Fic: "Sin City", NC-17, 5/5 (fucking hell this got long)
anonymous
March 7 2009, 18:47:46 UTC
***
As Rachel woke up the next morning, she smiled to herself at the hilariously twisted dream she'd had. Then she stretched out and brushed against a warm body. She opened her eyes and realized it was a male body. Worse, it was Sean Hannity and oh shit, she really had violated him with a strap-on last night.
His eyelids fluttered open, then widened as he, too, realized where he was, whom he was with, and what had happened the night before.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
"So..."
"How about we never speak of this again?"
She sighed with relief. "That sounds like an excellent plan."
"You know, things like this are why I stopped smoking pot."
"That's funny, I'm pretty sure things like this are why I started."
He just shook his head and started to get out of bed, only discover that he was still wearing his thigh-high stockings and hooker sandals, and nothing else.
Rachel couldn't suppress a snicker. "I'm sorry," she said, "I know this really isn't that funny."
"No, it's not." Sean peeled off his stockings and unstrapped his sandals. "I should call the cops."
"You could do that." She felt a pang of guilt, which dueled with a stab of perverse glee, for what she said next. "Of course, I'd have to tell them that you came onto me first, and that you never told me to stop, and that you were high as a kite."
"Fuck." Sean flopped back down on the bed, his hand over his face. "So now what? Are you going to blackmail me into a series of increasingly perverted sexual escapades for the amusement of your buddies at MSNBC?"
"Do you want me to?"
He sighed. "I'm getting out of here." He sat up and looked around. "Where the hell are my clothes?"
"Check the bathroom. And Sean..." she called after him as he stood up and started walking.
He turned around.
"Don't forget to wash your face before you do the Walk of Shame."
He didn't gratify her with an answer.
***
Fifteen minutes later, her phone rang. It was Keith. "Hey."
"Hey."
"So, who did you wake up with this morning?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"It couldn't possibly be any more unbelievable than who I woke up with."
"You wanna grab some breakfast and I'll tell you all about it?"
OP FAILS AT BEING OP, ATTEMPTS TO MAKE UP FOR IT WITH LOVE
anonymous
March 11 2009, 06:51:00 UTC
May I offer you my car, bank account, and first born child?
Holy shit, that was absolutely amazing and hotter than I could have ever, ever, ever imagined. (I didn't even think anyone would ever respond, but then, you did and you blew it into a million pieces of win.) I love you, most likely forever.
Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.
Fic: Private Dancer 1/?
anonymous
April 1 2009, 06:43:47 UTC
[Arrrgh, sorry it took me forever to get around to writing this. I was working 6-day weeks and spending the 7th day hungover for a while. Hopefully it's not completely anticlimactic.]
When the knock came at Rachel's door the next night, at first she thought it must be Keith wanting to hit the lounge. She looked through the fish-eye lens and didn't recognize the tall, raven-haired woman in the trenchcoat. It wasn't until she opened the door that she realized it wasn't a woman at all.
"Hi," said Sean Hannity, lowering his head to look at her through fake bangs and mascaraed eyelashes. "Can I come in?"
Rachel bit back laughter. "I don't think that's a really good idea."
"Please." His hand went to the belt on his coat. "Last night was the most incredible sex I've ever had. I can't stop thinking about you." He undid the belt and let the coat fall open, revealing a black satin bustier, skimpy thong panties, and garter belt. "I'll do anything you want."
"Anything?" Rachel reached out and ran her finger from the top of his stocking, up the band of his garter belt, and hooked it in the side of his thong.
"Yes," he breathed as she pulled him into the room and shut the door behind him.
He leaned down to kiss her and she tasted cherry lipgloss and bourbon. "You're going to regret this when you sober up, aren't you?" she asked, fumbling for her cellphone as he kissed her neck.
"I don't care." He started to reach for her zipper and she batted his hands away, then gripped his ass with the hand that wasn't holding her phone and pulled him against her.
"Sean," she whispered in his ear as she quickly typed a text message, "have you ever given a lap dance?"
"No." The hardening of his cock against her stomach told her he wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea.
"Guess what? You're going to get to expand your horizons. Again." She gave his ass a squeeze. "Wait right here." She left him standing by the door while she pulled the coffee table away from the couch and opened up her laptop. Right on cue, her phone beeped with Kent's reply.
-b spears breathe on me or thrill kill kult wasted time-
She smiled. A quick iTunes search later, she was dimming the lights and beckoning him over. She turned the music on, hit "record" on the webcam and settled back on the couch. The computer screen's glow and the low, sultry beat of the music washed over them as Sean slipped out of his trenchcoat and tossed it dramatically behind him. He must have been practicing walking in heels, because he didn't stumble once as he sashayed over and straddled her lap.
