboards, like she were watching a movie in her head. Complete suspension of disbelief. Magic.





When it was over we all shared a bit of a laugh and a hug, moments like those were beautiful. Intangible.
"How was work, beautiful?" Alai greeted Bronte as they hugged. They were always so pleasant.
"Good good, need a shower though" and then she huddled down a bit lower, and they spoke lowly for a little bit, sharing laughter and sympathetic looks.
Jackson gave me a little fist bump for the jam.
"Anyway" she spoke louder now "What about you?" Bronte asked Alai.
"I have the day off, hence - " and she spread her arms to the rest of us.
"Aaaah lush" Bronte languidly moved around the circle, greeting everyone warmly. They had made it almost a ritual, when greeting old friends it was always a hug and a little chat. We were like penguins coming back home after a hunt. She reached me last and knelt down behind my chair, wrapping her arms around me.
"Hey, how you going?" she asked.
"Yeah sweet, so good" I responded truthfully. "Little on edge, though" I added.
"Why?" She asked, concerned(?). I just looked over my shoulder at her in response, a wry smile forming over her lips. "You have showers here?" she asked, leaning her chin against my neck.
"Mmhmm" I responded, her face tilted downward and she began biting at my neck gently, but without any lip or tongue - just a bite, like a baby raptor or something. "They're hot, too" she laughed a little into my skin.
"Come join me" She purred, very lowly, straight into my ear.

-

There were two bathrooms on every level, one female and one male. These ones were set up dormitory style with 3 showers each room. The girl's were a little cleaner so we were using those ones. She started kissing me the moment we were inside, softly on the back of the neck first, peeling off my shirt. I turned around as she threw it aside and kissed her mouth. There was some aroma of sweat on her, the kind that mixes with perfume and tends to go sweeter. Like a rich stew, she smelt like roasted brown sugar, the salt had crusted like the powder on butterfly wings on her skin. I felt her lips purse at the edges as she smiled and her hands grabbed my hips. I'd always been a skinny guy but after a whole year of lugging a bag around, thrashing instruments and constant trekking left me a [Artist of The Scream]'s tone. I hadn't washed my hair in just as long, but contrary to being dirty and oily it had cleaned itself and it was smooth like white sand though it still wasn't as soft as her fingers or the skin of her neck. Her teeth gently nipped at my tongue and she giggled some more, the nip turned to a gnape and I reeled a bit at the pressure. Again, she giggled through bitten lip as she dragged it to the tip and let go. Her fingers peeled their way above my pants, both her index fingers sliding between them and me. She stood up on her toes a second and looked me right in the eyes, wide like an owls and she kissed me on the nose before flattening back to earth again, taking a few inches off the height of my pants. Without taking her eyes off me she pushed them down as far as she could reach, gently nudging until at last my blood-dense dick sprung out into the air and then she dropped down on her knees as she pulled them straight down to my ankles. I lifted my legs and kicked them off and before you could say Look out! She has a dick! she was loving mine.
Of all the soft spots a girl had her tongue had to be the softest. There was something so pretty about them when they looked up at you, expectantly. Waiting for the creases in your face to disappear, your voice to drone smooth. That look: expectation showered in desire like icing sugar on a cake. She was waiting for my head to roll back and to let out a soft moan.
"Aanh" I couldn't help it.


She couldn't stop giggling, her tongue slid it's way underneath from the bottom to the top, every little pretty noise she made vibrated through her tongue, the giddy feeling of being drunk.
Such pretty things are not meant to last, though. Not nearly long enough.
"Just checking" she sang as she stood up pertly and she gently shoved me towards the shower. When I didn't move she spanked me like I were I stubborn child. I groaned a bit as I rubbed my ass and got in, playing with the temperature till it was as sweet as her skin. Peeking back I caught her taking her top off, she didn't pause for a second when I started watching, peeling clothes from herself. They fell from her like a snakeskin - which was rather fitting as it wasn't the only snakeskin peeling off. When at last she was naked she walked in behind me. I'd yet to learn the lesson of never turning your back on Bronte. I felt her hands first, reaching around my waist and gently pressing her fingers in.
"You're such a cutie" she cooed into my shoulders, getting under the water. Then I felt her back and her breasts against my back and knowing I was an idiot for it, surprise hit me when the next thing I felt was her snake. I know I shouldn't have been surprised but it was impossible. She builds an illusion in your mind so effective you forget she has a dick. It tensed and hardened upward, against my balls and then again and then with every heartbeat into my chest she grew more and more rigid. My hips were pulled into her, my skin whitened between her teeth and with a fluid-like moan she pressed up into me. My balls parted and squeezed around her length.
"Aww look at that" she goaded. Her voice sounded like the kind you hear on a schoolyard. "Seriously. Look." I wasn't moving. My hands were on top of hers, my legs spread for her wide load, nestled underneath mine. I know why she wanted me to look at it.
I shook my head.
"C'mon" her left hand left my hip and I felt her hand press down onto my dick, pressing it down, squishing it against her dick her dick. "What's the matter?" she asked, her voice thinning, like she was thinking.
"I…" I didn't even bother. I just kept the silence afloat to give her time to think. She didn't need to think very long.
"What do you think?" She asked, purposefully. I thought I was in over my head. I was confused. I was embarrassed. I thought it was impossible.
"I think you're a goddamn bitch" I laughed, nervously? She bit me a little harder.
"You should really look at it. C'mon take a peep." I refused in silence. "And I'm not a bitch" she carefully excluded the words "but you are." Her hand curled around both our dicks and squeezed them together, or at least squeezed what she could reach. I wanted to cum so badly.
"You can feel it, chyeh?" she asked, rhetorically. "What else do you feel?" Her words were like hammers, smashing wall after wall in my head. Her voice was like honey, drying on my skin like a cocoon. It changed me. Silence. Just the water on our skin and her hands, gently rocking back and forth now.
"Shame?" Yes
"Jealously?" Yes. She sounded like a wolf, snarling, hot breath against my neck - the strong ready to feed on the weak. There was a long pause as she bit down on my shoulder muscles, tasting the flesh, sampling the meal.
"Fear?" Yes. Her fingernails dug into my hips gently and began scratching.
"Do you like it?" I felt like was getting a tattoo - that this was somehow permanent. Possessive, even and it was no mistake on her part that it was planned like that. If she was going to possess me, to own me, then she wanted it to be as clear as possible. She didn't want to leave doubt. She didn't want me to get out. But she definitely wanted me to see a way out and to struggle on my attempt to get reach it. She wanted me to know what was coming but not want to stop it. The most horrifying thing about this all, looking back was that on some level I was agreeing to it.
I nodded meekly. You fucking idiot. She let out a single snigger, excited and implosive like she was getting a new pony. Her other hand moved from my waist the back of my head and she tilted it down.

Bronte was about almost a foot shorter than me and weighed probably 15 pounds less than I and I know I'd seen it before but that was in the dark and the drunk and I'd done my best at blurring that memory beyond comprehension and this was now in the light and sober and ever existent present.
When I looked down I could see my dick, exactly how I remembered it, bursting at the veins, curving slightly to the left. I could feel her; the skin of her public bone against my ass, her dick pressing under it, pushing my balls aside and striding wider and just as long.
She was bigger than me, way bigger than me and for a moment I felt severe panic. What the fuck was I doing? What the hell is happening to me? I tried to look away but I couldn't, not now that I'd agreed to it. I felt guilty looking away.
I felt coerced but I hadn't been: I'd been seduced.
She could eclipse me. It was horrifying.
"Do you still like it?" No


I pulled off her and tried to make some distance. The feeling of her dick sliding against my balls was like a chemical burn - unignorable and needing medical help. I turned around towards her to push past her and leave, to dry off and go back and jam and forget this shit.
I didn't even make it past her. I was again surprised to find not a confident smirk of success but the the doe eyed look of naive confusion. She wasn't naive and she wasn't confused but her face lied so beautifully. She was so beautiful and for a second I thought she was some young girl I'd hurt in my distance - like Bronte and I had already been going out for months, married even and I'd said something incredibly hurtful.
She was good at making me think things like that. She stopped me.
She didn't hesitate once she knew she had me and she leapt forward to kiss me. Softly at first, fervently soon and with certainty she had me against the wall. We were sword fighting, dagger vs claymore and I grew red. I blushed, embarrassment filling the skin of my cheeks the way a sun fills and tomato's skin. With her finger she kept my face looking into her's, her green, malefic eyes confident, staring into mine while I cowered away - too embarrassed and confused to look back into hers. She kissed me some more and moaned into my mouth, her hands reaching around behind me and playing with the flesh of my ass, pulling it apart and squeezing it.
Then I felt both her hands on my head, pressing softly down.
"Do you still like me?" she asked. Very different question.
"Yes" I said out loud this time.
"Show me" and I dropped to my knees. I couldn't tell if she was moaning in delight or laughing in pity. I was eye to eye with it again while it towered towards me, now strong and rigid. At it's full, greedy size. Its skin was smooth, small blue ridges oxygenating the blood, pumping hard and fast in her veins. In the light, being sober I could guess it was about 8 inches long, maybe more, maybe less. It was the biggest one I'd seen and as I prepared to show her exactly how much I liked her I grabbed her at the base. It was enough to make me dizzy, I was able to wrap my hand around it but unable to squeeze it very hard at all. It was a steel bar. It was unreal. So I just swivelled it around, still unsure if it was even real and watched it as it swayed side to side with momentum - always meeting its resting point, straight forward into my face.
"With your mouth" she added explanatory, like she was explaining something very simple to a very dim person.
"Yeah yeah" I rebuked, annoyed and just looked at it a little more, feeling like it was looking back into me. I knew damn well what she wanted me to do, and I knew it was going to happen by this point. With my other had I reached under it and felt her balls, heavy and dense in my palm, smooth against the skin.
"Like it?" She asked, pride in her voice.
"It's…" I started, leaving her to finish the sentence how she'd like.
"Beautiful?" Wasn't was I was thinking. "Big?" she proposed, her voice sounding like she already knew what I was thinking. "…Scary?"
"Mmhmm" I replied, her figures curled their way through my hair.
"Do you like it?" Error. Error. Her speech was soaked in strawberry jam.
"I don't know" I replied, truthfully.
"Well, come on, let's find out. How much do you like me?" And with one hand on her dick and one hand on my head she manoeuvred her dick into my mouth. Just like that. Without hiccup, without conscious hesitation I just let it happen and at a loss for what I was even doing with my life she began defiling my mouth. She made me taste her, she made me swallow her snake. She pushed against my head and pushed forward with her hips until I could fit no more. I gagged and coughed and protested peacefully but she kept pushing until I could feel my stomach tensing. It was thick, too, just sliding between my teeth and pushing them apart like an ancient torture device. I coughed again and held it down and when she knew she'd hit the wall as hard as she could before it broke she pulled back. I let out a harsh groan and pulled in a deep breath while she let go of my hand, pointing about a third of the way down the shaft.

"Only this much?" I realised she was pointing where my saliva ended. It was a surprise to me, I thought I'd fit the titanic in there. "You only like me this much?" she was speaking with mock insult. "No good" and she pulled me back in again, thrusting with her hips back and forth and back and forth and back and forth again. I could feel the momentum of her swinging balls in my hand and feel her push and try and force her way through my throat.
"Open up a little more, and stick your tongue out" she instructed with a pant forming in her breath. I did what she said and realised that she could fit another inch in, stretching my jaw even more. She loved it and thrusted faster.
My free hand went around my cock and began squeezing it. If I couldn't cum in someone perhaps it would be alright of me to spend my gametes down the drain but not even that was good enough. When she looked down and saw me her feet kicked my hand away.
"Nuh uh" she ordered. I obeyed dismally. "And look at me" so I dragged my eyes up her body to see her admiring me from above, parting hair over my eyes, watching my mouth fill and empty, seeing strands of spit spin and thin out of existence as she battered my cheek with her dick. She was slapping it against my face territorially and I looked into her eyes the whole time. She smiled, warmly but playfully.
"You're seriously so cute" she sounded like she was talking to a puppy and she leant down for a peck on the lips before straightening up, resuming beating my face and forehead with her deity of a dick "especially with me in your mouth"
It was a curious and devilish role reversal that seemed to start motors in my head that had never been used. There was something the way she presented herself, now that she knew I'd do it. She was pushing boundaries, just hard enough to let me make me yield - doing it a typically masculine way. She was a man in a woman's body. The way she felt, moved, smelt and looked made you believe with genuineness that she was a girl. But then, when you she was beating off on your tongue with a cock so broad, so strong that it was so unbelievable you began to question everything. She looked down with a look that reminded me of me - if she'd never had a masculine side and if the world was upside down. She may trick you into thinking she's a she, but inside, she scored points, talked down and made you know exactly what you were doing. It was debasing in the most primal way - a girl both so feminine and yet so much more masculine than you'll ever be. Love was the most confusing thing.

"You're such a dude" I replied, not realising to her it was a compliment.
"And you're such a girl" she responded, knowing full-well it was insulting. "Open your mouth" she directed. I did and she began slapping the end of her dick against my tongue. She giggled. "You're easy, too"
I couldn't respond, she'd already began the shallow fucking of my throat. I let her stretch my jaw, and let her please herself. But why? The experience was made even more painful by the fact I wasn't getting any kind of relief myself. So while I was giving head a plan was forming in my head, but as I'd yet to learn Bronte was always two steps ahead. If I couldn't get off why should she? I looked up at her with doe eyes as she moaned and gasped, loving the feeling of my lips and mouth around her dick, debasing me for her pleasure. I could feel her getting close and then pulling herself back, hearing her breath go short before she sucked in and held onto her breath. She'd do this again and again, easing into my mouth and then diving out quickly, eyes clenching. Maybe I could do to her what she did to me? She brought herself to the cliff by pumping the exposed skin of her shaft with her hand and rocking back and froth into my mouth, at the height of her moans she dodged the climax, freezing herself and holding my head still. Her breath, her teeth and her mind all clenched and then...

