Fuck Me Friday is organised by Aisling Weaver. Here is how she explains it :
Twitterotica themes have been hanging around for some time, with various writers tackling weekly challenges such as #wankwednesday and so on, and writing challenges far and wide are abundant. This is another one.
The goal is two-fold; for writers, a weekly challenge to keep the, err, juices flowing. For readers, you'll find all the stories linked off at the bottom of each week's prompt. Are you game? Will you try your hand at some on the fly writing? Will you expose your work to new readers, will you read along and find new authors? I do hope so.
So, welcome to the linky love edition of Fuck Me Friday. All you have to do is this :
And lastly add it to the links at the bottom of this post. (Note, if you don't want to tweet it or don't have a blog, I invite you to post your story in the comments section.Dusk
Dusk was falling. I'd been too slow. I'd taken too long. Would I get to my home before they did? Everything depended on it.
I was the last of my kind. The Omega Man. The last man on Earth.
But why am I tell you this? You must know. After all, I am legend.
Or perhaps you are living in the distant future. Perhaps to you the history of the end of the world as we knew it seems but an unreliable fairy story like those of Arthur and his knights.
It all began with the invention of Soylent Puce, the ultimate anti-depressant. It appeared to have no side-effects and to work instantly. People who had been miserable for years suddenly began dancing in the streets. And they were not the only ones to take the drug. Everyone had had their bad days, but not with a bottle of S.P. at hand. It was the guaranteed pick-me-up.
Six months after it first appeared on the market, the nearly six billion people who had used it, were dead.
I missed the whole thing. I was away on an eight month fishing trip. By the time I came back, people were dropping like flies.
But I wasn't the only one who didn't take the drug. There was one sub-group in society that liked being depressed. Today the world belonged to me, and to the hordes of goth and emo girls who had no use for S.P.
They only came out at night. They hated the sunlight. The day was mine, the night theirs.
I put my foot down on the accelerator as the sun hit the horizon. The carcass thumped against the roof as I flew over the potholes. It had taken longer than usual for me to find a cow. Once again I wondered about abandoning the city in favour of a rural farm. At first the supermarkets had supplied all my food needs, but now everything was past its used by date.
My home had electricity though. If I moved I'd have to either find another place with solar panels or install them.
I was almost home now. I was going to make it.
Each night I barricaded myself in. I'd turn up my country music as loud as it would go to try to drown out the sound of the girls banging on my door and yelling out, "Neville Roberts! Neville Roberts! Come out! We want your cock!"
They smashed all of the windows and I'd had to board them up.
I pulled up into the driveway, and I was none too soon. In my rearview mirror I could see figures beginning to emerge from the deepening shadows. They were naked, as they always were in the warm weather. Black hair, black lipstick, brooding faces and tattoos of hearts wreathed in barbed wire, pentagrams and broken dolls.
The cow could wait until the morning. I hurried inside.
"Why won't you fuck us, you greedy bastard?" yelled one of the girls.
I was distracted. I'm sure you've done it before. But it was a mistake I couldn't afford. I left my keys in the door.
They had me where they wanted me, and so they bided their time. They waited for more of their kind to arrive.
Half an hour later I was settled in for the evening, swigging from a bottle of Jim Beam, puffing on a cheroot, singing along to Tammy Wynette singing Stand By Your Man while watching Jackass 3 with the sound down on BluRay. "They don't make movies like that anymore," I said wistfully as I watched Steve-O drinking the sweat rung out of the fat guy's jack strap.
At that moment the door burst open and in rushed a dozen naked goth chicks. Two of them grabbed my arms and hauled me out of my seat.
"Take your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty emos!" I cried.
"Don't think we take any pleasure in this, Roberts," sneered a girl with enough rings through her eyebrows to hang curtains from them. I recognised her as the nineteen-year-old daughter of one of my late bowling buddies. Like the rest of the girls she had very pale skin, but she wasn't as skinny as the others, her slim waste was offset by lovely full breasts with large pink nipples and a curvy set of hips. "We need you to impregnate us, so that the human race can have a future."
"No pleasure, hey," I replied, drily, observing that several of the girls behind her were licking their lips and fingering their wet pussies. "You better tell your companions they can't get pregnant from their fingers."
She turned around and addressed them sternly. "I told you we were not going to get any pleasure out of this. If we want pleasure we can get it by licking each others pussies. This is something we do more in sadness than in horniness. A year ago you would have rather died than had sex with a guy with such appalling dress sense," she pointed out, indicating my tropical shirt and baggy sweatpants. "Not to mention someone who listens to country music," she added, flipping off the sound system.
The other girls were unrepentant. "We'll soon have his clothes off, and you've put a stop to the music. That isn't what matters. We want to be fucked by a hot hard cock, and he's the only person left in the world who possesses one," pointed out a skinny girl named Erin, who had a crew cut and pointed studs in her bottom lip.