Fic: Private Dancer 2/?
anonymous
April 1 2009, 06:45:36 UTC
"You know the rules," said Rachel, folding her arms behind her head. "I don't touch you, but you touch me. Make it good."
"Like this?" He brushed his lips over hers as he ran his fingertips in feather-light strokes from her temples, down her neck, over the curves of her breasts.
"Be creative." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
He slid off her lap, kneeling in front of her, parting her legs and running his hands up her inner thighs. He stopped just short of touching her where her legs met, his hands slipping up over her hips. He braced himself with a hand on either side of her and arched up to slide against her, first facing her, his tongue tracing from the neckline of her shirt to her earlobe as his erection pressed between her legs, hot and hard through the few layers of fabric that separated the two of them. He teased her lips with his own as he unbuttoned her shirt, then turned around so his back was to her and slid down to the floor again, trailing his hands down the bare skin of her arms, brushing his long, fake hair down her body. He pulled himself back up, grinding his ass against her crotch, taking her hands and running them down his chest to rest on his thighs as he leaned his head back to lick and nip at her ear. Her fingers toyed with his garters and her mouth caught his for a biting, teasing kiss. He shifted again to face her, his lips and tongue playing over her chin, her throat, her collarbone, between her breasts, dipping into her navel as he slid down to his knees again. This time when he moved his hands up her legs he let his thumbs stroke her through her pants, running up either side of her cleft before tracing the crease between her hips and thighs. He slid his hands around to cup her ass, then back over the front of her hips, down between her thighs again, lifting her legs so that when he slid his body against her he was touching more of her.
"Is this one of those back-room champagne lap dances?" he breathed in her ear.
"It is or you are so fired," she gasped as his fingers found their way to the button on her pants.
He unzipped her fly as he kissed and licked his way back down, slipping his tongue inside the waistband of her panties to tease at her curls before he leaned back to slide her pants off. His fingertips whispered over her bare thighs , followed by his lips, and then he was pulling the thin cotton of her panties aside and tasting her. His tongue lapped at her clit and maybe he wasn't as stupid as she'd always thought because he remembered from last time what kind of rhythm she liked and how to find her G-spot as he slipped a finger inside her. She arched her back, pushing against his mouth, but the angle wasn't quite right and then she was kicking the coffee table out of the way and shoving him onto his back on the floor, kicking off her panties and kneeling over his head. One of his hands held her up while the other teased her as she leaned back, moving her hips in synchronicity with his tongue and hand. He was moaning, the vibration on her skin amplifying the tingles of excitement that were building, crackling like lightning from where he touched her, and she heard herself crying out, "Oh, fuck, Sean, don't stop, don't ever stop," and then she was coming hard, rocked first by her climax and then by the aftershocks as he kept licking and caressing her.
She had to pull away from him just to catch her breath. He reached out to run his hand over her hip and she caught his wrist, standing up and pulling him to his feet. She ran a finger over the bulge in his panties as she whispered in his ear, "You like being flat on your back, being used like a cheap whore, don't you?"
He inhaled sharply. "Christ, yes."
"Tell me what you want me to do to you." Her hand slipped inside the sleek satin to grip him.
He groaned, his breath hot on her neck. "I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me..." he shivered, "in the ass."
Rachel smiled. "Mmmm, choirboy Sean's a closet freak."
Fic: Private Dancer 3/3
anonymous
April 1 2009, 06:46:41 UTC
"I'm your freak."
"Yes, you most certainly are." She let go of him and grabbed his arm, steering him toward the bed, pushing him down on his back. He closed his eyes, a smile curving his glossed lips as she buckled on her harness and dildo. She leaned over him, rubbing her silicone erection against his flesh-and-blood one, nipping at his neck and earlobe. "Does my Republican boy toy like it a little rough?"
"I'm an independent conservative," he gasped, moving his hips against her, "and I don't know."
"Let's find out." She bit and sucked hard on the delicate skin at his throat, making him moan. "I'll take that as a yes." She slicked her fingers with lube and slid them past the filmy fabric of his panties to enter him.
"Oh, God." He bit his lip, breathing faster as she worked her fingers inside him, thrusting and twisting.
"You want me to make you come, don't you?"
"Yes."
She slowed her hand. "Not yet."
"Please..." His eyes were open now, his cheeks flushed under the makeup.
"Please, what?"
"Please fuck me, Rachel."
She leaned down and ran her tongue around his ear. "That's Ms. Maddow to you, you dirty little whore."