When she felt she could continue she opened her eyes and started rocking again, staring into my eyes like a cougar. She was purring. She kept looking down at me and running her fingers down my face until she was getting close again. When at one point she stopped, clenching her muscles and forcing my head head stopped I continued, slurping away against her will. She let me go for a second and she moaned loudly. I thought I could feel her seizing and I pulled away. She squealed. I thought I'd won but she levelled her breath. I looked at her dick pulse angrily but not cum. I looked slowly up her heaving body, her curvy hips and tight breasts to her face. She looked down fierily, a great disobedience had been done - I'd mistimed, it seemed. She hadn't finished but she'd stopped, giving me a glare that could ionise water and for a second or two I was genuinely scared. She looked rabid, like a Rhino in rut, ready to cream in the nearest mare.
"Open your mouth"
I didn't… I mean I tried, I was quietly defiant (and fearful). I didn't acquiesce sooner than she liked so she put a hand on my cheek and slowly brought it across my face till her fingers were over my mouth. She slipped the tip of her thumb through my lips and then pulled my mouth open with it.
"Look at me" she commanded again as she began jerking it, the flesh rolling about in my periphery, a shark circling. She pulled down on my teeth hard, fully opening my mouth as I stared helplessly into her eyes, under her spell. I couldn't help but moan. Her breathing turned into gasps and her grip on my mouth screwed stronger and beating grew faster. Finally, with a high pitched moan she finished, pointing her dick against my mouth. Her eyes glazed over just in time with her glazing my lips, my tongue and streaking most of my face, too. Another one landed on my chin and leaked down either side of my front. It showered over me with inhumane quantities. Her cum marked and dripped down my skin like melting wax.
I was hers, now.
She knew it, too. With a final few spasms she squeezed the last of her cream into my mouth before shutting it with her fingers.
"Swallow" she bid. I wasn't there, someone must have taken me over. My mind was deceived, surely. I grimaced as it slid down my throat. Happy?
She looked at me a long time, wiping my hair from my eyes some more, looking into them sweetly. Anything. Anything for you. Bronte looked pleased like a friday evening, loving like a mother. She let out a warm laugh as her eyes gazed upon me again, falling in love with the mental snapshot of her own seed coagulating with the warm water on my face, burning it into her memory like the scariest thing you've ever seen.
The scariest thing I'd ever seen began softening in my mouth and I let it flop free, clean and empty. What the hell has happened to me?


>>
Anonymous 14/11/18(Tue)12:15 No. 22813 ID: 522b77

Just awesome. I love the buildup. Keep up the good work.


>>
Anonymous 14/11/20(Thu)07:43 No. 22832 ID: 807a82

Serious taste.
I like the way you write, I love the tension between the protagonist and the others, not just Bronte. I don't know if I can make it any better but I wanna see some 3some action with Whiskey and Bronte and that is all.


>>
Anonymous 14/11/20(Thu)17:06 No. 22836 ID: 7dac67

Really, I'm just keen to see what you come up with, tho.


>>
Anonymous 14/11/20(Thu)22:39 No. 22837 ID: 52dfff

I consider this the best currently active story to fap to on the internet.


>>
Anonymous 14/12/05(Fri)01:32 No. 22903 ID: 56b2a6

Any chance for an update soon? This shit is seriously good. Keep the people happy. We need our fix.


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 14/12/05(Fri)13:04 No. 22906 ID: 47e386

>>22903
The current chapter won't be done before I go on holidays during which time I won't be writing.
I'll post what I have in a few hours but don't hold your breath (or your dick).

>>22832
>3some action
You're not going to see anything between the protagonist, Bronte and Whiskey but I've got something better in mind and you'll love it if SPOILER ALERT you like netorare.


>>
Wazzles+!JUD7F1CtU. 14/12/05(Fri)21:42 No. 22907 ID: 47e386

Chapter 7 - Apache Rose Peacock
tags: voyuerism, herm on male


Bronte left soon after, she was having dinner with her parents that night. After we'd washed each other off, dressed and had her tease me through my clothes even more she wordlessly directed yet again that I don't cum. I told her "no" but she only kissed me to keep my quiet, her dainty lips pecking into mine to shut them up as she disappeared out the door again, hips swaying. Maybe that last bit was just my mind.
So we spent the night jamming, putting up fairy lights, exploring - that was my favourite part; every room had a secret, something interesting - an old box of schoolbooks, graffiti, stained glass, ancient notes written on the walls in ink pen:
Dear Carmichael,
Brilliant time under your hospitality
I'll send those old Italian shutters around next season
See you then
- Anton

There were years old notes under old brown glass ashtrays - stuck to the bench:
Freya
I leave back to Montreal tomorrow
I love you.
- Eric
P.S Cheers for letting me bum all your smokes

We found boxes and boxes of old band and gig posters and plastered them along the walls of a hallway, completely covering the ground, ceiling and walls like a newspaper collage artword. Ed stayed all day as well as Jaiden and Sequioa, Peace periodically made food, cooking up ridiculously tasty meals with the ingredients already in the kitchen. Vegan and vegetarian and whatever the hell people wanted and every time she cooked it was delicious - she could make anything taste good.
I joined her down in the kitchen while she was cooking, sharing a bottle of vodka and orange juice. She seemed to move with confidence, with ease. She knew what she was doing in a kitchen, talking about travel, music and movies and the lifestyle of a gypsying cocksucker.

"So, what did she make you do" Peace asked after a short silence. I groaned. "Did she fuck you?"
"Oh Jesus, no!" I answered by reflex, by shock even. "No!" I hadn't even considered that yet, it wasn't even on the table. The preposition that was even possible hadn't registered in my mind yet. "No." It should have, it didn't. Peace only nodded a little and hmmed nonchalantly and I realised how stupid and shortsighted it was for me to not think about that. Stupid stupid stupid When she kept talking I suddenly found myself in a daze, like being caught off guard during a boxing match.
"So you fucked her." She answered conclusively.
"No" I responded after a brief(?) moment of confusion. She was as confused with the answers as I was the questions. Of course she'd want to… Stupid!
"…What has she done, then?"
"Oh you know…" I responded with ambiguity by complete accident; I still couldn't wrap my head around the thought that perhaps Bronte did want to fuck me. Peace began miming fellatio when I stayed silent, making gagging sounds as she jerked her hand in front of her mouth, the bangles on her wrists jingling. "Yeaah. That" I responded with abashment after a short while. She laughed lowly. She laughed like a poker player who could see through cards.
"Here taste this" she spooned a mouthful of rice and lentil and held it up to cool. I walked over and she scooped it in - my jaw was still painful a bit as I opened my mouth. It distracted me fher hand resting against my ass, pressing it gently as if to stabilise me. Obviously that wasn't the reason, I'm not that stupid, really. I let her get away with it though, and cooled the rice and curry in my mouth, swallowing it. I nodded a bit in praise but rubbed my jaw, massaging the muscles
"Don't worry about that. You get used to it. Until you stop exercising them." I still didn't understand what she meant for a while, then I thought that I shouldn't be a problem because I had a feeling they'd get plenty excercising. "Verdict?"
"More salt"
"Nah it has enough salt, besides, you're getting enough in your diet." I glared.
"Does Bronte like me?" I asked. It was getting dangerous to ask that question now. "Or does she just want to…" unwanted pause "...fuck me?" You sound like a girl
"No she likes you." Peace nodded, blowing the steam off another spoonful of dahl. "Definitely" something about the way she was speaking seemed odd, it sounded like puppy dog eyes. "She doesn't show it but she's happier when you're about and gets excited when she's going to meet you" I could guess why. "But then again she does love that cute ass of yours, too" and with a heavy hand, I felt her slap it, giving it a quick lurid grope. I wiggled away embarrassed, feeling a little like a woman getting wolf whistled. Peace let an admiring 'oof' as I did and quickly looked for my eyes which I ran away from, looking at my feet and the food carefully.
"What did you mean before?" I asked, looking for conversation, trying to break the tension. She gave me a confused look. "About how I must have fucked her if she… hadn't."
Peace gave a long sigh, taking another big gulp of OJ Vodka and looked at me in the eyes, deliberating. "Aaaa fuck it" she conceded and moved up closer to me, handing me the bottle.
"She doesn't like to let people know or even admit it to herself so don't tell her I told you this but I've known Bronte since we were little tots. I've known all the guys she's liked."
"How many has that been?" I interjected.
"Not enough" she responded, implying herself into that phrase somewhere - as if it sounded more like 'Not as much as me'. "But she's a one-way-wasp." She let me try and digest that information but when I came out with nothing obvious I looked at her baffled. She explained: "when she meets someone and plans to sleep with them, and believe me, when she plans to sleep with them it means she'll sleep with them, she's already decided who's going to take and who's going to give." Her voice had grown a little hoarse, like the concept was a bit of a turn on. She watched my face understand what she was saying. "I you bottom, you're always on the bottom. Always. Capiche?"
I nodded in understanding.
"But it goes the other way, too. I've seen a few guys who'd hit her up and she'd go complete girl mode" the way she said 'girl mode' sounded a little like disgust. The same way a lad would say 'faggot.' It didn't take a genius to work out what that meant.
"What about you?" I asked. "Do you go girl mode?" I asked. Peace only smirked a little and played with the bottom of her shirt, just a bit too idly. Her shirt was stretched against her stomach, a little of it which poked out. I could see a part of her stomach, matter of fact I was obviously looking back and forth at it. Her stomach was round, it didn't mushroom out like a bread dough waterfall, more like a big medicine ball. She wore a long skirt to cover her legs which her ass filled out genorously here and there when she bent over or walked.
"I'd really like you to find out. But you're Bronte's for now… we wouldn't want to spoil her fun." Her eyes flittered over mine like we were about to get into bed - like she wanted me to fuck her brains out. It distracted me just enough to not ask the question "What do you mean 'I'm Bronte's now?' " and instead I just broke the eye contact I had no idea we had been making for the past six or seven seconds.
"And careful with that" she pointed to my crotch "she uses your balls like a weapon. It makes you do what she wants. I don't reckon you'll cum for days"
"Seriously?" I asked.
"And I wouldn't try and take care of yourself, she'll know. Then your future won't look so good."
"How would she know if I did" I asked, confounded. She gave me a stupid look.
"She fucking has one, idiot" and she slapped me on the forehead comically before walking back over to the stove.
"Oh. Yeah." Remembering, for a second the flash of vivid image of Bronte's face in the moment of her glory, me on my knees, her thumb in my
"You're thinking about her now, aren't you?" Peace snapped me out of it before it really began.
"It's not very fair is it?" I asked her, musing.
"Don't expect anything with Bronte to be fair. She's special she is." I felt my dick pressing against my underwear begging to be touched. Peace didn't needed to see or feel to know how hard I was. She just knew; my cards were see-through.
"No one knows a pain like this" I continued.
"Marty dooooes" she giggled.
"I reckon Marty'd make you go girl mode" I teased again. She scoffed.
"Of course he would" and she turned on her heels to check on the food. Her answer staying cryptic in my mind. "Who do you think makes all that moaning from upstairs?" I didn't have an answer.
"But" she turned around again, making and keeping eye contact I was very aware of. She made sure I was going to remember this one. "There's always only one thing to remember: My bed, my rules." There was a pause as the silhouette of her words burned into the grey matter. I thin smile spread over her lips. "Now, taste this"
I opened my mouth and spooned it in. It tasted the way sharp bronze looked. It tasted like all those figurines of Hindu gods.
"Delicious" I responded.
"Great!" Her face lit up. "Let's serve it out"
As I grabbed a pile of plates to bring upstairs I asked her "would Bronte go girl mode for me?" Peace almost leered.
"Maybe" she said with that puppy dog voice.

-

The people remaining spent the night getting stoned and drunk and revelling in young life. Alai and I spent it making music, laughing and getting along. Every now and again shrieking as someone else ran into the room getting chased or being drunk. She laughed and laughed as someone accidently spilled beer all over her – the face of pure happiness as it dripped from the end of her curly hair. She reminded me of the girlfriend every young guy wanted. Easy going, interesting and attractive. She had a frail voice like a crystal sherry glass that made every song sound sincere and serious. As people painted and wrote on the walls, laughed and drank with each other and then kissed in risk taking stupor we played music. Alai sang the words that appeared on the walls and everyone sang with us in turn. She had written a song about teenage pregnancy that was both calming and kind and also scathing – attacking stupidity to its core. She was more or less screaming by the end of it. It was a drunk, chaotic night – the kind that makes you remember why you're alive.

Somehow I'd climbed the stairs and landed in my bed and Alai was next to me, taking her stockings off. She crawled into bed and shuffled into my arms. Well this was easy I thought. She smelt like lavender and her hair was long and curly and soft. Her legs were smooth like glass. They were bare from her dainty toes to her thighs - where her dress touched down. She fit in my arms like a body fits into it's bed. Her hands were all over me, warm and full reaching back to run in my hair, on the back of my legs, pulling, pulling. My hands curled up her dress onto her stomach and chest. She felt like passion, she was a renaissance pearl.
She dressed like one, too. Long dresses, long hair and sidelong glances. She wore almost no makeup, she was very sure of herself. You tend to forget what girls like that look like under the clothes. Her hair slipped through your fingers easily, like honey. Her ass was shaped like an apple, soft and firm to the touch. Temptation was there in spades and I was giving in, in the hazy reflection of a thousand sodium streetlamps her skin looked porcelain.
Her lips were like a lychee.
Then my hand found my way to the front, feeling for god doesn't even know what anymore in this crazy city. It was her dick, hard and pert, pressure against the elastic. I couldn't tell how big she was thanks to the drunk and the high in my head - but she gasped sharpish when I did and that's all that mattered. The room was spinning, spinning.
I started to rub her against the cotton. She definitely felt more manageable than Bronte - much smaller. And to my sheer surprise I thought more my size.
I never thought this is how I'd think on a regular basis a week ago.
I pressed her ass into my dick as I kept on giving her attention through a barrier. When my fingers began prying at the front of Alai's underwear I was ready. There was something that had snuck up on me. I wanted her like I wanted a girl. I didn't care she had a dick, I was "too drunk to care about that." I just wanted to finish her, I wanted to screw her like a rabbit. My hands were now beneath her underwear, and I began massaging her, skin to skin but then in a haphazard blur she peeled them off her, stopping her gasps short.
"We can't" she whispered, despair.
"Why not?" I asked as she put my hand on the bed infront of her.
"Because" she started, her voice shaky, brittle and hot. She shuffled and turned herself to face me. "… you're Bronte's now." My heart both sank and leapt at the mention of the name.
"She won't kn-"
"She'll know f'sure. She's not at all stupid." Alai sounded very proper when she was drunk. Every truncated syllable rounded crisply. She was trying to hide the breathlessness on her voice. She closed her eyes and kissed me again, quickly, feeling a little like a last kiss, a soldier going away. She turned onto her other side, back to me and I threw an arm over her. She hugged it like a teddy bear and drunkenly stumbled her mind into sleep and dared me to follow.

I couldn't sleep, I couldn't cum, I couldn't anymore drink because I couldn't stand up. I lay awake and listened analytically to the gentle lullaby of thumping from around the building.
I could hear Dominic's sharp, stabbing moans a simple wall away; gasping and shortness of breath. The were a mumbling of words every now and again, silky; before a soft laugh or pliant moan. Dom sounded like an iron bar slowly, strongly, quietly getting bent in quick humps.
I could hear the high ceiling of my room rattle gently as Sequoia and Jaiden did it like a good heterosexual couple should. If they weren't there I would've started to think they didn't exist anymore.
The most easily heard however was the fragmented snoring of Peace across the hallway.
Like a honeybear in hibernation.

-----


"Hey wanna go out some time"
She reaches over and picks a lighter from a stool
Red sweater, crimson skirt, fire eyes sharp but cool
I've rarely seen such a regal, elegant jewel
I'd never been such a docile, throw-aside fool
"Yes" I say and she lights her cigarette.

Suddenly I am alone in an empty bar.
Is this
a dream?

I fell back asleep.

