FIC: "The Backalley Annual C*cks*cking Contest" for featherxquill
(Modly apologies to the author for 'asterisking' the title. I take responsibility for this wimpy "above the cut tag" change, which was made for the sake of people reading this community at work or the like.)
Recipient: featherxquill
Author: woldy
Title: The Backalley Annual C*cks*cking Contest
Rating: R
Pairings: Rita Skeeter/Erato Zabini (implied Erato/husbands)
Word Count: ~1600 words
Warnings: switching first person POV, strap-ons, more than a hint of crack
Summary: It wasn't anything as simple as sex appeal; if I had to put my finger on it I'd say they had charisma. And a talent for c*cks*cking, of course.
Author's Notes: This plotbunny ambushed me, but it's a gamble for an exchange fic so I hope you like it, featherxquill! If not, then I'm happy to write you another story in recompense. With thanks to my lovely beta, & to Shar Rednour for the inspiration.
***
Leon Switch, owner of The Backalley
I remember those two, all right. It's not that often lesbians enter my contest and I'd never seen them in here, even for the Pussy Palace we have every other Friday: cheap cocktails until ten, a sexy DJ and a burlesque dancer.
That pair were unusual, older than the other girls who've competed, and they knew what they were doing, knew how to use their bodies so they were working the crowd with every tremble and breath. And it's not that they were the best-lookers in the room, although you couldn't deny that the black one was beautiful, but they both had a fair few wrinkles. Besides, the boys judging were gay.
No, it wasn't anything as simple as sex appeal; if I had to put my finger on it I'd say they had charisma. And a talent for cocksucking, of course.
Yeah, I'd remember that pair even if their names weren't engraved on the wall. Well, their pseudonyms anyway.
"You can call me Goldie," the blonde one said when I asked.
"What, you like bears?" I said, `cos there's certainly no shortage of bears in here, though I'd advise you to be careful with the porridge.
I still remember the arch of her eyebrow and that smile in perfect red lipstick, not that it stayed perfect for long. "I like gold. And cocks."
She did, too, if her handling of the trophy was anything to go by.
I only figured out who her partner was years later, `cos by then the lady was all over the Prophet when her sixth husband kicked the bucket. Erato Zabini. It's not hard to see how she got through so many, because I watched that woman seduce a bar full of gay men and if you'd asked me beforehand I'd have told you that was physically impossible.
If there's anything I've learned running this place for the last thirty years it's that a lot more things are physically possible than people imagine. Given a keen young man, some leather and plenty of lube you can do almost anything. But that's another story.
***
Harvey Chittock, fellow competitor
As the six-times winner of The Backalley Annual Cocksucking Contest I think it's fair to say I know everything there is to know about giving blowjobs in public. What people don't realize is that it's an art form - you can't just stick the cock in your mouth and go at it like a hoover.
My first rule is to pick the right recipient. It's got to be someone hot enough that the crowd wishes they were blowing him and noisy enough that they can imagine they are. Dennis is fabulous, bless him, since he's louder than the Hogwarts Express.
The second rule is to plan your angles. Amateurs always end up with their back towards the crowd and you can't see the cock at all. No, what you want is three quarters profile. I've won with a full profile before, but that's a strategy for the expert.
The third rule is not to rush. If you like it quick and dirty then go fumble in an alley somewhere. For competitive cocksucking you have to take it slow and build up a sense of anticipation. By the time he comes the crowd should be on the edge of their seats and you'll know they're ready when half of them are wanking frantically in the darkness.
I'm not telling you the fourth rule, that's my industry secret. Perhaps I'll sell it on when I'm ready to hang up my crown.
Oh, and one more rule, which you'd think was obvious from the title but I swear Leo breaks it just to piss me off: the blowjob recipient needs to actually have a cock. It's not called the Annual Dildo Sucking contest, is it? You don't see me walking into dyke bars and getting down with a rubber vagina - god, what a disgusting thought - so one would expect women to pay us the same courtesy.
If there was any justice in this world then there would be seven gold cock-trophies on my mantelpiece and that's all I have to say about it.
Bignhard57, audience member
Look, could you not use my real name for this?
I've been out for years and I don't want anyone saying I'm bisexual just because I was attracted to a woman - all right, two women - on one night. It's not like I touched them or anything and I wouldn't have wanted to; that wasn't the point.
Can you just call me a source? Or...use my OwlChat username or something.
From what I remember there were nearly a dozen couples competing that year and I didn't notice the women to start with. All the boys were on the stage mostly wearing chaps and leather, some in jeans, a couple just in shorts, and everyone's warming up. Y'know, getting comfortable, touching each other, making sure they're ready. There's no stopping the contest once it starts and there's been more than a few cases of performance anxiety over the years.
I was looking at everyone on stage and deciding who to watch once they started, and then I saw them. The gorgeous black lady lounging in her chair with the blonde kneeling in front of her and this big gold dick - just like the trophy. What made it so sexy was that they looked so assured; two women amongst all those hot, toned men and yet they so much confidence you could've bottled for sale.
The blonde ran her finger over the black lady's lower lip and her lips parted, sucking the fingers right into her mouth. When the blonde stroked her wet hand down the gold dick, her thumb rubbing over the head, then I knew it would be good. I could almost feel it.
I can't give you a blow-by-blow, pardon the pun, because I was more than a little distracted. But I remember the way that black lady wrapped her hands in the blonde's hair and thrust with a swagger in her hips, like she topped plenty of men and was probably the fuck of the century. And the way the blonde arched, her eyes intent and her lipstick smeared around the dick that was sliding down her throat.
You could see they were getting off on being watched, playing to all the moans and squirms in the audience. And, after all, we were the judges. The boys on stage were grunting and gasping as they got sucked off, but those two had a rhythm all of their own. I'm getting hard now thinking about the way the blonde moved her whole body along with her mouth, her partner murmuring a dirty litany that faded into moans.
I've never seen a woman come, but I don't think they faked it. Maybe the blonde had her hand busy in there, or perhaps that black lady had a trick or two, but it looked real enough that I half expected a gleaming gold come shot.
Like I said, I'm not attracted to women, but I would have come for either of them that night. They left with the trophy in hand, and I wish I'd seen what they did with those pair of gold dicks.
Erato Goldstein, nee Zabini
I won't be answering questions about any of my previous relationships. It's public knowledge that that I had some very difficult and tragic years, but I've put all that behind me since meeting my darling Zach.
Yes, Rita's been a close friend ever since we companions were at Hogwarts, and even then she had a special way with a quill. She was a guest at Zach's and my wedding and it was wonderful to see her again.
I won't engage in any idle speculation about the future; Zach and I are very happy together, whatever slander you might read in the gossip rags. Some unprincipled people invent the most incredible lies, but I've learned to rise above it.
Of course there's no truth in those rumours. I don't think many people's past could survive this level of scrutiny, but there are no skeletons in my closet. Rita is a dedicated and talented investigative journalist who knows me intimately; if I was concealing anything then you can be sure she would have found it.
Rita Skeeter
So, what's my cut from this article? Triple that, sweetheart, and I might consider it. I'd be wanting the final editorial decision, of course.
You think about it, but remember you can't write this story without me. I make the news, honey, and I'm not in the news unless I want to be. You'll learn how to get on in this business, and you don't want to make the wrong kind of enemies. I'm not ashamed of anything I've done, but I won't be screwed.
Don't breathe a whisper about me or my acquaintances without my signoff, understand? Not if you want to work in journalism again, and given your earnest expression I think you do. Good. I hate having to resort to threats, and the things I know about your father would make you sick.
Floo me once the galleons hit my Gringotts account and we'll fix a time to talk. I hope it will be a pleasure doing business with you, and I know you're interested in pleasure or you wouldn't be writing this story.
Of course, I've still got the trophy, it's next to my bed. It isn't solid gold - which would be far too heavy to be useful - but it has a lovely glimmer, especially when wet. My guests sometimes get to see it, but if that's what you're after, sweetheart, then you'll have to wait till our second date.
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Recipient: featherxquill
Author: woldy
Title: The Backalley Annual C*cks*cking Contest
Rating: R
Pairings: Rita Skeeter/Erato Zabini (implied Erato/husbands)
Word Count: ~1600 words
Warnings: switching first person POV, strap-ons, more than a hint of crack
Summary: It wasn't anything as simple as sex appeal; if I had to put my finger on it I'd say they had charisma. And a talent for c*cks*cking, of course.
Author's Notes: This plotbunny ambushed me, but it's a gamble for an exchange fic so I hope you like it, featherxquill! If not, then I'm happy to write you another story in recompense. With thanks to my lovely beta, & to Shar Rednour for the inspiration.
***
Leon Switch, owner of The Backalley
I remember those two, all right. It's not that often lesbians enter my contest and I'd never seen them in here, even for the Pussy Palace we have every other Friday: cheap cocktails until ten, a sexy DJ and a burlesque dancer.
That pair were unusual, older than the other girls who've competed, and they knew what they were doing, knew how to use their bodies so they were working the crowd with every tremble and breath. And it's not that they were the best-lookers in the room, although you couldn't deny that the black one was beautiful, but they both had a fair few wrinkles. Besides, the boys judging were gay.
No, it wasn't anything as simple as sex appeal; if I had to put my finger on it I'd say they had charisma. And a talent for cocksucking, of course.
Yeah, I'd remember that pair even if their names weren't engraved on the wall. Well, their pseudonyms anyway.
"You can call me Goldie," the blonde one said when I asked.
"What, you like bears?" I said, `cos there's certainly no shortage of bears in here, though I'd advise you to be careful with the porridge.
I still remember the arch of her eyebrow and that smile in perfect red lipstick, not that it stayed perfect for long. "I like gold. And cocks."
She did, too, if her handling of the trophy was anything to go by.
I only figured out who her partner was years later, `cos by then the lady was all over the Prophet when her sixth husband kicked the bucket. Erato Zabini. It's not hard to see how she got through so many, because I watched that woman seduce a bar full of gay men and if you'd asked me beforehand I'd have told you that was physically impossible.
If there's anything I've learned running this place for the last thirty years it's that a lot more things are physically possible than people imagine. Given a keen young man, some leather and plenty of lube you can do almost anything. But that's another story.
***
Harvey Chittock, fellow competitor
As the six-times winner of The Backalley Annual Cocksucking Contest I think it's fair to say I know everything there is to know about giving blowjobs in public. What people don't realize is that it's an art form - you can't just stick the cock in your mouth and go at it like a hoover.
My first rule is to pick the right recipient. It's got to be someone hot enough that the crowd wishes they were blowing him and noisy enough that they can imagine they are. Dennis is fabulous, bless him, since he's louder than the Hogwarts Express.
The second rule is to plan your angles. Amateurs always end up with their back towards the crowd and you can't see the cock at all. No, what you want is three quarters profile. I've won with a full profile before, but that's a strategy for the expert.
The third rule is not to rush. If you like it quick and dirty then go fumble in an alley somewhere. For competitive cocksucking you have to take it slow and build up a sense of anticipation. By the time he comes the crowd should be on the edge of their seats and you'll know they're ready when half of them are wanking frantically in the darkness.
I'm not telling you the fourth rule, that's my industry secret. Perhaps I'll sell it on when I'm ready to hang up my crown.
Oh, and one more rule, which you'd think was obvious from the title but I swear Leo breaks it just to piss me off: the blowjob recipient needs to actually have a cock. It's not called the Annual Dildo Sucking contest, is it? You don't see me walking into dyke bars and getting down with a rubber vagina - god, what a disgusting thought - so one would expect women to pay us the same courtesy.
If there was any justice in this world then there would be seven gold cock-trophies on my mantelpiece and that's all I have to say about it.
Bignhard57, audience member
Look, could you not use my real name for this?
I've been out for years and I don't want anyone saying I'm bisexual just because I was attracted to a woman - all right, two women - on one night. It's not like I touched them or anything and I wouldn't have wanted to; that wasn't the point.
Can you just call me a source? Or...use my OwlChat username or something.
From what I remember there were nearly a dozen couples competing that year and I didn't notice the women to start with. All the boys were on the stage mostly wearing chaps and leather, some in jeans, a couple just in shorts, and everyone's warming up. Y'know, getting comfortable, touching each other, making sure they're ready. There's no stopping the contest once it starts and there's been more than a few cases of performance anxiety over the years.
I was looking at everyone on stage and deciding who to watch once they started, and then I saw them. The gorgeous black lady lounging in her chair with the blonde kneeling in front of her and this big gold dick - just like the trophy. What made it so sexy was that they looked so assured; two women amongst all those hot, toned men and yet they so much confidence you could've bottled for sale.
The blonde ran her finger over the black lady's lower lip and her lips parted, sucking the fingers right into her mouth. When the blonde stroked her wet hand down the gold dick, her thumb rubbing over the head, then I knew it would be good. I could almost feel it.
I can't give you a blow-by-blow, pardon the pun, because I was more than a little distracted. But I remember the way that black lady wrapped her hands in the blonde's hair and thrust with a swagger in her hips, like she topped plenty of men and was probably the fuck of the century. And the way the blonde arched, her eyes intent and her lipstick smeared around the dick that was sliding down her throat.
You could see they were getting off on being watched, playing to all the moans and squirms in the audience. And, after all, we were the judges. The boys on stage were grunting and gasping as they got sucked off, but those two had a rhythm all of their own. I'm getting hard now thinking about the way the blonde moved her whole body along with her mouth, her partner murmuring a dirty litany that faded into moans.
I've never seen a woman come, but I don't think they faked it. Maybe the blonde had her hand busy in there, or perhaps that black lady had a trick or two, but it looked real enough that I half expected a gleaming gold come shot.
Like I said, I'm not attracted to women, but I would have come for either of them that night. They left with the trophy in hand, and I wish I'd seen what they did with those pair of gold dicks.
Erato Goldstein, nee Zabini
I won't be answering questions about any of my previous relationships. It's public knowledge that that I had some very difficult and tragic years, but I've put all that behind me since meeting my darling Zach.
Yes, Rita's been a close friend ever since we companions were at Hogwarts, and even then she had a special way with a quill. She was a guest at Zach's and my wedding and it was wonderful to see her again.
I won't engage in any idle speculation about the future; Zach and I are very happy together, whatever slander you might read in the gossip rags. Some unprincipled people invent the most incredible lies, but I've learned to rise above it.
Of course there's no truth in those rumours. I don't think many people's past could survive this level of scrutiny, but there are no skeletons in my closet. Rita is a dedicated and talented investigative journalist who knows me intimately; if I was concealing anything then you can be sure she would have found it.
Rita Skeeter
So, what's my cut from this article? Triple that, sweetheart, and I might consider it. I'd be wanting the final editorial decision, of course.
You think about it, but remember you can't write this story without me. I make the news, honey, and I'm not in the news unless I want to be. You'll learn how to get on in this business, and you don't want to make the wrong kind of enemies. I'm not ashamed of anything I've done, but I won't be screwed.
Don't breathe a whisper about me or my acquaintances without my signoff, understand? Not if you want to work in journalism again, and given your earnest expression I think you do. Good. I hate having to resort to threats, and the things I know about your father would make you sick.
Floo me once the galleons hit my Gringotts account and we'll fix a time to talk. I hope it will be a pleasure doing business with you, and I know you're interested in pleasure or you wouldn't be writing this story.
Of course, I've still got the trophy, it's next to my bed. It isn't solid gold - which would be far too heavy to be useful - but it has a lovely glimmer, especially when wet. My guests sometimes get to see it, but if that's what you're after, sweetheart, then you'll have to wait till our second date.
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