He laughed breathlessly. "Yes, Ms. Maddow. Oh God, I'm your whore, your bitch, anything you want. Just please, do it to me."
She grinned, giving the junction of his neck and shoulder a kiss that turned into a bite. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."
She pulled his panties down just far enough to bare his ass, draped his legs over her shoulders and took him, burying the dildo inside him to the hilt. He arched his back, moaning and clutching at the sheets as she thrust into him, hard and fast.
His hand strayed toward his cock and he looked up at her, a question in his eyes. "Go ahead," she nodded and he licked his lips, closing his eyes and stroking himself.
Her fingers dug into his thighs as she deepened her thrusts. "Tell me how much you like getting fucked," she said, her voice husky.
"I love it," he gasped. "I love every minute of it... love your dick inside me... love getting dirty with you... love getting fucked by you..."
Rachel quickened her pace. Sean's hand moved faster, his breath growing shallower. He bit his lip and moaned low in his throat.
She leaned forward, pushing his legs farther apart, hitting his prostate with every stroke.
"Love this..." he whispered. "Love... ohhhhhh..." His words dissolved into a groan of release as he came.
Rachel withdrew and collapsed beside him on the bed, catching her own breath.
He sighed. "I could get addicted to this."
She smiled. "Didn't you get the memo? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."
He opened his eyes and looked over at her. "Does it have to?"
She laughed. "Sean, what do you think, we're going to be fuckbuddies or something?"
"Why can't we?"
"There are a whole slew of reasons, most of which you're too drunk to comprehend. For starters, you're going to hate yourself, and probably me too, when you sober up."
"So I'll keep drinking. You've got a mini-bar in here, right?" He reached over and ran his fingers over her dildo. "And I know at least one of us won't have any trouble staying up all night."
Rachel just shook her head, smiling. "You know what's the best thing about whores? They leave when you're done."
Sean pressed a kiss to her temple, and whispered in her ear, "See you tomorrow night?"
Re: Fic: Private Dancer 3/3
anonymous
April 1 2009, 15:54:57 UTC
AHHHHHH!!!! Thank you, thank you, thank yooooouuuu for writing a sequel!!! So hot and so hilarious. I love seeing Sean Hannity as the freaky freak we all know he really is. And that lap dance? Hottttttttttttttttttttttte!!!!!!!
(thank you thank you thank you some more) Hope you get some time off to relax now!
-OP :D :D :D
Also, I really want to know wtf Rachel texted to Kent ("what's a good song for Sean Hannity to give me a lap dance to?" ???)
Re: Fic: "Sin City", NC-17, 5/5 (fucking hell this got long)
anonymous
March 13 2009, 07:06:45 UTC
Oh my god, I'd been putting off reading this because the idea terrified me, but... wow, that was disturbingly hot and also hilarious. XD Would LOVE to see Keith's reaction.. *grin* Too awesome, esp Rachel taking pictures throughout!
As Rachel woke up the next morning, she smiled to herself at the hilariously twisted dream she'd had. Then she stretched out and brushed against a warm body. She opened her eyes and realized it was a male body. Worse, it was Sean Hannity and oh shit, she really had violated him with a strap-on last night.
His eyelids fluttered open, then widened as he, too, realized where he was, whom he was with, and what had happened the night before.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
"So..."
"How about we never speak of this again?"
She sighed with relief. "That sounds like an excellent plan."
"You know, things like this are why I stopped smoking pot."
"That's funny, I'm pretty sure things like this are why I started."
He just shook his head and started to get out of bed, only discover that he was still wearing his thigh-high stockings and hooker sandals, and nothing else.
Rachel couldn't suppress a snicker. "I'm sorry," she said, "I know this really isn't that funny."
"No, it's not." Sean peeled off his stockings and unstrapped his sandals. "I should call the cops."
"You could do that." She felt a pang of guilt, which dueled with a stab of perverse glee, for what she said next. "Of course, I'd have to tell them that you came onto me first, and that you never told me to stop, and that you were high as a kite."
"Fuck." Sean flopped back down on the bed, his hand over his face. "So now what? Are you going to blackmail me into a series of increasingly perverted sexual escapades for the amusement of your buddies at MSNBC?"
"Do you want me to?"
He sighed. "I'm getting out of here." He sat up and looked around. "Where the hell are my clothes?"
"Check the bathroom. And Sean..." she called after him as he stood up and started walking.
He turned around.
"Don't forget to wash your face before you do the Walk of Shame."
He didn't gratify her with an answer.
***
Fifteen minutes later, her phone rang. It was Keith. "Hey."
"Hey."
"So, who did you wake up with this morning?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"It couldn't possibly be any more unbelievable than who I woke up with."