I pulled back on her underwear as she pushed her ass up off the bed.
They slipped off the snowy-white legs like a sheet and her legs parted gently. She was beautiful. She had one fingertip in her teeth as I pushed her thighs apart and fell between them.
She moaned and moaned, her back arched and she writhed about and she was loving every second, she was in ecstasy. I could see it on her face and feel it inside.
I feel it inside.

and at in that briefest moment of horror I awoke.

It was a long night.

I didn't see Bronte all the next day.
I even debated calling her.
And for a long time I held out.
Frustration.
"Hey this is Bronte"
"Hey!" I responded quickly over the crackly phone. Shit how did I get here?
"… sorry, can't get to the phone right now but I'll try and get back to you." *Beep*
Her voice; even over a crackly phone speaker it was warming. It also took me surprise that it made me harder. I had stopped counting hours and had been counting days. It had been 3 days since I had cum. When you live on the road and you travel with a friend you can go weeks and weeks with like that, but what with all the toying about, with Bronte keeping me on edge it could have been 3 weeks.
"Hey, Bronte" I started, nervously even. "Just wanted to see whohow you were doing wanted to do mesomething right now...” I paused as if there was something more I needed to say but it was just a gap of silence until “Uhhh, peace.”
I hung up.
Fuck.

Alai, Ed and Jeremy were sitting on the roof together, all in little clothing. It was a hot day and it was about 1pm. Cloudless, beautiful. You could see Bernal Heights park but you couldn't see the ocean even though it was the highest building for at least a mile around. We were talking about drugs.
“You're not there anymore. It's like your body and mind have been taken to another planet and shown all its history.” We listened. “And then the people that live there come to you to talk to you and tell you something with you but when they talk their words are made of light. You see their words pass space between you and them” We listened. “and you can tell that what they're telling you is important. You know what they're saying because when you're there you're speaking their language. But you forget. It's like a dream, and you can't remember it.”
“What did they say?” I asked. Alai looked back at me as if suddenly I existed again.
She just smiled warmly and passed me the joint.
“Alright.” I started, looking at everyone, taking a toke. “You can only use one drug for the rest of your life what is it?”
Edwin: “Weed”
Alai: “Weed
Me: “Weed”
Dom: “Uuuuuuuh, you guys!”
“What, what?” I asked, suspecting he had the same answer.
“How can you not pick alcohol?” He looked genuinely confused.
We groaned collectivley.
“No, seriously. How shit would life be if you couldn't get drunk, ever?”
“But weed!” Alai argued back.
“Weed chills you out. You can't get fucked up from it. You can never again get absolutley wrecked.” He mirrored the condescending looks we were giving him back at us. “How can you go through life if you couldn't just... forget that you're alive every now and again?”
I shook my head but he had his own reasoning I supposed. I passed Dom the joint and he took a thick toke, holding back a cough. He sat inbetween Ed's legs so his back was on her chest, she was sitting on some cushions she'd brought up. They looked so natural together, leaning against an air vent.
“Speakin' of chilling out” Alai started. “This bud's v' nice.”
Dominic nodded and blew out a thick plume. It disappeared into the wind as he passed it back to Ed, jostling with it a bit before giving it up. They were playful, but they were reserved - like they didn't want people to know but still didn't care. It was cute. Ed had one hand curled around his stomach and one in his hair and I noticed something I normally wouldn't notice. If he hadn't been hitching around the country for 8 months I wouldn't have noticed.
"Did… you wash your hair?" I asked him after a short pause. He looked a little embarrassed, missing my eyes. Edwin laughed and replied for him.
"Yeah. I washed Dominique's hair"
I darted my eyes between all 3 quickly, Alai had a wry smile on her lips while Dom leaned backwards into Ed.
I just chuckled confused. Ed just giggled lowly and squeezed Dom's hair a second. He contained any pained noise with a quick breath. Alai and Ed both broke into laughter.
“Alcohol is a shit drug” Alai blurted out and she stood up to stretch, arching her back, pushing her pelvis forward.

She was wearing only underwear; I'd kind of gotten used to girls just wearing their underwear about but there was still a lot to get my handhead around. Alai was different to the others in that she legitimately did not care. She knew there was nothing she could do to change how she was and that she should just roll with it. She always looked for the things she shared with others, not differences and once she knew people knew and they didn't care she didn't care anymore either. There were only us four and she made no attempt at hiding it - she had no reason to hide it because she wasn't ashamed of it. It seemed more modest than Bronte's; smaller, more discrete. Alai glanced over towards me and it was then that I realised I'd been looking straight at it for a while.
She didn't get embarrassed, she just laughed - she didn't show off for me or try and hide it, she just thought it was funny. She sounded confused even thought she wasn't.
"So you like us then?" Alai asked, the inflection in her voice making it obvious what she meant. The question was directed at me but Dom couldn't see where she was looking and answered anyway.
"Yeah" he tilted his head back to look at Edwin, who looked back at him with demure and they pecked quickly. It was obvious in his case. "I like Edward's"
Edward… Dominique. By this point I kind of came to the understanding that gender was going to be blurry for a while. Everything was moving so fast these last few days, motion blur was pervasive.
"I don't know" I responded.
"You're in love" Edwin shot back casually. "You so like it" she didn't chuckle or make it sound like an insult. She just said it like she knew it.
"Hey" I started but I knew there was no point. She was boning my best friend and her best friend was this close to boning me, a second ago I was staring at Alai's cock and everyone could see how turned on I was. Arguing was almost pointless by this point.
My phone rang. My heart leapt. It was Bronte I knew it was. The number wasn't saved.
"Hey" I picked up the phone.
"Hey" I knew that voice but I was unhappy it wasn't Bronte's. It was shrill without being piercing, it was strong without being tough, it was feminine, through and through. "It's Whiskey, new phone"
I quickly darted my eyes towards Alai, who immediately suspected something.
"Hey maaan" I responded, jovially. Surreptitiously standing up, walking away and climbing back down the flight of stairs out of earshot. "How have you been?" I asked once away.
"Did you block my number?" She asked straight out.
"I had it blocked for me"
"Why?"
"Not like that someone did it without me knowing because apparently I'm not supposed to know you"
"Why? Because you're Bronte's new bitch?" The words stung the way a slowly infecting wound does. She was sprinkling salt on it. I kinda liked it.
"Woah woah woah slow down" I proposed.
"How long has it been since you've cum. Let me guess"
I stayed silent.
"Hmmmmmmmm, me? Monday morning?" She seemed very sure of yourself – which she was, she also sounded a little drunk. She was correct.
I stayed silent.
"So that's a yes. You might be her new boy but that mean you can't have fun."
I remembered Bronte's face as she left the bathroom yesterday. No cumming
My head said no but my dick said yes.
"Where are you living?" she asked.
"How do you know Bronte?" I asked.
"Old friends. Can I come see you or not?"
My dick said yes and two days ago I probably would have said yes but she was always too short with me. She rarely answered my questions, she couldn't lie very well and I was with Bronte now. Last night in a drunken stupid move I'd tried to sleep with Alai and now I was sober I knew better. Everyone I had met who knew her had warned me about her and they all couldn't be wrong. Right
“No.” I responded simply.
There was a brief pause.
“Not yet?” she asked strategically.
“Nope” I responded. Purposefully ambiguous. Of what I can remember of the night I had with her it was one of the best nights.
There was another pause.
“Aright, I see I was barking up the wrong tree. Have fun in hell! :)”
* Beep beep beep *
Too easy. Didn't think that'd be the last I'd see of her.

Alai was still suspicious when I returned and she picked up the conversation exactly where it had been interrupted.
“Yeah” she continued with another warm smile. “You love it so much”
I smiled and shook my head a little guiltily and took the last toke of the joint before tossing it away and over the edge. Wind swept it like a broom down the street, air buffling it as it twisted in turbulence to the the kerb. I lay on my back, leaning my head over the edge of the building and down was up and up and down were very far away. I looked down at the sky.
I looked down at the sky.
I looked down at the sky.
When you are like this long enough it begins to confuse you. When up and down aren't what you're used to your mind begins to think differently. Perspective changes and nearly anything is possible. Suddenly everything seemed to make more sense to me.
“You guys are cool” Alai spoke as if she'd thought hard about it.
Dom's and Alai's heads appeared next to mine and we were connected by what we were seeing, and therefore feeling - that if you thought very very hard you could trick yourself for a second that the sky was a great ocean you were falling towards. In that second you were on the bottom of the earth.
Spinning, spinning.



Alai left to go help Tea with something back at 248, with a promise she'd return tonight.
So Ed and Dom and I spent the afternoon at the Palace.
We started exploring again, but then... they stopped.
And went to Dom's room.
I lay in my room and tried/pretended to sleep some more, listening intently to the sounds coming from across the hallway while playing with my dick.
I could tell Edwin's sounds from Dominic's most of the time but sometimes they crossed over like a venn diagram. Edwin had long, satisfied gasps with moans poking through quietly every now and again as she fucked between slowly and almost slowly for ages. I could hear a constant gentle tempo, unchanged for about 5 minutes before there would be a short break and a quick word exchange. Often she'd say in a lowly, growly voice
“Roll over” or “go on your stomach” or “No no no” followed by a quick laugh. Then there'd be a soft “Yes. Yes” as they began fucking again. Another 5 or so minutes of conistent ploughing. Ed wasn't particularly quiet but compared to Dominic she was a mouse. Dom was quiet at first, but then you heard the breathing getting deeper and deeper and deeper until they slowly converted into moans and then high pitched gasps as she sped up slightly. My dick was rigid, leaking precum as I played with it beneath the covers, secretly hoping I'd get caught. What am I even doing. I stopped when it sounded like someone was walking towards the door but it was just the sound of the matress putting pressure on the floorboards. Every now and again you could hear the soft taps of skin hitting skin accompanied by a deep, pain sprinkled moan and laugh. They'd speed up again, faster this time and I'd try to keep up but I'd have to stop myself, micrometers from orgasm as they pushed on and on. Ed's moans grew heavier and heavier, dense in their pleasure as her speed increased. Dom's moans and squeals matched hers with vigor, before they went muffled, presuming his face was being pushed into a pillow or something. Suddenly they built to a crescendo, pumping with urgency, close to cream.
Edwin's moans built higher and higher and longer and longer...
and they stayed there. I could hear Dom groaning a long, drawn out noise as Edwin kept on keeping in him. By now she was fucking fast and it sounded hard too, and she wasn't slowing down. She just kept on going
and going
and going.
And for a second I winced a bit as I realised that this is what I was missing out on. If I had been less turned on the wince would've been because of a dodged bullet but in this state, with my dick so hard and the candy so close I could hear it my heart leapt because this is what I was missing out on.
And then that was the first time I consciously asked myself do I want this to happen to me? but I didn't get time to answer that question as their lurid and almost violent sounds abruptly stopped.
I could hear Dom's “Uuhhnnnggggg” trail into nothing as the sound of the pounding was replaced by heavy breathing.
“You alright, Dominique?” I heard the wall-dulled voice of Edwin. Followed by her giggling as Dom moaned his response. There was a long period of soft moans and quiet voices.
“Look how hard you still are. You came so much” Edwin excalimed with jubilence.
Dom groaned back in response: “Did you finish yet?”
“Mmm mm” she hummed back in negative. There was another school-girl giggle and a pliant moan from Dom. He sounded like he had been bent out of place, like he'd just been run over by a crowd of middle schoolers.
“What are you doing?” Dom asked. “Edward?” Edward
“Turn over, I want you to see my face. I want you to look (too quiet to hear)”
Then there was another few moments of shuffling sheets before they moaned in unison together. Ed started back up.

The same routine continued again, long, slow sex. This time their moaning was interspaced with moments of dulled kissing, I could hear them suck on each other's tongues. It was kinda gross. They kept it up for almost half an hour longer and the whole time I lay there, on my side, toying with myself. It was a strangely submissive experience and I felt like I was being watched the whole time. I was listening to my best friend literally getting fucked up the ass for an extended period of time.

When at last their moans were thicker and faster and stronger I started pumping myself to orgasm, eagerly waiting in preparation for her climax. It was coming, I knew it. Her breath was getting shorter, deeper. I could practically smell their sweat and see it stick their skin together with every thrust, surface tension and lust joining them momentarily. I could hear them exchanging enzymes and for a second I swear I could've tasted Ed's mouth around mine, her teeth biting my tongue and her moans sending little vibrations through it.
Just in that second I remembered Bronte and that look in her eyes when she commanded me. No cumming. I remembered Peace's warning that she'd know and so with all the conscious strength I had left over myself I stole my hands off my cock in a terse whimper of frustration as Ed's cock blew somewhere inside of or on top of Dom. She made this noise half way between a groan and a squeal like a wolf makes, followed by another groan every second or so – deep, satisfied groans that in themselves sounded dominant over the Domininc's frail sounds. I listened to the last of Edwin's giggles, noting how her cum oozed and stuck to his skin, admiring the way it 'painted' him and I blocked out the last of Dom's fatigued, pained groans. I could see, behind my closed eyes, Edwin's dick, hanging low and glistening in lube and cum as she tucked back into her clothes as I did the same to mine; still hard as copper. I shoved it back into my pants where it hated its existence, pushing pressure against the clothes that imprisoned it.

If it could hear me I would apologise to it. I rolled over and did my best to block out the coital conversations – gender confusing itself amoungst their words.

----

I fell asleep somehow and slept a dreamless, unbroken sleep. I woke up to Peace, Marty and Alai coming into my room with plates of lasagna and jugs of beer.
“Wake up, dinner time, bitch” Peace half yelled as she kicked the matress. I rubbed my eyes as they flicked on the light switch. My throat stretched in a deep yawn and groan.
“I made lasagna for you” Peace lay the plate next to the bed; steaming and melting cheese. It looked so delicious.
Alai smiled at me as I slowly sat up against the wall, squinting as Jackson entered the room, switching on the light.
“Tea and Mudd and a few others are here as well” Alai relayed sweetly.
“Bronte?” I asked simply.
Peace and Marty shared a quick knowing? glance.
“Nah sorry, she's tired from work, she's staying home, sleeping.” Peace replied. For some reason I didn't believe her. I checked my phone. “She's out of credit, too”
I shrugged and reached for the lasagna, cutting it with my fork and carefully balancing it all into my mouth. Mustn't overthink things
It looked amazing, it tasted like God herself had creamed over it. Peace hadwas truly a goddamn amazing cockcook.
“Holy fuck this is amazing” I muffled through the hot pasta. Everyone nodded in agreement and Peace glowed a little more. It was a very warm night, clouds had rolled in from somewhere and glowed that orange-purple aura of sodium vapour lamps and brakelights. There was no wind and the air grew stagnant quickly, sticking to your flesh and clothes like drying sweat. We ate in mostly silence, loving every morsel, every sip of beer.