I realised that the tide had turned. Now I was the freak. Such things are merely a matter of numbers, and there is no minority smaller than one.
Now my life was over. I knew that never again would I be able to sit in my cosy domicile, chewing a rare steak, swigging some whisky, pulling on a cigar and checking out some seventies porn on the tube. But if this was going to be my final stand, there was no reason I shouldn't enjoy it.
"Well, you may take no pleasure in this, Serena," I informed the leader of this band of bare-assed desperadoes. "But I'm going to take great pleasure in sampling the delights you have laid out before me." With that I reached out and groped her soft plump breasts. As I did I felt a pair of hands behind me pull down my pants and my boxers, thus releasing my hard cock, which slapped up hard against my belly and then stood out quivering and dripping pre-cum onto the floor. In seconds they had me naked.
"Do what you must," insisted Serena, stoically, laying down on my bed and spreading her legs wide apart.
"O.K." I said, walking into the kitchen and coming back with a turkey baster and a glass jar. Then, looking down at her, I started stroking my cock and aiming it into the jar.
"What are you doing!?!" she cried.
"Well, you said you didn't want to take any pleasure in being impregnated, so I thought it would be best to do it artificially," I explained.
Serena's pale face turned a deep red as all the other girls laughed at her.
"She wants your big fat cock as much as the rest of us," pointed out a girl with a Louise Brooks haircut and multiple labia piercings, whose name I later learned was Circe.
"Does seeing a bossy bitch get a bare-bottomed spanking from her cock-crazed cronies really spunk up your balls?" Circe whispered in my ear while wiping her cuntjuice-slippery fingers over my lips. "We need you to spunk lots to put us all in the pudding club, so whatever you want to see or do or have done to you just speak up."
"Oh, yeah," I smiled. "Seeing you give her a really pink bottom would definitely help fill this bazooka with baby juice," I told her, grabbing her slim fingers and wrapping them around my stiff cock as I reached down and squeezed the tender cheeks of her bum.
"We can all learn something from Mr. Roberts and his willingness to make a firm stand for future generations," said Erin, who was playing with herself.
"Hip! Hip! Hooray, for Mr. Roberts' firm stand," shouted the rest of the girls.
Meanwhile, two of them grabbed Serena and held her down over a chair while Circe began spanking her butt cheeks enthusiastically. "How dare you, you traitor!" screamed Serena, her face still bright red and her body quaking as she strove to restrain tears of utter humiliation.
Erin pushed me down onto the bed and slid her warm slippery pussy down over my rampant prick. The rest of the girls weren't going to just stand back and wait. The next thing I knew : there was a wide-open wet cunt writhing against my face ; someone was crouched beneath Erin licking my balls ; a girl was rubbing her pussy against each of my hands clearly indicating that they wanted me to finger them ; and wherever else there was room for a tongue or some fingers I was being licked or stroked.
"Rape! Rape!" I cried when I managed to get my mouth temporarily disengaged from pussy.
"I'm sorry," replied Erin. "We'd like to oblige, but I think we are already raping you as much as we can."
With one more thrust of my hips I gave her the hot spurts of cum she craved.
She hopped off and I felt another girl's warm mouth start gobbling on my now semi-flaccid cock.
"Off now," instructed Erin, pushing away the girl had been sitting on my face. "Neville needs to see what Circe's done to Serena's bottom, I think, if he's going to get his cock stiff again."
And, sure enough, the sight of Serena's bright red bottom and tear-stained face melted my heart and stiffened my cock.
"Have you learned your lesson, Serena?" I asked.
"Yes," she sighed. "I was just too embarrassed to admit that I want your cock so much that I don't really want to share it with the other girls. I just want to feel it throbbing inside me for days."
She came over and kissed me passionately. Then the girl who had been sucking my cock moved aside and she climbed on top of me, sliding my cock into her hot dripping pussy. She sank forward, and I relished the feel of her large breasts pressed against my chest. The other girls hung back now and gave us space. They were all lounging around the room masturbating as they watched us. This included Erin, who hadn't cum when she was fucking me. Everyone was turned on, and everyone wanted to cum, but the goal of impregnation had to take precedence over immediate satisfaction.
I managed to fuck seven of the girls that night, which isn't too bad. What got me erect again and again was that Serena whispered the filthiest and most flattering things in my ear as she let me fondle her tender warm butt cheeks. Anytime she cried, "Ouch!", my cock would twitch back towards stiffness.
It is strange that I am still capable of remembering that night with any kind of fondness. Because now I am heartily sick of sex. When it is all they will let you do day in and day out it becomes a crashing bore, not to mention a pain in the balls. And, since my health is a priority, I'm on a the same vegetarian diet as them. And no more booze or cigars. Except on Father's Day. There has to be some kind of reward when you are the father of 12,956 children.