"You wanna grab some breakfast and I'll tell you all about it?"
"Sure. See you at the buffet in fifteen?"
"I'll be there."
"Bye."
"Bye."
-end-
Reply
This was surprisingly hot. Especially Sean begging and Rachel telling him it's God's way of telling him to try gay sex!
Reply
Holy shit, that was absolutely amazing and hotter than I could have ever, ever, ever imagined. (I didn't even think anyone would ever respond, but then, you did and you blew it into a million pieces of win.) I love you, most likely forever.
Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.
::brain melt::
Reply
Reply
--Not op, but had MUCH LOVE for the fic. :D
Reply
-OP (is in lurrrvvve)
Reply
When the knock came at Rachel's door the next night, at first she thought it must be Keith wanting to hit the lounge. She looked through the fish-eye lens and didn't recognize the tall, raven-haired woman in the trenchcoat. It wasn't until she opened the door that she realized it wasn't a woman at all.
"Hi," said Sean Hannity, lowering his head to look at her through fake bangs and mascaraed eyelashes. "Can I come in?"
Rachel bit back laughter. "I don't think that's a really good idea."
"Please." His hand went to the belt on his coat. "Last night was the most incredible sex I've ever had. I can't stop thinking about you." He undid the belt and let the coat fall open, revealing a black satin bustier, skimpy thong panties, and garter belt. "I'll do anything you want."
"Anything?" Rachel reached out and ran her finger from the top of his stocking, up the band of his garter belt, and hooked it in the side of his thong.
"Yes," he breathed as she pulled him into the room and shut the door behind him.
He leaned down to kiss her and she tasted cherry lipgloss and bourbon. "You're going to regret this when you sober up, aren't you?" she asked, fumbling for her cellphone as he kissed her neck.
"I don't care." He started to reach for her zipper and she batted his hands away, then gripped his ass with the hand that wasn't holding her phone and pulled him against her.
"Sean," she whispered in his ear as she quickly typed a text message, "have you ever given a lap dance?"
"No." The hardening of his cock against her stomach told her he wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea.
"Guess what? You're going to get to expand your horizons. Again." She gave his ass a squeeze. "Wait right here." She left him standing by the door while she pulled the coffee table away from the couch and opened up her laptop. Right on cue, her phone beeped with Kent's reply.
-b spears breathe on me or thrill kill kult wasted time-
She smiled. A quick iTunes search later, she was dimming the lights and beckoning him over. She turned the music on, hit "record" on the webcam and settled back on the couch. The computer screen's glow and the low, sultry beat of the music washed over them as Sean slipped out of his trenchcoat and tossed it dramatically behind him. He must have been practicing walking in heels, because he didn't stumble once as he sashayed over and straddled her lap.
Reply
"You know the rules," said Rachel, folding her arms behind her head. "I don't touch you, but you touch me. Make it good."
"Like this?" He brushed his lips over hers as he ran his fingertips in feather-light strokes from her temples, down her neck, over the curves of her breasts.
"Be creative." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
He slid off her lap, kneeling in front of her, parting her legs and running his hands up her inner thighs. He stopped just short of touching her where her legs met, his hands slipping up over her hips. He braced himself with a hand on either side of her and arched up to slide against her, first facing her, his tongue tracing from the neckline of her shirt to her earlobe as his erection pressed between her legs, hot and hard through the few layers of fabric that separated the two of them. He teased her lips with his own as he unbuttoned her shirt, then turned around so his back was to her and slid down to the floor again, trailing his hands down the bare skin of her arms, brushing his long, fake hair down her body. He pulled himself back up, grinding his ass against her crotch, taking her hands and running them down his chest to rest on his thighs as he leaned his head back to lick and nip at her ear. Her fingers toyed with his garters and her mouth caught his for a biting, teasing kiss. He shifted again to face her, his lips and tongue playing over her chin, her throat, her collarbone, between her breasts, dipping into her navel as he slid down to his knees again. This time when he moved his hands up her legs he let his thumbs stroke her through her pants, running up either side of her cleft before tracing the crease between her hips and thighs. He slid his hands around to cup her ass, then back over the front of her hips, down between her thighs again, lifting her legs so that when he slid his body against her he was touching more of her.
"Is this one of those back-room champagne lap dances?" he breathed in her ear.
"It is or you are so fired," she gasped as his fingers found their way to the button on her pants.