“If you could only have one meal, assuming it fulfills all dietry requirements, what would it be.”
Marty responded first. “Sorbet, man” he nodded with his lips pursed, like it was the bees knees. “Buckets of good lemon sorbet.” Alai just laughed a little and shook her head. “What?” he asked, like he'd been accused of stealing. She just laughed a little more.
“You'd be so cool” she said in a fit of giggle and it was clear she was laughing at how funny she was. “You're too cool for me” she was the only one laughing at the joke (because she was the only one who thought it funny) but none of us cared – we were all laughing at her and pretty soon she was laughing at herself, too. She shook her head a little more with a smile, realising just how hilariously unfunny she really was.
“What would you pick then?” Marty asked, pointing fingers.
“I've thought about this one before” Alai confessed, trying to make it sound as if it wasn't a 'stay at home all day getting stoned' kind of thing “and it's gotta be sushi. With alotta different falvours and sauces. I get bored quick as” she offered.
We all gave it a thoughful nod.
“Garden Salad” Jackson replied quickly after. “With like... a light dressing and tonnes of different vegetables in it, and some beans, too. And apple, too.” He wasn't eating so just looked stright forward and nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah” he concluded airily and looked at Peace as if it was her go. She looked horribly disgruntled, chewing intensely on her creation.
“I don't know... shit. Shit. Uhm...” she looked mortified by now. “Shit. Um, apricot turkey... nono, pumpkin soup with bread... nono... oh! Uhm” she sounded more indecisive than a seagull. “Carbonara!” she blurted before a “no noo.” There was a pause as she looked deperatley confused. “I really don't know! I'd die!”
There was a part of me that didn't doubt that.
She kept on eating angrily.
“What about you?” Alai asked me, her eyes gently darting between mine.
I just leaned back, mouth open with half chewed lasagna open for the world to see.
“This fucking lasagna.”
We laughed again, hopefully at the joke.
“You like the food?” Peace asked straight away, ready to feel good about herself.
“Yes.” I replied simply. “It's so delicious”
“There's cream cheese in it” and for a butterfly's wing beat we made eye contact. It lasted just a second but it felt like a conversation. It was awkward, tense and relaxing at the same time – like silence in a horror movie and just before I understood she winked at me
and pretended like nothing had happened.
I took a large, large sip of beer.

–-

Most of the night went swimmingly. We all got a little tipsy and stayed up til past midnight, chain smoking cigarettes, talking shit and making music. I repressed every urge to call Bronte again, even as she dominanted my mind. I wanted to seem keen, not desperate – even if I was.
Everyone could tell how wired I was, and though Ed found it extraordinarily funny Peace was the only one game enough to say anything about it and they got progressivley more and more lewd with direct correlation to how much alcohol she drank. At midnight we were sitting out of a window three stories up, looking down at the concrete pavement far below. We were probably both too drunk to be doing this but here we were, kicking our heels onto the brick wall and feeling like we were in a movie – hair flicking in the cool breeze.
“Is this real life?” she asked after a long moment of silence. She stared down the street, brakelights and streetlights reflecting in her eyes and off her skin.
“Or just fantasy?” I shot back.
“Shut up.” She looked down at her feet and beyond, 15 meters down. I had to make sure she was holding onto something steady behind her. “What if I fell?”
I tried not to laugh at the mental image of her bursting into ketchup on the pavement – a pretty gruesome thought if you gave it a sec. I failed and she laughed, too.
“Well if eff equals emmay” I started. “For simplicity let say 100kilos at 9.8 meters per second squared so you've got... 980 Newtons of force when you hit the ground.” She didn't look at me, just scrunched up her nose. “Falling, what, 15 meters, so the speed when you hit the bottom is...” Fifteen times 9.8 “... abooooout” What the fuck is the square root of that?
She looked at me interested now.
“12ish meters per second?”
“How fast is that?”
“About 25 miles an hour” I responded. She didn't look impressed. “What do you think'll happen?” She gave it a second to think about, I don't think she imagined the pain of a shattering pelvis or a lifetime in a wheelchair. Couldn't of blamed her.
“100 kilos for simplicity? How much is that in pounds?”
“220” I replied quickly.
She laughed a nervous laugh. Worst part was I wasn't sure if I'd over or undershot – or even if she cared that much.
“Imperial units suck though” I replied. “They make no sense”
“Yeah?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah” I responded, truthfully.
“How big is your dick? Right now, I mean” She asked like any other question, knowing with near certainty I was hard as granite.
I rolled my eyes, she'd been pulling shit like this all night. For hours it had been “Mmm you look better than pussy” and “How big is Bronte's dick and how much did you fit in your mouth?” along with ass taps and lurid eyes. Peace really was a bit of a creep but I let her get away with it because she was drunk as tits and was relativley harmless. I looked behind us and the only one is the little room was Marty and when I realised his breathing was in a long and broad like a shallow sea I spoke.
“I dunno, like 6 inche-” and I realised as I said it what she meant. She started laughing. “I get you.” she kept on laughing. “What? Then how big is yours?” she didn't look at me, she just looked forward and asked me back:
“You think I'm a wasp? Thing I'm gunna sting ya?”
I was pretty sure she was. I was like, 80% sure. “Yeah” I said with a shrug.
“You think I'm 220pounds and I have a dick?” she asked accusatorially
I thought about it a moment longer. “The weight was just for simplicities sake” for some reason I was less sure now.
She just scoff-laughed and looked back down either way in the street, watching people walk far below us. “Couldn't blame you, I guess” she sighed. I didn't know if she was talking about the dick or the weight, but she didn't sound hurt at all. She understood. Silence.

“I haven't talked to Bronte for ages” I noted.
“It's been a day, man. She's had a big day, too.” She has a big something else too. “That she does... though not too big” I realised I'd been thinking out loud. Alcohol is a shit drug, Alai was right. “I reckon you could fit it.”
My teeth gritted in reflex, my ass clenched instinctively. The muscles in my dick flexed.
“And I'd probably bounce like a big beach ball” she said with seriousness as she flipped her legs back over the window sill. “And just roll around on the ground. Your real smart aren't you?”
“Not really” I replied airily. She started humming Bohemian Rhapsody.

That night I fell asleep in a blink on my own to the sound of the room directly upstairs shaking. Peace must have woken Marty. I woke up during the night to hear them going at it again (or still going at it). I felt robbed for some reason, like now I knew what I was missing out on. For the first time in my life I felt jealous.

–---

Whiskey's back shimmered in sweat and her body moved rhythmically. Her orange hair was pulled back into a hand while anther pushed it into her back. She moaned every breath, every thrust - her thighs were shaking. She was looked straight forward and away from me, my hand squeezed her hair tighter, pulling her into me. I leant down over her and put my body weight into her back, thrusting ferally.
“I don't think you know me that well” It was definitley Whiskey's voice, but lips were only moving in time with her moaning like a dubbed chinese film. I couldn't look into her eyes and they kept on changing. Whiskey was looking straight at me. She was on her hands and knees and I was sitting on a chair in front of them.
“What do you mean?” I asked
She was moaning loudly now, her breasts shaking about over the bed sheets as she got fucked. She managed a smile at me as I looked over her body, behind her to see Bronte – not looking at me, not even acknowledging me. She had one hand grabbing Whiskey's ass and the other pulling her hair back. She was fucking like a beast, like a minotaur, like a feral.
I tried to get her attention but I couldn't.
“Isn't it obvious?” Whiskey asked me.

We were in a crowded bar on the beach, sun rising over the waves.
“Isn't it obvious?” she repeated. I put my hand on hers but she pulled back, picked up her things and walked away, over to the door where Bronte was waiting.


Frustration.

–-

The next morning, when I got downstairs Big Mat had returned with four or five people sleeping there. Incense had been burnt in the middle of the donut that was Big Mat and a few people were doing Yoga down there. Being a weekday most people shot off rather early - the showers had been used when we left. Who knows how many people were actually here last night?
I knew I was going to see Bronte that day, regardless of what happened. There was no other alternative in my head.
I thought about calling her but at the same time not wanting to leave another awkward voice message but then she mightn't know I called or what was going on Fuck technology. I remembered why I never had these sorts of things in the first place. I decided to text her, to keep the language brief and say what I'm doing. She can decide what to do from there.

To: Bronte
Time: Fri 1010
Hey.
Me, Marty and Dom are comig[sic] around this tonight. Hope that's alright. Peace.

I received a response back within an hour

From: Bronte
Time: Fri 1058
Cool! See you guys then. ;)

I love winky faces but hated how she actually did have credit.
Dom, Marty and I left while people were still in The Palace at about 5pm. That was cool, though. It wasn't hard to remember that it wasn't our house. None of our stuff was in there. Dom and I could carry what we owned.
“It's fucking insane. How did this even happen” Dominic asked as we started walking. I shrugged, Marty was silent. Dom looked back down the street towards The Palace, covering his eyes from the sun. “It's fucking glorious!” His eyes watered a little but it could've been the light in his eyes.
I nodded with him and noted it; its outline. Its stack and windows. Its paint flaking. Its markings and scars of spraypaint and soot and rain along its walls. Its cracked brick and beer signs, posters and ads labelled all over it. The way it disappeared down the side street and the way it's walls pushed as far as they could into the sidewalk, squeezing as much space as it could inside itself. I membered the sight of it, the sound of the streets, the feeling of the asphalt radiating the suns heat and miraging the end of the street. Synthesising protein that would form the pathway of a memory that I would recall to my friends, parents and children. I knew I would remember these last few days, no matter what happened in the next few, for as long as I can remember.

When Marty caught up with us he sleepily turned around to look down the street, exhaled loudly and turned back around, disinterested. We overtook him quickly. He seemed even more tired than myself or Dom.
“Is this the real life?” He asked with humour.
Dangling feet. Ketchup explosion
I laughed at him but didn't finish the line.
“Man I can hear everything” I shot at him.
“Huh?” he asked, but he realised as he said it.
“You're only, like, 12 feet away from me.” I tried to sound a little annoyed and not like I just wanted to talk about exactly what we were doing, because in my world The Palace wasn't even the biggest or the weirdest thing. He looked a little embarrased, but only a little.
“Yeaaaahe, sorry” he laughed a little. “I never realised....” he tried to find tact for the end of the sentence. “...I was that loud.” Dom lacked tact. There was a short pause as I tried to figure out what to say next. Does it hurt?
“Weird isn't it?” Dom said before my mouth opened. “You'd never thought it would be like this a week ago”
“A week ago we were getting kicked out of that casino” I noted with humour
“Aw yeah” he laughed a the memory; flipping off the security as they threw our guitars at us. I remembered the conversation we were having as we were finding a parking lot or a row of bushes to sleep in – how we were detirmined to get to San Francisco by sundown the next day. It had already been 6 days in this city and we were already in the process of re-evaluating our lives.
“Does it hurt?” I asked after a quick peak over my shoulder to make sure Marty was outside hearing range. He paused and scrunched his face up a bit as he thought about it, weighing it up in his head. He tilted it from side to side as he used it, as if weighing the thought physically in his head, letting it roll around in his grey matter.
“Yeah” he said with a short nod. “At first, yeah it does. Edward was real gentle, though.”
“How did she... ya know?”
“Get me to do it?” he finished my question for me.
“Yeah”
“She told me, man. Straight up.” He answered.
“When?!” I yelped, annoyed maybe, confused a little.
“Uhhh, first day, in the cafe. Straight after everyone heard you ask Bronte out”
My heart skipped and I cringed a little. Was that really how it went down. Aw fuck man. I thought I was smoother than that and suddenly knowing perhaps I wasn't was like getting punched by a stranger on the street. So I laughed nervously. Thankfully Dominic skipped ahead in his story.
“She told me. She said; paraphrased, 'Look, there's no easy way to say this. I have a penis. Wanna have fun and see what happens? Because I like you.' “
“...and?”
So I gave it a day and half and thought “Fuck it if I don't I'll never know. It started fairly... normally.”
“And now it's not normal?”
He smiled a little, like he was taking a really big, satisfying shit. “It's better then that now. It's abnormal”
“Gross dude”
“It hurts at first. That's all I'm gonna say” He exclaimed it rather loudly. I looked back to check on Marty, still gloomy apparently not listening and then looked back at Dom. I tried to imagine him getting assfucked for a second. It was actually quite easy. He looked at me and we made eye contact Fuck for a few seconds Fuck fuck fuck I looked away real sus like and started laughing nervously.

We looked back at each other. Fucking hell!

Then darted back away again
Could I?
Slowly this time, we looked back towards each other. He flared his nostrils and the edge of his mouth turned up into a smile.
Laughter started like sodium and water, fizzling softly and then exploding.
Nah
We were laughing for real now. Actual laughter, hurting laughter. We became like Kookaburras [google it] or drunk satyrs. Laughing and laughing. It became apparent to me just at that moment how absurd this whole situation was. It wan't the real life at all. Surely not.
I must be dreaming a long dream. Because my dreams were getting more real, everyone and everything around us was weird and backwards, we slept and lived in an abandonned church of alcohol, our girlfriends were boyfriends and for a second I thought perhaps I'd want one too. It was all so crazy. So we laughed at it. If you can't laugh at yourself there is perhaps nothing you can truly laugh at. We kept on laughing, he fell over at some point before taking some deep breaths – more laughter – and then more deep breaths. Chuckling, deep breathing, laughing a little more. “Alright” A few more deep breaths. Get a hold of yourself “Alright alright”
“Alright”
“Aaallright”
“Can gays even get married in California?” Dom asked and we started giggling like iditos again.
“Doesn't matter” Marty said calmly, seriously. We stopped laughing suddenly and turned to listen. He kept on sauntering past us as he mumbled. “You can call yourself Dominique and be the woman”
Everyone on the street watched us suffocate ourselves.
“What the hell is with that Dominique shit anyway?” I asked as the laughing stopped, catching back up to Marty.
“No seriously that's so weird.” Dom perked as we finally stopped laughing again. “She likes getting called Edward and calling me that. It like, turns her on”
“Yeah, that's pretty weird, man” Marty pointed out. You knew it was weird if he thought it was.
“Where are you from... man?” I asked Marty
“Santa Rosa...... man” if he were more awake he would've pointed east but his ringed eyes could hardly open.
“How did you meet...these people?
Man?”
“Long story” he groaned. “Met Peace in a bathhouse” he didn't sound like he wanted to talk.
“And you guys are all sweet?” I asked.
“What does that even mean?” he groaned.
“Are you like... going out?”
“No no no. She doesn't do that, she just sleeps with people. I'm cool with that” he seemed cool with it. “I mean, she doesn't call me Mary or anything, either”
“Missing out” Dom added with a chuckle that sounded fake.
“What is all this shit about?” I pointed to Dom “You just let yourself be called Dominique? Do you like it too, or something?” I was a wee bit shocked but I spose I shouldn't have been. Dom put an arm around my shoulder.
“Mate, these are strange days and I don't forsee them getting any less strange. We met these people 5 nights ago, imagine 5 years with them.” He let that sink in a moment. “This is truly a fantasy”
“You didn't answer the question” I replied.
“Didn't I? Well the answer is yes. I like it.”


>>
Anonymous 15/01/02(Fri)12:21 No. 23049 ID: 9b1f4a

C'mon DJ, bring that beat back!


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 15/01/27(Tue)04:57 No. 23161 ID: bc18c6

Next two chapters drop pretty soon, I've spent a long time on this section of the story because a lot of it relates back to itself, I wanna make sure all the shit is right.
Be cool, be patient, this is where shit get's interesting.


>>
Anonymous 15/01/30(Fri)23:43 No. 23173 ID: 9b1f4a

>>23161
:D


>>
Anonymous 15/02/17(Tue)10:19 No. 23284 ID: 9b1f4a

>>23161
so.... how soon is soon? It's been a month now...


>>
Anonymous 15/02/18(Wed)07:15 No. 23286 ID: 212277

>>23284
the end justifies the means (or the delay).
Having high hopes for a quality update


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 15/02/26(Thu)07:04 No. 23322 ID: 1842aa

Chapter 8 – Gimmie Shelter

tags: herm on male, oral

-------

A startled Egypt opened the door for us and then, like the mouse she takes after, she squealed happily and reached her arms out for a hug. She had a giant grin on her face.
“Hey guys!” she sounded surprised though perhaps frightened.
“Hey!” Dom launched himself at her and hugged her tight. She smiled and hmmed as she hugged him and each of us in turn. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her freckles were a dark brown sprinkle on her cheeks. She was playing with her phone, pushing the screen every now and again as she invited us inside.
“Tea?” She asked.
“Isn't... he here?” I asked back a little perplexed. I thought he was here.
“No no, do you want some tea?”
“Oh! Yeah, suprise me” I answered
I'd always considered Egypt to be one of those girls who wasn't exactly always switched on.
“Is Peace upstairs?” Marty asked with a tired drawl, slumbering past us.
“Yeah sleeping in her room.., I think.” Egypt answered slowly, rounding the vowels and articulating the consontants the way Californians do.
She seemed to hesitate before saying anything kinda like everything she was saying was make it up as she was saying it.
“I might join her” he slurred even slower as he began to hike the stairs.
“Uuuuuh” Egypt sounded hesistant and she flashed a glance at me a second. “I think...” She tried to piece together a sentence with minimal shock value. “Pixie is up there with heeerr” she trailed the last vowel out as her phone grabbed her attention again.
There was a short pause. Egypt tapped the screen of her phone.
“Oh” Marty answered back. “Is she.... cool at the moment?”
“Probs. Go check.” she explained, filling up a tea pot.
“What does cool even mean?” Dom asked as he leant down in the seat, idly playing his guitar.
“You know” she responded vaguely, her phone keeping her attention. “cool”in the same tone of voice. I wouldn't have even considered the possibility she was acting.
I shrugged and asked “Is Bronte upstairs?” Not even going to try hiding my emotion.
“Yeah but I'm.. not sure what she's... up to” she staggered her voice as she touched her phone a few more times before idling it and dropping it into her pocket.
Her dress had pockets.
Maybe she wasn't so vacant.
Ed slid down the stairs in a hurry into Dom and they quickly kissed before greeting each other, smiling broadly.
“Hey” Dom.
“Hey!” Ed. They joined us. “What is it?” Ed asked, pointing to the tea.
“Chamomile” Egypt ardently replied.
Dom and I quickly glanced at each other, shared a smirk but hid our laughter – a story for a different time
Ed checked her phone and tucked it away again while it was served. Milk and honey and little cups and little biscuits peppered the table.
Egypt seemed to be that girl who loved girly things; saucers under cups, dresses, flowers growing on the balcony, big pillows, scented soap. She was shy and exhuberent at the same time she said the most random things at times - like she were hardly there.
“Isn't pea funny?” she idly wondered. A few moments passed until she realised the mistake. “Pee” she repeated and began giggling.
“Looks like pee” Dom poked as he swirled it around in his cup.
“Mmmmmmm” Edwin hummed contently. “Tastes like pee too”
Egypt was the first one to begin laughing, Dominic and I were laughing, too. But we were laughing at something way, way different. I heard footsteps beating down the stairs as the laughter died down.
This is when I met Liam.

Liam was tall. He was wearing an (overpriced) business shirt with a black tie (undone) and draped over his shoulder. He had long black slacks and short hair that was blonde at the tips. Liam was tanned and toned and walked in big strides. He looked a bit disheveled, he's ash black suit jacket over one arm, shirt untucked. He gave me one or two looks up and down and I swear I heard him scoff under his breath.
I thought Liam was a dick from the second I saw him.
“Hey friend” he stuck his hand out and was upon me within a few steps. The way he said 'friend' made me want to turn my nose up.
“Hey. Mark” I introduced myself politely.
“Liam. I'd love to chill and chat but I've got to scramble.”
“Awwww stay a little, we've got beer” Egypt cried.
“No seriously, I've gotta split. Make sure Anna gets her present. See you guys” he waved at all of us then looked at me. “Have fun”
“Peace” I farewelled. He looked back confused.
“Up-stairs I think” he replied with hesitation, a brief moment of panic – Fight of Flight or Fuck
“No no, Peace, dude” I gave him the V. He looked at me as if I'd become a child.
“Yeah, peace... man.” Egypt and Ed laughed a little bit as he disappeared out the front door.

-

Upstairs.
The living room was in its characterisic red glow. A single light in the middle of the room painted the tapestries and curtains in an Amsterdam ember. 1718; A trio of dames adorned the balcony behind a glass screen wearing long, thin dresses. A clutter of flattops and high heels peppered the ground around their bare-foot bodies. The street lights beat from beneath them and they almost silhouetted against the far side of the street. I recognised Alai but I did not recognise the other two. They were all smoking cigarettes and drinking red wine and looked pleased in each other's company and each was more lovely than the last. The two girls I didn't know looked elegant, not glamorous, free, not dirty, hippy, not hipster. One had long straight blonde hair that just glowed in the scarlet light of the streetlamps. It framed her supermodel face, her feminine jaw cut squarish and strong. She looked Aegian – mediterranean skin, not orange or brown like a West Coaster but olive. The other looked more central European – stealth bomber black hair teased and tussled organically in long twirls. They both had long, skinny legs but hid their skin modestly – only a few tasteful contours showed. The latter girl looked towards me and her face smacked me in the stomach like a rubber bullet. I felt my heart racing just looking at her. She was a fairy – her long, (almost) pointed ears complimented her pointed chin, her jaw polished with elegance, her pixie eyes full and colourful and her cheeks looked soft yet smooth like they were carved from ice. I realised she was looking at me – even though in the dim of the room I swore she was unable to see me.
She took a concerned draw of her cigarette and looked back at the other girls, a perplexed, angry expression on her face, diving deep into perhaps serious conversation. Even the way she held herself, she looked dextrous, she looked magical.

“Coming in?”
Imagine a day so hot you can see heat mirage coming from your own skin and can feel the saliva in your own mouth evaporate. Imagine the coldest, bubbliest lemonade you've ever had, so chilled the glass is steaming.

Oh maaaaan
My chest jump-
ed and bit through my ribs with the ring of her voice. Her door was ajar, a light on the inside and warm with the promis of Bronte so with gingery steps I walked towards the door. Each step felt like I was underwater, time seemed to slow. No fighting, no flying. Just as I put my hand on the doorframe I caught one more glance outside. The girl with blackhair was watching me. I didn't have enough time to see her face, to gauge her response to my walk of shame.

Bronte was lying on the bed in her underwear. I could feel spaghetti rising. I was on the crest of of a very tall rollercoaster; the lurch of free fall; the stomach flitter of fear and adoration. I knew it – in the squashed and displace section of my mind dedicated to rationality that it was simply the emotions and the chemicals that come with them. She'd kept me without release for days and now I felt her when I was in the same room; stronger than gravity. The light in her room was a crisp white fluro and it bounced off the walls as easily as it did her skin. She looked like ice cream, her waist and stomach smooth and pink. The cleft where her waist joined her hips, the curve - scientists could experimentally prove it was perfect. People write symphonies about girls like this. Her chest was covered by a simple white bra. Her neck begged to be touched, to have teeth digging into it.
And then her eyes.
Then her eyes.
Which together with her mouth stared into mine that could be saying anything you wanted them to say -
'Come here?
Lie down with me?
Tie me up!
Let's fuck?
In a second you'll be gagging on my dick and you know it?'

I didn't care where my mind was taking me. There were no breaks. Even autopilot was off and no one was driving this derailing train.

I think this is the only point in the story where I could say I was in love.

Going to kiss me?
Hell yeah
She tilted her head the way she always does; a beckon; a “come here.” It let me taste the sight of her neck. Snow slopes. I fell over all my words. I think almost a whole sentence was composed entirely of vowels.
C'mon, come in

The door shut behind me. The last 10 seconds was an adrenalin blur. Even now I can't remember what I'd said but it didn't matter, Bronte was laughing. Everything was good in the world.
“Are you alright?” she asked in a giggle as she began pushing things off her bed; shirts, computers. I just nodded in response as only her eyes followed me, circling the bed, kicking off my shoes. She was cooler than a razer blade and hotter than stolen car. I couldn't tell if I was freezing or melting.

So I lunged at her and scooped my hands around her waist. Her legs wrapped around me and our lips occupied the same area. They dragged along each other, each skim and nip sending my spine tingling. Her arms wrapped around my back, grabbing my shoulder blades and her stomach pressed into mine. She let out soft moans that muffled themselves against my tongue.
She was all mine.
I'd been entranced by her beauty, and managed to mould it toward pleasure. I was biting her neck, squeezing her muscles and denting the skin between my teeth. She moaned harder. I began rocking into her softly feeling our skin connect and slide over each other like two layers of ice. She returned the movement and rubbed herself against me. My eyes shot open as I felt her masculinity against my abdomen remembering, in fact, I was all hers.

I was still in a state of utter confusion. Even when I came into the room I could see and smell and feel everything I knew I loved about her. Her gaze when she wanted you. Her eyes and skin. Her contours and her curves – everything feminine. She manouevered so I could feel her hardening dick against mine and even now it was so hard for me to get my head around. Her dick was pressed against mine, massaging it, laughing at it. I was confused because it felt good. So good in fact. Not good just a reptile 'must impregnate receive dopamine' sort of way. It felt good inside. And I knew it shouldn't've. It went against everything I'd learned and taught myself through my life but the only thing that was stronger than my frustration was my libido. Cognitive dissonance was pushed to the side along with rationality. The only things that were left were
A: The need to have this girl(?). The need to be needed by her.
B: The need to cum.
I wasn't just turned on, I was on overdrive. I'd been breaking out into sweats because I was so wired.
My balls, all day, had been hurting immensely. There was a constant hum in my mind like a vibrator. It kept me erect and never let me forget it. I'd been trying to ignore it but the minute I'd landed on her Bronte knew it. She knew everything.
She knew the frustration – she could feel it while she took my shirt off.
She knew the confusion – she saw it behind my eyes as she rolled me over.
She also knew how hard I'd fallen for it. She had no mercy for my situation.
With her on top she began pulling at the top of my pants, tugging them down my waist and then dragging them down to my feet. She looked at me the whole time as she moved further and further away. She watched with captivated glee at my cock tense and tightening the fabric of my underwear. I could see it in her face it turned her on like nothing else.
“Someone's been missing me” she smirked as she crawled back up my body and cupped my balls. I didn't need to answer with words – just a pliant groan. She straddled my waist and pressed her self into me. I could see the very 3D outline of her member in her underwear – careening out to the side and streching the cotton. I could even see veins. Entranced I reached out and pulled the top of her underwear down a little – quickly darting my eyes up to catch her looking imperiously at my progress until it flopped free, rigid and ready upwards. She looked at my face, half in adoration and half in pity.
I put my hand around it. It really was hard – really really hard. It was veiny and firm and a small speckling of public hair hand begun growing above the base. It was a little abraisive to the touch but not uncomfortable. With a slow hand I pulled back on her foreskin to reveal the head. It stared at me, its wet, glistening eye looking ready to gush. I pumped it a few more times slowly to the sound of her moans. She pulled down my briefs, too and with both hands grabbed both dicks and pressed them together. She mutually pumped them and looked at me and smirked that confident “ha ha” smirk. She didn't even need to say a word anymore. She got enough satisfaction at me dodging her eyes, my face going flush – her dick squashing mine with impunity. It was such a weapon. I felt the veins and muscles pulse and flex with every heartbeat which was almost as fast as mine.
“I still can't get over...” I started and didn't finish the way nervous boyfriends do. She raised a eyebrow.
“...how big it is?” she finished my sentence for me completely correctly this time. “Yeah... I like it.” Her voice was confident. Husky, but confident. “Do you?” She asked again.

I really wish I didn't know the answer. I really wish I could use that excuse again. I really wish I could say “I don't know. Give some more time to think about whether I'm okay with a girl having a bigger dick than me”
But it had been almost 2 days since I had last seen her and if I was being honest with myself I knew that more than ninety-nine percent of my thoughts hadn't just been about her – they'd been about her dick. Even though I was still horribly confused the combined feelings of frustration, pent up sexual energy, desire and a new-found curiosity with masochism outweighed the confusion to the extreme.
I nodded like an idiot. Guilty
She laughed a conceited, childish laugh and foreplay was over. She stood herself up onto her feet, kicking off her underwear and placed a Caeserly foot astride either side of my face. I looked up at her from beneath. Her ass cheeks, folding over her legs slightly like loaves of bread. Her pussy – the insde of the labia glitteringly wet which bled over to the underside of her big balls, daunting in their magnitutde and then to her cock. Her rammer. Her 'you wish you were as man as me' fuck stick. Her hand was squeezing the head very slightly, rubbing it in the right ways only the owner really knows. She gave me a few good seconds to take in the sight – the spleandour and impossibility of it all before she flicked her hair aside her face and began sitting herself down – on my face.
For a second I remember Whiskey and even realised that their movements were almost exactly the same and I wondered who'd learnt it from whom. She lowered herself onto me and for a second I thought I had a choice. I didn't.

Her pussy tasted sweet. I read once somewhere that a good indicator that two people's immune systems were different and the attraction wasn't just phyiscal and emotional but was chemical, too, was if the smells and tastes of the other were pleasant. The usual eccentrities of pussy were there: the slightly uric, acidic taste and the zest of sweat and a few tastes I was pretty sure shouldn't be there: the chloriney, bitter taste of... something? She was wet everywhere down there and so by extrapolation so was my face.
Her moans were sweet, too. I could hear them leap from the tip of her tongue as the tip of mine pressed as far into her corridor as I could and danced up and down. With my tongue in her snatch my nose was in her balls once again creating a severe dichotomy in my head. I was beyond worrying now, I was beyond caring, even. I just needed to get her off. I wanted her to cum.
With Bronte owning a dick and all I was surprised when I found her clitoris. So was Bronte and her breathing devolved in a carnal gasps. I gave it long, slow licks - tastebuds becoming beads of pleasure to her and she rewarded them with a fresh flush of fluid. She moaned in long stunted breaths as my tongue and mouth built pressure at her bead, licking the bottom of her big balls as it happened.
“Hoo-ooly...” she whimpered. She was always able to contain herself when I was sucking her dick but apparently pussy was something else – she was still a girl, too. Her legs began shaking slightly around my cheeks.

