The kink meme is like crack. Damn.
I have a ton and a half of work to do, so of course I spent part of the afternoon writing porn for tweendom_anon. *headdesk*
Save Room For Dessert, Josh/Mindy, very NC-17, ~550 words
She's close. Josh can tell by the change in pitch in the soft cries she's trying to suppress, the way her breathing shifts from slow, deep inhalations to sharp, staccato bursts. Her fingers scrabble along the edges of her father's highly polished mahogany desk, leaving smudgy marks they may not have time to wipe away and crinkling some papers in ways they won't be able to explain, but Josh isn't thinking about that right now. Her parents and eight of their friends are downstairs, sipping cappuccinos and waiting for the fabulous dessert Mindy's mom has been bragging about since the beginning of the meal, the one she ordered special to celebrate Josh and Mindy's engagement. They left the table fifteen minutes ago, and no doubt someone will come looking for them soon. Josh intends to work off enough calories before then to enjoy the dessert without guilt.
He bends her over farther, until her chest is pressed against the desk, and tosses her skirt higher up on her back. He loves looking at her ass when he fucks her from behind like this, loves to spread the cheeks apart so he can see the blur of his cock sliding in and out of her. If he had more time and wasn't so afraid of being overheard, he'd smack those pretty little asscheeks until they were bright red, just to listen to Mindy's ecstatic squeals and feel the heat of her skin on his palms, against his belly. If they were in their own bed right now, he'd flip her on to her back and suck her clit until her body tensed and her breath stopped and he'd know just one more lick would make her fly. Then he'd drop down on top of her and fuck her again, kissing her hard so she could taste herself on his tongue, pushing in deep as she shuddered and bucked and rode out her orgasm all down the length of his cock.
But there's no time for that now. He wraps one arm around her waist and grinds in hard, slipping the other hand between her legs to finger her slippery clit. "You like that, don't you," he whispers, pressing her face to the desk with the weight of his mouth against her ear, and she nods wordlessly, shivering. "Come on," he says, and he can feel the damp heat of his own breath against her skin. "Come for me. Come on my cock. I want to feel it." And she does, so obedient, pulsing so tightly around him it only takes a few more desperate thrusts before he's coming, too.
"Mindy?" Her father's voice floats up the steps about ten seconds later. "Josh? Where did you two get off to?"
"Coming, Dad!" Mindy shouts back, straightening up so suddenly Josh is nearly knocked off his feet. "I was just showing Josh your new desk! We'll be right down!"
"Well, be careful with it!" her dad yells as Josh hurriedly yanks up his pants and tucks his shirt back in. He can still smell Mindy on his fingers. "The legs aren't very strong! It's an antique!"
The dessert is amazing, but Josh only gets a chance to enjoy a few bites. A loud crash from upstairs and two hours of explanations and apologies rather ruins the rest.
Then there's this one, too, that I wrote a few weeks ago. Yay, more het!
Untitled pornlet, Drake/Megan, also very NC-17, ~1500 words. Warning for incest (duh)
It's well past midnight before Drake realizes he's really, really drunk.
Before that, he'd been sitting on the living room couch with one girl after another in his lap, price of admission: one beer, so other than his lips he hadn't moved at all for close to three hours. Megan had even upended a bag of corn chips over his head, providing a convenient little snack, and he'd been digging crumbs out of the couch cushions between taking gulps of beer and shoving his tongue down a parade of different girls' throats. He could happily have stayed there until the next morning, if he hadn't finally occurred to him that he had to piss like a racehorse.
"We've got to get these people out of here," Josh says nervously as Drake staggers out of the bathroom, smacking his elbow on the door frame.
"Heeeey!" Drake says, giving Josh a boozy smile and slapping one hand on each of Josh's shoulders. "How you doin'? You havin' a good time?"