He unzipped her fly as he kissed and licked his way back down, slipping his tongue inside the waistband of her panties to tease at her curls before he leaned back to slide her pants off. His fingertips whispered over her bare thighs , followed by his lips, and then he was pulling the thin cotton of her panties aside and tasting her. His tongue lapped at her clit and maybe he wasn't as stupid as she'd always thought because he remembered from last time what kind of rhythm she liked and how to find her G-spot as he slipped a finger inside her. She arched her back, pushing against his mouth, but the angle wasn't quite right and then she was kicking the coffee table out of the way and shoving him onto his back on the floor, kicking off her panties and kneeling over his head. One of his hands held her up while the other teased her as she leaned back, moving her hips in synchronicity with his tongue and hand. He was moaning, the vibration on her skin amplifying the tingles of excitement that were building, crackling like lightning from where he touched her, and she heard herself crying out, "Oh, fuck, Sean, don't stop, don't ever stop," and then she was coming hard, rocked first by her climax and then by the aftershocks as he kept licking and caressing her.
She had to pull away from him just to catch her breath. He reached out to run his hand over her hip and she caught his wrist, standing up and pulling him to his feet. She ran a finger over the bulge in his panties as she whispered in his ear, "You like being flat on your back, being used like a cheap whore, don't you?"
He inhaled sharply. "Christ, yes."
"Tell me what you want me to do to you." Her hand slipped inside the sleek satin to grip him.
He groaned, his breath hot on her neck. "I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me..." he shivered, "in the ass."
Rachel smiled. "Mmmm, choirboy Sean's a closet freak."
Reply
"Yes, you most certainly are." She let go of him and grabbed his arm, steering him toward the bed, pushing him down on his back. He closed his eyes, a smile curving his glossed lips as she buckled on her harness and dildo. She leaned over him, rubbing her silicone erection against his flesh-and-blood one, nipping at his neck and earlobe. "Does my Republican boy toy like it a little rough?"
"I'm an independent conservative," he gasped, moving his hips against her, "and I don't know."
"Let's find out." She bit and sucked hard on the delicate skin at his throat, making him moan. "I'll take that as a yes." She slicked her fingers with lube and slid them past the filmy fabric of his panties to enter him.
"Oh, God." He bit his lip, breathing faster as she worked her fingers inside him, thrusting and twisting.
"You want me to make you come, don't you?"
"Yes."
She slowed her hand. "Not yet."
"Please..." His eyes were open now, his cheeks flushed under the makeup.
"Please, what?"
"Please fuck me, Rachel."
She leaned down and ran her tongue around his ear. "That's Ms. Maddow to you, you dirty little whore."
He laughed breathlessly. "Yes, Ms. Maddow. Oh God, I'm your whore, your bitch, anything you want. Just please, do it to me."
She grinned, giving the junction of his neck and shoulder a kiss that turned into a bite. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."
She pulled his panties down just far enough to bare his ass, draped his legs over her shoulders and took him, burying the dildo inside him to the hilt. He arched his back, moaning and clutching at the sheets as she thrust into him, hard and fast.
His hand strayed toward his cock and he looked up at her, a question in his eyes. "Go ahead," she nodded and he licked his lips, closing his eyes and stroking himself.
Her fingers dug into his thighs as she deepened her thrusts. "Tell me how much you like getting fucked," she said, her voice husky.
"I love it," he gasped. "I love every minute of it... love your dick inside me... love getting dirty with you... love getting fucked by you..."
Rachel quickened her pace. Sean's hand moved faster, his breath growing shallower. He bit his lip and moaned low in his throat.
She leaned forward, pushing his legs farther apart, hitting his prostate with every stroke.
"Love this..." he whispered. "Love... ohhhhhh..." His words dissolved into a groan of release as he came.
Rachel withdrew and collapsed beside him on the bed, catching her own breath.
He sighed. "I could get addicted to this."
She smiled. "Didn't you get the memo? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."
He opened his eyes and looked over at her. "Does it have to?"
She laughed. "Sean, what do you think, we're going to be fuckbuddies or something?"
"Why can't we?"
"There are a whole slew of reasons, most of which you're too drunk to comprehend. For starters, you're going to hate yourself, and probably me too, when you sober up."
"So I'll keep drinking. You've got a mini-bar in here, right?" He reached over and ran his fingers over her dildo. "And I know at least one of us won't have any trouble staying up all night."
Rachel just shook her head, smiling. "You know what's the best thing about whores? They leave when you're done."
Sean pressed a kiss to her temple, and whispered in her ear, "See you tomorrow night?"
She grinned. "Maybe."
-end-
Reply
reCAPTCHA: ddy climax
:D
Reply
(thank you thank you thank you some more)
Hope you get some time off to relax now!
-OP :D :D :D
Also, I really want to know wtf Rachel texted to Kent ("what's a good song for Sean Hannity to give me a lap dance to?" ???)
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment