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.
"Let's go to the Dickotheque!" suggested Stephanie excitedly.
"But I'm a hopeless dancer," complained Cynthia.
"Not the discotheque. The Dickotheque!" Stephanie insisted.
"What's that?" asked Cythia.
"It's a deliciously decadent club," explained Dorothy. "Where girls like us can be shamelessly slutty in a safe environment."
"I'm not slutty!" cried a shocked Cynthia.
"Oh, sure," Stephanie smiled. "I read that story you posted on your blog last week. What was it called? 'Gridiron Gangbang'?"
"But that was just a fantasy!" she pleaded in her defence. "I'd never actually do anything like that."
"Well, you don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to," Dorothy reassured her. "You can just come along and watch."
"Friday night is Glory Seat Night!" exclaimed Stephanie excitedly.
"Oooooooh! I love Glory Seat Night!" proclaimed Dorothy.
Cynthia looked confused.
"Don't worry," said Dorothy. "You'll find out when you get there."
* * *
"Why should the customer's have all the fun?" Gareth asked himself as he collected the entrance fee from another one of his male clients. Gareth was the proprietor of the Dickotheque and also its sister establishment Pussy-O-Rama. Dickotheque was a club for women where they could come and watch male strippers. Unlike other establishments there were no rules about what the women were allowed to do with the entertainers. And there were special theme nights like tonight. Pussy-O-Rama was a similar strip club for guys, though the guys were not allowed quite as much freedom to molest the strippers. The girls didn't like being manhandled as much as the guys liked being womanhandled.
But what made the establishments really unique were the ways in which the patrons of one club could interact with the patrons of the other anonymously via various forms of glory holes. Guys who got horny watching the strippers could stick their stiff cocks through holes in the wall into a room in the Dickotheque where they would be enthusiastically sucked off by female patrons driven into a cock frenzy by the well-endowed strippers they'd been watching. There were also boobyholes were the patrons of the Dickotheque could stick their bare boobs through similar holes so that the Pussy-O-Rama patrons could fondle them, pinch and suck their nipples or wank off and shoot their warm jizz all over them. And then, for the kinkier patrons there was the Spankotorium. This went both ways, as there were both women and men who liked to give a bare anonymous bottom a sound spanking.
But tonight was Glory Seat Night, which meant that Gareth would have to help the patrons who had paid for special tickets to squeeze their naked bodies into the tight compartments in the wall of the club, their legs spread into divergent tubes, and then latch the door behind their heads. Half a centimetre of plastic would then separate the torso and upper legs of the clients from the bottoms of the clients of the Dickotheque who would be sitting on the Glory Seats, the front of which came down between the male client's legs. In the middle of the seats was a hole. Through this hole the men would feed their cocks. What the women did with those cocks was their business.
There were fifteen Glory Seats and, tonight, only fourteen male clients. This was why Gareth had decided it was time to play the game himself. He stripped naked and squeezed into the tight compartment, pulling the door shut behind him. He then fed his flaccid cock through the hole in the middle of Glory Seat 6.
* * *
"Oh, my God!" cried Cynthia. "There are cocks coming up through the seats!"
"I know," gushed Dorothy, "isn't it delicious! Welcome to Glory Seat Night!"
"Ooooh, I've got a lovely big fat one!" enthused Stephanie. "And he's already half-stiff even before I've sat down and rubbed my cute little butt all over him." Then she bent down and gave the cock a big sloppy kiss on it's head, which caused it to become completely erect, waving its now lipstick coated bell-end up and down happily. "I'm afraid it's going to be a lumpy seat for me tonight," sighed Stephanie, raising her skirt and settling the bare flesh of her g-string seperated buttocks onto the throbbing anonymous prick.
Dorothy, ever the clown, bent down and grabbed hold of the penis popping its head through her chair and shook it back and forth, singing, ventriloquist-style, "I ain't got no body....."
* * *
Gareth, feeling ever so claustrophobic in his compartment beneath the girls, could hear every word they said.
"You said I could just watch," complained the voice of the girl directly above him. "But I can't stand up all evening."
"Just keep your pants on and sit on it," suggested another voice. "The worst you'll get is pecker tracks on your undies."
"Well, I suppose you're right," the girl agreed. "It is kind of a little one after all." And Gareth felt a pair of fingers gingerly pinch the end of his knob and stretch his flaccid cock out to the limits of its extendability before letting it snap back and hit the seat of the chair.
"Ouch!" he muttered.
"Well, I don't want pecker tracks on my skirt," she said. And the next thing Gareth knew he felt the soft warmth of a cotton covered bottom settling over his cock.
The knowledge that only a thin piece of cotton stood between his cock and the soft cheeks, juicy pussy and warm butthole of what he imagined anyway to be a very sexy young woman, caused his cock to stiffen.
"Ohhhhh!" cried Cythia. "He's getting hard."
* * *
"Time to get comfortable," decided Stephanie, standing up and slipping off her g-string. "Perhaps a bit of lubrication first though," she added, squatting down to give her cock a sloppy blow job. Then she stood up, holding up her skirt with one hand and the cock with the other as she slowly lowered her pussy down over it. "MMmmmmm, belly full of alcohol, pussy full of cock. Now the night is complete," she sighed.
Dorothy stood up and raised her skirt to show off her sky blue bikini-style panties. "See how wet my panties are!" she exclaimed. "The backside is wet with my naughty cock's precum and the front is wet from me!" With that she pulled her panties down and began shamelessly masturbating. "There is nothing like a big bad boner bruising my bottom to make me want to rub one out!" she cried, reaching a shivering orgasm in no time. And then she sat her sloppy happy pussy right down over the cock that was doing a totem pole impersonation in the middle of her chair.
"I am feeling kind of horny," admitted Cynthia. "And so is the owner of this cock," she added, squatting down beside her chair to look at it more closely as she sympathy wanked it with her warm little hand.
"Go ahead, pamper your pussy a little," encouraged Stephanie, who was now bouncing energetically up and down on her chair.
"It'll be our little secret," said Dorothy who was doing likewise.
"O.K." agreed Cynthia, dubiously, lifting her skirt and pulling down her white Cottontail knickers, which were in much the same state as Dorothy's had been.
* * *
"This is fantastic!" thought Gareth. "Why have I never tried this before?" His cock had been sat on my a deliciously pert female bottom, he'd had a lovely hand job from its owner, and now she was sliding her tight wet little pussy down over its length.
"Oh, God! I really am a dirty little slut!" cried the voice above him. "I didn't think I was, but I am. I'm fucking a hot hard cock and I don't even know who it belongs to."
The girl was bouncing up and down furiously now and her creamy cunt juice was running down the hole in the seat and dripping from his balls.
"Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned. "I'm cu-u-u-u-m-m-m-m-ming!"
* * *
"That was fan-tas-tic!" breathed Cynthia, pulling herself up off of the stiff cock and onto her wobbly legs. No sooner had she done so than the cock twitched crazily and shot a fountain of creamy jism three feet into the air.
"Wow!" cried Dorothy and Stephanie simultaneously as they continued to ride their respective cocks.
* * *
"Fuck!" cried Gareth when he realised that the door to his compartment was jammed. He started to feel panicky. His claustrophobia returned.
But, luckily, he had his mobile with him. He rang the club technician.
"The easiest thing for me to do will be to cut through the seat to get you out," the technician explained. "The plastic isn't very thick."
* * *
"An emergency?" queried Stephanie.
The girls had all made a trip to the lady's room to clean up. On returning to their seats they discovered a man in overalls and noticed that, while the other two chairs were now missing their penises, Cynthia's still had the same jism-coated flaccid penis poking up through it.
"Don't worry. We'll find you seats elsewhere," the man assured them.
"What happened?" asked Cynthia. "He's not dead, is he?"
"He's alive and well," laughed the technician. "And I'll have him out of there in a jiffy."
The girls stood around and watched as the man cut through the plastic of the chair and pulled it away.
Then a slightly chubby naked man in is forties crawled out of the hole.
"This sort of thing is really not supposed to happen," he muttered, covering his cock with his hands.
"Hi, I'm Cynthia," giggled that lady, now a good deal less reserved as a result of much alcohol consumption and a mind-blowing orgasm. She held out her hand, and Gareth shook it even though doing so compromised his efforts to keep his cock covered.
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," replied Gareth.
"Oh, you have, you have," she smiled.
"So it was you?" he asked.
"It was not me, it was my pussy," she teased.
"Well, I'm sorry about how things turned out. The loss of anonymity and all that," he replied. "Perhaps I can take you out to dinner to make up for everything."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Cynthia replied, trying hard to keep a straight face. "I generally don't go out with strange men."