Eating pussy was something I loved doing, there was no doubt about that. Giving pleasure and guiding someone through lust was so rewarding – though the feeling was tarnished a little as I'd never done it with a cock just centimeters from my face. With a deep, deep breath I began rubbing my tongue along the underside of her balls. She shot a look down at me and around the breadth of her shaft to stare longingly, hungrily into my eyes. She gave her dick a few beats in her fist and slapped it a bit against my forehead.
“You suck at sucking dick” she whimpered breathily “but ohmygod...” There was never a better indicator to continue. “Ohhhmygodohmygod”
I sucked very gently on her lips, pushing them apart with my tongue and gumming her labia in tiny gnapes. I brought her clitoris into my mouth with some suction, beating it with my tongue. She whimpered sharply and lifted herself off me.
“Oooh Too much” Bronte almost whispered. I nodded pointlessly as she landed her lips back against mine and I licked and lapped at them. She moaned and groaned and flexed her back slightly as she began pumping her dick harder and harder and I thought perhaps she was about to cum. Hre breath was getting shorter, her movements more erratic. Yep. She was about to cum but then -
“Stopstopstopstop” she patted the top of my head softly a few times and she forcefully steadied her breathing, long straight inhalation. “Jsst, staystill a while. Just stay still” her voice was hoarse and breathy and her legs stopped their shivering.
I mmhmm into her pussy and poked my tongue out, letting her rub against it as she wished. She used it slowly, letting herself glide along my tastebuds in mewly pants. With Bronte it's not enough to just cum, she needs to squeeze every drip of pleasure out, to push it as fa as she could.

She had shut her eyes and was slowly jerking her member and I watched entranced by the skin folding over her meatus and retracting again, the pink plush mushroom head of her dick shiny with man juices and my mouth full of woman juices. I felt something push my dick into my stomach – her hand squeezed and mashed my length which I returned rewards with verbally with soft moans. She smiled a little at me and brushed her hair out of the sides of her face again, her fringe bobbing around as she moved.
“I don't think I could ever be more turned on” I explained to her. She seemed to take a second or two to think of a response.
“You will be” Bronte sounded sure of it and I whimpered. The hope off getting of seemed ever closer as she lifted herself over my face and dropped her balls in my mouth. My tongue shot into action, swirling around the fleshy sacks as Bronte massaged the shaft directly in front of my eyes. I was drunk on the sight of her dainty fingers squeezing her anything-but-dainty cock. It made me drool and if I had a pussy it would flood. Her balls were too big to even fit in my mouth. They didn't hang low so I couldn't slowly wrap my jaws around them I could only lap at them like an ice cream. She loved it either way, panting in pleasure and giggling at the feeling.
“I love your mouth” Bronte moaned as I slid my body southwards and back towards her pussy. “I love your tonguuuuue” her voice trailed into a croon once my lapping continued.
This time she grabbed my head with one of her hands and began rocking against me – her other hand still kept pumping her dick. Soon she was moaning and rocking rhythmically, lost in a trance behind her eyes as she ground against my tongue as it hooked upwards. Her pussy dripped juices into my mouth as I swallowed and struggled to breathe. I could only respire through my nose and half the time it was clogged with scrotum (which she loved the feeling of).
Her moans grew sharpish and she sped up her pumping. Her legs were shivering around my face and I could tell from the look on her face she was thinking 'dontstopdontstopdontstop'. With panic I realised she was ready to blow right in front of my eyes and head and around my tongue. I carved the taste, the sound and the sight to memory. I wanted to remember her girlishness.
Sweat, lubrication, precum and the contours of her body, her rib cage flexing and contracting in short, sharp, sweet breaths. Her moans peppered the air as if her voice was icing sugar, falling in little nectarous clumps into my ear and through the walls, clogging my own conscious mind into the far reaches of space. She moaned the universal language of pleasure;
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh yessssss” and with a clenched fist in my hair and a arched back I felt her implode.
“Aiiighhh” she squealed in cosmic delight and I watched her expode. I couldn't look away and I watched her eyes roll back, her face slacken and her body quiver as syrupy white ropes launched onto my forehead and nose before it came dribbling out in thick, semi-solid waterfalls down her dick. She jerked it more, moaning sweetly as she squeezed her seed from her in dollops and finally looked down, smiling contently at me, our lips still locked in a treacly embrace. Her cock flexed a few more times and the semen dribbled down towards her balls. Bronte lifted herself off me (finally letting me catch a full breath) and let her dense balls dangle heavily above me.

With soft fingers she wiped some semen from dribbling into my eyes but with a wicked grin she spoke.
“You've got to clean up” I looked at the cum dripping from her tip, down her shaft and from her balls as she alligned herself directly over my mouth. Without thinking, without hesitation, without fear of humiliation or the loss of respect it might gather I cleaned. I licked the cum straight from her big balls and swallowed everything that didn't cling to my pallette or between my teeth.
I was obedient. She soughed as I did as she wished.
Deep down, somewhere in a part of me that was still confused, loud but ignored, I loved it. I think I realised that at that point but I didn't want to admit it to her, I didn't want her to know but I didn't know why I didn't want her to know. I know now, with hindsight though, that I wanted her to see how far she could go. I wanted to pretend because I wanted her to believe me and I wanted her to break me. I wanted her to go ahead even if I wanted it or not because she knew I wanted it from the second I drunkenly got stuck with her dick in my mouth. To her the sight of me licking her cum from her balls was part of the game she'd already won.
“Dinner” I said with stupidity. She could've rolled her eyes but it was probably from the feeling of my tongue running against her oversized balls.

The sweetness disappeared into bitterness and saltiness as she leant forward, giving me a good angle to slurp her genetic material from her skin. She watched me with a satisfied smirk – with a look that would make anyone do anything and here I was – cleaning her butter pumper. By now I knew her dick well, the vein that cut it in half down the middle, the smoothness of its underside. I scraped the coagulating cum off with my teeth. I swear I could feel her sperm swimming around my mouth as it was meeting the bacteria behind my lips - bathing in the sea of enzymes and saliva, looking for eggs to fertilise and for a second I thought perhaps I'd want them to find one...

“You kinda make me wish I was a girl” Bronte complimented. So do you. Guilt. I swear Bronte reserved the ability to read my mind. I licked her balls a little more in response, letting her softening dick begin to rest against my face with dominance. Bronte was a shower for real, her soft dick was about as big as mine hard and I could feel its weight against my brow and cheek, feeling it stick to my cum-glazed face. “The way you eat pussy is...” she didn't need to finish the sentence with words. “...Uagh” I kept licking her balls as she began wiping semen from my face, smearing it into the bed sheets. I looked up at her with one eye (as the other was eclipsed by dick) and just smiled a little at her.
“You taste so good” I complimented her back, truthfully. With a huff she lifted her legs back over to one side, landed herself lying on the bed next to me and kissed me right on the mouth.
“I missed you” she told me like a secret.
“I missed you, too” I responded.
“You sure?” she asked while her fingers gripped my dick. It was aching for release, every touch was a bushfire. Inside I was burning. “I think you're just cock-drunk” she had a chuckle in her voice. “I think you just missed my cock” the way she said 'cock' made my feeble insides quiver “But I don't mind” she played, biting her lip with her top teeth. I just shook my head and chuckled with her a little. Then she looked at me like she was expecting me to say something so I did.
“It's huge.” I complimented her. I swear she could've blushed but it was probably just the lust that brew when she heard it.
“I know” she replied pertly.
“You love it when I say it, don't you?” I asked her. She nodded slowly, methodically, a smile forming again. “And I love your smile, too” I kept on going and like a flower her smile bottomedblossomed into a laugh. I pulled her a little closer. “I love so many things about you” I felt like perhaps I was saying too much, but her expression begged me to continue.
“Like what?” she asked. Bronte was a narcissist. She loved herself because she knew what she was capable of and she knew she was gorgeous. She loved hearing it, too. She loved feeling better than others.
“I love...” you. “I love the way you take what you want.” Me. “I love the way treat me” Bronte smiled like a cutie and bit me on the cheek. Rationality told me to avoid this situation. People like Bronte hurt others. Her friends had warned me, too. There would be problems with respect, with give and take, personal space and eventually fidelity. Bronte felt she was better than everyone and so everyone was less important that herself. It's recipe for disaster, I knew that.
But I didn't care. I worshipped her, now. If she told me to lick her cum from the floor I would. I won't mention that one. “I like the way you claim me”
Bronte whimpered a satisfied sound. She wiped a bit more of her cum from my face it a cute, condescending sort of way.
“You're so sweet” she goaded.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“Working” she replied, her fingers stretching around my cheek and laying there softly.
“At the gym?” I asked.
“No” she responded immediately. “Babysitting” she replied after some thought. “I was looking after two ten year olds all yesterday and today”
“You're... busy” I conceded. She giggled a little.
“You have no idea” she said luridly, begging a question I didn't have the balls to ask and again, as if she were reading my mind and testing me she gave them a quick squeeze. I mewled and she laughed.
“Painful?” she asked playfully.
“You have no i-” and I stopped when I remembered she did indeed have an idea. She probably had more of an idea than me. She gently cupped them, squeezing them super softly, laughing as I danced between wincing in pain and begging her to do more.
“Can I come yet?” I asked. Please please please
She shook her head. “Nuh uh, not yet.” She yawned and blinked heavily a few times – she seemed very tired but quickly she shot awake again. “Oh oh! Ttomorrow is Inanna's eighteenth which we're all getting ready for and I need to ask you something” she looked into my eyes like she wanted something more than a blowjob. “Can we party at The Palace?” she waited in anticpation. I just looked at her like I was talking to an idiot.
“Why the hell are you asking me? It's not mine!”
“Weelll, I thought with you living there and-”
“It's not my property you can do whatever the hell you want” was code for yes.
“Thankyou thankyou” and she hugged me harder. I could feel her soft dick against my waist and the heartbeat beneath its skin. I felt more and more turned on. I felt the temperature of the room rise with my imagination.
“Is it a party?” I asked. I ran my hand down her leg and to her ass, grabbing it firmly and playing with it while she lifted a leg over and around mine, letting our dicks touch in a tummy-churning illusion. Her soft skin slid over mine and Bronte nodded as she blinked and made a cute little 'mmhmm' sound.
“Inanna has good taste in parties” she sounded mischevious as she said it which set off sirens somewhere. “It's gonna be so much fun” and she looked straight into my eyes in such a way I had to look away but couldn't.
“Is Inanna one of those girls out there?” I pointed out the door. “On the balcony.”
“Yeah, Anna is Alai's sister”
“The one with black hair.” It wasn't a question. She looked a little perplexed.
“How did you know” I shrugged.
“Is she with... uhhh” that dude who was just here. “That guy... he had a shirt”
“Liam” she answered quickly.
“Yeah. Is she with him?”
“No?” she half asked half answered. “He's a friend of miiine” and she looked like she'd said too much. “We were just hanging out..”
“It's, Onana(?) Inonna(?)...”
“Inanna” Bronte clarified with a laugh.
“Inanna's birthday tomorrow?” I asked. Bronte nodded. “And she wants to party at the Palace?”
“We can come by tomorrow and fix everything up all sweet.”
“How many people?”
“About fifty” Ten? Two hundred?
I hmmed and closed my eyes. “She seems like a cool person.” I postured “She's very beautiful” idly noting. Bronte nodded and yawned at the same time. “You're all very beautiful” and because yawning was contagious I yawned, too.
“Don't go getting any ideas. You're mine” Those last two words made me feel weak and unprotected. “You're all mine” she lazily dozed at me. The words she were saying were very possessive, aggressive, even, but the way she said them was completely polar. She spoke with lethargy and casuality as if it was a given which is kinda was.

“You're the most beautiful” I uttered. She looked at me like a real girl but said nothing in return. “In fact I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met” I continued and I think I meant that, too.
She looked a little lost, maybe confused, maybe overwhelmed who knows? Not me
“You're just saying that because of this” and she pressed her dick into my leg a little more. She leaned closer until her lips brushed against my ear, sending me shivering. She whispered “You want it bad.” I didn't know how yes to respond to that yes yes. “You want it so bad.” I felt weak. “I tell you what I love about you. You say no but mean yes” her lips were like wax on my ears. “I love the way you give up” her words hurt, not my feelings or my fragile ego which was slowly being crushed by her – it hurt my balls. “I love the way swallow” My dick, full of blood and dense muscles, strained straight up towards the celing and tried to drag my full and tender balls with it. It wasn't hard to ignore it though with Bronte's green, green eyes staring into mine. “I love how you do what I want.” She stared into my eyes with malevolent innocence, knowing full well how much all this turned me on. How much it drove me insane.
She really was beautiful. It's impossible to put into words how I felt and I'm sure you'll never understand. I really was in love I'd thought. Bronte closed in and begn nibbling on my ear softly. All the hairs on my neck and stood on end and I felt the rush of electricity. She exhaled hot breath into my ear and I moaned like a schoolgirl.

That's when we heard a loud thump from above us, Peace let out a lurid groan that echoed through the floorboards and walls. Jesus Christ this place never stops Bronte laughed a tired laugh and dipped her head back into under my neck.
“Lucky Marty” she witlessly narrated.
“He was close to death on the way here. He was so tired.”
“Unlucky Marty” she corrected with a giggle.
“Who is this Liam dude?” I asked and she rolled over a little tense?
“He's... a friend from back home” she sounded unsure of herself but I realised it was because she didn't expect the question. “Why do you ask?” she asked with incredulity defensiveness.
“Because I.. uuhh”
“You're jealous” she quipped with a smirk. “You thought we were fucking.” I did, it was true.
“No no” I tried to keep my sleepy cool. “I just-”
“No it's alright I get it. We don't talk for a few days, handsome guy disappears out of my room”
“Yeah” I nervously chuckled a little, she laughed too and then she leant forward a pecked me on the lips.
You're mine” she emphasized again before nuzzling into my chest, kissing it gently, biting my ribs. She slowly moved up my body and her napes on my skin were like cattle prods of pleasure as a playful finger stroked my dick. She looked into my tired eyes as she felt me tense and tense and tense some more, loving every second of my frustrated pain as the walls rattled from the top down.
“She's a lunatic” Bronte laughed.
“Evidently” I responded, she lowly giggled. “Anything but peaceful” she laughed a little more.
“She's a gifted little fairy” she said it in a mocking tone, as if she were copying someone else. “Besides” she started after a short pause “you're my boyfriend. I don't want that to change” and for a second she seemed extremly vulnerable, like she was spilling everything with a hint of fear – the fear of getting rejected that first loves always have. But I wasn't kidding myself there's no way I am her first love. “I like you a lot” she looked into my eyes and they shimmered softly. I swore they looked greener as she hesitated a second and then leaned in for a kiss.
It was soft, so soft. Her lips were clouds I was falling through and every molecule that hit my skin sent off shockwaves through my body. I could feel my skin on my cheeks and down my neck and back shiver at the skim of her moist lips. We just glazed them over each other for a while, letting them stir each other softly and we stared into each others eyes for a while, getting lost in each other's iris through an oxycodine haze. I could literally feel myself falling. Falling into the mattres, falling in love. The world was so small, it was just our bodies.