"No," Josh says. "I'm serious, Drake. If Mom and Dad find out we had a party --"
"Aww, c'mon, man." Drake pats Josh's shoulders and smoothes away imaginary wrinkles on both of his sleeves. "Tha's what it's all 'bout, see? Havin' a good time." The sound of Megan's laughter rings out over the music. "See what I mean? Everybody's havin' fun but you, John. Jack. Josh. Lighten up!" He wags his index finger in Josh's face to show how much he means it. "Now if you'll escuse me, I hafta see a man about some whores."
"Hey, hey, Drake, c'mere." Trevor beckons, squinting at Drake through the haze of smoke curling from the joint in the corner of his mouth. Drake plucks it from his lips and takes a deep drag. "You been in the closet yet, man?"
Drake shakes his head, sucking air in through his teeth to keep the sweet-smelling smoke in his lungs. "No," he croaks, holding his breath. "Why?"
"There's been non-stop action in there all night," Trevor says, his voice low like he's relating a state secret. "All these different girls coming and going, and everyone who comes out of there has these huge smiles on their faces. It's insane. I hear even Eric got a blowjob."
"Yeah?" Drake says, exhaling. "Awesome."
Trevor nudges Drake with his elbow as he takes another hit. "You should totally go in next, dude."
"Who's in there now?"
"Who cares?"
"Good point." He hands the joint back and runs his fingers through his hair. "Okay, I'm goin' in."
"Good luck."
"I don't need luck," he says under his breath as he twists the doorknob. "I'm Drake."
The inside of the closet is completely dark, with just a thin bar of half-light washing in through the crack between door and carpet. Drake reaches out with both hands, searching through the air, stumbling over something on the floor that must have been knocked out of place by one of the previous occupants. When he reaches the back wall his hand brushes something warm, and before he knows what's happening a soft, wet pair of lips is jammed against his own.
Her hair is long, whoever she is. He can feel it sweeping across the back of his hands as he presses against the small of her back, drawing her closer, darting his tongue between her teeth when her lips part. Her hair smells of cigarette smoke, but it must be secondhand because he can't taste it in her mouth. She's not wasting any time. He can feel her hand worming its way between their bodies, palm skimming across the bulge in his jeans, and he pins her to the wall so he can grind himself against her.
But she's not having any of that. She squeezes just hard enough to make Drake squeak with surprise and pull back, but she makes up for it the next moment with a sharp tug on his belt buckle. The tip of her tongue curls against the roof of his mouth as he slides one hand up under her shirt and the other down to the hem of her skirt. Her tits are small but firm, and he pinches one tight nipple until she's making high, desperate sounds in the back of her throat. He flips her skirt up over his wrist and traces the curve of what feels like a world-class ass with his fingertips, gasping against her lips as she frees his cock.
With a groan, he pulls her down to the floor and tries to roll on top of her, fingers sliding deep into the slick warmth between her legs, but once again she wrestles control away from him and pushes him down on his back. And then she's riding him, palms flat on the floor on either side of his head so she can plunder his mouth with her tongue, and he bends his knees and plants his feet on the floor so he's got the leverage he needs to really fuck her. He's got her tits in his hands and her nipples between his fingers and the frantic push-pull-grind of her hips is making him absolutely fucking crazy. Her breath quickens, sharpens into a cry, and every muscle in her body draws bowstring-tight as she comes. Drake's nerves are buzzing with the alcohol and the weed and the feel of her pulsing all around him, and it drags him over the edge right along with her.
She collapses on his chest when it's over, and without thinking he turns his head and sucks hard on her neck, right where it meets the shoulder, nipping at her skin with his teeth. Whoever she is, she's fucking amazing, and he has to be with her again. The mark will last until at least Monday. He'll know her at a glance when he sees her at school.
She shrugs him away with an irritated grunt, and a few moments later she's gone.
***
The next morning, Drake wakes up face down on the living room couch with a blanket pulled up to his shoulder blades. His mouth tastes like a combination of cotton balls and used kitty litter. There's an airplane landing in the room, and he covers his ears, wincing. No, wait, it's not an airplane. It's Josh. He's running the vacuum cleaner.
