The Life on Mars Anonymous Pornfest
Please Note: I've declared the Pornfest over (as I can't be bothered to keep the prompt list up-to-date!) So any new prompts posted will be deleted. However, I do encourage you to post any anon fic in response to the existing prompts and comment on the lovely responses that we've already got
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The rutting couple on the mattress don’t seem to notice him, tied up in the corner, silent and still. They know he's there, of course. Why else would they pick the cellar for their reunion fuck? But the pair have ignored him and he's trying his best to ignore them.
It isn't working.
Their coupling is loud, every groan and dirty word echoes around the bare brick walls. In a fit of something, something so unusual now he doesn't even remember the name, he instead starts to concentrate, awarding points for presentation, technique and style.
Both are almost fully clothed, but that is more practical than exotic in this chill space. The man is on top, a classical missionary position, the woman's legs spread wide, feet firmly planted on the floor, gaining leverage to meet the man's thrusts with her own. Again, only practical, 'nil point' for style.
As for presentation, well there's been some aforethought. The mattress has been pulled out from the wall; twisted round slightly so he can see more than would otherwise have done. Not that it's much of a show. The man's technique is sloppy. He had commenced with perfunctory foreplay, not even the bare minimum required in any rational man's opinion, before getting down to the main event. Even now the sex seems to be concentrated on one area only - the meeting of cock and cunt.
The woman seems to be enjoying it, though. The soundtrack to the act is perhaps two-thirds soprano to one third bass. Yet her enthusiastic moans seem a little studied, a little forced. A consummate actress, word perfect but the pitch a little off.
The couple are so close now, the man's hips jerking without rhythm, no longer worrying about long strokes. He buries his face in the crook of the woman's neck, groaning long and low. The woman tilts her head back. Looking straight at him, their personal voyeur, she holds her gaze and convincingly fakes her orgasm.
The man, not noticing anything but his own pleasure, comes with a grunt and kisses the woman on the lips. Still buried deep, he speaks, his voice sounding loud and clear in the small space.
"Now, my darling, what would you like for dessert?"
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