Then she bit, sucking on my lower lip with a pert giggle and I'd realised I'd closed my eyes.
“You have a weird way of showing it” my belated reply was more drowsy than I'd anticpated.
“You love it” she proclaimed and nuzzled her head under my neck. “You love it so much.” My belly gurgled and she shufled a little, laughing. “You still hungry? Thought you already had dinner” and she gave my chest a soft slap.
“Don't get any ideas” I shot back at her.
“That's okay, I'll make you eggs for breakfast when you wake up” her hand began playing with my stomach, rubbing it gently as if trying to calm it down a bit. It rumbled angrily a few more times as her hand ventured further and further south. My breath grew heavy as she brushed her fingertips over my junk and she grabbed my balls softly - I winced at the pain. “Do they hurt?” she asked. I couldn't tell if she was concerned or if she just wanted to hear me say it. I didn't want to answer either way: she knew the answer.
“Can I come yet?” There was a long pause as I felt her silently think about it. “Please?” I sounded like I was getting desperate. She leaned in for another kiss, a peck on my lips this time and whispered in my ear.
“Tomorrow. I promise”


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 15/02/28(Sat)20:41 No. 23332 ID: e31f87

Quick words. The next chapter (ten) might take a little longer. I read it with a friend last night and agreed it needed a lot more work. It's the longest chapter I've writen yet and is the most important, I've had a lot of fun writing it but it will not be rushed. Hope you enjoy a bit of pain.

------

Chapter 9 – When You Sleep

tags: herm on male, oral, anal, voyuerism/exhibition, gender obfuscation

The plane was falling. I was in the cockpit looking out at the spinning world as we dove into a tailspin. Bronte was next to me, strapped in and looking calm. There was no pilot and I couldn't fly a damn place. She asked me if I liked this and then smiled as I nodded.
“Good boy” She had her dick out and was stroking it in front of me, even as we were seconds away from death.
“You know where it's going soon?”
I eagerly nodded and she smiled at me again, pushing my head back down. My mouth ws full
and it wasn't with food. Yeah, I was hungry I wonder when breakfast is but I think I was mostly horny. What time is it? Did we land safely
I knew I'd been woken up but wasn't aware of being awake. I could hear sounda, human sounds. They invaded my thoughts like a dick invades a mouth. They were quiet yet so prevalent that it forced you to wake. It sounded like someone snoring...

or someone moaning.

It was aware of a mouthful of dick long before I was aware of my consciousness. I was still in the blury zone between dream and reality. I didn't mind either because I was slobbering on a big dick. It was already completely hard and I knew, straight away, from the feeling of it, the warmth and not least the size of it that it was Bronte's. A muffled, tired protest is all I managed as I peered through the dim light. The room was illuminated by a distant, dim light source but it was still so bright it hurt my eyes. Bronte was sitting up on against the bed head with a finger in her mouth Hng and her eyes feeding off me. I would be lying if I told you I wanted to fall back asleep – as dreary as I was.
I slid back a bit in a lazy motion and with grunted protest I let her dick, already as tall as a cedar, slip back out.
“No no no” she pleaded with me. The fog of sleep was persuasive but the strength ofher hands was far more distracting. “Please.” She guided me back. The smell was intense, sex fluids stuck to the skin for hours.
“What time is it?” I asked groggily. She laughed at my sleep addled question.
“Midnightish” she responded, rather awake.
“Gimmie a sex... sec” I pleaded. I dipped my head down in between her legs a second and took a deep breath in. I was inches from her pussy and the the sordid but pleasant scents attacked my senses: The chlorine/red meat aroma of stale skunk, the acidic, salty odour of dried ball sweat and the sweet piscine waft of pussy. Together they made me salivate more than milk chocolate.
I lifted my head up again, faced her glee with growing motivation and took her dick into my mouth. She gasped slowly, a deeply satisfying exhale, like the first draw of a cigarette. I licked the tip and to sharp surprise (and mounting shame) found the gunky tang pleasing so I ventured further. I wrapped my lips around the swollen tip and ran my tongue beneath it.
I could identify the sounds clearly now – they were Edwin's moans. The accompanied sounds of sucking and gargling implied that the room was being mirrored and Dom was giving a similar service just 12 or so feet away.
“Hnnn fuck” Bronte moaned with pleasure, rolling her head back and letting me work. I was burrowed beneath a blanket a little and couldn't see anything in the room except for Bronte – I felt she wanted it this way so I kept it, moving my eyes from Bronte to Bront'e Dick back to Bronte again. She watched me with lurid eyes, fucking them with me harder than anyone else could even hope. With eyes like that her thoughts were almost palpable and they all consisted of me getting fucked.

I was wild. I was so turned on it hurt and she could see it and she loved it.
“Fuck, that's good” she sighed and I began bobbing up and down, my tongue working its way around the head and forcing forcing as much of her dick down my throat as I could but still hit cock bottom halfway. Mom would be disappointed.
With a deep breath I pulled her out of my mouth, streamers of saliva connecting her rod and my teeth. With two hands I spread it across the whole member, adding spit. It was dense and long and thick and strong and it was going back in my mouth. She moaned louder this time, seemingly not caring that Edwin and Dom could hear.
I could hear Dom's short moans and gags. I did my best to minimise my sounds in response, deep swashes of shame hitting me every time I gagged. Whenever Bronte moaned I was torn between loving that she was loving it and hating that other's knew. I felt horribly conflicted as she defiled my mouth, her hand on my head pulling me down.

My hands reached underneath her shaft and to her balls, massaging them gently, feeling them churn in anticpation, ready to pump me full. She goaded me with more compliments and with a hand on the shaft and my lips around her head I gave it to her. I gave her my submission, my affirmation and my pleasure which I was still being denied. If I do well then maybe, just maybe she'd let me cum. I knew why I didn't just let myself release right here on the bedsheets – because I knew how much she enjoyed it, how much it turned her on to not let me get off.
Bronte revelled in the power I surrendered to her. She loved the feeling of people submitting to her and doing what she wanted them to do. She loved control and she had complete control over me. It had no occurrence to me at that point that she was playing me, even though she wasn't laying me yet. My mind was clouded with the unstoppable jackhammer of libido. I was blinded by lust.
She was my God and Goddess in one.
I'd believe and do anything she asked me and gladly. and so when she woke me and demanded I suck I sucked.
I sucked and sucked. licking the underside, letting her look into my eyes slowly filling with gag- induced tears. She'd gorge on the view of my lips, swollen with mucid saliva and precum. She was the world at this point and had I been playing a game of love I would've lost. I needed to cum. I needed to. I needed her to cum – on me, in me.
My hands pushed and pulled her foreskin around my tongue, squeezing fluids that dissolved into my saliva, preparing to paint my insides and her moans grew stronger and louder and shorter. Her toes pointed and pushed into my back, her mouth relaxed and open, her eyes halfway between clenching and slackening. She was on the edge and with vigour I pushed her over it.
She made that sound. That quick huff before the storm.
She came like heat waves, she came like a piston, she came just the way I wanted her to. Her hands on my head, her dick deep in my mouth. Hot, sludgey cum gushed from her in thick rivulets down the back of my throat. It drooled out in sticky globs that filled my mouth, pooling behind my teeth. Ecstasy escaped her lips as her dick gave me her genetic gift. I remained still, enraptured by the sight of her primal bliss as her cock gave the last throws of orgasm. She laid back, tranquility settling across her body as I pursed my lips and slid her shaft out of my mouth. Sperm sat alive on my tongue as I played it around my gums in a bitter, brothy paste. It seemed to stick between my teeth and gather together in coagulated globs, coating the walls of my mouth. Bronte looked towards me and into me and put a hand on the front of my neck, waiting for it.

I gulped. It was only a natural response, when something is clogging up your windpipe you have two choices - cough or swallow or suffocate. I can’t be blamed for picking the latter can I?

“Good boooy” she goaded, one hand on my throat, feeling my hyoid bone slide gooey contents down the tube. Her other hand brushed sweaty hair out of my eyes and tears from the side of my face. They weren’t tears of pain or sadness. Okay, maybe a little bit of pain. I gasped for my first full lung of air since we started, now my throat was completely empty, if it weren’t for the sticky sides - the way it clung to the walls like fried eggs. Stop thinking about eggs I focused on her face, flushed and pleased. My eyes, only slightly defiant, stared up into hers through the dark. I could still see them glitter with satisfaction as they wandered past mine, over me to the other side of the room. Hidden under the blankets I couldn’t see what was happening there, even if I could hear it; gentle moans and heady grunts, two different voices. Bronte’s hand went from my throat to my chin and a single finger beckoned me up her body, my tongue dragging up her sweat lined skin. She giggled in response.
“You’re getting good” she claimed, pulling my body against hers once we were face to face, naked skin touching naked skin. She had a little smirk on her face that looked like ’I know you enjoy it’
 She planted a kiss on my forehead and her hands roamed over my skin. “Roll over” gestured, pushing my hips slightly. I silently agreed and turned to my other side - little spoon. From here I could see where the noise was coming from.

It would be worth noting my arousal; olympian in magnitude after shamelessly sucking on a big dick. I could feel my body on the edge, that deep, very physical feeling of pressure – a pressure cooker bubbling. Blood pumped inside my member in forceful flow and my brain was pounding sweetly against my skull. I needed to come. The urge was stronger than I could comprehend. Have I lost control? Every touch sent a ripple around my body and so as I lay there, in Bronte's bed, in Bronte's room, watching with nothing but excitement as Edwin (her best friend) layed new pipe up Dominic(my best friend)'s ass, I was losing my mind.

Edwin had Dom turn around and go hands and knees on the bed. Her large breasts were jiggling in her bra as she pulled Dom's hips back into her in strident thrusts, her fingers in the crese between his thighs and stomach. The white sheet separating the two sides of the room had been moved and I could see, all in 20/20 glory, Dom getting enthusistically ass fucked. He was butt naked and showed only skin except for his long, dark hair curtaining around his face as he rocked back and forth and back and forth. He made only little noises, now. Moaning dribbled from his lips only when Ed treated him especially well or especially bad. Right now she was fucking him steadily like an athelte's warm up. Standing on her toes she pulled out and then slowly plunged her boner back between his ass cheeks again with force and Dominic let out a single, slow moan as she pushed her hips as far into Dom's little white boy ass she could manage. Ed didn't care if she made noise – gasping and grunting while thrusting and intermitently moaning loudly. She looked up and over to us, her face flush with sweat and heat.
She smirked.
She smirked like she'd caught her crush smiling at her – bordering on innocence. Then she turned livid, her mouth open, her eyes lidded and glittered like an enchantress. She bit her lip, looked back down at her girlboy's body and pulled his legs further apart.
Now flat footed and straight legged Edwin grabbed Dom by the shoulders and pulled him as deep as she could go. Dom moaned some more and arched his back, letting Ed flex him and stretch him about. He writhed a bit between her fingers and Ed began really fucking him. She treated him the way a guy treats a girl during sex, putting her hands where she pleases and putting his hands where they're meant to be.
All this time Bronte had one arm under my neck, pulling me back into her chest and playing with one of my nipples (which were beyond sensitive, bordering on painful). Her other hand, however, lay over my waist and lightly against my tool. It was raging, like a bull which she only angered evermore with her silk-like fingers. Every cell she touched was on fire and pushed me further towards arousal induced insanity. She pressed on the very bottom of the very end of my dick, swirling sensually and softly in the ultimate sensitivity sweet spot. I was moaning perhaps louder than any one in the room. When she spoke she was no more n inch from me ear and her breathy voice made me see double and feel vibrations in my body.
“No cumming” she ordered, knowing full well etting told not to made it that much harder.

I watched; with hypnotic bliss Edwin's balls would swing behind her legs with every thrust and then they'd slapp into Dominic's ass with a shoft thwack. They hung low and it was easy to imagine the reality of her balls beating into Dominic's, perhaps even bruising them. Her thrusting was relentless in his ass and she didn't show any signs of stopping. I knew from hearing them in The Palace that Ed could fuck for hours if she wanted to.
She grabbed Dominic's long, twirly hair out of his face and gathered behind his head in a hand-held ponytail and she pulled herself towards him, letting her body bend over his and she whispered something in his ear with a cheeky grin. He moaned something softly back but for Ed that wasn't good enough. She straightened her back akin to a feline and pulled his hair with it, arching his back more.
“Louder” she commanded from the driving position.
“Uhgn Edward!” he (painfully?) exclaimed, his voices ringing ina feminine way.
“Louder!” Edward crooned as he smacked Dominique on the ass, the sound reverbing around the wooden walls of the room, as did her follwing moan.
“Edward!!” She cried. And he picked up the pace, obviously immensely turned on by the experience and with his free hand he reached under Dominique's stomach and began playing with her pecker. Dominique really began moaning now, and you could hear from the pitch and force she was close.
“Yes” Edward began gasping. “Cum” he smacked her ass again and Dominque whimpered in response, a tight, hot whimper like her tight hot ass. “Cum, Dominque”
And as if on command Dom came. She moaned a sharp moan as her body rippled. Edward smiled, drunk on both their pleasure and he took her hand away from Dom's prick, letting her body do the rest of the work, pushing the cum out of her. Edwin was smiling with satisfaction, you could could see it on his face that he could feel Dom tensing around his dick as she moaned.
I heard a shuffling from behind me and I realised Bronte hadn't been playing with my body, but instead had a phone in her hand and had been filming for I didn't know how long. I craned my neck to watch her face, illuminated by the LCD screen, eyes glittery, watching with satisfaction.

“That’ll be you tomorrow” Bronte claimed, both her promise and my body. I realise upo writing this that she was giving me one last choice. This was the moment I gave up the last of my power to Bronte. I'd seen it, I'd heard it, I was on the edge of my wits. She knew that in my current state I had no way of refusing and that if I had of been getting of this last few days perhaps I would've walked out long ago. It was the last chance I had and I had no choice. My rational mind was dead and I was hopelessly into this – if anything the performance before my eyes only solidified my choice.
She's very good at people and knowing people very quickly.
She's a one-way-wasp
. Memories wafted into my mind as I tried to fight two sides of an argument I was doomed to lose. Bronte was going to fuck me and that's that.