"About time you woke up," Josh snaps, rolling the vacuum closer. "You could get up and help me now, you know. It's the least you can do after inviting all those people over here last night."
"You're wrong," Drake says hoarsely, rolling over on his back and throwing one arm across his eyes. "This is the least I can do."
"Drake, c'mon! Mom and Dad will be home soon."
"Actually, they've decided to stay an extra night." Megan's voice comes drifting over from the direction of the stairs. "Mom just called me on my cell. They're having a really good time."
"There, you see?" Drake says. "There's no need to rush."
"Fine. You got lucky." Josh snaps the vacuum cleaner switch off, and the room is filled with blessed silence. He prods Drake's elbow with his knee. "But you're helping me later, you got it?"
Drake yawns in response, wondering if he can gather the strength to go upstairs to bed. A half turn to his side answers that question. He rolls onto his back again and pulls the blanket up higher.
"Megan." Josh's voice is sharp enough to force Drake's eyes partly open. "What happened to you?"
"What?"
"You know what. Come over here."
"Why should I?"
"Just come here." Drake tilts his head back to see what's going on. All he can see is the blurred outline of Josh's back. "What happened?" Josh asks again.
"Nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing. Does it hurt?"
"No." She tries to sidestep him, but he blocks her path.
"Megan." Josh's voice has a warning tone in it now.
"It was just some guy at the party last night, okay?" Megan says. "I don't know who, and it's no big deal anyway." She finally gets around him and walks over the couch. "Move," she orders, slapping at Drake's feet, and he grudgingly moves them aside so she can sit down. "Just leave me alone," she says to Josh, clicking the remote control to end the discussion.
The television roars to life and Drake realizes he's not going to get any more sleep down here. He struggles into a sitting position and tries to blink the cobwebs out of his eyes. Megan is staring straight ahead at the TV, a small smile playing around her lips.
"That was a great party last night," she whispers, almost to herself. Drake's body grows suddenly rigid as she lifts one hand to trace the edges of a dark purple mark on her neck, right where it meets the shoulder. "Yeah," she says dreamily. "That was a really great party."
Save Room For Dessert, Josh/Mindy, very NC-17, ~550 words
She's close. Josh can tell by the change in pitch in the soft cries she's trying to suppress, the way her breathing shifts from slow, deep inhalations to sharp, staccato bursts. Her fingers scrabble along the edges of her father's highly polished mahogany desk, leaving smudgy marks they may not have time to wipe away and crinkling some papers in ways they won't be able to explain, but Josh isn't thinking about that right now. Her parents and eight of their friends are downstairs, sipping cappuccinos and waiting for the fabulous dessert Mindy's mom has been bragging about since the beginning of the meal, the one she ordered special to celebrate Josh and Mindy's engagement. They left the table fifteen minutes ago, and no doubt someone will come looking for them soon. Josh intends to work off enough calories before then to enjoy the dessert without guilt.
He bends her over farther, until her chest is pressed against the desk, and tosses her skirt higher up on her back. He loves looking at her ass when he fucks her from behind like this, loves to spread the cheeks apart so he can see the blur of his cock sliding in and out of her. If he had more time and wasn't so afraid of being overheard, he'd smack those pretty little asscheeks until they were bright red, just to listen to Mindy's ecstatic squeals and feel the heat of her skin on his palms, against his belly. If they were in their own bed right now, he'd flip her on to her back and suck her clit until her body tensed and her breath stopped and he'd know just one more lick would make her fly. Then he'd drop down on top of her and fuck her again, kissing her hard so she could taste herself on his tongue, pushing in deep as she shuddered and bucked and rode out her orgasm all down the length of his cock.
But there's no time for that now. He wraps one arm around her waist and grinds in hard, slipping the other hand between her legs to finger her slippery clit. "You like that, don't you," he whispers, pressing her face to the desk with the weight of his mouth against her ear, and she nods wordlessly, shivering. "Come on," he says, and he can feel the damp heat of his own breath against her skin. "Come for me. Come on my cock. I want to feel it." And she does, so obedient, pulsing so tightly around him it only takes a few more desperate thrusts before he's coming, too.