Edwin shot another glance over towards us, a chuffed expression over her face as Dom whimpered a pleasure soaked sound. Slowly and gently Ed pushed him off her dick and he fell forward onto the bed. Ed enjoyed the view a bit - his winking asshole, his deep breaths. With deft fingers and a loud latex slap she pulled the condom off her still throbbing dick and threw it onto the ground. Dom was still catching his breath, lying in the sticky patch of his own ejaculate.
“Turn around” Edwin bid as she pulled gently on his shoulders. With laziness he did as she said, lying on his back with his head over the end of the bed. “Open up” she directed. He complied and then she stuck her dick
right
down
his
throat.
Dominic gagged a little when her balls hit his nose but I could see, even from here Ed had a dick much more manageable. She looked like she was about my size... maybe a little bigger I thought begrudgingly. The sight made a burning feeling against my ass and I felt Bronte getting hard again, she made sure to wedge her dick in between my bum cheeks as the vessels began to strain.
“Nn fuck I love the way she does that” Bronte whispered at me, putting the phone away.
Ed began thrusting her manhood into Dom's mouth and he was maintaining her at a very respectable pace, despite the respect he might be losing. He raised his hands up and against her thighs, trying to slow her onslaught.
“Don't worry” she coaxed, grabbing his wrists “Im almost...” she pulled his arms up and into her, making him swallow her. I saw him swallow some saliva and Ed moaned as he did. She giggled a little as he span his tongue around her member and swallowed more saliva, squeezing her dick in his mouth. She pulled out steadily as he let out a quick cough and began beating herself off over his face.
She was breathing so heavily as she moaned
“Say my name again.”
“Edward” he started with a low, guilty voice. “I want you to cum on me”
Ed loved that. She smiled broadly and then moaned with brevity, cumming like a man. Dom flinched a bit as the first shot landed on his chin and then in his mouth and then on his nose. White sticky spunk began hanging off every surface as Ed made that wolf-like grunt-moan. Grunting every time a shot fired from her onyo the soft skin of Dom's baffled face. With a final long grunt Edwin squeezed the last of her gunk into Doms mouth and he swallowed what he had caught with a wincing gulp, punctuated with a long exhale. Dom went to wipe the white stain from his face but Ed stopped him.
“Wait wait” she walked away from the bed, towards us. “Hang on a sec” and she walked right up to the bed, naked except for a bra and stood a foot from us. Her skin glowed from the perspiration peppering her body “You got the phone? I wanna take a picture of the finished work”
Bronte climbed away from the bed, reaching over the far side of the bed where she threw it.
“Is it a masterpiece?” Bronte asked as she fetched it.
“Certainly looks nice” I stared at Ed's erect dick and Ed noticed, swaying it from side to side with a giggle. It looked half the size of Bronte's, a little thinner and a little shorter. She had a splay of pubic hair around her groin and foresting her balls which hung much lower from her body than Bronte's.

Bronte returned with the phone in her hand
“Here you go” she said handing it “But hang on a sec” she had that tone in her voice and she giggled a little. “Come closer” Ed smiled down at me as she shuffled towards, dick at head height and Bronte here we go, with her dick grinding against my ass, pushed my head towards Ed's dick. “Suck the tip” she directed and with no resistance my lips slipped around Ed's dick. She had a short giggle as I sucked gently on it, squeezing some trapped cum into my mouth. Ed pulled away and bit her lip, looking down at me.
“Cutie” she admired simply.
“Isn't he just?” Bronte returned in baby-voice, grabbing my cheeks. I tried to look annoyed and not aroused and probably failed.
“Aaah, Edward” Dom's quiet voice came from the other side of the room. “Can you hury up its going in my eyes”
“Coming, darling” and Ed bounded back over, her dick and tits bouncing with momentum. Bronte bit into my shoulder and grabbed my dick with force. I was moaning already and I was so close to the edge you would not believe. I don't think it would be possible someone being so aroused ever again. Bronte sucked on my shoulder, making me mewl as the flash of the phone camera made the pearly marinade over Dom's face glittery and reflective. Bronte moaned into my skin.

“Tomorrow is going to be so much fun” she foresaw.
“Is it going to hurt?” I asked like a child.
“Oh yeah” Bronte responded, not with malice but certainly with demure. “It's going to hurt. But you love that” I didn't know if what she said was the truth but I certainly was keen to find out. “You always love it most when it hurts”
I looked over at Dom who for the whole time had avoided eye contact with me. He took this moment, just before Ed killed the light and we were to fall asleep to look at me, his face still covered in a shiny film of cum. He didn't look dead or broken or in mental anguish. He looked satisfied, he looked content and he smiled a little at me like a friend would. Like he was saying “Don't worry mate, it all get's better” and he meant it. But he also had this cheeky smirk, too like he knew it was greener on the other side.
Then Ed switched the light off, asking “Dominique” to move over and I stumbled lazily into sleep as Bronte continued playing with the fabric seperating her hand and my agitated, frustrated, full-bloodied dick. I was the only person in the room to not cum. The room stank of sex and it was driving me wild.
“Goodnight Edward, goodnight Dominique.” Bronte called out. Ed snickered a little bit.
“Night guys.” Ed responded. “And don't worry; it hurts at first but then it gets much better” Ed called. Dominique chuckled a little under her breath.


>>
Anonymous 15/03/10(Tue)02:06 No. 23362 ID: 31fb79

>>23332


>>
Anonymous 15/03/25(Wed)01:04 No. 23409 ID: 12abab

>>23332
three things

>I read it with a friend last night and agreed it needed a lot more work.

1. that sounds like an unusual friendship

2. please tell me that you write other stuff elsewhere. It breaks my heart to see so much solid, emotionally-rich material get just a spattering of replies on a remote chan board.

3. Are your short stories in a permanent repository anywhere?


>>
Anonymous 15/04/11(Sat)01:24 No. 23458 ID: 9809f3

So is this dead or...?


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 15/04/22(Wed)19:01 No. 23492 ID: ce3637

>>23458
Not dead, just lazy.
My computer is dead ATM but my hard drive is good.
Next chapters will be up when I get it back. Super juice.

>>23409
It is a strange friendship. She's a cool guy tho.
No work anywhere else. If this story turns out any good I might hire a professional editor and publish it tho.


>>
Anonymous 15/04/27(Mon)05:30 No. 23503 ID: b0de2d

Can't wait for you to get a computer to put the next chapter.

Pain you say? Depends on what kind. The pain of getting fucked in the ass is no worries, but it physically makes me anxious that I don't know if Bronte really cares about protag or if he really is just a toy.

Personally hoping she actually cares. But it's your story and I'm interested to see the next part.

BTW; your writing is motherfuckin' top notch.


>>
Anonymous 15/04/28(Tue)00:12 No. 23504 ID: b0de2d

>>23503
But she clearly fucked Liam. That's what that taste was. He's alpha, so she's in girl-mode. Have pretty much accepted he means nothing to her, and that she just wants to subjugate.

But I can still hope!


>>
Anonymous 15/05/20(Wed)04:52 No. 23586 ID: 422008

I am really looking forward to next chapter


>>
Anonymous 15/06/07(Sun)23:19 No. 23638 ID: f40cb6

Well first off I wanted to say I think your writing is really good, and I love your variety of words you use. I would love to see other stuff you have written if you have another place you post stories. And dont take any of the rest of what I say as an attack on you, its absolutely not, so dont think that lol.
As for the story.... O geeze, any respect I had for this guy has jumped out of a plane without a parachute. He is utterly pitiful, zero willpower, zero self respect, zero guts. He is a walking talking robot incapable of doing anything other than what he is programmed to do. He is literally nothing but a fleshlight for her really, and he doesnt have ANY strength of mind to ever say no. As he is written so far, if she told him to jump off a bridge, he would. And a good 1/3 of stories I read are cukold/ntr, where its almost a requirement that one of the characters is pitiful, but this guy would win hands down for how pathetic he has gotten, to the detriment of the story. That alone has almost completely poisoned the story for me, and if I do keep reading, it will be to hope he and Bronte go down in glorious flames, they both deserve to suffer. And her fucking Liam actually does not bother me in the least, as I said before, I am into cuckold. But he is just so pathetic that, even for someone into cuckold, he is too pitiful to read about.

And just for reference, I have no problem with Dominic. Hell I actually have a decent amount of respect for him, unlike the protag who is in the negatives. So this is not about letting yourself be degraded (which Dominic has most certainly done), this is about having even the mental capacity to make a choice and go with it. The protag is completely incapable of that based on how he has been written and his internal monilogue. This is even worse than the "picture perfect" spousal abuse where a guy comes how and demades everything while slapping her around, but she cant bare to make herself leave him. Atleast he leaves her alone most of the day. Bronte on the other hand messes with him when she isnt even there, and he is cowered into obeying her even when she isnt there. And whats up with that whole no masturbating thing where "she will know if you do because she has one" bit? Thats not even believable. I mean maybe if she caught him 5 min after doing the deed and he has not taken a shower yet. And hell shes gone for days at a time, she isnt a bloodhound who can smell your semen from days ago.

And Bronte went so hard into sadism.... And yes sadism, she takes pleasure from other peoples pain. The DSM5 (psychiatry's rulebook kind of idea) defines sadism as "recurrent and intense sexual arousal from the physical or psychological suffering of another person, as manifested by fantasies, urges, or behaviors" She has literally become the definition of a sadist in the last few chapters.
So before like chapter 7 we had a assertive futa who was lots of fun, and a slightly submissive guy traveling around who is charmed by her and wants to know her. Now we have a sadist, and a walking fleshlight (with the same amount of willpower).

Holy crap, and I know it will never happen, but I wish Whiskey would come in to save the day. If I decide to keep reading (next chapter will decide, if he gains some semblence of willpower compared to a fleshlight), I will be rooting for her so hard. I loved the protag and Bronte up till chap 7 or so, now I just want them to crash and burn on the principle. Hell even if whiskey was turned into a monster at this point I would still gladly root for her than protag and Bronte.

Meh, I wished it had not been taken to the point of him being turned into a mental vegetable.
And wow this got long. But I guess the fact that I was so dissapointed because I thought it was turning into a amazing story, then each of the characters quirks get taken to the absolute possible extreme and turn into picture perfect definitions of their respective mental disorders.
And I do really enjoy your writing, so I dont want you to feel like I am attacking you or anything like that. I had just wished you took a different direction with character development (well more like regression in my opinion).


>>
Anonymous 15/06/07(Sun)23:35 No. 23639 ID: f40cb6

>>23503
She cant care, not in any normal definition of the word atleast. Not with what has been laid out so far. Its already perfectly clear that she gets pleasure by his pain. And if she flips around and "cares" about him later, that would literally be the definition of a abusive relationship. The perpetrator if you would, flips between inflicting pain or pleasure, beating you one moment then the next profess their undying love to you.

Granted in this case its psychological rather than physical for the most part, but its equally as valid.
You could also make the arguement that she is a psychopath if you so wanted and stand a good chance of being correct, definition = "is traditionally defined as a personality disorder characterized by enduring antisocial behavior, diminished empathy and remorse, and disinhibited or bold behavior."


>>
Anonymous 15/06/07(Sun)23:43 No. 23641 ID: f40cb6

>>23639
From a mental health standpoint, she is a complete monster either way. Shes the kind of case that takes years of help when she walks into your office, if she even can be helped. So pick your poison I guess.


>>
Anonymous 15/06/08(Mon)04:54 No. 23642 ID: f40cb6

>>23641
Blah, in hindsight this sounds far more intense than I intended, but the password has long since been lost to delete it..... >_>

I feel like a grammar nazi but of psych now haha. But yea.... I really wouldnt want them to be my patients lol (well he would be easy, her not so much)


>>
Wazzles+!JUD7F1CtU. 15/06/08(Mon)18:07 No. 23647 ID: 117650

>>23638
Psychopath and sadist sound about right. That's not an accident.
Bronte is definitely the antagonist here. The story flips soon, not in the way you'd expect but probably in the way you in particular would like. [spoilers]*It's not a happy ending, but there is an ending*[/spoilers].
All this is a fantasy for me, and I in no way condone any of this destructive behavior but it gets me off and I hope it gets others off. I have no illusions about this being worthy of artistic merit or even of much thought - it's smut and will never be anything more.
As for the fleshlight part, the protag isn't exactly a commonsensical, self preserving human being. I try and rationalise it all down to 'he's just really horny' but even that is a such a piece of mental gymnastics it pushes the sense of disbelief pretty. Basically he's never been played like this before (possibly never really been in love) and it becomes apparent later why he lets all of this happen to himself. After Chapter 10 and 11 the character does have a series of big realisations. In saying that there are only 3 'good' characters in the whole thing - Dom is the only one who isn't pathetic. The 3rd will make him/her/themselves apparent later on as *the one the protag should've gotten with but now it's all ruined*.
Everyone else is a goddamn psychopath.

But you ain't seen anything about sadist yet. The story gets a lot worse before it gets better... and even then.

And seriously thanks for all your feedback; because the story is still in construction I actually take a lot of what you say, critical and appreciative, into what and how I write. In particular it makes me think of scenarios that would be nice continuations, tie-ups and/or follow-ons for future work [hinthint]. It also helps me see things from an outsiders perspective. See, from the position of writing it and imagining it at the same time I have a good knowledge of the future plot points that are set in stone (mainly because I've been fapping to the fantasies for a good 24 months now) and the characters motives everything about it seems less real. It's good having an indicator and a tap on the shoulder of how ridiculous and mean it's actually all getting so a big thank you for that. I need some reignin' in erry now and a again.


As for the next chapter sorry sorry sorry sorry (sorry). I'm a lazy git with lots of uni work and knack for procrastination. I'm not dead and the thread isn't dead... yet. If nothing appears on here in the next few weeks then consider it dead and don't bump it pls. I swear to god I'll revive it when I'm ready - that might be in 7 days it might be in 7 months.

byeeeeeuh


>>
Anonymous 15/06/10(Wed)04:25 No. 23649 ID: f40cb6

>>23647
Alright I gotcha, that makes a lot more sense then. I had been going into it thinking you were gonna make it more "lovey dovey" since you included "Kinda romancey" as a tag. And really I only associate romance as a positive thing. So obviously I started getting confused when they polarized to negative extremes lol.

I think this is the first story I have read in a long while where antagonist was futa and it wasnt cuckold, so nice change of pace (same with the kind of ending you mentioned). Although futa and male mostly only comes into my line of sight when it involves either TG or cuckold, my main vices lol. So I suppose I really dont read enough of that theme to really know.

But yea and so DO you post anything anywhere else?

And your first spoiler tag is broked lol.


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 15/06/10(Wed)09:32 No. 23652 ID: 66d437

>>23649
Only 7chan and 99chan.
I've got another thread with short stories (which I'm going to add with offshoots of this one) on this board here
>>12588
But I don't really like that anymore, its bad writing.


>>
Anonymous 15/09/18(Fri)05:50 No. 23840 ID: 884ed2

>>23652
Don't let this story die, please


>>
Anonymous 15/10/25(Sun)09:03 No. 23923 ID: fd40e7

Just felt moved to re-read this and yep it's still one of, if not THE, best works of long-form erotica of all time. Please don't leave it unfinished.


>>
Wazzles !JUD7F1CtU. 15/11/05(Thu)12:09 No. 23959 ID: 9e9d33

>>23923
The time has come
The chapters I've written down for 10 and 11 are terrible so they're getting a complete re-write.
I've always wanted to finish and work has begun again. Stay tuned.


>>
Anonymous 15/12/23(Wed)17:46 No. 24051 ID: 8a9656

I love this so much. Can't wait for it to be continued.


>>
Anonymous 16/02/11(Thu)11:52 No. 24103 ID: 9b1f4a

Don't know who's being strung along and blue-balled more, us or our protagonist here...


>>
Anonymous 16/04/16(Sat)19:57 No. 24201 ID: 8861ac

C'mon Wazzles, free us from this torment


>>
Anonymous 16/11/07(Mon)14:11 No. 24808 ID: f49733

Oh no ya don't
bump


>>
Anonymous 17/03/10(Fri)10:50 No. 24951 ID: 60de4b

So is this just done, or...



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