"Mindy?" Her father's voice floats up the steps about ten seconds later. "Josh? Where did you two get off to?"
"Coming, Dad!" Mindy shouts back, straightening up so suddenly Josh is nearly knocked off his feet. "I was just showing Josh your new desk! We'll be right down!"
"Well, be careful with it!" her dad yells as Josh hurriedly yanks up his pants and tucks his shirt back in. He can still smell Mindy on his fingers. "The legs aren't very strong! It's an antique!"
The dessert is amazing, but Josh only gets a chance to enjoy a few bites. A loud crash from upstairs and two hours of explanations and apologies rather ruins the rest.
Then there's this one, too, that I wrote a few weeks ago. Yay, more het!
Untitled pornlet, Drake/Megan, also very NC-17, ~1500 words. Warning for incest (duh)
It's well past midnight before Drake realizes he's really, really drunk.
Before that, he'd been sitting on the living room couch with one girl after another in his lap, price of admission: one beer, so other than his lips he hadn't moved at all for close to three hours. Megan had even upended a bag of corn chips over his head, providing a convenient little snack, and he'd been digging crumbs out of the couch cushions between taking gulps of beer and shoving his tongue down a parade of different girls' throats. He could happily have stayed there until the next morning, if he hadn't finally occurred to him that he had to piss like a racehorse.
"We've got to get these people out of here," Josh says nervously as Drake staggers out of the bathroom, smacking his elbow on the door frame.
"Heeeey!" Drake says, giving Josh a boozy smile and slapping one hand on each of Josh's shoulders. "How you doin'? You havin' a good time?"
"No," Josh says. "I'm serious, Drake. If Mom and Dad find out we had a party --"
"Aww, c'mon, man." Drake pats Josh's shoulders and smoothes away imaginary wrinkles on both of his sleeves. "Tha's what it's all 'bout, see? Havin' a good time." The sound of Megan's laughter rings out over the music. "See what I mean? Everybody's havin' fun but you, John. Jack. Josh. Lighten up!" He wags his index finger in Josh's face to show how much he means it. "Now if you'll escuse me, I hafta see a man about some whores."
"Hey, hey, Drake, c'mere." Trevor beckons, squinting at Drake through the haze of smoke curling from the joint in the corner of his mouth. Drake plucks it from his lips and takes a deep drag. "You been in the closet yet, man?"
Drake shakes his head, sucking air in through his teeth to keep the sweet-smelling smoke in his lungs. "No," he croaks, holding his breath. "Why?"
"There's been non-stop action in there all night," Trevor says, his voice low like he's relating a state secret. "All these different girls coming and going, and everyone who comes out of there has these huge smiles on their faces. It's insane. I hear even Eric got a blowjob."
"Yeah?" Drake says, exhaling. "Awesome."
Trevor nudges Drake with his elbow as he takes another hit. "You should totally go in next, dude."
"Who's in there now?"
"Who cares?"
"Good point." He hands the joint back and runs his fingers through his hair. "Okay, I'm goin' in."
"Good luck."
"I don't need luck," he says under his breath as he twists the doorknob. "I'm Drake."
The inside of the closet is completely dark, with just a thin bar of half-light washing in through the crack between door and carpet. Drake reaches out with both hands, searching through the air, stumbling over something on the floor that must have been knocked out of place by one of the previous occupants. When he reaches the back wall his hand brushes something warm, and before he knows what's happening a soft, wet pair of lips is jammed against his own.
Her hair is long, whoever she is. He can feel it sweeping across the back of his hands as he presses against the small of her back, drawing her closer, darting his tongue between her teeth when her lips part. Her hair smells of cigarette smoke, but it must be secondhand because he can't taste it in her mouth. She's not wasting any time. He can feel her hand worming its way between their bodies, palm skimming across the bulge in his jeans, and he pins her to the wall so he can grind himself against her.
But she's not having any of that. She squeezes just hard enough to make Drake squeak with surprise and pull back, but she makes up for it the next moment with a sharp tug on his belt buckle. The tip of her tongue curls against the roof of his mouth as he slides one hand up under her shirt and the other down to the hem of her skirt. Her tits are small but firm, and he pinches one tight nipple until she's making high, desperate sounds in the back of her throat. He flips her skirt up over his wrist and traces the curve of what feels like a world-class ass with his fingertips, gasping against her lips as she frees his cock.
With a groan, he pulls her down to the floor and tries to roll on top of her, fingers sliding deep into the slick warmth between her legs, but once again she wrestles control away from him and pushes him down on his back. And then she's riding him, palms flat on the floor on either side of his head so she can plunder his mouth with her tongue, and he bends his knees and plants his feet on the floor so he's got the leverage he needs to really fuck her. He's got her tits in his hands and her nipples between his fingers and the frantic push-pull-grind of her hips is making him absolutely fucking crazy. Her breath quickens, sharpens into a cry, and every muscle in her body draws bowstring-tight as she comes. Drake's nerves are buzzing with the alcohol and the weed and the feel of her pulsing all around him, and it drags him over the edge right along with her.
She collapses on his chest when it's over, and without thinking he turns his head and sucks hard on her neck, right where it meets the shoulder, nipping at her skin with his teeth. Whoever she is, she's fucking amazing, and he has to be with her again. The mark will last until at least Monday. He'll know her at a glance when he sees her at school.
She shrugs him away with an irritated grunt, and a few moments later she's gone.
***
The next morning, Drake wakes up face down on the living room couch with a blanket pulled up to his shoulder blades. His mouth tastes like a combination of cotton balls and used kitty litter. There's an airplane landing in the room, and he covers his ears, wincing. No, wait, it's not an airplane. It's Josh. He's running the vacuum cleaner.
"About time you woke up," Josh snaps, rolling the vacuum closer. "You could get up and help me now, you know. It's the least you can do after inviting all those people over here last night."
"You're wrong," Drake says hoarsely, rolling over on his back and throwing one arm across his eyes. "This is the least I can do."
"Drake, c'mon! Mom and Dad will be home soon."
"Actually, they've decided to stay an extra night." Megan's voice comes drifting over from the direction of the stairs. "Mom just called me on my cell. They're having a really good time."
"There, you see?" Drake says. "There's no need to rush."
"Fine. You got lucky." Josh snaps the vacuum cleaner switch off, and the room is filled with blessed silence. He prods Drake's elbow with his knee. "But you're helping me later, you got it?"
Drake yawns in response, wondering if he can gather the strength to go upstairs to bed. A half turn to his side answers that question. He rolls onto his back again and pulls the blanket up higher.
"Megan." Josh's voice is sharp enough to force Drake's eyes partly open. "What happened to you?"
"What?"
"You know what. Come over here."
"Why should I?"
"Just come here." Drake tilts his head back to see what's going on. All he can see is the blurred outline of Josh's back. "What happened?" Josh asks again.
"Nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing. Does it hurt?"
"No." She tries to sidestep him, but he blocks her path.
"Megan." Josh's voice has a warning tone in it now.
"It was just some guy at the party last night, okay?" Megan says. "I don't know who, and it's no big deal anyway." She finally gets around him and walks over the couch. "Move," she orders, slapping at Drake's feet, and he grudgingly moves them aside so she can sit down. "Just leave me alone," she says to Josh, clicking the remote control to end the discussion.
The television roars to life and Drake realizes he's not going to get any more sleep down here. He struggles into a sitting position and tries to blink the cobwebs out of his eyes. Megan is staring straight ahead at the TV, a small smile playing around her lips.
"That was a great party last night," she whispers, almost to herself. Drake's body grows suddenly rigid as she lifts one hand to trace the edges of a dark purple mark on her neck, right where it meets the shoulder. "Yeah," she says dreamily. "That was a really great party."